Date: Sun, 2 Nov 2003 00:21:50 -0800
From: Dewey <dewey@deweywriter.com>
Subject: For the Love of Pete: Brian and Pete Chapter 20 - Reunions

--------------
Brian and Pete
Chapter Twenty
Reunions
--------------

Copyright Notice - Copyright  2000-2003 by DeweyWriter Ltd.

This story is copyrighted by the author and the author retains all rights.
This work may not be duplicated in any form, physical, electronic, audio,
or otherwise without the authors express written permission.  All
applicable copyright laws apply and will be enforced.

--------------

The next day brought a flurry of activity as Mom, Dawn, Pete and I
continued packing up the knick-knacks and trinkets accumulated over the
last sixteen years my parents had lived in the house.  The amount of junk
that we threw out during the process was amazing: magazines, souvenirs from
various places, stuffed animals we had outgrown, and just junk in general.

I found I was still irked by my mother's thoughtless statements from the
night before.  She said old prejudices caused her to speak as she had, but
it forced me to wonder what other prejudices she might have and how it
would affect my life with Pete.  I wouldn't let her separate us again, my
promise to do as my parents said not withstanding.  If she tried, I would
be well and truly done with my family.

Mom cut us loose about three that afternoon.  Pete and I cleaned up a bit
and then I called the Forn house to see if it was a good time to visit.  I
called Chris' number and got an answering machine.  I hung up rather than
leaving a message because I knew I'd be calling them again.

"What do you want to do, babe?" I asked Pete after hanging up the phone.

"I guess we should go take a look at my old place.  It's going to really
bother me if I don't get it over with soon."  I saw Pete shudder as he
spoke.

"You sure?" I asked with concern.  "We don't have to..."

"No, Brian, I do," Pete responded forcefully.  "If I don't then they'll
have power over me, and I don't want that.  I can't live like that."

"It's okay, Pete.  I understand, and I'm here for you."  I continued in a
near whisper, "I'll always be here for you."

Pete pulled me into an embrace and kissed my forehead.  I looked up at him,
stood on my tiptoes, and kissed him on the lips.  My mother cleared her
throat after a few seconds making it plain to me that she really didn't
know how to handle our relationship.  I maintained the kiss for a good five
seconds after my mom made her presence known to somehow prove that she
could not dictate how Pete and I could express our feelings for each other.
When our lips did part, I stood there staring into Pete's blue eyes
plumbing their depths for the window to his soul.  He stared back at me and
I could see his anxiety lessen the longer we held our gaze.

My mother cleared her throat again much to my exasperation.  Pete
reluctantly broke eye contact and glanced to where my mom stood.  We
watched her expectantly, waiting for her to speak, but she didn't say a
word.  My ire rose another notch.

"You wanted something, mom?" I asked with a slight edge.  Pete pulled me
tighter against him in warning.

"Will you be home for dinner?" She asked after a moments pause.

I went dizzy for a moment as the adrenaline poured into my system.  It took
a supreme effort of will to keep my voice civil.

"You interrupted us for that?  Couldn't you see we were busy?"

"Don't take that tone with me," My mother ordered.  "This is my house, and
you won't act that way."

My anger went from white hot to ice cold in an instant.  "What way, mom?"

"That way," she replied as she realized she'd made a huge mistake.

"What- way- mom?" I asked in a tone that hid none of my rage.

She threw up her hands and said, "Never mind," as she turned away.

I yelled to her back, "What way, God damn it!"

"Bri, calm down," Pete said as my mother yelled back.

"Brian Andrew Kellam, you will not swear in this house!"

"Answer the question!" I bellowed.  "What way?"

"This conversation is over," she said.  "Find your own dinner."

"No problem! We're outta here."

I pulled out of Pete's grasp and went back to my old room where I started
packing my things.  Pete was speaking with my mother in the living room,
but I didn't care.  Their voices rose and fell for the few minutes it took
me to gather my things.  I walked out to the living room to hear Pete
reading my mom the riot act.  I stayed out of sight behind the corner.

"Do you really think this is the way to make Brian want to be a part of
your family again?  By condemning him for being who and what he is?"

"Oh, bull," my mom retorted.  "I never condemned him."

"Yes," Pete responded hotly, "you did.  You told him to stop acting that
way.  We both took that to mean that you don't want us showing our
affection.  Is that what you meant?"

"No, of course not, within reason."

"Within whose reason?" Pete asked plainly.  "If I were a girl instead of a
guy, you would have walked away, and you can't deny it.  What Brian and I
did just now was nothing.  We've been living in a place where what we just
did is accepted and even encouraged.  Sharing our love with each other and
my family is something we are proud of.

"Brian is in love with me, and I love him.  We are committed to each other
completely.  If you try to control Brian, if you try to mandate what he can
and can not do based solely on your fear of our sexuality, then you'll
destroy any hope you have of restoring your relationship with him. He'll
hate you for it.  Be very careful, Mrs. Kellam."

"Are you threatening me, Pete?"  Mom asked angrily.

"No," he replied calmly.  "I know Brian better than you do.  I know him
well enough to predict what he would do should you proceed as you seem to
want to.  I'm just presenting the facts."

"So what should I do?" My mother asked hotly.  "Just let you do... what gay
people do?"

"You might want to think about trusting us to make decisions that are right
for us.  Not that it's any of your business, but we decided before mother
took me to Portland that we would not do anything we weren't completely
ready for.  We are safe, considerate, and happy with the way things are
now.

"In any case, you have to make some decisions.  Is it more important to
hold on to your prejudice or try to change to keep your son in your family?
Do you really allow Brian to make the choices he's capable of making,
trusting him to make the right choices for us, or do you dictate your terms
and destroy him again?  And you will destroy him."

I took that as my cue to come out into the living room.

"C'mon Pete," I said as I went for the front door.  "I wanna get out of
here.  Something's upsetting my stomach."

"Brian, come here," he said.

I looked at him as he stood there.  My mother was watching him warily.
Something in Pete's expression prompted me to obey him in spite of my rage.
He pulled me to him again as I approached and turned me to face my parent.

"Mrs. Kellam, this is your son Brian," Pete said sternly.  "He is gay.  I
am his partner.  I am gay.  None of those things are within your power to
change.  You can attempt to prevent us from being together, but you know
what will happen if you try."

Pete looked down to me.

"Brian, this is your mom.  She has a lot of thinking to do.  You should
give her the time to do that before you run away.  It's only fair to give
her a chance to adjust, just like you did for your dad."

His tone forced me to agree.  My anger was unabated, but I could see his
point.  This was the first time Pete and I had been in her face, so to
speak.  It would take her time to accept what Pete and I considered normal.

"Fine.  Are we going?" I asked abruptly, still annoyed.

Pete frowned at me and I glared back.  I needed some space from my mom
right then.

"Yes.  I'll get what I need. Let me take your bag back to your room.  We'll
be back later tonight."

He took my pack from my hand and went to the bedroom leaving me standing
with my mom.  The silence was awkward to say the least.  I glanced at her
and saw she was watching me with a thoughtful expression.  I stared back at
her, daring her to make another comment.  Pete returned.

"We're not sure when we'll be back, so don't worry about dinner," Pete said
in a conversational tone.  "Have a good night."

We left the house quickly and rather than take the car, I took off toward
the fort we had carved out once upon a time.  Pete caught up with me and
matched my brisk pace.  My mind was completely wrapped around what my mom
had said.  Just when I thought everything was going well, something went
wrong.

I didn't realize I was crying until Pete scooped a tear off my cheek .  I
glanced at him and took in his worried expression.  It was all I could do
not to break down completely.  I was so angry with my mom I was shaking.
My tears were tears of impotent fury.

"Brian, let it go," my boyfriend gently said.  "There's nothing you can do.
She has to make the adjustment.  All you can do is be who you are."

"She doesn't want that, Pete!  Don't you see that?"

Pete put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me to a stop.  He turned me to
face him and spoke slowly.

"What I see is a mother who hasn't come to terms with the fact her son is
gay and in love with another guy.  What I see is a little boy with a hair
trigger just waiting for something to set him off."

"I'm not a kid anymore," I said petulantly.

"You act like you are," Pete said with gravity.  "You fly off the handle at
the slightest allusion that your mom is homophobic.  The way you deal with
the subject is very mature."  Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"Fuck you," I retorted angrily.

Pete grinned.  "Not now, but some day."  Seeing I wasn't in the mood for
levity, he continued, "I'm serious, Brian.  You have such a big chip on
your shoulder where our relationship is concerned that you jump into a
confrontation even if there isn't one to begin with."

I glared daggers at Pete with my brow furrowed.

"Get angry at me if you want," he said nonchalantly.  "You know I'm right,
and when you finally admit it to yourself, you'll beat yourself up about
it.  When you figure it out, tell me."

Pete walked on toward the fort, not waiting to see if I was following.  I
knew he was right but I didn't like it.  I also knew I had to find a way to
not let the kind of statements my mom made upset me.  I sighed and trotted
until I caught up to my friend.

What bothered me the most was I had believed my parents' opposition to my
relationship with Pete was a thing of the past, but here I was finding out
that my parents, or mom at least, still wanted to keep us separate.  She
may not have thought about it in those terms but that was what she was
doing, and it brought up all sorts of unpleasant memories and emotions that
I had thought buried.  It was almost like she had betrayed me as she had in
the past, and I just wasn't ready to deal with it.  The possibility we
could be split up, however remote it may be, scared me shitless.

We arrived at the fort, or what used to be the fort.  It was nearly
overgrown.  The entrance was a weave of branches that prevented us from
going inside.  After five minutes spent looking things over and
remembering, Pete continued up the path toward his old stomping grounds.

We walked in silence.  Pete's expression was difficult to read.  He seemed
anxious and calm, eager and apprehensive.  I knew he was nervous about
seeing his old home again, and I was too, to tell the truth.  When I was
living with Chris and Kathlene I often had nightmares about what would have
happened had Joe caught me that night.  It was sometimes difficult for me
to remember that those events had occurred three years prior.  The emotions
were too strong.  I still had anger directed at my parents and Pete's
parents for keeping us apart.  I remembered the pain I went through
immediately after Pete was taken away, and the agony of living a
meaningless life.  The pain I put Chris and Kathlene through was horrific
in scale, especially for Chris.

I now had an idea of what Pete was going through.  I stopped in my tracks.

"Pete?"

He turned to face me with a neutral expression that gave nothing away.  I
took the few steps between us and stood in front of him.  As I peered up at
him, he gazed down at me with shadowed eyes.  Pete was having a harder time
than he would admit.  The pain he was trying to mask came through loud and
clear.

I shuffled up to close the distance between us and wrapped my arms around
his waist as I pulled him to me.  He stared down at me without a hint of
emotion.  I laid my head on his shoulder.

"Nothing here can hurt us now," I reassured him quietly.  "It's all in the
past."

"I know," he almost whispered, "but it feels like it happened yesterday."

"Even if it did, babe," I answered with a smile, "we're together now."

 "Yeah, we are," Pete breathed.

"You don't have to..."

"Brian, my mind is made up.  I'm going," Pete said as he pulled my head up
to look at him.  "With or without you."

"You don't want me to go with you?" I asked incredulously, hurt."

As he stroked my cheek with his thumb, Pete murmured, "Of course I want you
to go with me, Bri, but if you don't want to, I understand."

"Oh, no," I objected, "You're not getting rid of me that easily.  This
isn't easy for you..."

"Or you," he interrupted.

"... and you need all the support I can give you."

"Then we'll support each other."  Pete smiled and hugged me tightly as some
of the tension drained out of his body.

After an emotion-filled kiss we were back on track toward our destination,
recalling our flight from Joe's wrath back to my house.  It was a surreal
experience.  Everything was familiar but nothing was the same.  The brush
and plants had grown up, blocking our path in some cases, but we made it
through and came out about five hundred yards from the back porch of the
house.  The other fort that Pete and I had secreted ourselves in
immediately after Joe's attack was nearby.

We approached it slowly, looking around as if someone or something was
laying in wait for us.  I tried to shake off the sensation to minimal
effect.  Pete found the hidden entrance to the fort and got down on his
knees to crawl through.  I followed him closely.  Once inside I was
surprised that the mound of bushes had remained relatively clear
underneath, much as it had been three years before.

Pete laid down on his back, resting his head on his arms.  I sat next to
him, watching him out of the corner of my eye.  He had his eyes closed and
was breathing evenly, almost as if he were sleeping.  For the next few
moments, the only sounds were those of the summer breeze in the trees and
the birds in the air.

"Brian, do you have any regrets?" Pete asked quietly.

"Regrets?  About what?"

"About how everything turned out," he stated, "what you had to go through."

I asked, "Are you asking if I'd change anything?"

"Yeah, I guess."

I thought about it for a moment and answered, "I wish that things hadn't
been as difficult as they were, but I wouldn't change it if that meant not
being with you."

He looked at me with a curiously penetrating gaze.  "Okay, that's a nice
safe answer.  Now tell me the truth."

"What do you mean?  I told you exactly what I feel."

He studied me until I became uncomfortable.

"You don't believe me?" I asked bleakly.

"I believe you're telling me what you think I want to hear," Pete responded
in the same tone.

"You don't think I really want to be with you."  I said it as a statement.
"Where is this coming from, Pete?"

He abruptly rolled over and crawled out of the fort with me hot on his
heels.  I stood up a second after he did and turned him to face me by his
arm.  He ripped it out of my grasp but didn't turn away.  Pete's eyes were
narrowed in anger.

"You don't say something like that and just walk away from me!  Just who
the fuck do you think you are?  Can you read my mind now?  Do you know what
I want more than I do?"

His face relaxed into a grimace.  "No, but Brian, you must realize that if
it weren't for me you would still have a good relationship with your
family.  You wouldn't have almost died.  You wouldn't..."

"I wouldn't have been happy," I interrupted.  "I would still have a shitty
relationship with my parents because I would still be gay and they still
wouldn't know how to deal with it.  They still wouldn't care about me.
They might have kicked me out.  You don't know- and you can't convince me-
that my life would have been better if things were different."

"But..."

"But nothing.  Why do I have to prove all of the sudden that I love you?
Is being here bothering you that much?"

Pete dropped his eyes.  A moment later I saw a tear drop to the forest
floor.  I wrapped him in my arms without hesitation and he put his forehead
against mine, sobbing quietly.  It didn't take long for him to recover and
apologize.

"It doesn't matter, babe," I said softly.  "I love you and that's not going
to change."

He hugged me tightly and kissed my forehead.  A moment later we were
walking arm-in-arm toward the house once more.  As we got closer we heard a
lawnmower start.  Apparently the owners of the house were home.

I cast a concerned glance at Pete and saw him swallow reflexively.  I put
my hand on his arm and squeezed.  He looked back at me and I could see the
fear and uncertainty in his eyes.  He stopped walking.

"It's not to late, Pete.  We can go somewhere else."

"No," he said shakily.  "I'm doing this now."

"We are doing this together."

He smiled slightly and put his hand over mine.  "Yes, we are doing this
together."

We continued toward the back of the house and we could see the roof over
the brush and through the trees.  We proceeded hesitantly, and I was
waiting for Joe Jameson come out of nowhere.  I grinned to myself thinking
how stupid that was.  Pete glanced at me.

"I feel like your dad is going to jump us, Pete.  Isn't that stupid?"

"Yeah, but I feel the same way.  It was really bad here, Bri.  My memories
didn't seem as bad until I got to the fort, then it all came back."  Pete
visibly shook himself out of his memories.

"It doesn't matter," I affirmed.  "He's gone, and you'll never see him
again.  He can't hurt you."

"You're right, Bri.  He can't hurt me- or you- any more."

I smiled at him as we approached the house, trying to give him some
confidence.  The lawnmower turned off just as we could see part of the
house.  Pete and I put some space between us for appearance sake.  A person
went back inside through the glass door.  I couldn't see them.  We walked a
little closer and saw a dog in the back yard, which was now fenced in.  The
dog saw us and began barking.

A deep male voice boomed out from behind the door.  "Shut up, goddamn it!"

 We looked at each other, trying to find comfort in our proximity.  I was
so nervous my stomach was turning flips.  I really needed to hold Pete's
hand, to somehow have physical contact with him, but I couldn't.  I could
tell he felt the same way.

We came within view of the house and saw a Doberman standing at the
hurricane fence barking his fool head off.

The door opened.  A man stepped out and bellowed, "Shut up, you mangy
hound!"

The dog's barking abruptly ceased and the man walked toward us.

He spoke, his tone pure malice.  "Why, hello... faggot!"

"D...d...dad?"  Pete was stunned.

Joseph Jameson stood before us in the flesh, a demonic grin splitting his
face.

"Now ain't that cute," the man said.  "A little fairy come to visit his old
man.  Honey!  We have company!"

"Who is it, hon?"

Pete staggered back a step as Brenda Jameson appeared at the door.


"You!  What are you doing here!"  Brenda was obviously nonplussed at our
appearance at her back door.

She strode to the fence and turned her attention to me.  "And you!  You
turned my son into a fag you little bastard!"

Pete recovered well and barked, "He did not!  Being gay is hereditary, so
if anyone made me gay it's you and him!"

Joe vaulted the five foot high fence with ease.  I pushed Pete back a step
and stood between him and Joe as adrenaline started inundating my system..

"Oh, the other fag is going to fight me.  Too much of a pansy to fight your
own battles?"

Pete bristled at Joe's taunt but I laughed, which confused both of them.

"What's so funny," Joe asked with his macho attitude.

"Not funny."  I chuckled for a moment longer and then stopped abruptly and
spoke caustically.  "Pathetic.  It only makes sense that such white trash
losers like you two would hook back up again, and it's real brave of you,
asshole, to try to kill two teenagers who have done nothing to you.  But
you're forgetting something."

I put on the most evil grin I could muster.  "If you try to touch us, we
get to defend ourselves, and this time I'm not scared of you anymore, you
bastard.  If you do decide to be stupid and come after me, you'd better
kill me because if you don't, I will kill you."

I heard Pete step off to my left side, giving me some room to maneuver if
necessary.  Joe seemed to have lost some of his determination as he took in
our appearance.  Pete was taller than Joe was, and I don't know what he saw
in me, but his eyes narrowed.  We stared each other down until Pete walked
up to my side.

"No," Pete said firmly as he put his hand on my shoulder.  "Not this time.
You're nothing to me.  You can't hurt me any more, and I won't go down into
the gutter to fight you.  You're not worth it."

"Not worth it, huh?" Joe asked menacingly.  "Well, you're not worth it.
You aren't worth the spooge that made you!"

"Like I said, pathetic," I observed.  "C'mon Pete, let's leave the white
trash to wallow in their filth."

We backed away, keeping our eyes on Joe.

"This isn't over, boy!" Joe spat.

"Yes, it is," Pete stated simply.  "You can't touch me.  You can't hurt me.
The only good thing I got from you was being gay, because it got me away
from you, and it got Brian by my side.  I hope you're happy, because we
are.  Oh, and by the way, don't bother trying to bother us or whatever,
because my dad is an attorney.  Ask your woman about him.  He'll take what
little you have from you if I ever see you again.  Have a good life."

When Joe and Brenda were out of sight, we turned around and quickly walked
back the way we came.  Neither of us really wanted a physical confrontation
with either of them.  Pete was quiet most of the way, concentrating on the
ground more than anything.  It didn't take a genius to figure out something
was really bothering him.

It was quite a shock to see Brenda and Joe together again.  Never in a
million years would I have thought they would reconcile.  What that
reconciliation would mean to Pete was a big question mark for me.  He
obviously didn't want to talk about it because he rebuffed all attempts at
conversation with single word answers or grunts.

When we were back at my place he asked for some time alone.  I didn't want
to give it to him but I did anyway.  He had to figure it all out in his
head, but I really wished he would've let me be with him while he did.

Some time later, about four that afternoon, Pete came out of his seclusion.
It was obvious to me he'd been crying.  After washing his face, he allowed
me to pull him back into my room.  Pete told me what he was thinking with a
little coaxing.

"It's like, they're together and happy now that I'm gone.  I kind of feel
like if I hadn't have been born then they would never have been split up in
the first place.  I know it's stupid, but I feel guilty for putting them
through it all."

Nothing I said to him seemed to make him feel any differently.  He was
still happy we were together, but a pall had been cast over our happiness.
Again he asked for some time alone and asked in such a way I could not
refuse him.  I was at a loss.  All I could do was be there for him and hope
he would come to terms with it soon.


I called the Forn residence again.  Kathlene answered the phone and was
surprised to hear from me.  Her voice held some strain that I wasn't used
to hearing except when I had pushed her to the edge when I was living with
her.  I asked how things were going and she evaded the question by saying
Chris would tell me when he saw me.  A pregnant pause filled the electronic
silence for a moment before I asked her if she was okay.  Her response
sounded as if she weren't telling the whole truth and that she was
exhausted, unhappy, or both.  Searching for something to say, I spoke the
only words that kept coming to mind.

"I missed you, mom."

"Oh, honey, we missed you, too.  I'll see you tonight.  Come by around six.
Oh, Mac and Pedro will be here, too. Will Pete be with you?"

"I think so.  He...uh... had one hell of a shock this afternoon."

"Brian, language."

"Yes, mom," I said flippantly, which earned me a chuckle.

"You can tell me tonight," Kathlene replied.

"Okay.  See you at six.  Love you, mom."

"I love you too, Brian," Kathlene said with feeling.  "Goodbye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and turned to see my mother staring at me with an
expression I can only call jealousy.  For some reason it piqued my anger
again so I walked back to my room and knocked on the door.

"Door's open," came Pete's voice from inside.

I opened the door just an inch and asked, "Can I come in now?"

He shrugged.  "Your room.  For a few more days, anyway."  He tried to
lighten his words with a smile that almost reached his eyes.

I went into the room, closing the door behind me, and sat on the floor near
where he was laying.  Pete propped himself up on an elbow and watched me as
I sat, peering into my eyes to see what was on my mind.  I stared back at
him trying to see where he was emotionally.  Neither of us found much
between his pain and my anger.

"Pete, how can I help you?" I asked plaintively.

He shrugged.  "You can't, Bri.  There's nothing that anyone can do.  The
simple fact is I screwed up their lives."

I jumped from a sitting position to all fours and moves so I was almost
nose to nose with Pete.  He laid back down thinking I was going to head
butt him or something.

"That's fucking bullshit and you know it!  They fucked up your life- our
lives!"  I was now leaning over him.  "I can't believe you actually think
that bastard and bitch deserve anything after what they did to you and what
happened today!"

Pete just stared at me as my tirade continued.

"That woman ripped you away from the life you were living, took you to a
strange place, invited an abusive son of a bitch into your home and let him
beat you up, then beat you up herself!  That sorry excuse for a sperm donor
that studded you rejected you because of something you had no control over!
And you have the nerve to feel sorry for them?  God damn it, Pete, tell me
how you ruined their life!"

He surged upward from his supine position and bashed my nose with his
forehead, rocking me back on my knees.

"Because I was born, mother fucker!  That's how!  I wish I'd never been
born!  None of this would have happened!"

I stared at him wide eyed, hand to my now bleeding nose, unable to believe
what he'd just said.  He was breathing hard, glaring at me with hate in his
eyes, but it was directed inward, not at me.  Neither of us moved.  My door
opened admitting my mother.

"What on earth?"

"Get out!" I yelled.

"Brian Andrew Kellam, you will not talk to me that way!"

I swung my head to her and dropped my hand as I stood up.

"You're bleeding!"

"Get out," I said in a dangerously low menacing voice.  "This is none of
your business."

It was the first time I ever saw my mother frightened of me and it prompted
her to leave as I'd asked her to.  She closed the door quietly behind her.
When I back to Pete I was unprepared for what I saw.  He had clambered
across the floor until he was in the corner of the room with his back to
the wall.  His expression held a mixture of fear and revulsion.  I realized
at that moment that to him I must have looked like his violent death coming
to claim him.  I stopped in my tracks and separated myself from whatever
anger I had in me.  He looked so much like that frightened little boy I had
been imprisoned in for all the time we had been separated and longer.

I fell to my knees just a few paces from him.  Blood was running down my
chin and dripping over my shirt and the floor, but I paid it no heed.  I
took a deep breath through my mouth and spoke to him in the most soothing,
loving tone I could muster.

"I know what you're thinking, babe.  You're wondering how I can love you
after what you've just said and done.  You're waiting for me to tell you to
get out and not come back.  I know because I've been exactly where you are
right now.  For the longest time I blamed myself for ruining your life.  If
I hadn't known you, if I hadn't been born..."

My throat constricted as I spoke making it that much harder to speak and
almost impossible to breathe due to my swollen nose.

"If I hadn't been born you wouldn't have lost your family.  You would still
be with them and happy.  It's hard even now- especially now- to remember
that everything I have and everything I am is because I know you, and
because you know me."

I slid a step closer to him.  I could see something close to understanding
behind the fear in his eyes.  My voice cracked with the strain of the
emotions running through me.

"You wouldn't be who you are now.  You wouldn't have a family that loves
you like Kevin and Jason and Ray.  You wouldn't have me.  I wouldn't have
you."

Tears were falling down my cheeks now mixing with the blood.

"Don't you understand?  We are together because of everything that's
happened!  Why do you blame yourself for something you could never have
prevented?  Why can't you be happy for yourself?  Why can't you be happy
for me?  For us?  Would you really change a single thing if it meant we
wouldn't be together?"

"Brian, you're bleeding."  His voice was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.
The fear was leaving his eyes and was replaced by concern.  "I hurt you."

I shook off his words.  "Don't you get it?  Nothing matters except that we
love each other.  No matter what else happens in the world, we will always
have that, and it can't be taken away.  The only thing that can defeat it
is us."

"But I hurt you," Pete said more forcefully.  "I said some terrible
things."

"Pete, babe, nothing you said tonight changes how I feel about you.  How
much shit did you put up with from me?" I asked earnestly.

"This is..."

"Different?"

He nodded.

"How?"

He slowly got to his knees and gazed into my eyes once more.  I coughed
hard as some blood mucus ran down my throat, but I returned my eyes to his
immediately.

"Pete, I love you."

At last I beheld the sight I desperately needed to see.  Pete smiled.

"I love you too, Brian.  Come on.  Let's get you cleaned up."

He stood and helped me up to my feet.  I was surprised that I was a bit
light headed, but he managed to get me to the bathroom with no trouble.
Since my shirt was saturated with blood I took it off and put pressure onto
my nose.  It wasn't broken but it was still painful.  Pete sat me on the
toilet and found a washcloth somewhere with which he began the tedious,
painful process of cleaning my face.  It became readily apparent that there
was too much blood to clean off with the washcloth, so he gave it to me to
use as a bandage and took my shirt out of the room to be cleaned.

I heard some words exchanged between Pete and my mom, but the tone seemed
civil enough.  When he returned my stern-faced mother was with him.  She
pulled the washcloth down to look at my nose and then replaced it in a
businesslike manner before glaring at me and leaving the room again.  Pete
watched the silent exchange and sighed as she walked away.

"I'm sorry, Brian.  I didn't mean what I said," Pete began quietly.

"I know, babe," I replied sympathetically.  "You were angry and in pain and
it had to come out somehow.  I just happened to be there."

"I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

I asked quizzically, "Who else were you going to take it out on?"

Pete grunted his reply as my mother returned with an icepack.

"Put this on your nose," she directed in a clipped tone.  Her continued
glare raised my hackles.  "Once the bleeding's stopped, you and I are going
to have a serious conversation, young man."

"Pete and I have been invited to dinner with Kathlene, Chris and the
brothers at six."

"We'll see about that."

My eyes narrowed.  "Are you trying to piss me off?  It's working well."

"I will not be treated with disrespect in my own house!" My mom declared.

I shot to my feet and a wave of dizziness hit me.

"Then treat me with respect!" I shouted back.  "Give me some credit!  If
you haven't noticed, I'm not twelve!  I'm almost sixteen!"  I continued in
a quieter voice.  "I'm not dealing with childhood concerns anymore.  That
went away a long time ago."

"I treat you as you act," she stated almost haughtily.

"I liked it better when you didn't treat me at all," I retorted coldly.  "I
can't handle this anymore."

I stood up and dropped the icepack in the sink and then retreated to my
room.  My bag was already packed from the incident earlier in the day.  I
grabbed it and headed out to the car with my mom following me all the way.

"Where do you think you're going?" She asked angrily.  "I didn't say you
can leave."

"And I didn't ask." I stated icily.  "Remember what Pete said this morning.
You have a lot to think about.  So do I, and I can't do it being around you
and your bullshit.  We're leaving.  Have a good trip.  See you when we get
back to Portland."

I walked out the door and after putting my bag in the trunk unlocked the
car.  I glanced back in the house and took in my mother's shocked
expression.  She just stared at me until Pete came out a few minutes
later. He paused to speak with her for a moment and I saw her shock turn to
fear.  Pete walked out the door carrying his bag and our mattress.  We were
backing out of the driveway in short order.

I couldn't look at Pete.  I didn't want him to see me crying again.  Again
I was overcome with impotent rage which turned into tears.  I cursed my
mother under my breath for ruining what was supposed to be a happy time for
me and Pete.  I didn't notice Pete speaking to me until he put his hand on
my knee.

"Brian, did you hear me?"

"Huh?  No.  Sorry."  I still didn't look in his direction.  I was afraid I
would lose it completely if I saw the compassion that was sure to line his
beautiful face.

"Where are we going?"  He patiently asked.

"Chris' place, I guess."

"We'll be an hour early."

I shrugged.  "Remember how to get there?"

"Sure do.  Brian, it'll be okay."  Pete sounded sincere.

However, I wasn't convinced.  "Yeah, whatever."

Neither of us said another word until we pulled up into Chris' driveway.
Suddenly I felt nervous, guilty and ashamed.  I was running away from home
again to land on Kathlene's doorstep just like I had three years before.
It felt like every time something happened in my life I ran away from it.
It started with my parents' betrayals, then trying to escape Pete's love
for me several times and almost killing myself once, to confronting my mom,
and those were just the high points.

Pete interrupted my thoughts.  "Are we going to go in, Brian?"

"What?  Oh.  Yeah."

We got out of the car and walked up the path to the front door.  Everything
was as I remembered it.  I stopped about ten feet from the porch and just
looked around as a sense of de ja vous struck me.  I had stood here on the
day I left home after getting out of the hospital.  It was at that spot my
childhood ended.  The boy I had been died.

"It was right here."

"What was that, Bri?" Pete asked, somewhat confused.

"I stood right here for fifteen minutes before I knocked on their door.
All I could see was my life ending.  Mom and dad didn't want me.  You were
gone.  Everything I knew just... died."

"But you're alive again, Bri."

"Thanks to you, and to these people.  They saved my life, Pete.  Literally.
In more ways than one."

"Shhh," Pete whispered as he enveloped me with his arms.  "It's all over
and done, baby."

"Is it?"  I shuddered within his embrace.  "With everything that's happened
today, the memories...."  I stood quietly for a moment and then continued,
"It seems like things will never change."

I shook myself mentally to break out of that train of thought.  I looked up
at my soul mate and smiled sadly.

"Sorry."

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry about, Bri.  It happened to me too."

I savored the sensation of being near Pete for a moment more then
disengaged from him.  "Guess we better knock.  Kathlene's going to want to
know what happened."

"What will you tell her?" Pete questioned.

"The truth.  I have nothing to hide from her.  Or Chris."

Pete looked at me for a moment.

"I've said it before," Pete said softly with a smile.  "I trust you, Brian.
If you trust Kathlene and Chris, then I do too.  Let's go knock, okay?"

We took the final steps to the door.  I took a deep breath and rapped on
the door firmly.  Through the door I heard Kathlene's voice.

"Boys, remember what I said."

The door opened revealing the woman who was my mother for the worst years
of my life.

"Hi, mom," I said with a sheepish grin.

Kathlene pulled me toward her and kissed my cheek before wrapping me in her
arms.  Chris came up behind her, all smiles.  Behind him I saw Mac Bedler
and Pedro Perez standing near the stairs, both wearing grins of their own.

"I missed you so much, Brian."  She pushed me out to arms length and a
frown crossed her face.  "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you later."

I smiled at her and slid to the side until I stood in front of Chris.  My
stomach was roiling.  I hadn't kept in touch with him like I had said I
would, and I was afraid he'd hold it against me.

"Um, hi, Chris," I said tentatively.

"Don't give me that!  Come here!"

Chris caught me by the back of the neck and pulled me into his version of a
hug, which was more like being constricted by a python.  His head was
hanging down by mine.  I spoke softly so only he could hear.

"I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch, Chris.  It's...  there was a lot
happening."

"Brian, it's okay.  Don't forget I know you.  It was easier for us.  But
now... you better keep in touch from now on or I'll pop your head."

I slipped out of his embrace and smirked at him.

"You have to catch me first, fat boy."

Chris laughed and smiled as I looked him over.  He'd grown another inch or
two since I'd seen him in February.  He was broader through the chest and
had more mass than I remembered.  I caught sight of a bruise under each of
his eyes, but his smile was genuine.

"Come on in, shrimp," Chris chuckled.  "Say hi to the family."

I moved into the house just in time to lose sight of Pete behind Chris.  He
was smothered by a crushing Chris special.  Kathlene was smiling as she
watched them, but I could detect lines of worry around her eyes.

 "Heya, Brian.  How's it hangin' dog?"  Mac asked. He presented his fist as
I stepped up to him.

I met it with my own and replied, "Long and low, Mac.  Long and low."

We both grinned and completed the ritual greeting.  Pedro was sitting back,
playing it cool.  I approached him with the same demeanor.

"Pedro," I said by way of acknowledgement.

"Brian," he responded.

I continued toward him and stopped one pace from him.  It made both of us
uncomfortable.  I knew, however, that I had to make the first overture to
prove that I wasn't trying to supplant his position as he had thought in
February.  I held out my hand.

"Brother?"

Pedro looked at me for a moment. I didn't know what he was wrestling with
in his mind, but it didn't last long. Pedro reached out and placed a hand
on my shoulder. He then smiled.

"Si, mi hermano."

"Touching," Pete said in a mischievous manner.  "I might get jealous."

Mac and Pedro eyed each other for a second.

"He's jealous!" Pedro announced.

"Yes, I believe he is," Mac confirmed.  "I guess he feels left out."

"Yup.  After you, bro," Pedro graciously offered

"No, after you, bro.  I insist," Mac rebutted.

"Why, thank you," Pedro replied.

Pedro's arm dropped from my shoulder, and both he and Mac calmly walked up
to my amused boyfriend, who was then engulfed in a combined hug.  Chris was
attempting to stifle a laugh while Kathlene just shook her head and
returned to the kitchen.  The rest of us sat at the dining room table where
we had worked out our differences the last time I saw Mac and Pedro.  I
once more caught sight of the bruises on Chris' face.  It wasn't football
season so I knew he hadn't gotten them at practice and that made me wonder.

"Hey Chris?" I asked.  "What happened to your face, dude?"

"Huh?"

"Your face?  The thing that holds your nose?  What happened?"

The room suddenly fell silent.  All motion had stopped in the dining room,
and I saw Kathlene staring at me from the kitchen.  Mac and Pedro passed
each other glances filled with trepidation and uncertainty.  Kathlene
cleared her throat, but Chris beat her to the punch.

"I, uh, got in a fight," Chris said quietly.

"You got into a fight?"  I asked skeptically.

I couldn't believe what he'd said.  Who in their right mind would want to
take on a behemoth like Chris that stood over six feet and weighed well
over two hundred pounds?  They'd either have to be insane or bigger than he
was. Only two people came to mind that could possibly challenge Chris.  Mac
was sitting right there so I knew it wasn't him.

I asked laughingly, "With who? David?"

Chris swallowed.  Mac and Pedro couldn't look at me.  Kathlene just stared.

"No way."  My mind wouldn't accept what I was being told by the ripe
silence around the table.  "No way!"

Again no one chose to respond.  Pete put his hand on my leg as I fell into
confusion.

My voice revealed my consternation.  "Why on earth would Davey fight with
you, Chris?  You guys are so tight!"

Chris took a deep breath and said, "Things changed and Dave, he didn't like
it."

Chris said his brother's name in a strange way that I had never heard
before.

"What could possibly make Davey want to do that to you?" I asked, still
uncertain of where this was headed.

Chris stared hard at me for a moment then shook his head.

"I, ah... fell in love," he said simply.

Mac and Pedro began snickering, and it distracted me for a moment.

"You fell in love?" I asked stupidly.

Chris nodded, and that caused his brothers to chuckle out loud.

"With who, Chris?"

Pedro was leaning against Mac, his face buried in his shoulder.  Chris
seemed uncomfortable and chagrined at the behavior of his friends.

Well, I... uh, you know I... it's not..." Chris was stammering, trying to
figure out a way to tell me who it was.

My mind started working and I realized that if Chris was having trouble
telling me who, then something monumental resulted out of it.  In spite of
myself, I just watched his discomfiture as Chris struggled to get the name
out.  He finally took a deep breath, sat back in his chair and dropped his
head.  When he spoke, I had to strain to hear him.

"Tony."

I shot out of my chair and knocked it over as a tremendous rage took
control of my senses.  Chris was in love with Tony, another boy.  That
meant Chris was gay, and that meant...

I yelled, "You mean he's a fucking gay basher?"

I looked around the table and saw nothing but confusion.  No one spoke, and
that only stoked my fury.

"David beat you up because you are gay!"

It was a statement and not a question.  Confusion was replaced by shock and
horror on all of their faces.  I looked around at them taking in their
strained expressions.  It was plain to me, and I couldn't believe they'd
never put it together.

"Damn it!  I knew it!  That's why he never liked me!"

Chris overcame his astonishment and turned to face his mother in the
kitchen.  She was looking at me with her jaw hanging open.  Kathlene closed
it with an audible click an instant later, the only sound in the room.  Her
brow then wrinkled and a dark look crossed her face. I instantly knew in
that moment she had known all along. However, I couldn't tell what
concerned her the most at that point.

"Mom?" Chris pleaded with her in disbelief.  It was amazing that one word
could hold so many questions.

She managed to rip her eyes from mine and meet Chris' gaze.  After a moment
she staggered to a chair at the table next to Chris and sat heavily, eyes
on the table.  She did not look up.  She was in denial, just like my mom
was, but from diametrically opposed points on the spectrum.  I was given
birth by a bigot, and Kathlene had given birth to one.

I looked around the table.  No one but Pete met my gaze, and his expression
was worried.  For some reason it pissed me off even more than I already was
if that was possible.  Without a word, I turned and headed toward the door
to the garage.

"Brian," Kathlene called in an attempt to stop me.

"Mom, let him go," Chris said.  He knew me well enough to realize I had an
adrenaline overload.

I stalked out of the house through the garage and went back to the weight
room.  I knew that if I didn't work out some of fury coursing through my
body I would end up being physically ill.

I lay down on the bench and started lifting whatever weight had been left
on the new weight machine.  It was a very light amount, and that was
actually a good thing because I would be able to work out more of my anger
that way.  I started pumping out presses at a high rate.

Pete came in shortly after I started lifting and sat on a bench next to the
machine watching me as I swore and cursed through each and every
repetition.  I don't know how long I'd been working when I heard Mac's
voice come from the door.

"You gonna hurt yourself, dog, you keep it up like that."

I stopped and sat up, breathing hard.  My anger had abated to a small
degree, and I felt like I was in control again.  I still wanted to rip
David's body limb from limb, but I could now think clearly.

"Damn, bro, how many reps did you do?" Pedro asked.

"I dunno," I said between gasps.  "How long?"

"Four or five minutes," Pete said.

"About two fifty, I guess."

Pedro let out a low whistle.

I was glad they were distracting me.  After the morning confrontation with
Joe and Brenda followed by my mother and now this, I had enough adrenaline
in me to kill a horse.  I looked at Pete in disbelief at just how much we
had been through in the scant span of twelve hours.  It completely baffled
me.

My eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Why?" I demanded softly.

"I don't know, Bri," Pete said, sensing the larger question I was asking.
"People hate because they're afraid of what they don't understand.  You
told me that."

I recalled the discussion we'd had in my fort the day before Pete had been
ripped from my existence.

"That was a long time ago," I said wistfully.

"It's still true, Brian," Pedro said.  "It was like that with my brother,
too, until el pez showed me different."

"Who?" Pete asked.

"Tony."

"Where is Tony?" I asked.  "Why isn't he here?"

Again Pedro and Mac traded uncertain glances.  I got the idea that neither
of them wanted to tell me.

"Long story, Brian," said Chris from the doorway.  "I suppose I should tell
you the whole story so you can understand, but let's do it inside, okay?
We really need to get back in there for mom."

Guilt gripped my stomach in an iron fist.  I had hoped this would be a
happy reunion but, true to form, I had managed to turn it into a fiasco.
That, as much as the exercise, brought me back down to ground level
emotionally.  I got up from the bench I was sitting on and stood by my
boyfriend to rest my arm around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry guys," I said contritely.  "I couldn't deal with it when I put
things together and I flew off the handle."

Chris studied my face.  I watched him for some hint of what he was feeling
and found a hard glint in his eyes I'd never seen before in Chris.  It
reminded me of what I saw in my own eyes most of the time.

No one responded verbally to my attempted apology, and it made me feel even
lower.  Chris led us back into the dining room where we once again took our
seats.  On the table were some chips and salsa Kathlene had made for us
before I went off the deep end.  She was conspicuously absent.  I sighed
and put my head down in my arms as I chastised myself for my lack of
self-control.

"Brian, stop it.  You didn't do anything wrong."

I raised my head and saw Kathlene standing at the foot of the stairs
wearing a vexed expression.  She strode back into the kitchen crisply and
then delivered a pitcher of orange juice to the table before taking her
seat next to Chris.

"What you did do," she continued, "was present what happened in a light
none of us have considered.  It will take time to digest."

"It seems like all I do is cause trouble when I come here," I protested.
"Between this, my mom, and Pete's parents..."

"You don't cause trouble, Brian," Chris said slowly.  "We're family.  We're
supposed to help each other.  Maybe we needed to see things in a new way.
Did you ever think of that?"

I was dubious at best.  I highly doubt my telling Chris and his mother that
their brother and son was a homophobic bastard made their lives any easier.
Mac was staring at Chris with a strange expression, like he couldn't
believe what Chris had just said.  The look on his face changed to
confusion as Chris continued.

"When Tony and I first got together, he asked me to read all kinds of
books.  I didn't know why he asked me to, but I read them anyway.  I
figured it out after a while... uh..."

 Chris seemed uncomfortable and took a different tack.

"He had me read them because each book showed me a different way to think;
a different way to look at things.  I think it's important to look at stuff
from all angles now."  Chris paused a moment and said to no one in
particular.  "Things would be different if I had."

"Different?" I queried.  "How?"

Chris stared right through me.  His eyes were clouded beyond what I could
attribute to the bashing he'd received at David's hands.  He snapped back
into focus and sighed.  When Chris spoke, his tone surprised me:
emotionless and straight to the point.

"The weekend before school ended, Tony went down town.  He likes to do that
every weekend: spend some time with just him, his board and the streets.
While he was down there, he was attacked by a group of people.  They beat
him up pretty bad and put him in the hospital."

"How bad, Chris?" Pete asked quietly.

Chris replied, "He got kicked in the head.  It cracked his skull and put
him into a coma."

 "Did they find out who did it?" Asked Pete.

"Yeah.  It was some kids from school that don't like me.  Jeremy Norton was
one of them.  They went after Tony because they were afraid to face me.
There is a good chance that they will be going to prison."

"Wow," Pete said. "Is he okay?"

"He's doing okay.  Besides a broken arm and leg, there was some damage to
his brain, and he tends to stutter.  It makes him really mad when it
happens, so don't be surprised when you see him tomorrow.  We're having a
`Welcome Home' barbecue for Tony, and you two are invited."

"Cool," Pete responded.  "I'd like to see him again.

There was a pause.

"Brian?" Pete asked.  "Are you okay?"

I was not okay.  My mind had had enough by that point.  Too much hate had
filled my life during the prior twelve hours and my brain just shut down.
The anger I felt had receded out of my conscious reach.  All that was left
at that moment was an eerie calm, like the eye of a hurricane.  I knew my
emotions were swirling all around me, waiting to come back out in a
maelstrom of rage.  It was only a matter of time, and I knew it.

"Kathlene, can I talk to you alone for a minute?" I asked.  Pete shifted
uncomfortably, Kathlene looked suspiciously calm, and Chris eyed me warily.
They could tell what was happening within me.  Mac and Pedro just watched
us, oblivious to the coming storm.

I stood and walked to the stairs without waiting to see if she was
following.  As I started to climb up to what used to be my room I saw her
come around the corner.  I continued up and sat on the bed waiting for her.
She closed the door and sat in the desk chair.

"What is it, Brian?" She asked.

"I can't go home tonight," I said flatly.  "Can Pete and I stay here?"

"Why can't you go home, Brian?"

I struggled to remain calm as my fury returned.  Somehow I managed to turn
it into a cold rage and maintained my composure.  "My mom isn't ready to
accept me for who I am.  She doesn't like the fact that I'm gay and in love
with Pete."

"How do you know that?"

"Things she's said," I answered, "her expressions, her attitude toward me
and Pete."

"Don't you think you should give her time to adjust?"  Kathlene questioned.

"She's had over eight months to adjust to it!"

"She hasn't been living with you and Pete long enough to get used to the
way you two act around each other," Kathlene explained.

"What's that supposed to mean?"  I demanded, perceiving an accusation.

"Oh, get off your high horse.  I meant exactly what I said and nothing
more.  She isn't used to seeing two boys your age kiss and hug, let alone
her son and his boyfriend."

"I can't go back there," I stated.

"You should," Kathlene urged.  "You can't run away from this forever,
Brian."

"No.  You don't understand.  I can't go back there tonight feeling the way
I feel right now.  I'm going to explode the moment she speaks to me."

Kathlene peered at me and asked, "Why are you so angry, Brian?  What is it
that is bothering you?"

"A lot," I hedged.  "Too much."

"We have time."  Kathlene settled back in her chair to wait me out.

My blood was still boiling, but I knew that any chance of staying there
depended on my confessing at least part of what was troubling me.

"My mom pretty much said that Pete and I are going to be child molesters
when we get older.  She told me to `not act that way' when she walked in on
Pete and me.  We were kissing.  It's not just her, either.  Pete's parents
hate him because I turned him gay. Chris got the crap kicked out of him
because he's gay.  No one said anything, but I bet Tony got bashed because
he's gay.  I had an argument with a guy not three days ago because his
daughter tried to seduce... more like rape me, and I didn't want her.  He
accused me of being gay like it's a disease!"

I stopped talking for a second as it all came crashing back through my
mind.

"Mom, if you make me go back home, I don't know what I'll do," I warned.
"I can't handle much more of this before I go ballistic."

"And what you did earlier was..." Kathlene prompted me.

I looked steadily into her eyes.  "Nothing compared to what this could turn
into if I don't get control of it, and I can't do that with her looking
over me making her remarks."

"Okay, Brian," Kathlene said with little hesitation.  "You and Pete can
stay, but all I have is the twin."

"We have an air mattress.  We'll set it up in here."

I stood and approached her.  She stood as well.  She seemed shorter than I
remembered, but then I'd grown since I'd seen her last, too.

"Thank you, mom.  You saved me again," I said quietly.

She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tightly.  "You're always
welcome here, honey."

"I need to go for a run to calm down."

"Okay, you know where everything is," Kathlene replied.  "I think you have
some shorts here still, or if you don't have any, you might be able to
borrow some of Tony's if they fit."

"That's okay," I said, "I don't think they'll fit.  We have to bring stuff
in from the car anyway.  Um, Mom?  Can we stay for a couple days?  I'd
really like to spend some time with you, Tony and Chris."

"Of course," Kathlene answered with a smile.  "Stay as long as you like.  I
think both Chris and Tony would like that."

"Is Tony really okay?" I asked earnestly.

"He's fine," she said.  "He just has to heal."

Her eyes lost focus for a moment.

"We all do."

-------------

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