Companions and Pals
by: Will B
© 2008 by the Author
Ably assisted by: E Walk

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

Pastor Glendy had a heart attack and although his prognosis was good, he is going to have to go on leave for a while.

Al, Sr., and Steve, Sr., are planning a big gathering at the Cabin on the Lake to tell their family and friends some news,

Chapter 8

Friday, September 12

Tim Heckman, Youth Counselor at Trinity Presbyterian Church, was sitting in his office. At 23 years old, and a third year seminary student, he was tall and lanky with curly brown hair, and blue eyes. He was healthy and fit, but the thing people noticed first about him was his infectious smile. This morning he was wearing a green sweater over a white shirt, tan slacks, and brown shoes and socks.  He was talking on the phone.

“Mrs. Glendy, that’s wonderful news. Tell John we’re all praying for him to get well, and not to overdo the fun and games with his grandchildren.”

* * * * *

“Yes, we’ve got everything under control here. Presbytery has contacted Rev. Melvin Jones, a retired pastor, to take care of the services, administer the sacraments, and perform any weddings . . .”

* * * * *

“OK, ‘Bye now. Have a safe trip.”

Tim called to Janet, the church secretary, “That was Mrs. Glendy. They are getting ready to leave for their son and daughter-in-law’s. She’s going to make sure he gets plenty of rest, and she is even threatening not to let him watch the news on television.”

Janet snorted, “Well, if anyone can calm him down and keep him from overdoing, she will. Lord knows I never could, and oh, how often I’ve tried.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Tim heard voices in the outer office, and he heard Janet say, “Yes, I’m sure Tim Heckman will see you.”

The church secretary, a plump, motherly woman in her 50s, came to Tim’s door, and said,  “Tim, John Gardner and his son Joe are here. They’d like to talk to you if you can spare the time.” Janet had a serious look on her face and Tim had a feeling this was not about the trip to the baseball game he had been planning for the young people.

“Of course.” Tim stood up. Come in Mr. Gardner and Joe. How are you?”

Mr. Gardner was a man in his 40s, about Tim’s height, with black hair showing some gray.  He had a worried look on his face. Joe was 15; a slender youth with black hair that he wore a little longer than most boys his age were wearing.

“Please, sit down,” Tim said. He went to shut the door after telling Janet, “No calls.”

“Now, how may I help you?”

Mr. Gardner started. “I came home the other day and went to my son’s room. I knocked on the door and went in. I found him. .  I don’t know quite how to say this.”

Joe said, “He caught me beating my meat, and he acted like he’s never done any such thing himself.”

John Gardner continued. “No, it wasn’t his masturbation that bothered me. He was looking at a magazine with pictures of nude men, and they were engaging in all sorts of sexual activity. I thought, ‘oh, no, is my son a fag?’”

Joe continued, “I was just looking at the pictures. I was curious, and  . . .”

Tim thought for a minute, and then said, “Mr. Gardner, curiosity about sexual matters is a normal thing. ‘Beating one’s meat,’ as Joe put it, is a normal thing.”

“But is my son choosing to be a fag?”

“Mr. Gardner, people do not ‘choose’ to be straight or gay, anymore than they choose to be short or tall, or choose to have black hair, or brown hair.”

“But I don’t want . . .”

“Mr. Gardner, John, it is not a matter of what you want. It’s a matter of how Joe is going to develop, and at this age, he may be still unsure of his orientation.”

“Isn’t there some kind of treatment?”

“No, sir. There is no known way of changing one’s sexual preferences against their will.  . .  Tell me. Do you love your son?”

“Well, of course.”

“I’m going to be blunt here, John. Would you want to drive your son to . . to suicide?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s good, because you should know the suicide rate among teenagers is high, and one thing that triggers the impulse is the fear that they will be rejected by their parents. And, some young people don’t commit suicide, but they run away and get into situations they really can’t handle. There are predators out there who prey on young people’s vulnerability.”

John Gardner sat back, looking thoughtful. Tim turned to Joe.

“Joe, I want to say again that nobody ‘chooses’ to be straight or gay. It’s the way somebody is. Now, no matter how this plays out, there are people who love you, and who want you to live a rich and full life.  Don’t mess up by getting into situations where somebody is going to take advantage of you.”

“Mr. Heckman. I think I now what you mean. There was a guy at school who told me he was making some money by . . . by  . . .  going with men and letting them do things. They would pay him. One time he asked me if I wanted to go with him, but I said I didn’t think I would.”

John Gardner’s mouth dropped open in shock as he heard about his son’s invitation to become a boy prostitute. He said a silent prayer of thanks as he heard his son’s response.

Tim nodded at Joe. “You made a wise choice, Joe.”

“I know I did, Sir. The next day, the guy wasn’t in school, and he wasn’t in school for a week. When he did come back, he had cuts and bruises on his back—I saw them in the locker room—and he told me that one of the men he had gone with had tied him up, and whipped him. . . . He said he wasn’t going out like that any more.”

“I think your friend’s experience has taught you a lesson far more effectively than anything your father or I could say . . . . John, is there anything you want to say?”

“Yes, Tim. I thank you for letting us talk. You have made me feel a little better about things, and as for you . . .” John Gardner turned to his son, and . . . pulled him up from the chair where he had been sitting, and pulled him into a hug. “I love you, Joe. Whatever happens, however your life turns out, you are my son, and I love you.  I will always love you.”

Both Gardner men had tears in their eyes, but they were tears of joy. Tim Heckman found he had to blow his nose a couple of times.

He shook John’s hand, and Joe’s hand, and said goodbye to the father and son, and sat back behind his desk. He didn’t start to do any of the paper work that always seemed to be piling up. He sat and thought about a guy he had known in senior high school who was gay, and when the guy’s father found out, he tried to ‘whip the sin’ out of his ‘queer’ son.  The son had run away from home, and to this day, nobody knew if the son was alive or dead.

* * * * *

It was Saturday morning at the Cabin on the Lake. Big Al and Steve had come up two days earlier, to stock up for the mammoth party they were throwing for their family and friends. It was going to be some party. The ‘whole dang shooting match’ was coming, as the old folks used to say. They had invited Richard Vidmark and Troy and Bill and Bob Hunter from next door, and they had invited Pete and Joe and Mac and Buddy from two cabins around the shore. They had invited Matt and Gary.

The food! Oh, the food!  There would be fried chicken, burgers and hot dogs. They had laid in all kinds of salads—potato, macaroni, and slaw. They had stripped the shelves of the grocery store bare of cakes and pies. They had scores of bottles of soda, and a keg of beer for those who wanted it. At 11 o’clock, they began to fire up the grills.

At 11:30, the family and other guests began to arrive, and the noise of friends chatting amiably rose to such a level, that people were saying “They couldn’t hear themselves think,” and “Wasn’t this a great party!” and “No, I couldn’t eat another bite . . . Oh, well, if that’s chocolate cake, just a thin slice, please,. . .  oh, that’s too much, but as long as you’ve cut it….”

Gradually the horde of hungry guests coalesced into smaller groups, chatting amicably. Richard and Troy were discussing the political situation in Washington with Matt and Gary. Mac and Buddy and Bob and Bill were talking sports, specifically about the Baltimore Orioles. Pete and Joe were talking with Al, Sr., and Steve, Sr., about how much they liked their cabin on the lakeshore. Mark and Al, and Steve and Jim were discussing the best ways to reach young people of all orientations and educate them about the dangers of unprotected sex.

At 1:00 Al stood up and tapped his fork on the side of his glass. “Folks, family, friends, May I have your attention for a few minutes?”

A hush fell over the crowd.

Al went on, “Most of you know that Steve and I have been friends, lovers, partners, for over twenty years. We have been through sad times and glad times; we have seen pleasant days and troublesome days. It all started . . ., well you young people don’t want to hear all about that. I’ve been keeping a journal of our life together, and I’ve called it ‘Looking Ahead.’ Maybe some day you’ll be able to read it.”

A buzz of conversation was quieted when Al held up his hand.

“What we gathered all of you, my family, our friends and neighbors, is to tell you that Steve and I have made some plans. . . . Steve, will you stand by me, please?”

Steve stood up and stood by Al and took his hand.  “Steve and I are going to make it official, after all these years. We are going to tour Europe as ‘husband and husband’ and we hope you will wish us well.”

Al and Steve turned and faced each other, and kissed, as sweetly and as lovingly as any couple who have just said their vows before their family and friends.

There was silence for a minute and then everyone started to applaud. They stood up and clapped. They clapped and shouted “Al and Steve. Al and Steve.”

Al put his arm around Steve’s waist and continued his remarks as best he could with tears of joy streaming down his face. “We will be flying to Dublin next week, and then we will tour Ireland, Scotland and Ireland.”

Steve interjected, “We want to visit a couple of the all-male strip clubs we’ve heard about.”

Some in the crowd clapped and there were a couple of cries of, “You go, guys!”

Al continued, “Then we’re going to Paris, and see if cruising down the Seine at night, past the Cathedral of Notre Dame will “ring our chimes.’”

Groans at the awful puns and a few chuckles were heard.

Steve said, with a wicked leer on his face,” We want to check out the gay nude beaches in Italy and Greece.”

Cries of “Woo hoo” and “all right!” came from the listeners.

“Finally, we may go to Turkey, and see if the Turkish Baths are like the ‘Turkish Baths’ on Baltimore Street,” Al concluded.

There was a lot more clapping and cheering.

“Finally, Steve and I are giving our grandsons, Al, Jr., and Steve, Jr., power of attorney to deal with any problems that may arise here at the Cabin on the Lake.. . . Now let’s finish this party. ”

The happy couple was surrounded by well-wishers, who congratulated them, shook their hands, clapped them on the shoulders, and hugged them.

Gradually the party began to wind down as even the best parties will. The young people cleaned up all the trash. The older people thought about how time brings changes. One by one, and two by two the guests departed for their own homes.

When everyone had gone, Steve said to Al, “I know we have planned this trip for a long time and we will enjoy it, but I’m going to miss this place. Do you know it was here, on this very porch, many years ago, that I tripped on the porch coming in from a swim, and fell into your arms, and look where we are now.”

Al kissed Steve and said,  “And do you know that if you hadn’t tripped and fallen into my arms, I was going to something to make you fall into my arms.. . . . Let’s go to bed, sweetheart.”

* * * * *

When the various couples were back in their own homes in Baltimore, there was a lot of reminiscing going on.

Pete and Joe were remembering that summer day when they were teens and they had gone skinny-dipping in the pond, and then lay in the sun. They talked about how their bodies had explored each other and slowly teen hormones had given way to deep and abiding love.

Matt and Gary were talking about how Al, Sr., had taken a scared runaway to his home, and then had him placed in the home of a next-door neighbor, Sarah Fishbein, who with her husband, had adopted Matt.

Bill and Bob Hunter had finished their nightly ‘exercises,’ and were discussing that trip they had heard about that day. “Hmmmm,” said Bob, “When we’re a little older, do ya think we could get a job as strippers. Might be fun.”

“Naah!” said Bill, “The uncles would never allow it.”

“Hey,” said Bob, “They’re pretty fit for old . . . er, older, guys. Maybe we could make it a foursome and call ourselves “The Four Swingers!” We’d come out in baseball uniforms, do a strip and then treat the audience to the sight of four bats a-swingin’ and eight balls ‘a-hangin.’”

“Good night, my randy Bob. Remind me to tell you how much I love you.”

Upstairs, Richard and Troy were in bed, Richard had his left arm over Troy’s body, and  they were talking. “Troy, what do you say if over the Christmas break we take the boys to England? We could visit our friends at Weathercock Manor.”

Troy turned around and gave Richard a full-bodied hug, and kissed him long and hard. “That’s a great idea, my love. We haven’t seen Philip and Jimmy for a couple of years.”

“That’s settled, then,” said Richard. “Let’s let our body parts do a little traveling right now!”

Steve, Jr., and Jim were getting ready for bed. Jim went into the bathroom, and when he came out his body was completely unclothed, except for a black mask.

“OK, you think you’re Superman? Well, I’m the Lone Ranger, and I’ve got some silvery bullets for you!”

“OK, Masked Man,” said Steve. “I am Superman, and I can take your ‘silvery bullets’ in my mouth, and without using m teeth!”

“Hmmmm. I guess what they say is true. ‘East or west, your lips are best!’ Get ready, Super-stud!”

Al and Mark were in their apartment, relaxing after the excitement of the day. However, I must say, there were some body parts that were anything but ‘relaxed.’

Mark said to Al, with a wicked grin on his face, “All right, Mister, I’m taking you into custody, and anything you say may be held against you.”

“Oooooh,” said Al, with an equally wicked grin on his face, “Your hot smokin’ pistol in my well-lubed, ready and willing holster.  Go ahead, make my day.”

“Kiss me, Al, coz I sure do love you.”

“Good night, my love.”

<><>The End (Perhaps for a While) <><>

I draw this series to a close, but unlike Conan-Doyle who sent Sherlock Holmes to his death over the Reichenbach Falls, and then had to bring him back to life because of the cries of the outraged public, I am not killing any of these cousins or their pals off. Some of them will appear in ‘stand alone’ stories, set in contemporary times.

Al and Steve enjoyed their cruise and came back to live many years in peace and harmony with their family and friends. Tony Lombardi did marry his Rosa.  Buddy and Mack became well known doctors.

We’ll just have to wait and see.

Feedback always welcome:     

Encourager’s  Comments:  I’m pleased that Al, and Steve, Sr. aren’t experiencing medical problems like so many older people  I’m upset that our cheapskate author didn’t at least send them on around the world gay cruise.  Just think of the stories that the two of them would have to tell their family and friends when they returned home.

Sounds like little Timmy Heckman will make one heck of a pastor.

I guess all good stories have to end sometime.

E 
 

Posted: 11/14/08