I couldn't believe or understand everything that had happened to me. During the summer I met a guy named Aaron. We were on the same Babe Ruth baseball team. We were both fourteen, going on fifteen, and we had both just finished eighth grade. We became friends right away. All through the summer we practiced and played together. My dad loved it that I was playing Babe Ruth because that's what he had done. I played third base, and I was pretty good. Aaron played left field. We were about equal as hitters, but I could handle the ball on defense better than he could. He had a great peg to home, though. He didn't live that far from me, and he and I started hanging out. I usually went over to his house. Both of his parents worked, so we had the full run of his house when they weren't there. We didn't do anything wrong. I knew I was gay, and I hoped he was, too. Or at least that he wouldn't hate me because I was gay. I just came out and told him one day that I thought I might be gay, and he said he thought he might be, too. We talked about other guys we knew that we thought might be gay. As time went by, I got a crush on him. I knew I had to be careful around the other guys on the team and around our parents. One time, though, I screwed up and kissed him. He didn't say anything about that, but he smiled when I did it. I didn't think anybody had seen us, but I guess I was wrong. School started. We went to different schools, so we didn't see each other every day, but we got together as often as we could. "What were you thinking when you kissed me last summer?" he asked me one day. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry," I said. "No, it was okay. I just was wondering what you were thinking," he said. "I was thinking I like you a whole lot. More than anybody I've ever known before. If I might be gay, and you might be gay, why not? I won't do it again," I said. "I promise." "What if I want you to?" he asked. "You want me to kiss you?" I asked. Could this be true, I wondered. I thought about him all the time. I saw him naked when I jerked off. In fact, I mentally saw him hard and us jerking each other off. "Yeah," he said. "Do you know how to kiss with tongue?" "I've read about it," I said. "Come here." It was a Saturday afternoon in his bedroom. He had just turned fifteen, and I was going to be fifteen in two weeks on October 15th. He pulled me to him, and we kissed. He opened his mouth for my tongue, and I opened mine for his. I was in heaven. My parents let me invite him to sleep over for my birthday, and that night we touched each other's dick for the first time. Later in that weekend, we made each other shoot. We were both nervous when we did it, and we only did it once, but I loved doing it. I felt like I finally had somebody that knew how I felt, and he felt the same way. Once Aaron and I had done that with each other, I knew I would never again be ashamed for wanting to do it with a guy. I slept over at his house the next weekend, and we did it again. All during the week between those times I thought about him all the time. I got hard as a rock in class thinking about him, and sometimes my jeans got so wet in front that I was sure everybody noticed. Nobody said anything, though. The next week, on a Friday night, I had my accident. It wasn't really an accident because I knew my dad wanted to hit me and maybe even kill me. He was drunk because he and his guys had solved a big case that day, and they had gone out to celebrate. A squad car had brought him home. I was already in bed when he got home, but I wasn't asleep. I was thinking about Aaron and getting ready to masturbate. I was so hard that the front of my briefs were already wet. "Ronnie, get your faggot ass out here," he screamed. "Ron, you're drunk. Shut up," my mom said. "I might be drunk, but I want that faggot out here right now," he screamed. "Go get him." "No," she said. "Shut up and go to bed. You're so drunk you're out of your head. Go to bed." "I'm not going to bed. I want his faggot ass out here right now." I heard him rummaging around in the cabinet where they kept the liquor. "Ron, you don't need another drink. You've had way too much already," Mom said. "Yes, I do. Are you going to get him or not?" I heard my two little brothers crying. They got up and went into the kitchen, where my parents were. I got up and closed my bedroom door. "Get them back to bed," my dad said. "Now!" "Come on, guys. Let's go back to bed," I heard my mother say. She took the little boys back to the room they slept in. I had a room to myself. The next thing I knew, the door to my bedroom went flying open. "Why the fuck is this door closed? Huh?" "Dad, . . . " "Don't 'Dad' me. You fucking come when I call you. Get up," he screamed. "Don't hurt me," I pleaded. "Get your fucking faggot ass up," he said. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me out of bed. I was in just my briefs, and I still had an erection. He walked me down the hall to the kitchen, still holding my hair. Cops know how to do stuff like that. "Ron, let him go back to bed. You're drunk. You don't know what you're doing," my mother said. "I fucking well know what I'm doing. Look at this goddamn faggot, with a hard-on in front of his own mother. You faggots ain't got respect for anybody, do you?" he said. If I had been able to die at that minute, I would have considered myself lucky. I was so humiliated, so totally embarrassed, that death would have been a good thing. I didn't know why he was doing this to me. "I ran into a guy I knew in a bar tonight. He said he saw you and his nephew kissing. I said he was mistaken, and he said, oh, no, he knew you. He said he always thought his nephew--some punk named Aaron--was a fag, and then he knew. It's that same Aaron that's been here, ain't it? Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was? Huh? How much shame I felt that this guy was saying my son is a fag, and he saw it? Huh? Answer me," he screamed. Tears of humiliation were streaming down my face. I didn't understand what was going on. "Ron, leave Ronnie alone. Let him go back to bed," my mom said. That's when he picked up a square whiskey bottle. "Answer me, goddamn it!" I couldn't say anything. He came at me with the bottle, like he was going to break it over my head. I put my arms up to defend myself. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital room with a terrible headache. A nurse came and asked me how I was feeling. I told her I had a bad headache, and she gave me a shot that made me go to sleep. * * * The next day I woke up, and Aaron was in the room with me. He kissed me and smiled at me. He was so nice. In a few minutes, Dr. Foley came in to see me. She didn't examine me or anything. She had two of her grandsons with her. One guy had black hair and skin like he had a real good tan or something or maybe was part Italian. I had seen his picture in her office. The other one was a big blond. They were both beautiful. I talked some with them, but I don't remember what we said. I went home that same day. My dad wasn't around much after that, and, when he was, he didn't talk to me or even look at me. He had been suspended from his job on the New Orleans police force for some reason. He and my mom didn't talk to each other, either. As I started thinking about what had happened, I got really sad and depressed. My mom took me to see Dr. Foley, and she gave me medicine that she said would make me feel better. Well, it didn't. The next thing I knew, my mom and my little brothers were living with my aunt and uncle. I was living with my grandparents. My dad wasn't in the picture. My grandparents loved me, but they were old and sick. I had to leave the house forty-five minutes earlier than usual to take a city bus to school. I didn't see my mom for a long time. Christmas sucked. My mom came and got all of us to take us to my aunt and uncle's house for Christmas dinner, but there weren't any presents. They didn't even have a Christmas tree except for a little two-foot artificial one on a table in their living room. I don't know where my dad was. January dragged on at my grandparents' house. I got sadder and sadder, and I missed a bunch of days of school because they couldn't wake me up in the morning. Sometimes I'd sleep all day. Then, all of a sudden, I was at Dr. Foley's house. I didn't know what was going on, but she told me she had made arrangements for me to go live with her sons in Florida. "Do you remember Kyle and Justin from when you were in the hospital?" she asked me. "Yes, ma'am," I said. I remembered some boys from Florida coming there with her, but I didn't remember their names. "Those boys are going to be your brothers, and they're going to make you well, Ron," she said. "I hope so." She kept me home from school that week. I called Aaron several times, but he wasn't able to come to the phone. I was like a zombie when I met those Florida guys. I really didn't know what was going on, or what to expect, and I was really scared. They had come for Mardi Gras, and they treated me like I was one of them, right from the first. They called each other Bubba, which I knew meant Brother, and they called me that, too. After they were there for a little while, they wanted to put their stuff away in the 'boys' house,' by which they meant the apartment above the garage. There were four bedrooms in the main house, and Kevin and Rick, Gene and Rita, and Jeff and Tyler stayed in those, along with Dr. and Dr. Foley, of course. The rest of us stayed in the boys' house, which was Justin and Brian, Kyle and Tim, Denny and me. The third bedroom, Denny's room, only had a daybed in it, so I slept on a blow-up mattress on the floor. That was fine with me. I think walking up those stairs with those boys is what did it for me. Kyle and Tim, and Justin and Brian, were obviously couples in love, and I could tell that. But they also loved Denny. And I thought they were beginning to love me. I felt the sadness I had been having begin to fall off me as I walked out there with those boys. For the first time in a long time I felt good. Not only didn't they care if I was gay, they were gay, too. They were gay and good looking and happy and normal, and I was going to be their brother. Saturday afternoon we went to the parades downtown. My mom used to take me and my brothers over to my aunt's house on Carnival Day, and we'd walk down a few blocks to see the parades. We never went to any of the other ones, though, and my dad always had to work. It was so much fun being with those guys. They laughed and joked and teased one another all the time. They asked me if I wanted to call Aaron to see if he wanted to come down and watch the parades with us. I called him and he did. Kyle was the cutest one, I thought, and he's the one I liked the best. He borrowed the key to Cherie's office and let me and Aaron use it to be alone. At first we just talked, and we told each other everything that had happened. Then we kissed. Oh, did we kiss. We both got hard pretty fast, and we rubbed our dicks together standing up, kissing. That made both of us shoot. We did it a few more times, and then we went back outside with the rest of them. Aaron came over on Sunday, too, and we did it again in the office. "I can't come on Tuesday," Aaron said. "I have to go out with my parents." "I might not ever see you again," I said. "I know," he said. "I love you, Ron. I wish you didn't have to leave, but I know you do. I'll never forget you." I started crying when he said that, and he cried, too. He was my first boyfriend, the first person I ever kissed besides my mom and relatives. I knew I would miss him, but I didn't want to stay in New Orleans. Before we left on Wednesday, Dr. Foley made me call my mom to tell her goodbye. We didn't talk very long because she was crying so hard, and that made me cry, too. I was crying, but I didn't really feel sad because I knew things were going to be good for me in Florida. * * * They lived in a beautiful house in Emerald Beach. I had my own room, and it had a computer in it. It had a TV, too, and I even had my own bathroom. Jeff and his boyfriend Tyler were helping me get settled in my new room. "Are Kevin and Rick real strict?" I asked. "No, not at all, buddy," Jeff said. "As long as you behave yourself, anyway." "Like what?" I asked. "Skipping school, getting drunk, not cooperating with the rest of the family. Just stuff like that," he said. "Kyle and Justin cuss in front of them," I said. It wasn't really a question, but I thought their cussing in front of grown-ups was unusual. "Yeah, we pretty much all do, and Kevin and Rick do, too. Don't think they don't. Their rule about that is we're all guys, and guys talk like guys. They make a lot of sexual jokes, too, but they have strict rules about sex," Jeff said. "Like what?" "Well, the most important sex rule is nobody does anything unless everybody involved wants to do it. No forcing anybody. Period. That would really get your ass in trouble," he said. "What else?" "Sex is private, and you don't talk about, or do, in public what you do in private. Absolutely no sex downstairs. Now, you'll see the guys grope one another and rub each other's butts and things like that, but that's just playing around. No making out downstairs, at least when Kevin and Rick are around. I've seen Kyle and Tim, and Justin and Brian making out down there when it was just them in the room," he said. "You can't talk about sex, though, right?" "Oh, you can talk about it all you want to, like if it's to get information or even just joking. No, the kind of thing I mean is you can't come to the breakfast table, say, and give all the details about what you and your boyfriend did the night before. They won't allow that. You'll catch on. It's not difficult, and the rules really do make sense. Oh, and Kevin and Rick will never, ever do anything sexual with a kid," he said. "Or with anybody but each other, for that matter." "I saw Brian and Justin kiss on the street in New Orleans," I said. "Yeah, I know. I saw that, too. Kevin and Rick didn't see it, though, or they'd have gotten on to them about it. They don't mind a little good-morning kiss or a goodbye kiss or that sort of thing. You know the kind I'm talking about that they won't allow," he said. I felt myself blush a little. "They call it the 'give-you-a-hard-on' type of kiss. They don't want that in public," Ty said. "I guess all of them are having sex," I said. "I don't think Denny is," Jeff said. "He doesn't have a boyfriend, as far as I know. His best friend is a straight guy named Chip, who's over here a lot, and I know they're not doing anything. Chip is a cute kid. He told me one time he wished he was gay so he and Denny could be boyfriends, but he's just not. We tease him all the time that it's okay to be straight." I laughed at how ironic that was. "One of the many great things about this family is that they're totally accepting of everybody, no matter who you are," Tyler said. "I mean, I felt completely at home with them the first time I came over here." "I used to be one of the foster sons," Jeff said. "Although I was only ever an honorary one. I still am, in fact. I can't begin to tell you how these guys helped me when I needed help the most." We had finished putting all my stuff away, and we were just sitting there talking. "Let's go down and see what's going on," Jeff said. I thanked him and Ty for looking out for me. I really liked those two guys a lot. Downstairs things were pretty bad. Denny was crying, and Justin, Brian, and Tim were trying to make him feel better. They had just found out that Denny's other best friend and debate partner, a guy named Josh, had killed himself. Kyle seemed pretty upset, too, but he wasn't crying. Kyle called his parents and told them what had happened. He said they were all going to school, for some reason. "We'll be back in a little while, Ron," Kevin said to me. "Jeff, would you and Ty mind staying here with Ron until we get back?" "Of course not, Kevin," Jeff said. "Ty and I are getting to like this dude." He ruffled my hair when he said that, and I liked that. "Okay, well, show him around the place. I don't know how long this is going to take," Kevin said. "It's not a problem, Bubba," Jeff said. Kevin smiled when he said that, and I didn't know why. The guys left for school, and Jeff and Ty showed me around. The house was beautiful, but it wasn't frilly at all. It looked like a place where men lived, but it was clean and well taken care of. All the furniture was very nice, but it wasn't delicate, and there wasn't anything that looked like it could be broken easily. The den was the biggest room in the house. There was a living room that didn't look like it was used very much, a dining room with a huge table, a kitchen with a breakfast room area, a laundry room, and a study room with lots of books, a desk with a computer, and a sofa and some easy chairs. Altogether, I counted five sofas downstairs. "This is Kevin and Rick's suite," Jeff said. "I'll show it to you, but we don't go in here very often. This is their private territory." Their bedroom was huge, and there was a space down at one end that had a small sofa (number six) and a couple of really comfortable-looking chairs. There were double glass doors that opened out into a little private garden that had a wall around it and lots of nice plants. There were two walk-in closets that seemed to be as big as the bedroom my brothers slept in at home. The best, though, was the bathroom. It was gigantic. There was a shower stall that had two shower heads opposite each other, a little room with the toilet in it, and a bathtub that looked big enough for three or four people. It even had a urinal. "I've never seen a urinal in a house before," I said. "I know. But think about it. You wake up in the morning having to pee, and your dick's sticking straight up. There's no way you can aim that at a toilet, is there?" Jeff said. "No," I said. "You can pee in a urinal without getting it all over the place. They had that put in after they bought the house. I think it's a brilliant idea. The wonder is that more houses don't have them," Jeff said. "Good point," I said. I always had trouble with that until I figured out I could pee in the shower and nobody would ever know. They took me out back, and I wasn't prepared for what I saw. They had a huge pool in the yard, and a really nice stone patio. The house was on some kind of body of water, and they had a dock with a boat tied up to it. The boat had Clay painted on it. The best thing, though, was a building that was out there. "This is the clubhouse. You'll spend a lot of time out here, and it's great for parties. They have parties all the time, Ron." It was a very big room that was furnished like a den or something. It had a kitchen at one end that was a separate room with a bar opening into the den area. There was a pull-down thing, kind of like a garage door, so the kitchen could be sealed off. Next to the kitchen was a full gym, with machines and free weights and everything. At the other end were locker rooms, restrooms, shower rooms, and a laundry. It had a big fireplace, three leather sofas (that made nine sofas at that place), a bunch of easy chairs, two game tables with chairs, a pool table, a folded-up ping pong table, and a dart board area. It was a guy's paradise. In fact, it was unbelievable. "This is great, isn't it?" Tyler asked. "Oh, yeah," I said. They both giggled at the way I said that. "That was the same reaction I had when I saw it the first time, Ron," Ty said. "And let me tell you something. This place is used a lot by all the friends. You'll see what I mean." "Are Kevin and Rick rich?" I asked. Jeff and Tyler looked at each other and smiled, like that was something they had talked about before. "By our standards, they are very rich," Ty said. "But Kevin and Rick are poor as church mice compared to Gene and Rita Goodson." "And to Kevin's parents, too," Jeff said. "They don't like to talk about money. It's not completely off limits, and it does come up occasionally, but they're not at all comfortable talking about it." "Is Kyle rich?" "Let's just say Kyle has everything he wants, and leave it at that. Kyle's brother was my partner before he died, Ron. His name was Clay, and he had a lot of money. I don't know how much because Clay never knew how much he had. It was all in trust funds. Kyle just started getting some money every month from his trusts when he turned eighteen, just like Clay did, but you'll never hear them talk about it," Jeff said. "You'll never hear Clay talk about any. . . ," Ty started to say. Jeff punched him a good one, and the two of them broke up laughing. "Let's go get something to eat," Jeff said.
When we got home from delivering the letter to Mr. Stanton, Kyle took a shower, shaved for the first time in days, and got ready to go out. "Where are you going?" I asked. I didn't know of any meetings he had at school, especially in light of the day's events. "To church," he said. "Tonight?" "Yeah, it's Ash Wednesday," he said. "I'm going to Mass." "Oh," I said, not knowing how else to react. Kyle had been very faithful about attending class on Thursday night with George, and he had taken the business of becoming a Catholic much more seriously than I ever thought he would. I thought he was only doing it so he could be like the majority of the rest of us, but evidently something was striking his fancy. "I have to go to Pensacola on Sunday for Mass at the Cathedral. That's when the bishop is going to receive us as members of the Elect," he said. "What?" Rick asked, befuddled. "Yeah. It's the first Sunday of Lent, and that's when the catechumens and candidates become members of the Elect," Kyle said. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Kyle," Rick said. "That's because you've been a Catholic all your life. You didn't have to do all of this stuff like I'm doing," he said. "I went to religion class, though," Rick said. "Well, it's the same thing, only this is all adults," Kyle said. "Are you going to be baptized?" Brian asked. "No. I've already been baptized," Kyle said. "That's why I'm a candidate and not a catechumen." "Oh," Brian replied. I could tell he wasn't interested in such fine distinctions. Kyle went to Mass by himself, and he came back with a smudge of ashes on his forehead. That brought back a ton of memories. We were always off school on Mardi Gras and the day before, but we always went back on Ash Wednesday. The first thing we did that day was march over to the church to get our ashes. * * * There wasn't anything in the newspaper the next day about Josh's suicide. On Friday, though, there was a tiny article in what might be called the Police Blotter section, and there was an obituary. There was only going to be a graveside service, with no visitation. The Reverend John Winfield was going to officiate. The funeral was going to be the next afternoon, Saturday. "Are you all going to Josh's funeral?" Denny asked Friday night. "I am," Kyle said. Tim, Justin, and Brian said they were going, too, and I knew Chip would be with us, as well. I really didn't feel like listening to the Reverend Winfield again, but I knew Rick and I should be there to support our son. "Rick and I will be there, too, Denny," I said. "Right, Babe?" "Right," Rick said. The day of the funeral was cold and damp. It rained in the morning, and, although the rain had stopped by two o'clock, when the funeral began, it was still very cloudy and grim. It would have been a good afternoon to spend in front of the fire at home in the den, but we had a duty to do. There were quite a few people there. The debate coach and a few other teachers were there, standing with Sally Ortega, and there was a group of kids standing with them. Denny said they were all debaters, and he went over to say hello to them. "Who are those other kids?" I asked Kyle. "They're from GSA," he said. "Gay-Straight Alliance?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. Josh's parents and his younger brother looked like they hadn't slept in a week, and I wondered what was going through their minds right at that moment. At least they looked mournful and not like they were glad he was gone. The Reverend Winfield got everybody's attention. "Brothers and sisters in the Lord, we are gathered together to mark the tragic passing of Joshua Stanton. I didn't know Josh personally, although I had seen him in church every week for as long as I've been pastor there. I know he was a very intelligent young man and that he was a very good student. He was active in the debate team at his high school, and many of his debate friends are here today. Josh was only fifteen when he took his own life. As tragic as that fact is, there is even greater tragedy involved. "Josh had recently decided to become a homosexual and had embraced that sinful and abominable lifestyle." "No," Josh's mother called out. Winfield ignored her. "The word of God, the Holy Bible, tells us that God hates homosexuals and everything they stand for. Their ways are unnatural and perverted, and God will cast them out of His presence. While there is nothing we can do for poor Josh, who has already been turned away from heaven, . . ." "Stop it," Mrs. Stanton called out. "Roy, do something," she said to her husband. Mr. Stanton stood up and approached Winfield. "Thank you, but I'll take over from here," Mr. Stanton said. Winfield looked like he didn't want to back off, but Josh's dad was a powerful presence. Winfield stepped aside. I had been to a few funerals, even one for one of my high school classmates who had been killed in a wreck, but I had never seen or heard of anything like what was happening. "Friends," Mr. Stanton said, "I don't know what the Reverend was about to say, but I can pretty much guess. There was a time when my wife and I believed his rubbish about homosexuals, but that time ended Wednesday night of this week when a boy and his father delivered Josh's farewell letter to our home. Those of you who go to Beachside High School heard it read at an assembly Wednesday afternoon, and I know many of you were moved by it. "I don't know Kyle Goodson, but evidently my son thought highly enough of him to ask him to be his spokesman from beyond the grave. When Kyle and his father gave me the letter, I was pleased to have it. When I read the letter, though, I was horrified. "I wasn't horrified that my son was a homosexual. He had told us as much, and I had over-reacted in a way I didn't know I was capable of doing. I was horrified at myself and how I had accepted the nonsense that people like Winfield had told me for so many years. I was horrified at the fact that I rejected my own flesh and blood, and drove him to this act of desperation. I was horrified at our culture that allowed me and many others to think God would ever reject one of His precious own because they were gay. "My wife and I, and our son Brady, are grieved beyond words at what has happened, but with God's help, and the prayers of our son before the throne of God in heaven, which is where he is right now . . ." He turned and stared at Winfield when he said that last part. "I know that in time we'll get beyond our grief. We lay our son to rest with heavy hearts but with confidence that he is with his Savior in heaven forever. My wife and I ask forgiveness of God and of all of you for our role in our son's death. Thank you for coming today to show your respect for Josh. Please join me in reciting the Lord's Prayer." I was, quite simply, stunned. I looked at Rick, and I knew he felt exactly as I did. Once the Lord's Prayer was over, the service was concluded. Sally Ortega walked over to us. "I'm weak," she said by way of greeting. "Me, too," I said. "I've never seen anything like that, have you? And can you believe that preacher was going to condemn their son at his own funeral?" "Winfield came to see me at school to get information about Josh to use in his eulogy, and we talked for a long time. I thought I had talked him out of hellfire and brimstone today, but evidently I hadn't. I also talked at great length with the Stantons. They're really hurting, guys," she said to Rick and me. "I'm sure they are," I said. "And you think they deserve to be hurting, don't you, Kevin?" she said. "Yeah, as a matter of fact I do, Sally. Josh had been to our house a few times to work with Denny on debate, but I really didn't know him all that well. But from everything I saw, and from what Denny says about him, he was a fine kid. One of the best, even. Maybe I'm spoiled because I had such an easy time of it, but I just can't understand how a parent could ever reject a kid, for any reason," I said. "I'm with you on that, Kevin. But you, of all people, should know it goes on all the time. How many do you guys have now?" she asked. "Just three," I said. "Three official ones, anyway." "And a whole houseful of unofficial ones, counting people like Kyle and Tim. Am I right?" "Yes, you're right. They need parenting, too," I said. "Exactly, Kevin. Well, I think I just felt a raindrop. Thanks for doing what you're doing. I'll see you at our next School Advisory Council meeting, if not before," she said, shaking hands. Mr. and Mrs. Stanton saw Kyle, and they came over to him. "I want to thank you for bringing that letter to us, Kyle," Mr. Stanton said. "I have thought of nothing else since I read it Wednesday night. You heard what I said a few minutes ago. Josh must have thought a great deal of you, son." "He was my brother Denny's debate partner," Kyle said. "They were best friends, and Denny was really upset about it. So was Chip Rooney, their other friend." "I know. I talked to Mrs. Ortega for a long time about homosexuality and my son, Kyle, and that woman turned my head around. I'll be forever grateful to her for that. I just wish she had gotten to me earlier. She said you gave a very moving speech about tolerance at the assembly they had at school. Thank you for that, Kyle," he said. "You're welcome," Kyle said. "Oh, do you know Kevin Foley and Rick Mashburn? They're foster parents to gay kids, and I'm one of theirs." "But wasn't that your dad you were with the other afternoon?" Mr. Stanton asked, after they shook hands. "Yes, sir. I'm only an honorary foster son, or brother, or something. I'm eighteen. We just brought a new boy back with us from New Orleans. We were there for Mardi Gras this week at Kevin's parents' house," Kyle said. "I can imagine what Winfield would say about that. I want all of you to know we won't be going back to the Emerald Beach Fellowship after this display this afternoon," Mr. Stanton said. "Yes, sir," Kyle said. It had started drizzling again. "I'll let you fellows go, but I didn't want to leave here without speaking to you, Kyle. Thank you, son." Back at home, we all assembled in the den. Jeff and Ty were there, and we made a big fire. Kyle made up some of his famous treats for us to snack on, and we sat around talking. "I told Dr. Foley I was thinking about killing myself," Ron said, more or less out of the blue. "I think that's why she wanted me to come here. But I'm not going to, so don't worry." "I thought about it a lot before I came here, too, but I didn't know how to do it," Denny said. "I didn't have a gun or anything." "Suicide is a very serious problem among gay boys," I said. "If any of you ever have thoughts of that, you talk to one of us immediately. I want you to promise me that." They all said they promised. "And if anybody ever tells you they're thinking about it, you tell somebody, some adult you trust, even if you promised you wouldn't tell. That's not the kind of promise you're allowed to make," I said. "What would you do, Kevin?" Justin asked. "I'd get him to a counselor immediately," I said. "And I wouldn't leave him alone, even for a few minutes, until I did. A lot of times people threaten suicide for attention, but if they need attention that badly, then you have to take them seriously." "Changing the subject, but who wants to go to Pensacola tomorrow with me?" Kyle asked. "For what?" Justin asked. Kyle explained about becoming one of the Elect at the Cathedral. They all said they wanted to go, so the next morning we packed up the Suburban, and off we went. I had never been to anything like that before. It was a pontifical high mass with the bishop presiding, and the Rite of Election was quite moving. I was amazed at how many catechumens and candidates there were, and Kyle was very proud to be among them. "Did you ever think this would happen with The Smoker?" Rick asked during the ceremony when Kyle was up there with the bishop. I chuckled. "No. I basically thought he was a con artist when I first met him," I said. "Tim seemed so vulnerable then, and Kyle seemed so worldly, almost like a gang member or something." "I know. Me, too. I don't think we should ever judge these boys on first impressions," Rick said. "How many lives has Kyle saved?" I asked. "I don't know, and I don't want to take the time to count them up right now. It's been a lot, though. The Alpha Male. He minds his pack pretty good, doesn't he?" Rick said. "Yes, he does, and that bishop doesn't even have a clue what he's dealing with. But we know, and our boys know." "Yeah," Rick said. * * * George and Sonya got back from their honeymoon in Europe tired but ecstatic. They were very much in love, and it was cute. We had them over for dinner a few days after their return. "We've been talking about building a house," George said. "What do you think, son?" Tim looked a little surprised. "I think it's a great idea. Where?" Tim said. "Here on the beach somewhere. I don't know if we can afford waterfront, but that's what we'd like," George said. "Did you talk to my dad about that, Doc?" Kyle asked. "Gene and I have talked about it in general terms before, Kyle," he said, "and he said he has several bay-front lots he's been holding on to." "I think one of them has my name on it," Kyle said. "Yes. One does, indeed, Kyle. Do you think you and Tim could be happy having us as next door neighbors some day?" George asked. "I don't see why not," Kyle said. "No naked swimming, Kyle," Rick said. "We could put up fences," Kyle said. "Kyle, do you think for one minute I'd be bothered in any way by seeing my two sons naked?" Sonya asked. "No, ma'am," Kyle said, grinning at Sonya. She was grinning at him, too. "What about the rest of us?" Denny asked, sounding worried. "Guys, we're talking years down the road here," I said. "Besides, I happen to know Gene has lots all over the place, and they're not necessarily side by side." "Do you know which lot has your name on it, Kyle?" Sonya asked. "Yes, ma'am. He saved two, side by side, one for me and one for Clay. They're lots my grandparents had from a long time ago. They're beautiful pieces of property, with some very big oak trees on them," Kyle said. "Maybe he'll give you both of them," Tim said. "Maybe, but I know better than to ask for both. Everybody thinks my parents spoiled me rotten, and they did. But my dad would think I was being greedy if I asked for both lots, and I would be. I'll just have to take what he gives me, and I know it'll be nice," Kyle said. "Your father and I have talked about that, Kyle. He told me you never ask for anything. He also said he doesn't give you an allowance," Doc said. "I sort of get an allowance now. Since I turned eighteen," Kyle said. "Let's change the subject. This is making me nervous," he said. "Yeah, let's change the subject," Rick said. Kyle always got uncomfortable when the subject turned to money. He was rich, and he knew it. We all knew it. His two best friends, Justin and Brian, didn't own a pot to piss in, and we all knew that, too. Rick and I knew that those two boys would never want for anything, as long as Kyle was capable of signing his name, and we thought it showed a lot of breeding and character that he basically refused to talk about money. George told Kyle he was sorry he wasn't here for the Rite of Election at the Cathedral the week before, and he guaranteed Kyle he'd be at every one of the Scrutinies. "What's a Scrutiny?" Justin asked. "It's a special set of prayers at Mass for the Elect," Kyle said. "That's me. One of the Elect." "Shouldn't that be 'Elected'?" Brian asked. "No. They say 'Elect,' not 'Elected,'" Kyle said. "I don't know why. That's just what they say." George launched into a theological discussion of the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. Sonya hung on every word, and everybody else listened with polite incomprehension. That was George. He was our friend, and we loved him, but sometimes the man got carried away. That evening was one of those times. |