Nevermore!
 By: Henry Higgins
 (Copyright 2005 & 2006 by the Author)
 
 The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
 

7--Kenny's Story

"I'm not sure I get this," Kenny said. "You wanna have sex with me, but you can't; and yet, you're still willing to be my friend and take care of me?"

"I think you got it right, guy." I sensed some mental gears grinding. And if there's one thing I'd learned about Kenny in the less-than-24-hours that I'd known him, it was that he was one astute kid.

"But, every grownup guy I've ever known only ever wanted one thing from me, sex--my dick or my ass, including my drunk bastard of an old man."

I was chilled and sickened, partly because I knew that there were kids like Kenny in this world--more, perhaps, than anyone would care to admit--and partly because I realized that I was (or had been) one of the bastards he was talking about.

"And that has to include me, Kenny; at least the way I used to be." My throat was getting tight again. "And I've told you how badly I want you. Your body is beautiful; you know that I want it. But I'm discovering something even more beautiful than your body--all of you--your soul! You are one of the dearest, sweetest kids I've ever known." Tears began to slide once again down my cheeks into the abyss below. I swiped at them, but couldn't stop them. "You, my young friend, are so much more than just your sex organs. They are only a small part of the vast, unique, beautiful person that is you. You probably never heard this from your father; and you might not ever have heard it from your mother. But, please listen to me and believe what I say--you are smart; you are handsome; you are sensitive and care about other people; and I think you have a vast capacity to love. I know this because I've seen it in you in the very short time that we've been together. Do you get anything of what I'm saying?"

Kenny didn't say anything for a while. And then he came around the table to stand beside where I sat. He reached for me as I opened my arms to enclose him and clasp him to me. We sobbed and cried and grinned and then sighed and sobbed some more. I felt so complete just then!

He spoke so softly that I had to listen carefully to hear him. "I just... Just never... I never thought I'd ever meet anybody, a grownup, like you. I've dreamed about it a lot, but I never thought it could happen. All my life all anybody has ever done is beat up on me. I started hustling guys for the money, but I found out I could trick them into liking me and caring for me, even if it was only for a little while. You know how I said nobody had ever touched me like you did? Well, nobody has ever talked to me like you just did, or made me feel good like you have since I've been here. Oh, Jim, please let me stay. I know I'm just a dumb kid, but I'll try to live up to what you say about me; I really will."

I heard what Kenny was feeding back to me and realized that he had indeed heard me and recognized my care for him, even though we both had a long way to go in the self-esteem department.

"Listen to what you're saying, Kenny. And listen to what I was saying. You're not a dumb kid. You're an extremely clever and smart kid because you've survived all the abuse that misguided people like your father have heaped on you. You've survived all that shit! That takes guts--and brains--and cleverness. Dumb kids let it get the best of them. Smart kids survive," I said.

Throughout this heavy going, not once had Kenny's intense gaze left me. I prayed that he was still hearing me--and, that I could be true to what I said. I could see some hopeful signs that he was. I had pulled him up onto my lap, his arms still around me; mine around him, each of us nurturing the other--not with sex, but with caring and love.

"Jim, I love you."

I squeezed him even more tightly. "Oh, Kenny! I love you, too." No wonder we'd been giving each other silly grins! We loved each other with that special kind of love that just might survive all the hysterical ravings of our fucked-up culture. And I would do what was right for him, even if I had to castrate myself to do it!

"Now that I've told you about me, Kenny, I'd like to hear more about you."

He looked down. "There's not all that much to tell, really. I've lived in this neighborhood all my life. My mom died of cancer about three years ago. That's when my dad really started hitting the bottle; but he was drinkin' before. All he's ever done is yell at me and my mom. They'd fight and I'd try to stay out of the way. Now that she's gone, I don't spend much time at home. It's been so much easier t' find some guy to sleep with. That usually gets me money to spend plus a warm bed and maybe a hug after."

"When did you start doing that, Kenny?"

"Hustlin'? Um, not too long after my mom died. After that, the old man was usually so blasted he didn't care where I was."

"And when did he start banging you?"

"About the same time. I remember waking up one night and he was on me and holding me down and cursing--said I'd better be quiet and take it like a man. I didn't know what was happening. I was scared. Then I felt a pain in my butt like I was gonna split open. I remember screaming and he said, 'Go ahead and scream, crybaby. Nobody's gonna hear you.' It was just him and me in the house. But after a while, it didn't hurt as much anymore. Then I remember even getting to like it a little--it felt warm and full and something up inside me felt good when he'd fuck me. After he finished, he'd even be nice to me for a while. I even got to the point where I would ask him if he'd like to do it with me just so he'd be nice to me after."

Hearing this saddened me, even though I had suspected his story would be something like that--ever since I had talked to the drunken man on the telephone the day before. I wanted to think that there wasn't that much difference between Kenny's father and me, but I knew that wasn't true. I had never raped a kid--never forced myself on any kid who didn't want it. At least, I'd thought they'd wanted it. And, I'd never set out to hurt a kid on purpose. But then, I heard Kenny saying that he had used his ass to try to get some small measure of affection from his father. Had those kids really wanted to have sex with me, or had they just been trying to scavenge some affection in a bleak world that didn't offer them much?

"So, how did you start hustling?" I asked.

"It wasn't hard. I started going to the mall just to get outa the house. I guess I was a pretty kid. It didn't take long for some guy to spot me hangin' around alone and offer to buy me a hamburger. There's never been much to eat at home, so I'd be like, 'Okay.' Then he'd invite me into the bathroom. After the experience with my father, I was pretty sure I knew what he was after and I figured turnabout was fair play. The first guy just started sucking me. I was already beating off then, but I wasn't shooting yet. I would come jus' like when I beat off, but it felt ten times better in his mouth than in my hand. I liked that a lot. So after I came, the first guy slipped me a fiver and said he'd like to meet me again. I told him I'd look for him whenever I came to the mall. He said to look for him on the bench just outside the Atomic Burger."

"Do you still see him?" I asked.

"He got busted. I was across the mall one day and saw a couple of guys talking to him. I figured they might be cops, but they weren't wearing uniforms. Then he went away with them. The next day I saw his picture in the paper, so I knew for sure. I missed him; but there were other guys. Shit! That mall is crawling with them. It's just knowing how to spot when they look at you and looking back at them and smiling. Once we connect that way, I can pretty much call the shots."

"The mark of a true survivor," I observed. A wrinkle of curiosity crossed his face and then he continued.

"Before long, some of them were asking me to go back to their places with them. At first, I said no, 'cuz I was afraid they might try something bad. But one guy kept at it and talking about it. I'd been with him a number of times at the mall and he'd always give me a ten. He said if I'd come spend the night with him, he'd give me fifty. So I was like, 'Well, yeah, okay.' and we went to his place.

"It was a real nice house. He fed me a great dinner and then we took a shower together. That was the first time I ever slept with anybody. I think I was twelve then, just getting pubes. I remember it was just so nice and warm to snuggle up to him. Ever since then, that's pretty much what I've done two or three times a week--sometimes even more. One guy took me to his cottage for the weekend. That was so much fun! We skinny-dipped and fished and hiked and talked. I caught my first fish with him. I kept hopin' he'd ask me to stay with him. But he didn't. At the end of the weekend, he gave me a hundred and fifty bucks! But then he said he had to go back to his wife and kids."

"That sounds like a bummer," I observed.

"Yeah, majorly. I guess these guys can get out for a fling, but they're not in the adoption business."

"Is that what you want, adoption?" I asked.

"Ever since my mom died, I've dreamed that some guy would come along and need another kid to love so I could get away from my dad." He was still looking down and he said the last part so softly that I wasn't even sure I'd heard correctly. I reached down and picked up his chin so that he looked directly at me.

"Kenny, I'd love to try to be that guy. With my record and all, I'm not sure that we could make it work, but I'll do everything I can to make it happen. I'm going to try hard not to promise you anything I can't deliver, and I'm not sure I can deliver this. But I do promise you that I will try my best."

He looked up at me and grinned his big, lopsided grin. "Cool..."

Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was nearly 11:00 a.m. and I remembered Rog asking me to call his office for a Monday-night appointment.

"Before we go much further with this, I need to tell you something that Rog mentioned when he saw you last night. He asked how I had met you and I told him about the incident in the, what do you call it? Oh. The beehive. He said that if you have been having sex with a lot of people, it would be a good idea to check you out for any sexually transmitted diseases like AIDS."

"He thinks I have AIDS?" Kenny asked, alarmed.

"No, he just wants to make sure that you DON'T have it. Do you understand the difference?"

"Not really," he answered tentatively.

"If you had clear stuff leaking out of your penis that could be a sign of syphilis. If you had pus leaking from it, that could be gonorrhea. If you had sores on your penis, that could be a sign of syphilis or herpes. AIDS is a tougher call because when you first get it, you don't always show signs of it. That's why you need a blood test so that we can rule out all of the STDs."

"STDs?" he asked.

"Yeah--sexually transmitted diseases."

"Oh, yeah. We covered that in health. Okay. When do we do that?"

"Today, I think. I'm supposed to call his office today for an appointment Monday night. Is that okay with you?" I asked.

Again, I got the intense look. "Yeah, of course--you mean I have a choice?"

"Sure you have a choice. What? You think I'm just going to boss you around? It's your body, Kenny. I can tell you what I think is right, but you make the decision for anything that concerns you and your body. It's just that on this particular question, Rog and I have very strong opinions and advice for you. We think it's in your best interest."

"Oh. Okay," he said.

"You mean, okay that I call and make the appointment?"

"Yeah."

I reached for the phone on the wall near where I sat and dialed the number for Rog's office.

"Hi. This is Jim Watson. I was supposed to call for an appointment on Monday evening with Dr. Hansen. No, it's for a friend of mine, Kenneth Davis. Right. Eight o'clock? Okay. See you then." I hung up.

"Okay, you're all set, dude. That means that today, we've got to get you to the blood lab. Think you're up for that?"

"Yeah, I guess," he said. "I'm just not sure what it's going to be like."

He still had a tentative tone about him as I realized that Kenny might never have had a blood test.

"Have you ever had your blood tested?"

"Not that I know of." Kenny answered.

"There's not much to it." I reached for his arm and turned it over so that the crease of his elbow showed. "They wrap a big rubber band around your upper arm and then stick a needle in the crease of your elbow to draw out enough blood to test." I pointed with my finger where I thought the needle would go in.

"Eew! Won't that hurt?"

I pinched that skin firmly and said, "About that much. Can you handle that?"

"That's all?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Well, that's not bad."

"After they finish, they'll put cotton on it and some tape to hold it in place. You may bleed a little bit into the cotton, but not much."

"I can handle that, Jim."

"Great. Now I need to talk about something else--like, getting you set up so that you can live here next week." That big grin came back and I couldn't help but answer it with my own. I couldn't believe I was doing this. "Do you have stuff at home that you might need to bring over here?"

"Um, let's see. Most of my really important stuff is at school in my locker. Like, I don't want my father to know how much money I have, so I stash that there. And I bought a CD player. It's there. I just have to be real careful whenever I go into my locker that nobody is looking, so I don't get any stuff swiped. I can't keep anything at home because my father finds it and sells it so he can buy booze."

I was beginning to realize just how differently this kid lived than most of the rest of us. "Okay, Kenny, let's set down some ground rules for when you're over here."

"I thought you weren't gonna boss me around." A half-smile flickered across his face.

"I'm not. These are rules for me as well as for you. First, you know the room that you were sleeping in across from my bedroom?" He nodded. "That's going to be your room. That means that before I go into it, I'll knock and ask your permission to come in. Anything that you keep in there will be your private property."

"Gee, Jim, I've never had anything like that."

"From what you say about your dad being alcoholic, I suspect not. That's why it's important for me to set down some of these rules for us. Now, here's a rule for you to agree to. I can't let you keep anything illegal in there--so, no booze, no drugs. Is that okay?"

"You don't have to worry about the booze, for sure. Drugs? I've done some. But I don't have any now, and the way I feel right now, I don't think I'm gonna need to."

"Good. Please do us both a favor. If you ever get to where you're feeling the need for some drugs, would you tell me? It's not that I can get the drugs for you; I can't. But, I can try to do something to help you with the feeling that you need them. Does that make sense?"

"Well, yeah. I can do that, Jim. And, I can bring home a lot of the stuff in my locker next week after school starts back up."

"Okay. I think that does it for now. I'll go get dressed so we can leave. Oh... Another thing--is it okay if we go to a store and get you some more clothes?"

He looked at me as if I were speaking a foreign language. "What do I need with more clothes?"

"I'd like for you to be able to wear clean clothes to school 'most every day. And I think you might like to try wearing some underwear more regularly. You should have enough so that you can put on a fresh set every day--likewise for your socks."

The big grin returned. "Okay, Jim, I'd like that a lot! But I want some cool boxers like yours that I'm wearing, not those little-boy panties."

"Whatever you say, chief. You're the one who wears them, so you get to pick them out. While I'm changing, could you rinse off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher?"

"Dishwasher?"

"Yeah. This thing right over here." I opened the door to the dishwasher and pulled out the dish racks.

"Sure, man. I'll be happy to do it."

Euphorically, I bounced down the hall to change my clothes.

To be continued...