Love Is Where You Find It
 by: Hankster

© 2008 by the author

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 14

The first day of November fell on a Friday.  Jamie, Jim, Clint, and Russ all took the day off to drive to Sacramento to be present when Brad got his award.  Of course our dads, Brad and I went in a separate car.  No speeches were necessary, but Brad did take a moment to thank the State Education Department for this singular honor.

By Monday morning, he had framed the document and it was hanging over his desk with his CPA certificate and his certificates of membership in the AICPA and the California State Society of CPA’s.  Russ had the same certificates hanging over his desk, but not the one for having scored the highest grades in the state.  Nobody in the office was jealous.  They all had a deep sense of pride.  It was as if the achievement of any one of them was the achievement of all of them.  The walls of the entire office were hung with certificates of achievement and other civic and academic awards.  Only the secretary and the receptionist gushed over Brad and his great accomplishment.

Both the Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve holidays were celebrated at our dads’ house.  In addition to us and the neighbors, they had Clint and Russ, Jamie and Jim, Matt, the nurse, and Brad’s friends, Daryl and George. 

There was a Christmas Eve service at our church so we could not begin our celebration until about 10 PM.  It was to be very short.  We would exchange token gifts and toast the reason for the season.   Our dads assured everyone they would be home by midnight.

We had exchanged token gifts on Christmas Eve, but on Christmas morning, we went to our dads’ house and exchanged our real gifts.  We then went to services.  Clint was in rare form that morning.  He extolled the power of love, and reminded us that love was the message Jesus had delivered.  “Nowhere in the scriptures,” he reminded us, “does it say that Jesus hated anyone for being different than he was. Remember,” Clint concluded his sermon, “love yourself, love your neighbor and especially love your enemy.” 

After those last words, I could see Brad wince.  I guess Carl was his enemy and he just couldn’t love him, no matter what.  I was more at peace with the Carl situation.  I had come to the conclusion that I could forgive him, but I could never again trust him.  I was certain that he would reappear after he finished his jail term.  After all, he had no place else to go.  I had no idea how I would handle myself when that day came.  I wanted to discuss it with Clint, but I was afraid to.

On New Year’s Eve the party would be at our house and could last all night if we wanted it to.   We invited the same guests, but some of them had accepted invitations elsewhere. We lost Jamie and Jim, Matt, Betty and Jeanne, and Daryl and George.  That still left eight of us, and as far as I was concerned it was just the right size for a party.  We arranged for Clint and Russ to sleep over in our guest room.  That way nobody had to drive on such a night.

On January fifteenth, I came home and found a message from Carl on the answering machine. 

“This is John Smith.  Aaron, honey, I need help.  I was raped in jail and nobody here gives a damn.  I am so afraid it will happen again.  I know you don’t want to see me, but please get me a lawyer.”

I erased the message so that Brad would never hear it.  The next day, I attempted to reach the warden at Carl’s prison.  I couldn’t reach him at first, but he was kind enough to call me back on my cell phone.  When I expressed concern that John Smith had been raped, the warden started to laugh.

“You’ve got that a little mixed up, sir.  John wasn’t raped.  He was the one who raped a new inmate literally minutes after he was brought in.  We allowed him to make up to three phone calls and he’s now in solitary confinement.  They will be bringing him up on rape charges if I can persuade the kid he raped to press charges.  If he goes to trial and gets convicted, he’ll be here a very long time.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said and hung up.  One of my counter men was looking at me strangely so I said to him, “Feel free to kick me in the ass.  I’ve made a jackass out of myself once again.”

I called Clint, and told him all about my call from John and my call to the warden.

“You just saved me a call,” Clint said.  “I got the same phone call from him, and I was just about to call the warden.  I wanted to wait until Russ went to work.  It looks like he’ll never change.  What do you say we neglect to tell Russ and Brad anything about this?” 

Out of curiosity I called the warden a couple of weeks later.  He informed me that the young man had refused to press charges against John because he was so embarrassed. “It looks like John will still be released at the end of his term unless he does something stupid again,” the warden told me.  Again I braced myself for the day I knew John would reappear.

I pictured him crying about how he has seen the light and how he is a new man.  He’ll beg to be put up for a few days until he finds a job and finds a place to stay.  I imagined myself weakening and Brad stepping in and ordering him away on pain of death.  Yes, Brad, I need for you to save me and maybe Clint also.

Late in January, I received notice from the on-line university that I had passed sufficient courses to be advanced to my sophomore year.  As had become a ritual in our household, we celebrated by me lying flat on my back naked, while Brad did all the work of bringing me to ecstasy. 

During my sophomore, junior and senior years, I was required to do two weeks each year of student teaching.  The on-line university made arrangements for me to teach at a local high school just before spring break.  I was going to teach freshman year geometry.  Well, I had plenty of time to think about and prepare my lesson plan.  After all it was weeks away. 

Early in February, I received a call from a Mrs. Bradshaw.  She was the regular teacher of the geometry class I was going to student teach.  We arranged to meet the next afternoon.  I fell in love with Mathilda (Mattie) Bradshaw at first sight.  She was a robust lady in her mid fifties.  To be kind, the best way to describe her was a bit messy.  I don’t want to say unkempt.  I don’t think she had visited a hair salon in thirty years, but when she shook my hand and smiled at me, warmth filled my body.  Her inner beauty over powered me.

“How nice to meet you, young man,” she said.  “I do so admire your tenacity in the way you are earning your degree.  It shows real perseverance.”  She laid out her plans for my two week stint.  During that period she was going to introduce the class to three new theorems.  She would describe them academically and I would illustrate by doing a real problem on the board.  I had the easy part.  She had the hard part of lecturing theoretically, but it was a good way to get my feet wet, because to tell the truth, I was scared stiff.

The big day came, and Mattie introduced me to the class.  I had it made.  The girls all looked at me as if they all wanted to fuck me, and I could tell the gay boys in an instant.  They literally drooled.  Immediately, I had the attention of most of the class.

Mattie was amazing.  I learned a great deal from her.  She took a boring theoretical subject, filled it full of jokes and anecdotes and had the class giggling, but learning.  If I could have, I would have hugged her right then and there.

“Now,” I said to the class when it was my turn, “let’s take what we have just been taught and prove it by applying every geometrical theory we have learned so far.  On one side of the column, we’ll state a fact and on the other side, the theory which proves it.”  I winked at the class and said, “By the time you have passed all your geometry classes, you will be so logical, nobody will ever argue with you again.”  The class giggled.

After class it was Mattie who hugged me.  “You were wonderful,” she said.  “You are going to make a great teacher.  The girls especially fell for you, but you’re gay aren’t you?”

I was shocked but managed to ask, “How did you know?” 

“My son is just about your age and he came out to me two years ago.  He’s attending UCSF and he’s gorgeous.  I’d love for you to meet him.”

“I’d love to meet him, but I’m taken.  I’m in a committed relationship with a handsome CPA.”

“Too bad,” she said.

I loved the two weeks I taught with Mattie.  I fell in love with all the kids.  One day, while illustrating a point, I used a little anecdote, and without thinking I interjected the phrase, “My partner, Brad.”  I realized immediately that I may have erred, but it didn’t seem to make much of an impact.  Well, it was a school in San Francisco after all.

After class, one of the boys asked if he could talk to me after school and since I had no office, I agreed to meet him in the library at 2 PM.

“Mr. Jackson,” he stuttered. He was very nervous.

“Don’t be afraid to talk to me.  I promise not to bite and definitely not to judge.”

He went on.  “I heard you refer to your partner, Brad.  Are you gay?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I am too, but I’m afraid to tell anyone.  I know my mom would still be my mom, but I think my dad would disown me.  He’s always making homophobic jokes, and mocking gays.  He has made it quite clear that he hates them.  Once I told him that with all that hatred in his heart, Jesus would never let him into heaven.  He boxed my ears and said that gays were the ones who would never get to heaven, and he would be there to kick them out if they tried.”

“I have friends who came out and their parents said ‘so what?’  I myself was disowned and excommunicated from my church just a couple of years ago.  You never know how it will go.  If you aren’t ready to come out, then don’t.  There will come a time when you will either do it or give up a happy life. You’ll know when that time is.  Do you go to church with your parents every Sunday?”

“Nah,” the boy answered.  “Mr. holier than thou never goes.”

I wrote down the address of our church and told him to be there on Sunday morning just before 10 AM.  “I’ll be looking for you,” I said.  “Maybe your questions will be answered there.”

After he left, I realized that it was not wise for me to be alone with a student, any student, and I vowed that if Samuel met me in church or spoke to me in school again, I would not be alone with him.

During the two weeks that I taught, I was never happier.  Brad was happy for me, and as busy as he was, we made love more than usual.  Even though the teaching only took up a couple of hours a day, I took my two week vacation from Wendy’s so I could concentrate on it.  Brad on the other hand was smack dab in the middle of tax season.  He came home late every night and he was exhausted, but not too exhausted for love.  I learned what it was to be a tax season widow.

Clint had the same problem, so we decided to have dinner together a couple of evenings a week.  Try as we might to avoid the subject, John Smith was always a topic of conversation.  We were both convinced that he would show up one day, and we vowed not to see him if possible.  We knew he would plead that he had changed and beg us for another chance.  We agreed to bring in the cavalry if necessary, in the form of Brad, The Avenger.

That Sunday, standing in front of the church before the service, talking with friends, I saw a bicycle approaching the church.  Samuel was riding it.  He spotted me immediately and asked where he could park his bike. 

“There’s a bike stand in the rear,” I said. “I’ll go with you.”  I never really expected Sam to show up and had neglected to tell Brad about him. He was looking at me in amazement. 

“Come with us,” I said to Brad, “and I’ll explain.”  Sam walked his bike to the rear of the church with Brad and me in close pursuit.  “Samuel is a student of mine,” I told Brad.  “He came out to me and he told me that his father told him that all gays go to hell.  I thought if he came here, he would see a different picture.”

Brad kissed me right in front of Samuel, who smiled at us.  “You’re an incurable Mr. Goody Two Shoes.”

“And you’re an incurable romantic.”

Once Sam’s bike was safely stored, we headed back to the church entrance and I formally introduced him to Brad.  “I’m afraid I don’t know your last name,” I said to Samuel. 

“It’s Wilkinson,” he said.

“Good heavens, that’s Brad’s name too.  What a coincidence,” I said.  “You know, you two even look alike.”

People were still milling about, and I introduced Samuel to our dads and told him that they had adopted us.  Our neighbors had already gone inside so I suggested we do likewise.  Samuel sat between Brad and me.  I wanted to introduce Samuel to Russ, but at Clint’s request, he always sat in the first row.  I could do that amenity in the social hall after the service.

Clint was right on as usual. His sermons had a way of sounding like he had written them with me in mind.  He would have me laughing and crying at the same time.  At one point I noticed Samuel trying to hide the fact that he was crying.  Clint had the same effect on everyone.

On the way out of the church, we shook Clint’s hand and introduced him to Samuel Wilkinson. 

“Is this young man your brother? He asked Brad.  “He looks just like you.”

“Just a coincidence,” I said.  Sam’s a student of mine.”  I loved the way that sounded – a student of mine.

In the social hall we caught up to our neighbors and Russ chatting together with coffee cups in their hands.  Russ came over and kissed us both on the lips.  I could see how amazed Sam was.  His jaw remained open until he put a Danish pastry in his mouth and started to chew.

We introduced Sam to Russ, who was very blunt.  “I can’t believe how much you look like Brad,” he said.

“It’s just a coincidence,” I muttered.  I couldn’t believe how often I had said that this morning.  When Clint joined us, he had taken off his robe and was in street clothes.  He kissed Russ with an open mouth, and I thought Sam was going to pass out.

Reverend Clint,” I said, “Sam is afraid of any consequences he might suffer if he comes out to his parents.  I thought you might be able to advise him.”

“Yes,” Clint answered, “but I have a better idea.”  He looked around the room and finally spotted who he was looking for.  “There’s Frank Inman.  He’s head of our youth ministry.  Come with me, young man.  I’ll introduce you.” 

Sam and Frank sat on chairs in the corner of the social hall.  I could see that they were talking earnestly.  When they stood up, Frank embraced Samuel warmly.  Sam came back to us and said, “Mr. Inman and I are going to meet for counseling one afternoon a week after school.  I’m also going to attend the church’s youth group on Friday evenings.  Thanks Mr. Jackson.  I never would have known about this place if it wasn’t for you.”

“Is this going to cause problems for you at home?” Brad asked.

“No, my parents don’t care much what I do as long as I stay out of trouble.  This is my first year in high school.  I’ll just tell them it’s an after school club activity.  My dad’s too busy to know what’s going on anyhow.”

“I know what you mean,” Brad said.  “My dad was out of touch with his family and the world most of the time also.”

“Did he drink?” Sam asked.  Brad nodded his head sadly.

“My dad used to drink, but he’s sober now.  I have an old picture of my folks in my wallet,” Sam Said.  “It was taken when they were very young.”

“I’d like to see it,” I told Sam.  He took the picture from his wallet with much difficulty.  It was old and frayed and he handled it delicately. 

The picture was indeed very old.  There was a handsome young couple holding a little baby.  The woman could not have been more than eighteen years old and her husband could not have been more than twenty, and he looked a lot like Brad only his hair was dark and Brad had ash blonde hair.  I handed the picture to Brad.  He began to shake when he looked at it.

“What are your parents’ names?” he asked Sam.

“Anna and Tom,” the young boy answered him.

“Is that you in the picture?” Brad asked. 

“Oh no, that’s my brother. He died before I was born.  My father wasn’t around when he died, but later on my folks got together again.”

Brad grabbed my arm to keep from falling.  “Holy shit,” he said.  “Sam is my brother.” 

To be continued...

Posted: 12/19/08