Chapter 2
Attitudes.

 

Though the beginning had all been completely innocent and without thought, from the second time Jackson went to visit Brad, over not only months but years to come, Jackson’s visits became consistent and repetitive. At first it was maybe a couple times a month but as time rolled on and Jackson got older, the long or short visits became weekly.

 

Though Frank refused to take Jackson next-door, initially April would walk him over and the moment she let go of his hand, Jackson would run to Brad and almost leap into his arms. Brad would hold him for a while but eventually he would take him into the backyard, sit him on the grass and Jackson would talk to Brad about the most inane things. He would also ask Brad about every bird, insect or piece of fruit hanging from a tree, if he was not asking questions like why the sky was blue or the grass was green. Eventually Brad would pick him up and carry him home, until the next visit.

 

Jackson was always well behaved, never did or said anything wrong and there was never a moment when Brad wished the boy was not around. Whether he was working on his car or mowing or doing something else, as time went by, no matter what Brad was doing, Jackson seemed content to just sit there with him, whether they were talking or not. There definitely was a connection between them, even though neither of them understood what was evolving.

 

The boy also appeared to like Penny as well, at least, well enough. He was always nice when she spoke to him and even respectfully pleasant if Penny walked out and interrupted his time with Brad. While alone, though, Jackson had taken to asking Brad questions about his car or any machinery or tool Brad was working with. Based on their difference in age, it just seemed like a mentoring relationship between an older and younger male.

 

There was no doubting Brad was completely aware of the boy’s affection for him. He was also aware of the pout if anyone came between them. Even so, Brad still did not understand why Jackson was drawn to him so intently, however, he knew from his own perspective, he felt like a kind of father to Jackson and he liked it immensely. Subsequently, Brad often thought Jackson was good practice for when he and Penny had their first child.

 

On the other side of the fence, April was happy for the connection her son found with Brad. From her personal and unspoken opinion, Brad seemed like the type of father figure she had hoped Frank would be. Unfortunately, she saw clearly the unemotional relationship that existed between her husband and his son. She was also very aware of the dismissals of Frank toward Jackson, whenever Jackson tried to get close to him.

 

The alteration in the way Frank reacted to his son had begun when Jackson turned five. April did not know why it happened but when she tried to raise the issue, Frank denied it, dismissed it and then got defensive and left the room in a huff.

 

During the year Jackson turned seven, he started watching football on television in his bedroom. At first April saw this as a ray of hope because Frank always commented on the fact Jackson was not interested in playing sport or particularly football at school. He was also disappointed the boy was not interested in joining a team outside of school, on the weekends during winter.

 

The men in Frank’s family had always played Rugby Union and April hoped that maybe this sudden change could draw the father and son together. Unfortunately, April had not taken any notice that the football Jackson was watching was Australian Rules football, an entirely different code to the one Frank revered. What happened as a consequence was the last thing April had expected.

 

Jackson was sitting on the lounge watching a Friday night game, which he usually watched on the small television in his bedroom. April was in the kitchen cooking a late dinner and had once again not paid any attention to exactly what Jackson was watching. Frank was sitting at the dining room table reading a newspaper at the opposite end of the house. April thought it was a shame Frank was not watching the game with his son. Deciding it was a good opportunity, she walked into the dining room to talk to her husband.

 

“Frank, you hardly spend any time with Jackson and he’s in the living room watching football right now. Why don’t you go in and watch it with him?”

 

“Jackson? He’s watching football? Well what do you know, wonders never cease. I suppose there can be a light at the end of every tunnel,” he said sarcastically and then added, “I wasn’t even aware there was a game on tonight?”

 

“He’s seven, Frank. Give him time to grow up and become the man he’s going to be. He’s not just going to be everything you want him to be immediately. Just because he’s a boy doesn’t mean he’s a robot, you know?”

 

“I know that, April. It’s just that he’s so different to the boy I was. When I was his age, I was already part of a team and Dad used to give me extra training away from my coach. I was a big boy but Jackson’s small and he’s never shown interest in any sport, let alone Rugby.”

 

“Oh Frank, all children do things at different times. We don’t all grow up and do everything like there’s a step-by-step manual to moving through life.”

 

“I know that, April. Anyway, I’ll go in with him now.”

 

Frank walked straight into the living room and sat on the opposite side of the lounge, leaving two seat spaces between them. However, the moment he looked at the television, his expression changed and he was not even aware his son was looking at him and smiling, simply because his dad had chosen to be with him to watch the game.

 

“Why in hell are you watching this pansy sport? If you’re going to watch football, you should be watching real football. You should be watching Rugby. Now that’s real football for real men,” Frank expounded, as if there was no other way and nothing else existed.

 

Finally turning to look at his son’s face, there was no smile to see because Jackson’s face was covered in a frown, as he stared at his father with so much disappointment in his eyes. Ignoring the expression on Jackson’s face, either because he did not care or did not want to confront it, Frank turned back to the television. He watched what was happening, he laughed like it was a joke and then he huffed and rolled his eyes.

 

“Look at them, jumping in the air like it’s ballet. That’s what they are, a bunch of ballerinas. They all should be wearing tutus. Football is about big men hitting big bodies hard and the only intent is to get the ball over the line and score a try. These guys don’t even do that. All they do is kick goals. They’re a bunch of candy-arsed pussies.”

 

Without having said a word, Jackson stood up. He was not just hurt, he was angry. He started to walk but incredibly for a seven-year-old, he turned around and glared at his father who was now looking at him. Jackson said, “They’re called skills, Dad.” He then turned around and his mother was looking at his father shaking her head. As Jackson passed her, he said, “Mum, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to my room.”

 

April was very aware of the change in her son in the one year he had been spending time with Brad. He was different to the boy he had been and it seemed like he had become smarter and more aware in practically no time at all. She had never seen him speak emotionally in an almost adult way, like he had just spoken to his father.

 

She was further aware he was thinking deeply all the time and though he did not say much, half the time she thought he already had the answers. She knew what he had said to his father was brave for a child in the simplest terms. She nodded at Jackson, told him she would bring him a tray later and as he walked passed her, she turned and looked back at Frank, her eyes seething.

 

Frank said with a gruff voice, “What?”

 

“You couldn’t resist, could you. It always has to be about you and what you think and what you want.”

 

“What I said is true,” Frank said.

 

“Of course it is. The almighty Frank Swanson has decided and therefore it must be law. He’s a seven-year-old boy, Frank. He’s found something he likes and the first thing you do is rip it to pieces. Why couldn’t you just find something in it and say something positive about it. Anything to form a connection with your son but no, not His Royal Highness, Frank Swanson, who always knows better.”

 

“It’s not football. It’s a game that people don’t understand,” Frank said.

 

“Your seven-year-old seems to understand it, along with millions of fans.”

 

“He just doesn’t understand the beauty of Rugby or the way the big men are willing to bleed for the game.”

 

“Oh, give me a break, Frank. What do you know about bleeding?”

 

Looking at April with a stunned expression, Frank asked, “What do you mean?”

 

“Frank, unless you’re a woman who’s pushed a child out of her body or a man that’s been to war and been wounded or learned the nature of fear in real battle or perhaps, some poor soul who’s had to undergo the scalpel repetitively just to stay alive, then you have no right to speak of bleeding, of courage or of pain.”

 

Frank glared at his wife but knew that anything he said other than to agree with her, would be prerequisite to admitting he was a fool. He closed his mouth, which was hanging open and he looked at the television for an escape.

 

In that moment, on the television, a young man was walking off the field and a closeup of his face filled the screen. His forehead had been split opened right across his hairline from a heavy tackle and his entire face was covered in dark red, thick, flowing blood.

 

The replay showed three, huge, young men, collide at full speed as they ran for the ball. In the subsequent carnage of twisting bodies, the studs on the sole of the boot of one player, ripped across the other player’s head, causing the extreme damage.

 

April shouted as she pointed angrily at the television, “Look, there’s one of your pussies doing ballet.”

 

The young man’s face looked like something out of a horror movie, as Frank turned and looked at April. She turned and stormed out of the room, adding as she was walking away, “You’re a fucking know-it-all who knows nothing.”

 

Frank glared at the eyes looking through the pool of blood and he felt defeated by the stranger, not to mention by his wife and son. Deep down he knew he had been taught a lesson but even so, he knew he would never give credence to any code other than Rugby.

 

It was as a consequence of things like that, which in the years that followed, caused April to become even more aware of the close bond Jackson was forming with Brad. When April thought about Brad, he seemed like a well-raised and good-mannered, young man. Though she did not know him closely, at no point had she ever seen a bad side or even a slip-up in his ever-constant, positive personality.

 

Subsequently, it became easy for April to disregard the uncertain little thoughts that crept through her mind, which were due to Frank’s ambiguous yet suggestive remarks, as an older man continued to entertain Jackson, a young boy as well as her son, who was now in his eighth year.

 

Over the year following the football fiasco, which was never spoken of again, Frank seemed even more detached from Jackson, particularly on the days of Jackson’s visits next-door. Whenever his son was in the same room as him, Frank felt at odds with the man his father had taught him to be, the man he thought he was meant to be, compared to the man his wife suggested his son needed.

 

Irrespective, Frank continued to make surreptitious comments to April, regarding what he thought was the oddness of a twenty-one-year-old man, wanting to spend time with a boy, thirteen years his junior. Each time, though, April assumed it was jealousy at the core of Frank’s words. Considering the abyss that seemed to stand between Frank and Jackson, compared to the closeness between Jackson and Brad, it was not at all hard for her to believe she was right. Whatever the case, Frank was unwilling to discuss the matter, he was unwilling to change or try to make things better and so as far as April was concerned, she blamed Frank for the personal struggle he was feeling and believed it was his own fault.

 

The truth was that Frank’s father had taught him that a man shook everything off. When Frank had been hurt playing Rugby as a little boy, his father told him to stop crying and to get up and hurt back. If he stretched out his arms to his father, he was waved off and told to be a man, no matter how young he was or how badly he was hurt. Sometimes his father would even push Frank to the ground forcefully and immediately tell Frank to get up and hit him back, to show him nothing and no one would stop him from being a man.

 

Though April knew nothing of that part of Frank’s upbringing, eventually she believed that Brad was a type of surrogate father in Jackson’s mind and heart. She thought it had to be the reason her son would want to spend so much time with an older man, particularly when she considered the way Jackson’s father treated him. The only real problem she could see was not in the man living next-door; it was the man in her own home and it riled her because she felt like there was nothing she could do to change it.

 

Of course silent questions did slip into her conscious mind, however, Jackson was so young that if she did consider the possibility he might be gay, she quickly pushed it away. With the continued passage of time and the uninterrupted growth of the friendship between her son and the man next-door, once in a blue moon April wondered what Jackson’s eventual sexuality would be.

 

When she really considered it, though, she knew Jackson had no friends outside of school, male or female and additionally, he was practically always at home and rarely asked to go out. She had offered for him to invite some mates from school to come over on weekends but he said no and then told her a silly joke. He just seemed happy and unconcerned. On top of all of those things, he only saw Brad once a week and generally Jackson seemed perfectly fine.

 

There was a moment in time when April considered Brad’s influence, however, she knew that Penny and Brad were a very close, physically affectionate couple. Not only were they always touching and holding each other but they also spoke so lovingly to each other, it seemed to directly point to an eventual marriage, if not soon then not too far along the horizon. Further, Brad spoke about having children more than Penny did. The idea of Brad with Jackson just seemed too unlikely and as her son was now eight-years-old and happy in spite of his father’s detachment, she dismissed the suggestive inferences of her husband.

 

***

 

Toward the end of seven, specific things began to become clear in Jackson’s mind. He was still a very small boy and was still a sort of loner, which was exacerbated by the lack of kids his age on the street. However, during that year and particularly throughout his eighth year, Jackson began to understand a difference about himself, which did not relate to opposing views he heard at home or school.

 

They were fundamentally feelings he was becoming aware of but those feelings were gradually turning into thoughts and eventually, he vaguely understood the concept of how he felt about Brad. He thought it was something he should keep to himself because what he had heard, suggested something was wrong with him and that he was different. Due to fear, he suddenly had a secret but though he wanted to talk to someone, he thought he might get into trouble if he did.

 

It was three years after the friendship began, though, Brad thought a nine-year-old boy was well beyond jumping into his arms and hugging him the way Jackson still did. Brad had to admit he liked the big hugs from his little man but even though Brad was clear and open-minded, he also knew other people’s minds could foul and contaminate an innocent thing.

 

As a consequence, one Saturday soon after, out of the blue, Brad said as he loosened his hug on Jackson’s body and lowered him down to his feet, “Don’t you think you’re a bit old to be jumping into my arms and hugging me every time you see me?”

 

“Um, okay, I won’t do it anymore,” Jackson said.

 

From that day forward, Jackson stopped the habit he had been engaging in every week for the last three years. Brad could see the pout and the look of disappointment in Jackson’s eyes but though his decision had nothing to do with Jackson’s sexuality and the thought of that had not even crossed his mind, Brad stuck to his guns because he thought he was being cautious and protecting Jackson from people who could so easily jump to conclusions.

 

Jackson did not visit Brad the following week. Brad knew the denial of the loving hugs were the reason for his absence and it caused a quiet whisper in his mind, which suggested maybe he was protecting himself and not Jackson at all?

 

During the week Jackson did not visit Brad, all of his secret thoughts came to the surface. He worried that Brad somehow knew what he was hiding and that it had to be the reason he was not allowed to hug him anymore. He may have been only nine but his vague self-knowledge still told him who he was and how he felt. Brad was on his mind all the time, the big man was so handsome and Jackson had reached the age when he began getting occasional erections, which seemed to happen when he thought about Brad or saw him. He was so scared to go next-door and yet it was all he really wanted to do.

 

Brad knew he loved how much Jackson idolised him and the feeling of truth in the boy’s arms around him, however, the week following their time apart, as if nothing had happened at all, Jackson was back and all smiles again. Happily, Brad made it his business to occasionally wrap his arm around Jackson’s shoulders and hold him against him, to show him he still cared. Additionally, Brad continued to refer to him as Little Man, which always made Jackson smile.

 

Once everything felt comfortable again on that day, Brad told Jackson he had a surprise for him. He took Jackson into the back of the garage and then pulled back a tarpaulin, revealing a full set of free weights that Brad used on a daily basis. He then told Jackson he was welcome to use them if and when he wanted to, for as long as he wanted to.

 

Without even thinking, Jackson threw himself against Brad and hugged him tightly while saying, “I’d love to, Brad. Thank you so much.”

 

“You’re so welcome, Little Man.”

 

Brad smiled and was unconcerned by the loving hug in the relative darkness at the back of the garage. He hugged Jackson back equally as tightly, like a father hugging his son. He really loved the boy who embraced him with so much affection and respect, as well as how Jackson wanted to spend so much time with him every single week.

 

Three years had gone by and the only thing that had changed was the intensity of the bond that was still growing between them. Gently, he placed his hand on the side of Jackson’s head and warmly pushed it more firmly against his body.

 

When Jackson pulled away, he asked, “Can we play with them for a bit?”

 

“They’re not play toys, Jackson. They’re helpful and can be fun but they can also be dangerous if not shown the respect they deserve.”

 

“Yeah, I know that. That wasn’t what I meant. What I meant was can we use them just for a bit so I can understand them? Maybe you could lay down on that bed thing and show me,” Jackson clarified.

 

“Oh, of course, Little Man. By the way, it’s called a bench, not a bed.”

 

“Man, this is gonna be so cool,” Jackson said.

 

Smiling at the excited eyes, which made Brad feel a common link and a greater connection with Jackson, Brad said, “First we’re going outside, we’re going to sit on the grass and I’m going to talk to you. I want you to listen to me and really try to understand what I say, okay?”

 

“Sure, Brad.”

 

Walking out of the garage, Brad moved to a nice sunny area of the yard and he sat down. He took off his shirt, spread it on the grass behind him and leaned back on it, propped up on his elbows and forearms. Jackson followed him and then copying his idol, he took off his shirt as well but he sat cross-legged directly facing Brad so he could look at him.

 

Brad grinned when he saw Jackson copy him, which Jackson so often did with little things he did. As usual, Brad thought nothing of it, though, even though he liked the sense of importance he felt as a consequence. After all, as Oscar Wilde had quoted, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

 

Initially, Jackson looked at Brad’s body and he thought it was awesome. It was so defined and cut and his chest brought thoughts into Jackson’s mind of touching it with long, soft caresses. He perceived the man’s torso as a thick and solid trunk of power and it made Jackson want to be crushed against its naked manliness, not that he fully understood why. He glanced at the large and strong arms and the big hands and then he looked up into Brad’s eyes and said, “Okay, so?”

 

“Jackson, what I wanted to talk to you about is concerned with lifting weights and building and strengthening the body. I wasn’t always the size that I am now. I never wanted to be a bodybuilder or one of those Mr Universe characters and I still don’t. The size I am since we met three years ago, is exactly the size I wanted to become. I’m not some muscle obsessed maniac and to be honest, I don’t think it’s a good thing to become obsessed with size and muscle. Not that I’m saying a man can’t choose that if that’s what he wants but… Oh, to each his own, I guess.”

 

“I understand,” Jackson replied.

 

Brad grinned and said, “You always do. Anyway, originally, though I was never really small, I wasn’t big either. My body was symmetrical and well balanced and though no one could see it, inside I was strong. I could feel the strength inside of me and I could lift stuff other boys my age couldn’t. As I got older though, I used to look at myself naked in the mirror and even though there was nothing wrong with my body, I had this desire to see the strength that was inside of me, which in my mind equated with developed muscles.”

 

“I want the same, Brad. I mean, I hate that I’ve always been so little but even if I don’t become tall like you, I’d still like to look bigger and stronger.”

 

Brad nodded and smiled but continued; “So I got the weight equipment when I was fifteen and I started working-out regularly. It’s taken me seven years to shape my body exactly the way I like it. I’m happy with my shoulders, arms and chest, I like the size of my thighs and torso and I love the broadness of my big back and the cut down to my waist. Jackson, I guess what I’m trying to say to you, is that regularity and moderation with discipline can help you make your body look the way you want it to look.”

 

“How did you know I was even thinking about this, Brad?”

 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Jackson. I’m not being egotistical but I know you admire my musculature, my size and my shape. It’s why I decided to offer you the use of my weights. It won’t bother me if you don’t want to use them but if you do, well, you’re welcome to,” Brad said.

 

“You’re just the coolest friend a guy could have, Brad. I’m really sorry for looking at your body so much,” Jackson said and dropped his head, feeling embarrassed.

 

“Hey, it’s okay, Little Man. I have to admit, just between you and me, I sort of like it. It’s nice to be admired or to have someone tell me they think I look really good.”

 

Jackson lifted his gaze back to Brad and smiled before he said, “You must hear those things from people a lot.”

 

“Do you even know that when you complement me like that, how it makes me feel, Little Man? Listen, most people don’t tell me what they think of my body; whether they like it or not. Occasionally someone remarks; take Penny for example. When she first met me, I was slim by comparison to what my body looks like today but as I’ve worked out, built my body and reach the goal I set for myself, well, now behind closed doors - and you can never tell her I told you this - she calls me her hot and sexy hunk who can satisfy her eyes without trying.”

 

Jackson grinned while thinking he agreed with Penny but he said, “I promise I’ll never say a word. It’ll be our secret.”

 

Brad looked at Jackson curiously but said, “So, I’m twenty-two and I’ve already reached the size and shape I wanted to be. Even so, Jackson, it has to be maintained. I have to keep working-out, otherwise all the work I put in will just be a waste of time.

 

“That’s where the moderation comes in. I don’t increase the weights because I don’t want to get bigger. I want my body to stay like this, just the way I like it. The thing is, once you reach the goal, it’s easier to maintain it, than it is to reach the goal in the first place. As long as you really want to look the way that satisfies you and if you make regularity a priority like eating or sleeping, it’s a simple enough thing to continue to look good.”

 

“If I could become a man like you and look anything like you do, I reckon I’d want to always look that way and so I reckon I’d be able to continue doing the work,” Jackson said.

 

“Okay, so where all of this is concerned, if you want to work-out and build your body, I’ll be happy to teach you and help but Jackson, promise me you won’t let lifting weights and big muscles become the only thing that matters to you. I’ve heard way too many stories of boys and men who get so carried away with getting bigger and achieving some unattainable idea of perfection, they end up just looking unattractive and out of proportion.”

 

“I promise, Brad. I know what you’re talking about because I’ve seen it on the Internet. I don’t want to be one of those veiny giants. I just want a body like yours. Every time I see your body, I want it. I just want to look like you do. I think your body is amazing.”

 

“Thanks, Little Man. The thing is, we can never have the same body but you can achieve a similar goal. You need to know this, though, you’re only nine and you haven’t even finished growing yet, so you don’t know what your body is meant to be like. For now, we’ll use the weights in a way I can teach you to be fit and tighten the muscles you have but once you reach your natural size and shape, then we can work on building up what you’ve got to work with, okay?”

 

“I’ll do anything you say, Brad. I know you’ll do what’s right for me.”

 

“Yeah, I will and that’s a promise but first, you do know you have to tell your parents, explain what I’ve offered to you and ask their permission, right?”

 

“Oh, them,” he said with a pout, “I forgot about them.”

 

Brad laughed loudly and said, “You kill me, Little Man.”

 

As Brad lifted his head and looked into the blue sky above, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the heat of the sun burning down onto his face and body. Jackson, though, looked at the way the perspiration was beading on Brad’s tanned chest and watched as the beads joined and trickled down his belly. A new but intense thought ran through his mind, “I want to lick the sweat from his naked skin.” He then gazed at the red, sweaty and shiny nipples and he started to get hard. Checking that Brad’s eyes were still closed, he tucked his erection down so it could not be seen.

 

“So Brad, can you at least show me some stuff on the bench before Mum and Dad say no?”

 

Brad opened his eyes and laughed again but said, “Of course, Little Man. I suspect, though, your mum and dad will agree if they know you’ll have my supervision and that you’ll be doing it with me.”

 

“You’re the best, Brad,” he said but then thinking he wanted to make Brad as happy as Brad made him, he asked, “Can I tell you a joke, Brad?”

 

“Of course, Little Man.”

 

Jackson giggled to himself and then said, “Why can’t dinosaurs talk?”

 

Brad looked at Jackson curiously and said, “I don’t know, why?”

 

“Because they’re dead,” Jackson replied.

 

For a split-second Brad stared at Jackson in disbelief but a moment later, the true nature of the ridiculousness sunk in and before he could gather his adult reasoning and control, a huge and deep belly laugh roared out of his mouth for nearly half a minute.

 

“Holy shit,” Brad said, “That’s so stupid.”

 

“Maybe it is but Brad, it made you laugh so what does that say about you?”

 

“I can’t argue with that reasoning,” Brad said.

 

Brad shook his head as he watched Jackson stand and walk toward the garage. He was happy to demonstrate the weights but it was pretty nice lying in the sun and for a moment he did not want to move. Unfortunately, Jackson looked over his shoulder and called out, “Come on, what are you waiting for” and Brad rolled his eyes and followed the boy back into the garage.

 

To be continued...