Drew's Story
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Chapter 1
Across the room is a shaggy mop of light brown hair I love more than life. Our son is bent over a trunk he's packing for college. Though he's only sixteen, he leaves in just a few days. His trepidation over this new adventure lies heavy in the air, and I'm already getting a foretaste of the emptiness our home will hold when he's gone. The university is not so far that he can't come home on weekends and Tor and I are there frequently for research, but Mike will soon become independent, establishing a life of his own that we won't share.
On the desk by his books sits a toy dog that must date to his early childhood. The plush covering is worn to mere threads, the glass eyes had vanished long before I first laid eyes on it. It and the words I put down here will be packed together and put away for the future. Other than his original birth certificate, it's Mike's only link to his early childhood, in so much as we know of it.
It was only this afternoon that he diffidently handed me the blank book and said, "You always said you'd tell me about you and Tor sometime, but you never have, so here's a book for you to write it down in if you'd rather."
As I started to pick up my pen, I felt his eyes on me. "You're really going to do it?"
"I know you must have been increasingly curious as you got older, but I'm glad you've waited to ask. Even after all this time I'm going to have to relate some things I'd rather not."
"Forget it if it's going to make you unhappy, dad."
"No, you're old enough to understand now, so you should know it all."
"I tried to ask Tor once, but he cut me off."
"Didn't you guess? He's always been a little afraid for you."
"Why? Doesn't he know I love him?" I can see the astonishment on Mike's face.
"Of course he does, but you know how up-tight Tor gets around others. He's always been scared our life together might be found out and we'd lose you. Your godparents and Gary are the only ones here who know about us, but they don't know most of what I'm going to put down here. I'm going to write it in my own words just as it happened, at least all that I can remember."
"Thanks, dad."
I flip through the pages of the book, then reach up and switch on our computer, bringing up the word processing program.
"I thought you were going to do it, dad." Mike sounds disappointed.
"I am, but I promised you the whole story and there aren't enough pages in the book. I'll use this and give you the floppy. This isn't something I want anyone else seeing, it's too private and will contain painful memories, so I'm going to protect it. What password do you want?"
He thinks for a moment. "How about 'I was born'?"
"Why that?"
"Because I was born when you and Tor found me."
His words move me almost to tears, memories and words flooding back, so I begin as he has asked:
I was born, but it took two deaths and three reincarnations for my life to really began.
The first thirteen years of my life had moments of joy with my dad, but he worked long hours so they were few. I knew he loved me while my mother wouldn't give me the time of day. We were poor and my dad saved what little he could for the things I needed for school. Even to do that, he must have denied himself a lot. Whenever mom ran out of money for liquor she picked up men and brought them home while dad was at work. No matter what the weather, she always threw me out of the house while they were there. She finally took off with some guy when I was about eight, so it was just the old man and me after that. I was glad when she went, because between us the old man and I could keep the place clean and have regular meals. We may not have had much, but we had a good life together after she was gone.
It was about then people started buying the old houses in our neighborhood and restoring them. The house next to ours was the last to be bought, and I liked to sit on our steps after school and watch the workmen turn it into something beautiful. I was too young then to know what was going on until my old man started griping about the neighborhood being full of queers and warned me about getting around any of them.
When two guys moved in, they saw me looking at it and asked me over to see the house. It was the kind of place I always wished our house had looked like. Doug and Ted were great to me, giving me cookies and something to drink nearly every day when I got home from school, and once in a while they would take me with them when they went shopping. That was a special treat for me, because on the way home we always stopped off for a hamburger and a milk shake. I could always count on them for help with my homework if I had a problem.
After I told dad how good they were to me and never touched me more than a hug when I made good grades or something, the old man started speaking to them. He and I even went over there for dinner on Sunday a few times. He never noticed when they bought me new jeans or a shirt or sneakers, because most times he was too tired when he got home to notice anything. He'd fix us some dinner if I hadn't gotten to it, then drink a beer and go to bed. I never saw how thin and old looking he had become until the morning he didn't get out of bed to go to work. I ran next door to get Ted.
While dad was sick, Ted spent every morning at our house, cleaning, cooking, taking care of him and me. My thirteenth birthday came. Ted fixed me a birthday cake and he and Doug had a little party for me that afternoon. I knew then how sick the old man was because he didn't come down to join us, and he never missed my birthday. Before, he always brought me a little cake from the bakery and gave me a dollar, sometimes more if he had it.
He died that evening while Ted and Doug were still at the house. Ted held me while I cried myself out, and Doug did all the things that have to be done at a time like that. They took me home with them and put me in bed in a room all my own. Lying there in the dark I began to wonder what was going to happen to me. I had no idea where the old lady was, not that I really cared, but with my dad gone, there wasn't anybody else.
The next morning Doug left for his office. Not long after, a man from the finance company showed up at the house and wanted money or the furniture. Ted called Doug who came home and ran the man off until we could talk about it. That's when I found out Doug's a lawyer.
Ted and Doug took me to the funeral. Besides a preacher and a couple of guys I guess worked with my dad, we were the only three for the short service. Men from the finance company showed up again that afternoon with a handful of papers. After Doug looked at the papers, he could only shake his head and tell them to go ahead while he watched. By dark the house is empty except for an old table and a couple of chairs. Ted helped me get the rest of my stuff together and take it to their house.
The next evening, a lawyer comes by and gives me my dad's will. I was surprised he even had one. Doug reads it to me and dad has left me everything, which amounts to exactly nothing worth having. The only good news is that dad's union insurance paid for his funeral.
The next couple of days, Doug's busy looking into things for me and tells me the mortgage on our house has only about three years left to go before it's paid off. I know there's no way I can do anything about it, cause I don't have any money, but Doug tells me that kids don't have any say about important things and gives me a paper to sign so he can act for me.
"We'll hold your house in trust for you, Andy. We'll have it fixed up and rent it. The rent should be enough to cover the mortgage payments and repairs so by the time you are old enough, it will be yours free and clear. That way you'll always have a home." Doug tells me.
"But what about 'til then? I gotta live somewhere."
"You're staying with us, if you want to."
There's nothing I want more. I jump up and give both of them a hug, then we talk for a long time about how things are going to be. Doug's going to be tougher than my old man, but I don't care as long as I'm not getting sent away.
I'd always made decent grades, because school was the one place I could be myself and not have anybody yelling at me. I always got my homework during my study period and stayed in the library reading until it closed in the afternoon. Then I'd go to the public library and read some more, anything but go home when my mom was there. I didn't have any friends I could bring around, 'cause the one time I did mom was drunk as usual and threw a bottle at the kid. He took off and I got cussed and hit, so I never bothered after that.
When I went back to school all my grades came up to A's. Doug and Ted were so happy they took me to a restaurant for dinner to celebrate. I liked that 'cause I'd never been in a nice place like that before.
I did things around the house, too, 'cause Ted's a free-lance researcher and he got a job that kept him busy for several weeks. But busy as they both are, he and Doug let me chose what to do on weekends. I got to see the zoo, and we went to the swimming pool at the country club they belong to whenever it was warm enough. That Christmas was one I'll never forget. They took me to church on Christmas Eve. The music and decorations made all my dreams come true, 'specially Christmas morning when they called me to see what Santa had brought. They were so happy with the big tree and all the gifts for me, I couldn't let on I had known for a long time.
The first year I was in school, I came home talking about the Santa the teacher took our class to see in one of the stores. I told him I wanted a bicycle, but when I told my mom, she snarled, "Santa!" She took another swig out of the bottle and laughed. "There ain't no Santa, so get it outta your head. Even if there was, he wouldn't bring a sorry little shit like you nothin'." But Ted and Doug made it a kid's dream come true.
I didn't have a worry in the world for almost a year, then just before school was to start again in the fall, I came in from a movie one afternoon and see Doug's standing there with his arms around Ted. Doug's upset too. When I ask what's wrong, Doug tells me I gotta leave.
"What did I do? I thought you liked me."
"We love you, Andy, but somehow social services found out you were living with us. I've been trying to work out something all day, but I can't. I went to a judge I know, but he wouldn't help because Ted and I live together."
I couldn't say anything. I just tried to figure out what was going to happen to me now. When Doug came to my room to help me get my stuff together, it hit me that the happiest time of my life was over. I started crying.
Ted fixed everything he knew I liked for dinner, but I just pushed it around on my plate. He and Doug didn't do any better. When we finish eating what we can, Doug takes me to his study and sits down with me.
"Andy, you'll never know how sorry Ted and I are that things have happened this way. It's been wonderful having you here and we love you very much. I wish I could tell you that it's just for a little while, but I can't lie to you. There's no chance you'll ever be allowed to come back here to stay, but I want you to remember that Ted and I are always here for you when you need us."
"Can't I come on weekends?"
Doug shakes his head. "They won't let you see us again, if they can help it. I did get the judge to put you in a foster home instead of an orphanage. It isn't much, but it's the best I could do. I want you to promise to keep up your work at school and not give your foster parents any trouble."
I nod, but I'm already thinking about how fast I can get back here.
"You've got to decide what you want to do with the table and chairs we brought from your house. If you want us to keep them for you, we'll be happy to."
"Throw 'em away. Ain't nothin' but junk."
"The table is an antique, Andy. It needs refinishing, but it's a good piece. The chairs aren't worth anything, though."
"If you and Ted want the table, you can have it. I ain't likely to need it."
"Thank you, Andy. We'll have it refinished and use it. If you want it after you're grown, it will be here for you. Do you have a place you hide things?"
I look at Doug and Ted who's just come in from doing the dishes. After all they've done for me, I'm ashamed to tell them. "I . . . I got some stuff hid behind a brick in the back steps."
"Don't worry about telling us, dear. We'd never pry," Ted says.
"It ain't that. It's just . . . "
"That everyone needs some place private," Doug finishes for me.
"Yeah."
"If Ted and I were to give you any money, they would take it from you, so we're going to put some in a plastic bag in your hiding place. If you ever need it, it will be there for you."
After I showed them the loose brick, the rest of the evening was awful. I was hurting from having to leave and I guess they hurt too.
Doug stayed home from work the next morning until the old bag from social services showed up. If he hadn't been there, I would of spit in her face the way she looked at Ted when he kissed me good-bye and started crying. Doug hugged me and carried the suitcase he'd put my stuff in to her car.
When I look back and wave to Doug and Ted, she jerks me around. "I'm glad we're getting you out of such an unwholesome environment. You'll be very happy with the nice foster parents we've found for you and there's a little boy there for you to play with."
I was so happy and now she's busted it up. "Fuck!"
"Well! The Joneses will certainly get your language cleaned up and I don't want to hear any complaints about your behavior. Is that clear?"
"Yeah," I answer snotty as I can to shut her up.
The house she stops in front of ain't much better than the one my dad and me lived in and it's a long way from Doug and Ted's. The Joneses are all smiles until she leaves, then I find out it ain't goin' to be no fun. Old man Jones starts laying down the law. When he finally shut up, I said, "Shit," and got the back of his hand across my mouth. I didn't get any dinner, either. Worst of all, I gotta share a room with a smart-ass little kid who can't wait to tell me what I missed.
By supper time, only they call it dinner, I'm starving, but the slop they put on the table is awful. I bet most dogs would sniff it and lift their leg on it. I close my eyes and try to imagine it's Ted's good cooking while I eat as much as I can force down. When I get a chance, I go in the hall and start to dial Doug's number, but old man Jones snatches the phone out of my hand and slams it down.
"Who were you calling?"
"None o' yer business."
I get it across the mouth again. "You're going to learn some respect if I have to beat it in you. You were callin' them queers, weren't you? Get this straight, you ain't callin' them or nobody else." He puts some kind of lock on the dial so it can't be used.
The way he called Doug and Ted queers makes 'em sound dirty and I know they ain't. I hate Jones to death, ain't nothing going to change that.
I guess I'm slow sometimes, 'cause it takes me a week to figure out I'm not getting anywhere the way I'm going, and with the Joneses watching me, there's no way I'm can get away. But I'm not so dumb I don't know if I change all at once they'll figure out I'm up to something, so I let up easy like 'till I'm so nice it makes me want to barf.
The Joneses change too, but it ain't enough I'd want to live with. One night old man Jones asks me if I want to call Doug. I know it's a trick, so I say, "Who wants to talk to a fairy?"
He gives me a smirk. "I'm glad you've learned, Andy. You and Donnie can have a Good Humor when the truck comes along."
When I remember what I said about Doug I almost gag on the ice cream, so I let the Snitch finish it. But after that, most of the restrictions are gone and I want it that way while I'm planning. I can't put nothing on paper, 'cause the Snitch'll tattle like he always does if he gets the chance, so after I'm in bed every night I go over the list in my mind trying to think of everything.
It's four or five weeks more before I get my chance one Saturday morning. Old lady Jones gives me a couple of bucks and tells me to take Donnie to the kids' movie 'cause she's going to get her hair done. Soon as I get the little bastard a ticket I tell him I'll be back when the movie's over.
"I gonna tell Mama Jones."
I grab his scrawny arm and twist it behind his back. "Tell 'er to go to hell and you go with 'er." I shove him through the door and run.
It's not but three blocks from the theater to the house and soon as I get there I grab the old backpack I found in the closet and shove my stuff in it and take off for Doug and Ted's.
The door's locked so I ring the bell, but they ain't home. I go 'round back and fish the plastic bag out from behind the brick. There's a wristwatch, and a wallet holding some snapshots and some money. There's a note wrapped around it. I keep the snapshots of my old man and of Ted and Doug and put on the watch, then open the note.
This money is for your trip, Andy. We wish you wouldn't, but we can guess you're going to run away. Please be careful and call us if you need us for any reason. We love you and we'll always be here for you.
I almost cry while I read the note, but I put it and the stuff I ain't taking back in the bag and shove the brick back in place. I count the money - a hundred bucks. Time's passing, so I stuff the wallet in the bottom of the pack and hit the street. I wish I could stay until they come home, but I figure old man Jones will come here first when he finds out I'm gone.
I grab a city bus and ride as far as it goes out to the highway, then stick out my thumb. Pretty soon I get a ride from a young guy driving a pick-up. He tells me he's going about seventy miles across the state line. I start to tell him I'm going to my grandmother's, but he's not interested in nothing but the tape he's got going full blast, which is okay with me.
When he turns off the highway, he lets me out and I stick out my thumb again. A lot of cars pass by. It's almost dark and I'm beginning to have some doubts when this fancy dark green convertible stops. I crawl in. The driver looks old enough to be my dad, over thirty at least. When he asks me where I'm going, I tell him anywhere he is. He gives me a smile and we take off. It ain't long before he asks my name and starts to sound me out 'bout why a kid like me's on the road, so I tell 'im. I figure it's safe, 'cause I ain't never seen no social worker driving a car like this.
He tells me his name is Vince and pulls me closer to him and puts his arm around my shoulder. After a little, he puts his hand on my knee and begins to squeeze it. I don't like that, so I grab his hand and tell him to keep his mind on his driving. He starts telling me how cute I am and how he'd like it if I came home with him. I already figured out he's queer, but it's a really dark night. There's some lightning and thunder, and I don't have any better prospects, so I figure if the party don't get rough at least I'll have a roof over my head. When I tell him okay, I can see his big smile in the light from the dash.
He turns onto a narrow road and a few minutes later we pull up to some gates. He pushes a button on the dash and the gates open up. Ahead is a house bigger than any I'd ever seen. He stops in front and says, "This is it, Andy."
I get out and follow him through the front door into a room that looks big as a basketball court. From somewhere above I hear somebody yell, "That you, Vince?"
It's so dark I can't see anybody when I look up, but Vince yells back, "Yeah. Come on down, Greg. There's someone I want you to meet."
The lights flash on and I can see this blond stud coming down the stairs. This guy's got it all. I mean he's so good looking any chick this guy said 'no' to would throw herself off a bridge. He's looking me over when Vince says, "This is Andy, Greg."
Greg snorts. "When did you get into chicken, Vince?"
Vince laughs. "When I found you." Then he shakes his head. "I picked him up on the highway. He's on the run, so he doesn't want any trouble."
Greg looks at me again and says, "He's scruffy." He sniffs. "Fragrant, too." That pisses me off, 'cause he wouldn't look so cool if he'd been on the road like I was. I don't like him calling me chicken, either.
"Give him a bath before dinner."
He takes me by the arm. "Come on, kid."
I didn't count on all this, so I jerk loose and start for the door. Vince says quiet like, "Greg."
Greg grabs the waistband of my jeans and lifts me off the floor like I don't weigh nothin'.
"Don't be rough with him, Greg. If he doesn't have any clean clothes, give him a robe." Then Vince looks at me. "Nobody is going to hurt you, Andy. After you've had a bath, we'll have dinner."
Still holding on to my jeans, Greg marches me up the stairs and into a big bedroom. He turns me loose and tells me to strip, but I can't for looking at all the swell stuff. There's a big short-wave radio, a stereo, and books all over the place. When he starts to make a grab for me, I undress fast, 'cause I can tell this guy don't put up with no foolishness and I just learned how strong he is.
He pushes me into a bathroom that's got a tub set in the tile floor. It's so big there's two sets of faucets. He turns them both on and I figure he's going to leave, but he drops the lid on the can and sits there watching me. He can tell I don't like him being there, so he says, "I'm making sure you bathe good. If you don't, I'll give you a scrub myself." When he gives me a big grin, I don't mind him being there so much.
He mumbles under his breath, then says, "You're a cute kid. Play it cool and you'll make out real well."
I'm not sure I understand what he means, so I raise my eyebrows.
"Yeah," he says, "Vince is gay, but not like any I ever saw before. He just likes pretty things around him. You saw the paintings and things down in the hall? Well you haven't seen anything yet. This place is like a museum. If Vince takes to something, he wants it. The same with cute kids."
"Ain't you . . . "
Greg shakes his head. "He picked me up in the city about four years ago. I was standing on a corner trying to hustle enough bread for something to eat and a place to crash. When we got here, I liked the looks of the place, so I stayed." He gives me a sharp look. "If you play it right, you can do as well as I have."
I must have looked confused, because he went on. "When I told him I would stick around, he told me he couldn't stand stupid people, so he hired a tutor for me. I had to work plenty because Hilliard wouldn't let me get by with anything, so that's how a no good hustler got in college. If I make anything of myself, it'll be because of Vince."
He reaches over and puts an inflatable pillow on the back of the tub and presses a button. The water starts swirling around. "Lean back and relax. It's a whirlpool. It's great for relaxing."
It's so wonderful I almost go to sleep while he's washing my hair, but he pulls the plug and rinses my hair with a hand spray, then he lifts me out of the tub and dries me off with a towel bigger than any I ever saw before. After he's dried my hair with a blower, he paws through my stuff and holds out a pair of under-shorts which is the only thing I've got left that's clean. "Put these on." While I'm doing that, he grabs a robe from the closet and tosses it to me, then finds me a pair of slippers to wear. "That's all you'll need for now." He looks at my stuff on the floor. "If you stick around, Vince will get you something decent. Come on."
Downstairs, Greg takes me into a room with dark paneling, lots of books around the walls, where music is playing softly. Vince is curled up in a big chair, a drink in his hand.
"Ah, there you are. Let's have a look."
Before I can move, Greg pulls my robe off and leaves me standing there in my shorts. Vince touches a button and the lights come up bright. He looks me over and nods at Greg. Greg gives me a push until I'm standing in front of Vince.
"Drop your shorts," he whispers.
When I don't move, Greg grabs my shorts and rips them off me. I start to take a swing at him, but he grabs my arm and holds it. "Cool it," he says and turns me loose.
I stand there with Vince's eyes going over me like I'm something he's thinking of buying. He says, "Exquisite," two or three times before Greg helps me back in the robe and points to a chair in front of Vince.
"What do you want to drink?" Greg asks me.
"Beer." If Vince is all that crazy, I figure I can get something stronger than soda pop.
"Give him a light lager," Vince says. "I expect ale will be too heavy for his tastes."
I'm surprised, but Greg goes behind the bar and hauls a mug out of a freezer and opens a bottle of imported beer for me. I guess it goes with the place, but a kid like me only dreams of beer that tastes so good.
The music gets a little louder and Vince keeps staring at me. I finish the beer about time a black guy in fancy clothes opens the door and says, "Dinner is served, Dr. Malloy."
Vince gives me a smile. "I hope you're hungry, Andy."
I follow him and Greg to the dining room. I've never seen a table so big anywhere. I bet twenty people could get around it, and there's just the three of us. Vince goes to the far end, while Greg sits at the other. Vince points to a chair about half way. Even if I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget that dinner. We never had steak at home but once or twice. Even then, it was tough as old shoes. The one the black man set in front of me would have served all three of us, and when I try to cut it the knife goes through it like there's nothing there. I'm not sure when I'll get another meal good as this, so I stoke up.
Vince grins at me. "I like my boys to have good appetites, Andy, just don't get fat. I can't stand that."
After dinner we go back into the library and the black guy brings in silver tray with a pot on it and three little cups. Vince says, "Forbidden Fruit, please, John."
He goes back of the bar and gets another tray with three little glasses made of silver and pours something in them from a fancy bottle, then passes it around. When I get a chance, I sniff mine. It smells like oranges. John comes back and sets one of the little cups full of the blackest coffee I've ever seen on the table beside me.
"Ain't there no sugar an' cream?"
Vince giggles. "Not for demi-tasse, Andy. It would kill the liqueur."
That tells me if I stick around here I've got lots to learn about the way rich people live. I take a sip from the glass. The stuff's awfully sweet, but what a kick! I ain't never had anything that strong in my life, not even the cheap booze my old lady used to drink. I get a mouthful of coffee fast. I must of made a face, 'cause Greg laughs.
"Bring Andy a glass of milk, please, John."
Milk ain't never tasted so good before. About time I finish it, Vince yawns and glances at his watch. "It's not late, but I'd better turn in. I have a heavy day tomorrow. What would you like in the way of sleeping arrangements, Andy?"
Greg butts in. "Let him bunk in with me. That way I can set him straight and maybe he won't feel lonely."
"That's kind of you, Greg. I'll see both of you tomorrow, then."
Greg points to one of the beds in his room. "That's yours. If you want to read, there're some magazines on my desk. I have something to do before I turn in."
I find a magazine and sit on the edge of my bed watching Greg. He's pulled off the long sleeve shirt he was wearing and I see his left arm is covered with plastic below the elbow. He pulls on the hand and it comes off. He lays it on the desk. I see his arm ends just above where his wrist would have been. I must of been staring, because he gives me a grin and says, "I bet you can't do that."
I point to the hand. "Can I see it?"
He shrugs and passes it over. Holding it gives me the creeps. If it hadn't been so cool to touch, I wouldn't have known it wasn't real, 'cause it looks just like his real hand, with fingernails and even tiny hairs on the back.
"How does it work?"
"It's myoelectric. The muscles in my arm switch on little motors to make the fingers move. It's good for a lot of things, but I can't let it get wet, so I use it mostly for looks." He takes a metal hook with a harness attached out of his desk drawer. "This is for working." For a minute he looks like he might talk about it, then he frowns at me. "Satisfied?"
I lay his hand back on his desk, while he strips to his shorts. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
I pull up the covers and try to get comfortable. Greg comes back scowling, takes a shower, and gets into his bed without saying anything.
It seems so real that even now I'm not sure it was a nightmare. In the moonlight, I see Greg's hand crawl to the edge of the desk, drop to the carpet, and start for my bed. The fingers grab the covers and pull slowly up. I keep trying to get away from it, but it comes on and on until it reaches for my throat. I slap it away and yell.
Greg's turned on the light and is shaking me. "What's the matter with you?"
I look around, but his hand is back on the desk. "Your hand was going to get me."
"What?"
"Your hand. It crawled up on my bed. It was going to get me."
"You were having a nightmare. It's there on the desk where I left it. If it bothers you that much I'll put it in the drawer so it can't get out. Go back to sleep."
I guess I did, 'cause the next thing I know the sun's shining in through the window and all my clothes are lying on the sofa, washed and ironed. I get out of bed, pick up my stuff, and look at Greg who's watching me.
"John always comes through. I sometimes wonder when he sleeps. If you're going to stick around, I'd better tell you now that John runs the house. Stay out of the kitchen and the servants' way and you'll be okay with him. If you want anything, there's a button like that," he points to a bell push in the wall near the door, "in every room. Just ring and John will get whatever you want."
To be continued...
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Posted: 09/14/07