Companions All
by:
Will B
(Copyright
2007 by the Author)
Advisor: E Walk
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are
allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Chapter 1
I dedicate this chapter to Jess Mercer; whose writings have been an inspiration.
39 Milford Court: “Rrrriiinnnnggg! Rrrriiinnnngggg! Rrriiiingggggg!” The alarm clock in the bedroom pierced the morning air.
“Damn that alarm clock,” Matt thought as he opened one eye, reached over and turned the alarm off. When he saw the time, 6:30, he woke up a little more. He turned the other way in bed and kissed his partner, Gary on the back, and then swatted him on his naked ass.
“Oooomfff! What was that for? I wanna sleep!”
“Sorry, sleepy head, but it’s time to get up,” said Matt.
“Oooohh! Do I have to?”
“Yup, Gary, my love, you have to, but I’ll shower first and that way you can snooze for another ten minutes, but then Y-O-U H-A-V-E T-O G-E-T U-P!”
Matt Fishbein swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and got his 26-year-old naked body, muscular and with his chest covered with a light layer of hair, into the bathroom, where he showered and shaved, and went back into the bedroom.
As he was returning from the bathroom, he saw Gary Dixon, also 26, his lover of some ten years, getting up, and turning toward the bathroom. Gary was as tall as Matt, but where Matt was a little stocky; Gary was on the wiry side. Gary didn’t have any hair on his chest, but his nipples were brown against a white skin.
“Hhhmmm! Nice butt, kid,” Matt smirked as he looked at Gary.
“Yeah, and you have a nice package this morning too, love,” Gary smirked back.
After a quick hug, which usually would have taken a little longer, but . . . Matt pulled away and said, “ I’ll get dressed and go down and start breakfast. We’ll let Jake and Sarah have a nice lie-in this morning; but Gary, your pubes are growing back and you’re a little scratchy. I think tonight when we get home, I’ll give you a little shave.”
“Right, sweetcheeks, and maybe I had better do the same for you.”
The two had attended the Johns Hopkins University and gotten their master’s degrees in counseling. They were employed at the Baltimore City Department of Social Services (or more simply, the DSS, where they worked with troubled young people who were brought in sick, disturbed, under the influence of God knows what, and tried to help them realize that they, the youths, were not worthless pieces of junk.
As they were getting up from the table, Sarah and Jake Fishbein, Matt’s adoptive parents came into the kitchen. Although they were in their 70s they had a wonderful outlook on life. They were dressed in jeans and tee shirts. Sarah’s said, “I married the Hunk!” Jake’s read, “This chick is with me!”
(For those of you who may not have read “Friends,” Jake and Sarah Fishbein are a Jewish couple, now in their 70s, who ten years earlier had adopted Matt, then aged 16½, after Sarah had taken Matt in as a foster child).
“The Companions have a program tonight, don’t they?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, Mom, we’re going to the Wesley Home on Rogers Avenue,” Matt replied.
Jake asked “Do you think you could do a program at the Levindale
Retirement Home? Some of our friends are there, and when we tell them about the
Companions, they have mentioned that they would love to have a program there.”
”You know, Matt,” Gary said, “I think we could. We’ll talk about it when we go
to the cabin next week.”
“Good,” said Sarah. “Have a good day at work. Say hello to Adele Pritchett for me.”
The young men went off to work.
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
35 Milford Court: Al Johnson and Steve Green, now both 56, were eating breakfast.
“Boy,” said Al, “I’m glad the Orioles finally won. Score was 5 to 0, after two losses to the California Angels.”
“Yeah,” Steve replied. “How ‘bout dem O-R-I-O-L-E-S?”
“Are we ready for tonight?’ Al asked.
Steve answered, “I’m ready. I am glad we’re going up to the cabin next week to talk about learning some new songs.”
“That’ll be good!” said, Al, his lover and companion of ten plus a cuple years. “I’m glad that my son Jack, and Tom Dixon will be able to join us.”
“How are Jack and Peggy?” Steve asked.
“They’re doing just fine. Little Al and Little Steve are finishing up the fourth grade, and Little Sarah is now 7 and finishing up the second grade. The grandkids all seem to love school, and they are doing well. And, Steve, how is Tom Dixon,” Al asked.
“He says he’s OK, but he had a couple dizzy spells at work,” was Steve’s answer. “He says that in June, he’s going to take some time off. I think he may take today off also”
‘Give him my best,” Al replied, “And you can give me a kiss before it’s ‘Heigh Ho, and Off to Work We Go!’”
“Will do, Al.”
Al and Steve had been together for a little more than ten years (ever since we met them in “Looking Ahead”) and they still cared for each other deeply—and passionately!
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
37 Milford Court:
Pete Harris, now 35, and Joe Jones, now 37, were cousins who had been soul mates for some 20 years, ever since we met them in “Brothers All.” We join them as they are waking up.
“Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” Pete asked Joe.
“You know I always sleep great when you are in bed with me—once we get to sleep that is,” Joe answered. “Do we have time for. . . ?”
“For eggs and bacon, yes. For other morning treats, I don’t think so. Just wait until tonight when we get home from the Show. I’ll keep you awake, I promise you,” Pete said.
“Ooooohhh! You naughty man. You just want to have your way with me—and I can’t wait!” Joe said.
“We do have to get to work on time this morning of all mornings. Adele has called a special meeting of all social workers and counselors, and we don’t want to be late.” Pete kissed Joe, and said, “Come on, up and at ‘em, lover!”
“Listen, you cockteaser, you, I am already up, and I want to get at ‘em (your goodies, I mean), but you’re being nasty again. . . . But you’re right, we can’t be late, “ Joe agreed and got out of bed, his naked body still showing a good shape.
Praise with elation, praise every morning
Tom and Joan Dixon’s Home.
“Aaaaggggh! Oooooohhhh! Ahhhhhhh! Again, Tom, again.”
(silence)
“Ummmmmm. You’ve still got it, stud,” Joan Dixon smiled at her husband as she came out of her orgasmic oblivion.
“So do you, babe. You can still me turn me on with a sultry look, or a wink,” Tom Dixon smirked.
(pause)
“Are you really taking the day off, dear?” Joan asked.
“Yep. We have a show tonight, and then this weekend the Companions are going to Al and Steve’s cabin to plan for the next few programs and decide on some new songs. You don’t mind me leaving you for the weekend, do you?”
Joan smiled as she said, “No, Sarah Fishbein, Peggy Johnson, and Sally Smith and I are going shopping at the mall, and we’re going to spend A-L-L of your hard earned money. . . . And, It’s good for you to get away with the guys for a while, or are you going swimming, or just fish, and sit around drinking beer and playing cards?”
“I think it’s too cool yet for swimming,” Tom said, “And, to tell you the truth, when we do go swimming, they want to do it without trunks, and I. . . I just don’t feel right getting naked in front of my own son.”
“Why, Tom, you’re not afraid he will embarrass you with the size of his . . .?”
“No dear, I don’t want to embarrass him with the size of my . . . .”
“Huumpph! Listen, Tom, if you really don’t have to go into work today, why don’t we. . . er, that is, if you feel up to it?” Joan asked.
“Woman, are you putting me to the test? Come here, you shameless hussy, and I’ll show whether I am up to it!”
Matt and Gary and Pete and Joe got to work on time, but that’s no surprise because all four men are responsible, and they all liked their boss, Adele Pritchett.
Adele was an attractive woman in her 60s, nearing retirement age. All the social workers in the department loved her, because she expected everyone to do their best, but she worked as hard or harder that anyone else. What’s more, she wasn’t some paper clip counting bureaucrat, always looking for ways to save money. She loved her job, and she really cared about the children who came under her care.
“Good morning, everyone. Thank you for being on time,” Adele began. “I have to make a very serious announcement. We are running out of foster homes. The parents who have opened their homes to the children are doing a wonderful job, but as you know the number of runaway, abused, disturbed, and even suicidal, children is increasing.
“We will be interviewing some prospective foster parents, and out of every ten couples who apply, probably eight or nine will be good foster parents. We want people who are loving, but who are realistic enough to know they have to set limits on what their charges do. They must see that the children go to school regularly, and do their homework.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the social workers.
“Let me give you two examples of some foster parents who have come to my attention. One couple, the Disneys, decided that they didn’t want to take their children to the well-baby clinic at City Hospital, where the treatment would have been free. They took the foster children in their home to their own pediatrician, paid the bill out of their own pocket, and what’s more, when the children needed new clothes, they didn’t go to the Good-Will or other thrift stores, they took them to the same stores where they bought shoes and clothes for their own children.”
Now there were sounds of soft hand-clapping throughout the room.
“The next example is the other extreme,” Adele said sadly. “There is a couple who are only interested in the check each month. I won’t tell you their names are facing criminal charges of child neglect. They took the money, let the children live in rags, didn’t feed them properly, and if the children cried, they beat them! When I went to inspect their home, I was so sick I was afraid I would not be able to keep my breakfast down.”
Everyone of the social workers in the room looked angry and some were almost tearful. Sadly, almost everyone of them could have told similar stories!
After the meeting, Matt and Gary and Pete and Joe stayed to talk to Adele for a few minutes. “You know,” Matt began, “I think Jake and Sarah would be happy to take one or two children.”
“I think they would too. They would make good foster parents, but there’s just one problem,” Adele sighed.
“I know—their age,” Matt said.
Pete asked, “I don’t suppose Joe and I would be permitted to take a child.”
“Pete Harris, you and Joe are two of the finest men I know,” replied Adele. You are steady and sober citizens, but I am afraid the law wouldn’t allow . . . “
“Yeah, I know,” said Joe. “Two men living together! What kind of environment is that? What might they be doing to that child?” is what people would ask?”
“Pete and Joe, and you too, Matt and Gary, if it were up to me, I would not hesitate to recommend that any of you should be foster parents, but . . .”
“I know Sarah, but it isn’t up to you,” Pete said. “I don’t think Joe and I would even be allowed to adopt. Oh, DAMN IT! Why do people think we’re some kinds of monsters?”
“I know, I know,” said Adele. After a pause she went on, “You know I’m especially fond of the four of you, so at the risk of being unprofessional, I’m gonna give each of you a hug, and then we all have to go take care of business.”
So, Adele, the boss lady, the firm, stern lady, gave each of “her” young men a hug, and they went to work.
7:30 that evening, at the Wesley Home.
For those who may not know Baltimore, the Wesley Home is in the 2200 block of West Rogers Avenue, not far from the Pimlico Race Track (home of the Preakness). The Wesley Home was founded by the Methodist Conference and was originally known as The Wesley Home for the Aged.
The room was darkened. The audience sat quietly, waiting for the activity to begin. There was very little talking. Some residents sat as if in a trance, staring into space, their minds far away. Others sat with heads bowed, wondering what the evening would be like.
Several lights were directed at raised dais as eight men, ranging in ages from mid twenties to mid or late fifties, came in and stood along the dais. They all were smiling, and three or four of them were almost good-looking enough to pass for members of the Chippendales. Their good looks caused some appreciative smiles on the faces of some in the audience.
One of the two youngest men in the group came forward and said, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. We are The Companions, and we are here this evening to entertain you.
We are delighted to be here at the Wesley Home and we hope you will enjoy this evening.”
“First, however, let me introduce the members of the group. We call ourselves the “Eight Companions.” I am Matt and this is Gary. To my right are Pete and Joe, and to Gary’s left are Al and Steve.”
As Matt introduced the others, each man stepped forward, raised his hand, and stepped back.
“Finally, the two “bookends” of this group are Jack and Tom. Now. just so you know a little more, Al is Jack’s father, and Tom is Gary’s dad. About ten years ago, Gary and I did some singing, and we called ourselves “The Dufus Duo.”
“The others found that they enjoyed singing, and could carry a tune, or sing harmony, and we all like different kinds of music, so we perform something of each type. Sometimes we sing solos, sometimes duets, and sometimes we sing as an entire group”
“Gary and I are fond of the music of “The King,” so here are a couple of numbers we hope you will enjoy,” Matt said with a killer smile that had the older ladies sighing.
Matt sang: Love me tender, love me sweet
Never let me go
You have made my life complete
And I love you so
Love me tender, love me true
All my dreams fulfill
For, my darling I love you
And I always will.
Love me tender, love me dear
Tell me you are mine
I'll be yours through all the years
'Till the end of time
Gary didn’t look at Matt, but he knew Matt was singing directly to him:
Love me tender, love me true
All my dreams fulfill
For, my darling I love you
And I always will
Love me tender, love me true
All my dreams fulfill
For, my darling I love you
And I always will
Always will
There was a lot of applause, and then Gary nudged Matt, and said, “Well that was all right, buddy, but in my opinion . . .
You ain't nothin' but a hound dog
Cryin' all the time
You ain't nothin' but a hound dog
Cryin' all the time
Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit
And you ain't no friend of mine
Here the audience laughed.
Well they said you was high-classed
Well, that was just a lie
Yeah they said you was high-classed
Well, that was just a lie
Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit
And you ain't no friend of mine
Gary pretended to have a hurt look on his face, and the audience roared.
Well they said you was high-classed
Well, that was just a lie
Yeah they said you was high-classed
Well, that was just a lie
Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit
And you ain't no friend of mine
You ain't nothin' but a hound dog
Cryin' all the time
You ain't nothin' but a hound dog
Cryin' all the time
Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit
You ain't no friend of mine
The audience cheered and clapped, and cheered some more. The folks at The Wesley were extremely appreciative of the siongs by Matt and Gary.
Next Tom Dixon came forward and said, “Hello, everyone, I’m Tom, and my specialty is Victorian music hall songs. My friend Jack is going to join me in a rollicking ballad from times gone by.”
Jack came forward and put on a woman’s black straw hat with a large yellow stuffed bird on it.
Tom and Jack broke into “The Bird on Nellie’s Hat.” That song brought more cheers and applause, and a few canes were banged on the floor.
Pete and Joe stepped to the front of the platform, and said, “Pop music and music from shows and movies is what we like to sing.”
They sang songs from The King and I, The Sound of Music, and The Music Man.
When they finished, the audience clapped and clapped.
Finally Al and Steve came to the front and said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we hope you enjoyed our show. We would like to close with something classical, and spiritual—Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus.
All the men sang: Ave Verum Corpus
Natum de Maria Virgine,
Vere passum, immolatum
In cruce pro homine,
Cuius latus perforatum
Fluxit aqua et sanguine,
Esto nobis praegustatum
Mortis in examine.
Then they sang it again in English
HAIL, true Body, truly born
Of the Virgin Mary mild
Truly offered, wracked and torn,
On the Cross for all defiled,
From whose love-pierced, sacred side
Flowed Thy true Blood's saving tide:
Be a foretaste sweet to me
In my death's great agony.
At the end of the song, there was silence . . . . and then the applause again and again and again.
The residents of the Wesley Home went to bed that night, thinking of the beautiful music they had heard, and thanking God for the men who had brought that music to them.
The eight performers went home tired, but happy, knowing they had brought some joy to people who may have been lonely sometimes, fearful sometimes, unsure of the future, but for a little while, refreshed.
To be continued.
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Author's note:
The words at the beginnings of the first four episodes are from Eleanor Farjeon’s poem Morning Has Broken.
As usual, my thanks to E Walk for agreeing to look out for typos and glitches.
Posted: 09/28/07