By Tim Mead
Chapter 17
JONATHAN:
“What about Burke?”
I asked.
“According to the
report I heard, he was found in a room in a downtown hotel and taken to the ER
at Stafford General. That’s all the
information they gave. I’m surprised it
made the news at all, actually.”
“Well, he is a
prominent local attorney and a former D.A.”
“Yeah, they said
that on the news flash.”
“And this is still a
small town in some ways. I wonder how I
can get more information about him.”
“Since you aren’t
family, hon, I doubt that you can.”
“Well, I’ll try some
phone calls from here. I’ll leave at
“I’ll have some wine
ready.”
“Thanks for calling,
love.”
Whitney had sat
there during my conversation with Frank, trying at first not to listen, and
then becoming more interested as it progressed.
“Frank was calling
to say that an old friend of mine had been taken to the hospital.”
“Do you want to
leave, Jon? Nothing’s going on
here. I can sit at the desk until
closing time.”
“If you don’t mind,
Whitney, I’d like to go to the hospital and see how he’s doing. He was at my place last night and was pretty
unhappy. I confess I’m worried about
him.”
He waved me
away. “Go on, then. I hope everything will be okay. And if you need me for anything, please
call.”
When I stood, he followed
suit. I hugged him.
“Thanks,
Whitney. You’re a good friend.”
I called Frank from
my cell to tell him that Whitney had urged me to leave, so I was going to stop
by Stafford General and see what I could find out about Burke.
The candy striper
behind the desk in the lobby told me only that he’d been admitted and that his condition
was listed as serious. When I asked
about visiting him, she told me he was in ICU, so only his wife and children
were allowed to see him. She suggested
that I check back the next day.
It was still only
I had dinner that
evening at Frank’s. It was tomato soup
and grilled cheese sandwiches, simple fare, but I didn’t care so long as I could
be with Frank.
Of course we talked
about Burke, and I told him what I had learned.
“You could, I
suppose, call his wife and see how he’s doing.”
“I don’t think
so. If she really cares about him,
she’ll be terribly worried, and I wouldn’t want to bother her. But given what he told me last night, I don’t
think she’d want to hear from me. I
think I’ll just check the hospital tomorrow sometime. Did we have anything planned?”
“Nope. I’d
thought we might do some snuggling in the morning, since there’s no rush to get
out of bed, and see what, if anything, follows
that. And we really should work
out. All this holiday food and lack of
activity is dangerous.”
I grinned at
him. “There’s been a certain amount of
nocturnal activity that may have burned off a few calories.”
“Yeah,” he said,
grinning back, “and it strengthens necessary muscles, too. But you know we need to hit the gym.”
The next morning we
did revel in being able to make long, languorous love without Frank’s having to dash off to school. After breakfast we went, as planned, to the
gym. We took both cars, so he could go
home and I could stop by the hospital.
I was told by
another candy-striper that Burke was scheduled for surgery later that day and
wouldn’t be able to have visitors.
I thanked her, and just
as I was turning away, Marcy came in the main doors, spotted me, and headed
directly for me. She was impeccably
dressed and made up, the very picture of a prominent attorney’s wife. Her face, however, was made ugly by the
hateful expression it bore.
“You have a lot of
nerve coming here!”
I was too shocked to
say anything.
“This is all your fault. If
you hadn’t come back to
“I’m really sorry
about Burke. Can you at least tell me
what happened?”
“He’s having a
triple bypass this afternoon! I found
out he’d been to see you the night before his heart attack. You stay away from him! Don’t come back here!”
I was still nearly
speechless that she could somehow blame me for what had happened.
“I’ll pray that the
operation goes well. And would you
please give Burke my love?”
Under the
circumstances, “love” was the wrong word to use.
She practically sneered
at me. “I’ll do nothing of the sort, Dr.
Baker. You, sir, are a disgusting
pervert, and I insist that you stay away from my husband.”
She wasn’t speaking
very loudly, but several people heard the word “pervert” and looked at us. The candy-striper sat there wide-eyed,
obviously fascinated by what was going on.
Marcy turned quickly and marched toward the elevators. I felt the eyes
of everyone in the waiting area on me as I made the long walk to the door.
Once outside, I used
my cell phone to see if Frank was at his place and was relieved that he was.
“Good, I’ll be right
there. I need you.”
“Is Burke in that
bad shape?”
“I’ll tell you about
it when I get there.”
Just then I really
needed my lover. He was waiting for me
with a kiss and a sympathetic ear as I told him what had transpired at the
hospital.
I was still
concerned about Burke, all the more because the hospital wouldn’t give me any
real information, and Marcy seemed out as a source. It was Frank who suggested that the priests
at the church might know something. If a
parishioner was seriously ill, he’d be likely to receive a visit from one of
them.
I waited until the
next morning to call Holy Trinity. I requested
to speak to either Father Glenn or Father Gary.
After lunch Frank
and I were both reading while a Haydn string quartet played on the stereo. When the phone rang, Frank, who was closer,
answered it. He spoke briefly with the person
on the other end and then handed me the phone.
It was
“Jon,” he said,
looking concerned, “why do I sense that you feel responsible for what happened
to Burke?”
“Do I? Yeah, I suppose I do in a way. He sought me out when he’d come to the end of
his rope. I wasn’t going to tell you
this, but he asked to stay the night. He
wanted to sleep with me. I wouldn’t let
him. So I’m the one who’s responsible
for his going to the hotel in what was a very agitated state. I need to see him and apologize.”
“You fed the man,
listened to him for hours, babe, you were there for him. And if he needed a triple bypass, he had a
condition that would have resulted in his heart attack anyway. It’s nothing you caused.”
“Well, I may have
been the immediate cause, though it’s the way his wife was acting that had him so stressed. I
still need to see him, though. Can you
understand that? You aren’t upset with
me, are you?”
He put his arm
around me and kissed my cheek. “Sure, I
can understand why you need to see your old friend, Jon, and I’m not upset with
you. But do you think you’ll be allowed
to see him?”
I hadn’t thought of
that. “Eventually, I suppose. I can’t imagine that Marcy will be there all
day, every day. Sooner or later I’d be
able to get in to see him. I just don’t
know when.”
“In the meanwhile,
you might send flowers or candy or something.”
“That’s a good
idea. I don’t imagine the doctors would
encourage candy, but I could send flowers.
Thanks for the suggestion. I
think I’ll do that right now.”
After using his
phone book to look up the number of
“Oh, and sign the
card, ‘from Ross,’ please.”
When I hung up,
Frank asked, “Why your middle name?”
“Well, think about
it. That woman won’t let me near
him. What do you suppose she’d do if she
knew I’d sent flowers? He’d never see
them. He’ll remember my middle name, but
she won’t recognize it.”
“You’re so
clever. Come here and give me a kiss.”
I was happy to oblige.
Later in the week I
was able to be at the hospital when Marcy wasn’t the dragon at the gates. Burke and I had a tearful twenty minutes
together. They’d told me not to stay
long, as he was still weak. He thanked
me for the flowers and said I was clever to use my middle name on the
card. I apologized for not keeping him
at my house on Sunday night, and he pooh-poohed that, saying the heart attack
was inevitable.
“Besides, Jonny, you made me welcome, gave up an evening with your
lover, fixed me drinks and dinner, and gave me a shoulder to cry on. What more could a friend ask of a friend?”
I took his hand
between both of mine. “You’ll always
have me, Burke. You know about Frank and
me, that we’re in it for the long haul. But Frank understands about you and me, so
don’t ever hesitate to come to me – or us – when you need a friend.”
He thanked me for
that. I didn’t think it was the time to
ask what his plans were about Marcy. So,
after chatting a few minutes longer, I left.
He asked me to come back. He said
he’d make it clear to his wife that I was to be allowed to see him whenever I
came.
The next day was New
Year’s Eve. Burke called from the
hospital. He was grumbling because he
wasn’t being discharged until the end of the week, Friday or Saturday. I promised him that I’d come and see him
again, but that I’d call first to make sure it was okay.
“I know what you
mean by okay.” He chuckled. “You just don’t want to run into my
wife. I really don’t know what’s
happened to her. She didn’t used to be a
bitch. But the kids are coming in for
the holidays. She’ll be home with them
some. On the other hand, they’ll be here
some, too. So calling first is a good
idea. And, hey, why don’t you bring
Frank? I’d like to see him again.”
“You got it,
Burke. Get better, my friend.”
“Will
do. Thanks, Jonny.”
Frank and I did
manage a visit with Burke, who was looking surprisingly better and was, despite
the problems at home, eager to get out of the hospital. I hated to see him going back into that
stressful environment, but that was his decision. I wondered if perhaps he might go stay a
while with one of his kids. I knew he’d
enjoy the grandchildren, and some time away from Marcy would probably be
healthful.
We two old farts
stayed home (my place) on New Year’s Eve.
We rented a DVD of a recently-popular movie, and then watched the
craziness at Times Square. After the
ball dropped, I excused myself and went into the kitchen. I came back with two flutes and a bottle of
champagne.
“You sentimental
devil,” Frank said, smiling. “I didn’t
see you stick that bottle in the fridge.”
“I made a point of
doing it when you weren’t looking. But
this is our first New Year’s Eve together, lover, and I think that calls for a
bit of celebration, even if we did stay home like a couple of old farts.”
I poured some of the
bubbly for each of us.
“To
you, Jon. I love you even if you are an old fart.”
“To
us, lover.”
That Saturday
afternoon we watched a very forgettable football game on television. When it was over, I switched off the TV.
“Frank, we need to
talk about something.”
We’d been sitting
together on the sofa, idly stroking and petting each other. Now he turned to face me. “What’s that?”
“Now that we’re
together, I’m wondering how ‘together’ we can actually be.”
“I think I know what
you mean, but go on.”
“Well, there’s the
matter of living arrangements. I’m so
happy to have you in my life I’ll agree to just about anything you want to
do. I’d love for us to live together,
but I realize that may not be wise so long as you’re teaching. And I suppose there’s the question of how
much we should be seen together.”
“I’ve been giving
all that some thought, too. I’ve been at
Stafford High for a longtime, and I’ve been what you might call ‘quietly out’
the whole time, so no one ever says anything about my being gay. You and I have been seen together at the
soccer matches by quite a few students, and I’ve no doubt we’ve also been seen
around town at restaurants, the mall, church, and the gym. Again, no one has said anything. But if word gets around that we’re lovers, I
don’t know what might happen. Maybe nothing. I want
to shout to the world that we love each other, but let’s be
cautious for now, okay?”
“I understand what
you’re saying, and I agree. As I said, I
don’t want to do anything to make matters difficult for you at school.”
“You know, I thought
I’d considered just about everything last fall when we were going through our
‘let’s think things over’ period, but I was so focused on you that I never
thought about what might happen at school.”
He got up, stuck his hands in his pockets, and went over to the picture
window. He stood, looking out at the
snowy front lawn. He was tall and straight, a fine-looking man. “I could retire anytime. I’ve more than got my years in. I just enjoy teaching so much, I always
thought I keep going until they made me quit at 70. But, hell, Jon, if teaching means we have to
hide our relationship, then dammit, I think I’ll just
retire at the end of this year.”
I went over to him,
grabbed him, and gave him a searching kiss.
“It will be
wonderful having you around all day, hon.
And I think we can manage to be discreet for the rest of the school
year.”
“Shit, if I’m
retiring at the end of the year, I won’t even need to be terribly
discreet. What are they gonna do, fire
me?”
“You aren’t
suggesting that we should be caught fucking in the faculty lounge, are you?”
He chuckled. “Sounds like great fun, but no, that’s not
quite what I meant. I just think we
don’t need to hide our relationship completely.
And when school’s out, what would you think of some sort of commitment
ceremony?”
“I love it! Some nice afternoon in June
we could do it at the gazebo on the grounds at
He kissed me until I
was breathless and beginning to get back the wood I’d thrown while we were
fooling around earlier.
“
“Yeah, and maybe
Father Gary would conduct the service.”
My memory of what
happened after that is hazy, but it had something to do with the bedroom and a
rather late Saturday supper.
WHITNEY:
On Tuesday morning I
spent a couple of hours with Fran Erskine, who was
the chair of our upcoming fund-raising gala, scheduled for Valentine’s Day,
which was a Saturday that year. She was
willing to spend some time with me during the week between Christmas and New
Year’s because we wanted to make sure that everything was going smoothly. This was a black-tie event that had proven to
be very popular with
That afternoon the
volunteer on the desk transferred a call from Stuart. He was still in
“I’ve been counting
on it. But if you want to have dinner
out, I’m afraid we’ll have to stand in line for a long time. I’m sure it’s too late to get reservations at
a nice place, and we’d probably have to go to a chain.”
“How
about if we just eat at home? I could fix something.”
“Stu,
you’ve been out of town for a week, and you won’t be back until the middle of
the day. Why don’t you trust me to cook
tomorrow night?”
“Sounds
great!”
“Sure you don’t mind
not going out on the town? Could be pretty dull spending an evening with me on the biggest
party night of the year.”
“Shut up! I have missed you, Whitney, and I’m looking
forward to hearing what you’ve been up to.”
I laughed. “That will take ten minutes. But I’ll try to think of something to make it
worth your while.”
It was his turn to
chuckle. “I hope you’re thinking of the
same thing I am.”
“It could very well
be. Come over whenever you want.”
“I’ve got to lay in some groceries tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be over after that, but I’ll call when I
get back in town, okay?”
“Okay, stud. See ya.”
I’d been doing some
work in my studio during the holidays.
I’d finished the large glass piece Chave had asked me to do for him, and
I’d worked on something else.
I bought a silver
neck chain, to which I attached a small medallion I’d made. It was as close as I could get to the color
of the turquoise in the studs Stu had given me. In the center was a silver monogram with his
initials, SB. It was devilishly hard to
do, but I wasn’t unhappy with the results.
On Tuesday evening,
Fr. Gary called. After we had exchanged
pleasantries, he asked if I had plans for the next evening, New Year’s
Eve. I told him that I had a friend
coming over for dinner and that we’d spend the evening together, but that we
had no specific plans. He apologized for
the lateness of the call, but he said that there was an annual teen event in
the parish hall. It was a non-alcoholic
get together, with lots of food and dancing to a live band. He said that one of the adults who’d agree to
be there had had to back out, and he wondered if I’d be willing to come by for
an hour or two.
“I’ll have to check
with my friend. He’s a teacher, and he
may not want to spend his New Year’s Eve with a bunch of high-schoolers. For that
matter, he may not want to be seen there with me.”
“Whitney, I hate to
press, but would you at least ask him?”
“Sure, I’ll
ask. What’s the dress?”
“Oh,
casual. Khakis and a sweater would be fine. That’s about as dressed up as some of these
kids ever get, and we don’t want to make anybody feel excluded because of what
they wear.”
I promised to check
with Stuart and then call him back.
Stuart was, surprisingly, fine with the idea. So we decided that he’d have dinner at my
place, we’d go to the event at the parish hall for a couple of hours, and then
come back to my place. It was understood
that he’d be spending the night.
He showed up around
“No, I wear them
most of the time. And that reminds me,
I’ve got something for you.” I gave him
the neck chain with the medallion I’d made.
“Whitney, it’s gorgeous. You’ve got to show me sometime how you did
that monogram.” He put it on and then
gave me a hug, followed by an enthusiastic kiss.
I’d gotten some nice
lamb chops, and we broiled those. With
them we had French bread, saffron rice, broccoli, and a more than adequate cabernet
Stuart had brought. We chatted before,
during, and after dinner about this and that, his visit with his in-laws, the
courses he would be teaching second semester, the joint show he and I had
coming up in the late spring. He’d also
picked up a gateau somewhere for dessert.
When the kitchen was
cleaned up, we left for Holy Trinity.
We stayed longer
than I had expected. The band wasn’t as
loud as I’d feared, and some of what they played sounded more or less like
music.
I saw quite a few of
the kids who’d been helpers at our Art Camp the previous summer. Even Louis and Judd were there. They sat and talked with us for a half hour
between visiting with their friends.
They even danced together occasionally!
And they weren’t the only same-sex couple. I estimated there might have been 100 people
there, including the kids and the grown-ups, and there were seven same-sex
couples, three male and four female. If
anyone was surprised that Stuart and I were there together, no one said anything
Stuart, I
discovered, though it didn’t surprise me, was a very popular teacher. Young people seemed to be around us the whole
time we were there, eager to chat.
Father Gary was
there, along with the rector and his wife.
About eleven
We got back to my
place about
“Well,” Stuart said
as we hung up our coats, “that was more fun than I’d thought.”
“Must
have been a busman’s holiday for you, though.”
“Nah, I enjoyed it. I really love the kids. That’s why I like teaching so much.”
“Well, they
obviously love you, too.”
When we got to the
living room, I asked if he wanted a drink.
“Not really. I’d just like to get your cute little ass
into bed.”
“I think that can be
arranged.” I took his hand and led him
to my bedroom.
We’d been apart for
a week, and I was as horny as those teens we’d spent the evening with. Despite that, however, Stuart set a slow
pace, stretching out the foreplay. At
first I was almost irritated, but then I realized there was no rush. He was there for the night, even longer, I
hoped. So I let him lick and nibble and
stroke to his heart’s content, and I managed to get in a few licks and nibbles
of my own. Even after he’d entered me,
he refused to rush, seeming determined to prolong the pleasure as long as
possible.
I had never had a
lover to whom I was so willing to turn over all the direction of our
lovemaking. Certainly I kept more than a
modicum of control with Kyle. But Stuart
was different. I was able to relax and
give myself totally to him, however he wanted that to
happen. All in all, I couldn’t think of a nicer way to
welcome in the new year.
The next morning we
had another round of sex. It was
steamier, more energetic this time. We
were both wide-awake after this bout, so there was no temptation to roll over
and go back to sleep. There was no
temptation to be out and about, either, since it had snowed overnight and was
still gray and dark.
“Whitney?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve never said
anything, but I’m guessing your and your family don’t
get along.”
“You could say
that.”
“Do you mind my
asking?”
“Stuart, you’ve just
had your dick up my ass for the second time in about eight hours. I think you’re entitled to ask almost
anything you want.”
Lying there on his
back with his hands clasped behind his head, he didn’t say anything. He looked delicious. I was turned on by the red hair on his chest
and in his pits. I rolled onto my side
and began to play with his chest hair.
“Oh, God, if you do
that I’m gonna want more!”
“Damn! You’re insatiable! Goes with being just a
boy!”
“Watch that boy
stuff, old man! You’re only five years
older than me, after all. But I admit
nobody’s made me feel this way since I was a boy. A college boy, anyway.”
I knew who he meant
and didn’t say anything. I took my hand
away from his chest and just lay there looking at him.
“I don’t want to be
pushy, but you never answered my question.”
“Oh. It’s your own fault. I look at you and forget everything but how
sexy you are.”
He rolled onto his
side, put a hand behind my head, and kissed me lightly. “I’d really like to know. I want to know all about you, and that
includes your family.”
I sighed. “Better get comfortable.” I lay back and pulled him so that his head
was on my chest.
“I’ve got two older
brothers. I’m the runt. They’re both bigger than me. Not as big as you, but six-footers. They both played sports in high school and
have always been jock types. I was never
good at sports, and they never let me forget it. Besides that, Fenton and Collier have dark
hair like our father. I have my mother’s
coloring. So, I’m the little blond kid
who isn’t any good at sports in a family of big, dark jocks.”
“And you think that
really matters to your family?”
“Well, my dad always
made it pretty clear that I was a disappointment to him. Mother always tried hard to love me, but I’ve
always sensed that she had to work at it.”
He moved his head
from my chest so he could look at me as I talked.
“Then when I told
them I wasn’t going to law school, as both my brothers had, they were all
angry. I wasn’t following the family
tradition. But taking a degree in art? Unthinkable!
The Pells give money to art museums, but they
weren’t at all happy about having an artist in the family. One day Coll taunted
me that I couldn’t even be a “real” artist and paint with oils. I had to do something sissy like working with
glass. I think my dad would have refused
to pay for my university expenses if the thought of having a son without a
degree hadn’t been intolerable.”
Stuart had an
adorably sad expression on his face.
“Damn! I can see why you wouldn’t
be eager to spend time with them. But
not even at Christmas?”
“Well, there’s also
the fact that they’re terrible snobs. You
know, paranoid about doing something that might besmirch the family name. Belonging to the right clubs,
being seen with the right people.”
“They sound like
social climbers.”
“That they aren’t. The Pells are
pretty much at the top of the ladder in the minds of a lot of people in the
Triangle area. But they seem to want to
make sure that only the right people get up on that rung with them. You know, a few
other select families.”
“Fuck. I couldn’t take that.”
“Neither could
I. You can imagine what happened when,
on top of everything else, I told them I was gay.”
“I hate to think.”
“That’s why I got
out of there and have no intention of going back.”
He pulled me over on
top of him and kissed me. “That
sucks. But I admire you for having the
guts to cut the ties. Now . . . what
does a guy have to do to get breakfast around here?”
“You mean you’d
rather eat than fuck again?”
“Let’s eat, then fuck”
LOUIS:
Judd and I were
together through most of the holidays, and we had a great time. I mean, we didn’t do much of anything
special. It was just cool being able to
hang together. Well, sometimes we did
more than hang, and that was way cooler.
We talked about
whether to go to the teen party at Holy Trinity and finally decided we would. Most of Judd’s friends were going places
where there’d be drinking and a lot of making out. We decided we weren’t interested in that.
The thing at the
church wasn’t bad. I knew a lot of
people, and there were some Judd knew, too, even though, like I said, most of
his jock friends weren’t there. We
talked for a while with Annie Croft, who’d graduated from Stafford High the
previous June. She was home for the
holidays and had brought her “friend” from NC State. They were obviously a couple, and they didn’t
mind who knew it. They spent a lot of
time on the dance floor, but they’d come back and talk with Judd and me a lot,
too. When Cheryl, Annie’s friend, asked
us if we were a couple, Judd blushed. He’s so cute when he does that! But then he was the one who said yeah, we
were.
Another fun thing
about the New Year’s Eve party is that Whitney and Stuart were there. Together. How cool was that! I mean they didn’t dance or even hold hands,
but they came and left together. They
split up and talked to some of the other grownups and there was always a gang
around Stuart, but I was pretty sure those two had something going on. I got sooo hard
when I thought of the two of them together.
I couldn’t help wondering if Mr. Blount’s cock was as big as his
feet. Well, not as big as his feet, but
you know what I mean. I wondered who was the top, too.
With what I knew about Dr. Pell, I could just see him getting Stuart to
spread his legs. Did they do it doggie
style, or in the missionary position?
Then again, I could see big ole Stuart porking
Whitney, too.
Either way, it was a
hot picture. At one point Judd leaned across
the table and asked, “What the fuck are you thinking about? You’ve got a wicked smile on your face.”
“Oh, just thinkin’ about you, babe.”
Damned if he didn’t blush again. By then I had a big old boner, so I
suggested we should leave. He was spending
the night with me, so we were looking forward to our private celebration of the
New Year.
To be continued.