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...
 

12--The Challenge

Kenny had stripped to the waist and leaned into the tub enclosure to support Rusty as he washed him. Rusty seemed still in some degree of shock. The younger boy had some preadolescent pudginess--unlike Kenny, whose impossibly slim waist (what was it, 26 inches?) gave him almost an hourglass shape. That boy needed some more meat on his bones!

"I see you found everything," I said.

"Sure did... " Kenny responded as he handled Rusty softly, gently, and with great care--much the same as I had handled Kenny earlier. I noticed fresh towels warming on the rack.

"Guys, Rog and I have decided on a plan," I said. " We're going to tell Rusty's mom that I am Kenny's cousin who recently moved to town; that I have asked Rusty to spend the next few days with Kenny; and that I need to go up to Fernville for a few days to take care of some family business. Fernville is my home town. I'll tell her that she should contact the school about Rusty's absence. I'll contact them about Kenny's absence. I need your phone number, Rusty, so we can call her."

"Rusty don't have a phone, Jim," Kenny reported.

"Well then, I guess I'll have to go over to his house. Where do you live, Rusty?"

Rusty had appeared to be half-asleep; but suddenly, he went rigid, eyes wide open. "You're not gonna tell her about what happened, are you?"

"No, son. Right now, that wouldn't do either of you any good."

The tension whooshed out of the boy. "Oh, yeah. I guess you wouldn't tell her that, would ya. Well, um... I live over on Convair Drive, near the airport--number 247." I made a mental note of 247 Convair Drive.

"Is she likely to be home now?" I asked.

"Naw, she's never home. She's always out working."

"Do you know where she works? Maybe I could visit her there," I continued.

"On weekends she works at the Bazookaburger near there. Then, during th' week, she works at Levister Elementary School in th' kitchen. In between, she cooks at St. Theresa's rectory."

"So, today being Friday and it's a holiday, do you think I'm likely to find her at the Bazookaburger?" I asked.

"Maybe. If not, then she'd be at the rectory."

"Okay, I'll try those two places. Kenny, it looks like you're doing okay here. Do you need anything?"

"Um, yeah, Jim. Do you have that stuff that Rog said to rub on his nips?"

"Below the sink, there's a basket with some first-aid supplies in it. Before you put the antibiotic ointment on, pour a capful of hydrogen peroxide over each wound. If it fizzes, that just means it's doing its job and killing germs. When it stops, then you can dry it with a tissue and put on the antibiotic ointment. Rub it in gently until it begins to work into his skin. And then you can have him take two of these nighttime pain pills--they'll help him sleep."

"Great! Thanks, Jim. What about his butt?"

"Don't put the hydrogen peroxide there, just the antibiotic ointment. And, put it only on the outside around his hole; don't try to push your finger inside. I see that you're caring for him the way I did for you this morning?"

"Oh yeah, Jim. That felt so good!"

"I see you already have the towels warming."

"Yup."

"Well Rusty, you seem to be in very good hands," I said. Rusty barely nodded.

I couldn't describe the look of delight that Kenny gave me. This boy needed so many strokes! And apparently, I had just given him a big one. I smiled and returned to Roger and our beers. On my way back to the kitchen, I looked out and noticed the sun painting the clouds a fiery orange as it set.

"Beautiful sky out," I observed.

"I was noticing. That means we'll have sunshine tomorrow, I hope. So what did our little trooper have to say?"

"They don't have a telephone, but he told me where they live and where his mom works. When school's in session, she works at a nearby elementary school. On weekends, it's the Bazookaburger in the neighborhood. In between, she cooks at the St. Theresa Rectory. It's in the neighborhood, too."

"Sounds like they don't have a car," Rog observed.

"That's my guess."

"Rog, could you stay here with the kids while I try to find her? I'd like to handle this in person if I can, so that we don't alarm her."

"Sure, Jim. I think that's a good idea."

"I'll carry my cell phone so in case anything happens you can call me, okay?"

"Fine, Jim, but I don't think we'll need it."

"Yeah, I hope not." With that, I was on my way to the garage and into the car. As I backed out into the darkening street, I wondered with a twinge of excitement and fear what I was getting myself into.

In the early evening darkness, I drove over to Rusty's house at 247 Convair Drive only to find it dark. Well, he did say that his mom was never home. So, I headed for the Bazookaburger, parked, entered, and approached the counter.

"Hi, would you like to try our Lottaspecial tonight?" asked a pimply-faced teen, who smiled from behind the counter.

"No, I'm not here to eat. I'm looking for one of your employees, Betty Simpson. Is she working now?"

The smile faded as the kid studied me through narrowed eyelids.

"And who is asking for her?" he asked pointedly.

"I'm Jim Watson. She doesn't know me, but my cousin, Kenny Davis, is good friends with her son, Rusty."

His expression softened just a bit as "Pimples" said, "Oh. Okay. I'll go tell her."

In a few minutes a plump, red-haired woman came out to the counter, wiping her hands on a towel, with "Pimples" close behind. Her face appeared slightly drawn and was lined with wrinkles that probably shouldn't have been there.

"Hi. I'm Betty Simpson."

"Hi, Mrs. Simpson; I'm Jim Watson. You don't know me, but your son is good a friend of my cousin, Kenny Davis. That's why I'm here. Do you have a minute that we could sit down and talk?"

"Yes... Nobody's in any trouble are they?" Betty led the way over to a table in a vacant area of the restaurant.

"No, not at all," I assured her. "I moved into the area recently and I've enjoyed getting to know Kenny better. In fact, his dad is having some problems right now, so Kenny is staying with me until things get sorted out."

"Oh... I see. Well, Mr. Watson, that's very nice of you to want to help Kenny. He's such a nice boy. He's stayed with Rusty a few times when things were particularly rough for him at home. I think the boys are quite good for each other. Don't you?"

"First, could we make it just Jim and Betty? The titles seem so formal," I suggested.

"Oh, sure, Jim."

"Fine. And Betty, I must say that I've never seen a more supportive and nurturing friendship between two boys that age. Not that I've seen all that many--but their respect and consideration for each other impresses me greatly."

Betty looked pointedly at my left hand. "It looks like you're not married; am I right?"

"That's right, Betty," I answered, a little knot beginning to grow in my gut.

"Where did you live before you moved to town, Jim?"

The knot in my gut grew larger and my mouth suddenly went dry. "In Fernville, not too far from here. I grew up there."

"I hope you'll forgive me for being blunt, Jim, but I don't have much time. Are you gay?" she asked.

I felt the color drain from my face. Here it was--one of the dreaded questions. And, if you had asked me five minutes before how I would answer, I couldn't have told you. I still wasn't sure, so I tried to buy some time.

"I admire your candor, Betty; and, I can see why you'd wonder. Do you mind telling me why you ask?"

"No, not at all. I don't know where he finds them, but Rusty has had a parade of guys--all nice, like you--who say they want to help him. I know that he could be just trying to find someone to be the father that he never had; but still, I'm concerned that a lot of them are pedophiles. We've had our struggles with pedophilia in our family. For one thing, that's why Mr. Simpson isn't around any longer. He's in prison, paying for what he did to Rusty when the boy was just three years old. I worry sometimes that what he did to Rusty will make the boy gay. And now, Rusty and I are paying for what he did, too. I can't be a mother to my son because I work three jobs that pay crap--just so we can barely get by. I know I sound bitter; I am. Don't you think I have a right to be?"

"Yes, Betty, I do. That's a terrible burden that neither of you deserve. I didn't know... about Rusty being molested, I mean. I am so sorry to hear that. I've had my own struggles with molestation--an uncle who couldn't keep his pants zipped. And, I live with the consequences, just as you and Rusty do."

I swallowed hard. My mouth was cotton. I couldn't believe I was saying this! "I'm going to be straight with you, Betty. I'm gay. But, that isn't because of what my uncle did to me. And, it doesn't mean that I'm out to have sex with underage boys, especially Rusty and Kenny, who have so many other problems right now. My heart goes out to boys like them. I want to help them avoid much of the pain I've had to deal with as a result of sexual activity that I was too young to handle. It's part of how I'm dealing with my own pain from the molestation."

She studied me with an intense gaze. "I don't have the least bit of control over what Rusty does with his time because I work fourteen- and sixteen-hour days. When I get home, I'm so exhausted it's about all I can do to get my clothes off before I fall into bed. So, my chances to have any impact on who Rusty sees and what he does with them are very limited. Most guys--when I ask them this question--just begin to fade away. So then I kinda know what they're after. I haven't seen one yet that seems to really have my boy's interests seriously at heart. You're the first one who has seemed even somewhat straight with me about your interest in the boys. And, you don't seem to be fading away.

"Mind you, I don't tell Rusty about this because I don't want to hurt him any more than he's already been hurt by his father. But I do have to try to watch out for my son the best I can, Jim. He's all I have." A tear ran down her right cheek.

I needed to say more to her. "To be honest with you Betty, there was a time in my life when I would have jumped at the chance to have sex with boys like Kenny and Rusty. But over the years as I've learned how my uncle harmed me, I've also learned what harm I was causing. In the short time that I've known Kenny, I have learned how much more fulfilling it is for me to be a mentor to him. That's what I want to be now. And, I'm not trying to b.s. you."

"No, I don't think you are," she said. "What I have to judge now is whether you can hold onto your ideal of being a mentor, or whether you'll slip back into your former ways. Do you have any relationships with other adults?"

"My best friend since junior high school is a physician named Roger Hansen. He has helped me to deal with the effects of my molestation and steered me to a counselor whenever I needed it. I literally owe my life to Roger; that's how much he has helped me."

"And, do you and Dr. Hansen have sex together?" she asked.

I could see where she was going with this. If I had sex with adults, then I shouldn't feel a strong need to have sex with boys. Hmm.

"No we don't, Betty--not even long ago when we were in junior high school together, although we've since found out that we both wanted to. Roger has had a partner for sixteen years. He and Peter have made a good life for themselves. And, the reason that I don't have sex with Roger now is that I respect their relationship too much for that."

"So," Betty continued, "Do you have any other adult friends?"

"Some acquaintances at work, but no friend as good as Rog."

"Could I ask what kind of work you do?" she said.

"I'm an editor for a company that publishes several trade journals for the transportation industry. And then, I do some freelance indexing on the side."

"That's impressive," she said.

"Well, it may sound impressive, but it seems like just an ordinary job to me. I don't make a lot of money at it, but it's enough for me to be comfortable. And, I can do a lot of the work from home."

"Well it's certainly better than what I'm doing!" she said. "Jim, I'll be honest with you. I'd feel better about this if I could see that you were having regular sexual relationships with other men. Most men I've known have needed to have regular and frequent sexual release. I doubt that you're much different."

"You're right, Betty. As you might imagine, I take care of myself a lot. And, I meet guys when I'm out, but these have been mostly just brief encounters. I haven't found anybody yet to get serious about."

"Kenny isn't really your cousin, is he?" Betty challenged. I gulped again and became intensely aware of the perspiration dripping out of my armpits.

"No, he's not. I had gone for a walk in the park after Thanksgiving dinner when I found Kenny vomiting in the restroom there. He was feverish and confused. So I took him home with me to get him warmed up and then to contact his family. I first offered just to take him home, but he insisted that he didn't want to go there. So I took him to my house, instead."

"And, we know why he doesn't want to be at home!" she remarked.

"You're quite right. I called Roger and he came over and looked at Kenny. He thought the boy probably had a stomach virus, but he was also hypothermic from being out on a cold day with not enough clothing on. Roger and I tried to call Kenny's family and his father answered--drunk and carrying on like a maniac. So that's how Kenny has wound up staying with me--at least, for a few days until he gets better. But as you might imagine, Kenny would like for it to be a lot longer."

I continued. "I learned later that Kenny's mother died of cancer several years ago. Betty, it makes me cry to see a nice kid like that have to suffer the pain of his father's addiction. So I'd like to help him--I just don't know if I can, being single and gay. To answer your question directly, I do find the boys attractive. I can't help that; but I could never start anything sexual with them after what we've all been through. They have more than enough pain to deal with as it is. They sure don't need any more from me not being able to control myself."

Betty flushed. "Well... I didn't expect so direct an answer, Jim; but I'm very glad that you were straight with me. And what I hear you saying is that you are not out to be their lover, but their mentor. Is that right?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you know if Kenny's father has tried to pull anything with him?" she asked.

"You mean anything sexual?" I queried.

The woman nodded.

"I think it's bad enough that the boy has to put up with physical beatings and emotional abuse. That's enough for me to want to help him."

"Yes, I suppose so," she mused. Did I see a glint of awareness in her gaze that showed her understanding that I wouldn't compromise Kenny by sharing personal information; or, was that just my imagination?

I decided to press on. "Betty, do you mind if I ask exactly what Rusty's father did to him? I don't know if I'll need to know, but it could help."

"He buggered him so bad that he split him open," she said bitterly. "Three years old, he was, and he couldn't understand why his daddy would hurt him so bad--and back there, of all places!"

"Oh, no!" I exclaimed. "So, have you seen anything in Rusty's behavior that would seem to be a result of his father molesting him that way?"

"You mean, like, is he running around trying to do that stuff to other children?" she asked.

"Well, maybe that. But also depression, moodiness, self-destructive behavior? That's all stuff that I've had to deal with as a result of what my uncle did to me."

Betty seemed to think hard for a long few moments, as if deliberating about something.

"Jim, you're the first of Rusty's 'men-friends' that I have trusted. Every other one of them acted as if he were trying to hide something--and you and I know what that probably would be. But I believe you when you say you don't want to have sex with those boys--in spite of your being gay and finding them attractive."

I smiled.

The woman continued. "Rusty seems to have a lot of accidents, especially with tools. He gets a lot of cuts and bruises and scrapes. I know that all boys tend to get hurt now and then, but it seems that Rusty has more of these injuries than Kenny does. He says he's just clumsy, but whenever he and I are together, I don't see that clumsiness. I worry about this--I don't understand it."

"I haven't seen anything so far that would suggest that," I answered. "But then, we've been together less than a day. And Betty, thanks for trusting me. I won't let you or the boys down. I have too much to give to them for that to happen."

"I can see that, Jim. I'm relieved to see that Rusty and Kenny might finally have some wholesome male companionship. Do you live nearby?"

"About five minutes' drive from here--a few blocks away from Kenny's house towards the park."

"I get a real good feeling about you, Jim. I'm so glad you came over to introduce yourself. I hope they both can get a lot from you," she said.

"They're both swell kids," I answered. "They've stolen my heart in just the short time that I've known them. I hope that Rusty can spend a lot of time with us. Kenny needs him right now, what with his dad's problems and all."

"Well you have my blessing, Jim. I'm so grateful to you for wanting to include Rusty. He needs your companionship, too."

"I'm happy to do what I can, Betty. I'd like to be able to keep both boys for the first two or three days next week. According to Roger, my doctor friend, Kenny needs to take it easy for that amount of time. I'd like it very much if Rusty could stay with us, also. I can provide a certain amount of mentoring, but Rusty can provide the companionship that would really help Kenny bounce back. Would that be all right with you?"

"Oh, Jim. That is so sweet of you. Are you sure he wouldn't be a burden?"

"Not at all," I answered.

"Well it's all right with me. I'll leave a message about Rusty with the school on their attendance answering machine. You'll probably have to do the same for Kenny. And, I guess I better get back to scrubbing the grill so we can close on time tonight. I'm glad I got a chance to meet you," she said, rising.

"Likewise, Betty--I respect what you're doing to raise Rusty as well as possible. I can see how much you love him."

"Why, thank you Jim. That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time."

"And I mean it, too. I look forward to being able to have you and both boys over for dinner. Maybe you could find a little spot of time in your schedule for that."

Rusty's mom smiled broadly. "I'd like that very much." She extended her hand and I took it gently in my own, before taking out my wallet. "Here, take my card. It has my cell phone number on it as well as my address and home phone, so you can reach us any time you need to."

The woman smiled again, pocketed the card, and returned to her task in the kitchen.

I waved at "Pimples" on my way out of the Bazookaburger. He gave me a bemused look in return. As I pulled into the garage, I was pleased to notice that everything seemed to be in about the same order as when I left.

To be continued...