Trials and Triumphs I
By: Morris Henderson
(Copyright 2012 by the author)

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

 Chapter 2
Rescued in the Knick of Time

Brian used his native talent for quickly perceiving and evaluating options and alternatives. He genuinely wanted to help Eric find a way to escape from the mental turmoil and the depressingly spartan living arrangements his friend had been forced to endure. There was another compelling reason for his altruism: he regarded Eric as a good friend, yes, but also - at least potentially - much more than that. IF, that is, he had the same secret needs.

There seemed to be few options. He dismissed most of them as inadequate, ineffective, or unacceptable for a variety of reasons. One option, however, seemed to meet Eric's and his own needs.

"I've got an idea," Brian began. Carefully choosing his words in order to gain Eric's acceptance of the plan, he continued. "First of all, we've got to get you out of the situation you're in. Living in a garage is bad enough but the chance of your father finding out is too great. Heaven knows what he would do if he found you there. Not if but when! He's bound to find you. Based on what you've told me about his deranged fury, I think your safety and possibly your life is in jeopardy. My idea is this: stay at my house. It's far enough away from yours that your father will never see you come and go."

"I can't ask you to do that," Eric interrupted.

"Hear me out," Brian urged. "First of all, it solves your immediate problem ... at least part of it: having to sneak in and out of the garage. You'll be able to sleep in a proper bed. When winter comes, you'll have a warm place to stay. It may not solve the problem of your father's irrational anger or help you cope with the loss of what was once a healthy father-son relationship. That will take a long time and you may never completely forget about it. But in the meantime, you'll be safe. You can finish the school year, receive your diploma, and get on with your life. Believe me, Eric. I know for sure that you've got a lot of potential. You're a good student, you've got promise; it would be a damn shame to waste that."

Eric looked up at his friend with a blank stare. After a moment's pause, he asked, "Why are you doing this? Helping me, I mean."

"Simple!" Brian replied. "Two reasons. First, I like you. You're the one person in the whole goddamn student body who treats me like a decent human being. You may recall that I resisted your friendship for a long time. What you may not know is that I didn't trust you. I thought you were just trying to kiss my ass in order to get help with your school work. Or worse, set me up for some kind of malicious prank. I was wrong! You didn't need help in school; you never asked for it. Over time, I recognized that you are incapable of malicious behavior against anyone. It took me a long time to realize that you're friendship was just that and no more. You'll never know how much I appreciate that, Eric. Sure, I project the image of a guy who doesn't give a rat's ass about other people. But that's just a façade, a wall I build to protect me from taunts and snide insults. In short, you've given me far more than I'm now offering you."

Eric was stunned by Brian's earnest confession. He had never given enough thought to the matter to fully recognize how lonely Brian must be. He, like everyone else, had been fooled by the "misfit's" highly effective pretense of not caring about others or their opinions He wanted to know more about this isolated person who had a mind that bordered on the brilliant but trapped in a body that drew nothing but contempt and hurtful criticism from thoughtless peers. Inside that unappealing body was the mind and soul of a veritable gem ... a priceless diamond in the rough. Eric replied with what seemed at the moment to be needed, "You're a prince, Brian. I'm honored to be your friend."

Ignoring the compliment, Brian continued, "That's the first reason. You'll be better off staying at my house. Here's the second. It will make me feel good. To be able to help a true friend in need. So how about it? Will you accept my offer?"

"I'm tempted. But what about your folks? Will they agree to take in a stray?"

"I'm sure they will. I'll ask them tonight. How much can I tell them about the reason? Would you be comfortable if I told them why your safety and possibly your life is in danger?"

"Geez. I don't know. I suppose you'll have to tell them so they understand the situation. But ask them not to tell anybody else. Okay?"

"Deal!"

Eric wanted to hug his friend in gratitude for offering him a place to stay. But that would not be proper and they might be seen. Two boys all by themselves in an otherwise deserted football stadium hugging each other would surely generate rumors that would spread throughout the student body and result in cruel persecution. Brian also resisted the urge to hug his friend to demonstrate his compassion and to comfort a friend in pain - and to express a long-felt attraction to and even affection for Eric. But it would be premature and counterproductive to risk too much physical contact while Eric was in emotional pain. He would have to proceed slowly and carefully to gain what he fervently wanted.

*******

Eric walked the two miles from school to his austere temporary home in a garage. It wouldn't do to arrive there when his father was still home. Although he walked slowly, he still arrived in his neighborhood long before he knew his father would be going out for the evening to drown his sorrows. He had to wait almost two hours before his father's normal departure. But he didn't see him leave the house. Had he already gone to the bar? Was he still in the house? He waited another hour before convincing himself that his father had left earlier than usual and that he could sneak into the garage undetected.

Nearing the house in which he grew up and that held so many fond memories, he saw a alarming sight. All of his clothes and personal possessions (few though they may be) were piled at the curb for the next morning's trash collection. With utmost caution, he maneuvered behind bushes on a route that might, with luck, allow him to reach the garage unnoticed. Inside his temporary shelter, he was shocked again. There was a pile of feces on his blanket; his clothes were damp and smelled of urine. The flashlight he used to study after dark was smashed. His school texts and notebooks were scattered across the dirt floor of the garage. All he could do was crumple down to the floor and sob.

It was getting dark when he managed to pull himself together and think clearly. His father had obviously discovered his hideaway and, in his deranged mind, got revenge on his son for confronting him. Not willing to face the truth about himself, he transferred his self-hatred to his son. The idle threat to leave and the insistence on sobering up was just a spark that ignited an inferno of anger. Eric decided that his father was sick. Sick by reason of addiction to alcohol. Sick because of a deep, unacknowledged hatred of who he had become. Sick in a way that a teenager was powerless to help. The frustration of losing the loving father he once had and not being able to do anything to help or turn back the clock was unbearable.

Then a question burst into his consciousness: What to do now?

There seemed only one answer: salvage what he could - with his school work as a high priority - and leave. For good. But where? Of course! To Brian's house. It was still uncertain that his friend's parents would agree to the arrangement. It was a slim chance but the only hope he had left. He would have liked to call Brian on the phone but it had been disconnected weeks earlier for nonpayment of the bill. He realized then that he couldn't just walk over to Brian's house because he didn't know whether his parents would agree to his living there. And he couldn't stay in the garage because his father knew he was there. It was an imponderable dilemma.

While desperately trying to solve his problem - what to do and where to go - he gathered up his school papers and books. In the process he found a note. In barely legible writing it said,

"Can't fool me, you dumb shithead. LEAVE. You're not my son anymore. Fact is, you probably never were MY son. You're no better than your cunt mother."

"Never MY son?" Eric said aloud. What did that mean? What could it mean? Was his biological father just a temporary boyfriend of his mother? The possibility only intensified his resentment of her. But it also helped to explain why his father was so irrational and insistent that he leave home.

He put all his schoolwork, a few unsoiled clothes, and a half-full box of dry cereal into a large shopping bag and walked despondently and confused out of the garage. Passing the pile of his things at the curb only served to remind him of what he had lost and his desperate and destitute situation. He scanned the pile and checked how much room was left in the shopping bag. There was room enough for a few things, small things that wouldn't take up a lot of space but were, especially in his situation, treasures: a photo album with pictures of happier times in his childhood, a small trophy he won for being the outstanding player on his Little League team, his boy scout Eagle badge - odds and ends, really, but symbols of when his life was happy. There were more items he wanted to salvage but the shopping bag was full. Regretfully and painfully, he would have to leave them behind to become part of the trash in some stinking, rat-infested landfill somewhere. He would remember them not as personal possessions but as symbols of the good times, good times that were now irretrievably lost.

Ominous black clouds overhead foretold an impending thunderstorm but contributed to his gloom and represented the sorrow and helplessness he felt. He trudged off. To where, he didn't know.

Only half a block from his former home, a van passed by him on the residential street. Curiously, it came to a sudden stop and backed up. Eric heard a familiar voice call, "Eric!"

Brian jumped out of the passenger side of the van and walked toward him. Eric dropped his shopping bag, ran to his friend and hugged him. It was not the "proper" thing for teenage boys to do but Eric was no longer in control of his jumbled mind. He clung to Brian as tightly as a drowning man would to floating debris from a ship wreck.

"You all right, pal?" Brian asked. "You're trembling like you've seen a ghost or something."

Eric willed himself into releasing his grip on Brian. He fought to hold back the tears that had been building up over the misery he felt but also tears of joy at having at least one good friend who had, if only for the moment, stood by him. He struggled to say (in a distinctly shaky voice), "My Dad found out I was staying in the garage. He trashed the place. Left a note warning me to get out. All the stuff from my room is at the curb for the garbage man tomorrow morning."

Brian broke the hug, held his friend by the shoulders, and looked intently into his friend's eyes. "Settle down, Eric. It's going to be all right. Mom and Dad have agreed to let you stay at my house. Let's load your stuff into the back of the van. We're going home ... my home and your new home."

Without thinking of how it appeared, Eric resumed hugging his savior as the only way he knew to express his boundless gratitude. He was startled to hear a voice coming from the van, "All right, guys. Enough of that. Let's be on our way before the storm hits us. If we hurry, we'll have time to collect your belongings back at your house."

The rain started just as Brian's father, Dr. Winston, drove up the driveway, pressed the button on the remote garage door opener, and pulled the van into the attached, two-car garage. Safely inside, the man turned around to speak to the two teens in the back seat. "Welcome to your new home, Eric. Brian will take you upstairs. Can I help you carry your things inside?"

"Thanks, Dad," Brian said, "but Eric and I can take care of that."

"Actually, Sir," Eric said. "All I need immediately is in this shopping bag. Would it be all right to stack the rest in the corner of your garage and take care of it later?"

"Of course. I'm guessing that means you and Brian have a lot to talk about so I'll leave you alone until dinner time."

The two boys climbed the stairs and walked down the hall to Eric's bedroom.

"But this is YOUR room," Eric protested.

"No, it's OUR room now," Brian chuckled. "My older sister's bedroom is across the hall but Mom took it over when my sister got married and moved out. She turned it into a studio - she's quite an artist. I hope you don't mind sharing a bedroom."

"Anything is better than a dirty, dusty garage but it makes me feel like an intruder. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help but giving up your privacy is too much to ask."

"Nonsense!" Brian snorted. "Fact of the matter is, I'm delighted to have the company. You already know I don't have any friends at school ... only you. What you may not know is how lonesome it can be. Dad's in his office seeing patients all day and doing hospital rounds until eight at night or later. Mom is busy keeping house or in her studio and doesn't like to be disturbed in there. Not that I'm complaining! Dinner time and sometimes on the weekend we're all together. But mostly I'm almost as alone in the house as I am at school. Having you for company will be a real treat."

*******

After almost two hours of largely one-sided conversation (Eric talked, Brian listened and occasionally asked questions.), they heard Mrs. Winston call them for dinner. It was the best meal Eric had enjoyed for many weeks and he had to continually remind himself not to make a pig out of himself. The conversation over dinner was lively but Brian's parents were discrete; they asked no questions of Eric about his troubled life with a drunken father. Eric's offer to help clear the table after the meal was politely but emphatically declined. "You two probably have homework to do," Mrs. Winston smiled. "So go on upstairs and we'll see you at breakfast."

The boys did more talking than homework but by half past nine Eric was clearly physically and mentally exhausted so Brian suggested, "Let's get some sleep. If you want to shower, the bathroom is at the end of the hall. There's plenty of soap, shampoo, and towels. Don't be shy about using them. After all, this is your home now, too."

Eric luxuriated in the hot shower. Growing up, he had access only to a bath tub. The first time he showered was after Phys Ed in Junior High School. Recently, he had to shower at school after Gym class; there had been no hot water at home (his FORMER home, he reminded himself) because of a delinquent gas bill .... It only had electricity because of a city ordinance that mandated minimal electric service to occupied residences. While lathering up, he was sure to get clean all over. He would be sharing a double bed with Brian and didn't want to offend him with any residual body odor. His cock responded rapidly to the attention it was getting, attention that had been absent for ... what was it? ... almost two weeks while Eric was obsessed with dealing with his father. The ejaculation was copious and extraordinarily gratifying.

Brian, meanwhile, was refining his strategy. He would have to move very cautiously and never rush things. The first night, he concluded, he would simply lay an arm across his friend's chest and whisper reassuring comments about how Eric had turned a corner in his life. The tribulations of the past were behind him. Gradually, Brian hoped, the physical contact would continue and lead to ... But the probability of that was minimal.

To be continued...

My thanks to Iatia for his consistently meticulous editing and for his continuing encouragement.

Posted:07/20/12