One of the best things I had ever done was put a move on Rick Mashburn at the health club. Actually, doing it was despicable and something I was ashamed of then and now, but that opened the gate to my friendship with Rick, Kevin, their boys, their friends, and the Reverend Vincent Vickers. As a result of my lustful act at the gym, I gained a warm and accepting family of gay men and a very large circle of friends. Vince was the associate pastor at the parish of Rick's parents in Sarasota, and I met him when I went there with the Foley-Mashburn family to bury Rick's grandfather. I was there as a friend, not as a priest, but the two roles were, ultimately, inseparable. When Mrs. Mashburn, Rick's grandmother, found out I was a priest, she insisted I help with the funeral. "I would be more than happy to concelebrate with the local priest, if he's willing," I said to her when she asked me to say the Mass of Resurrection for her husband. "But, really, the local parish is supposed to be responsible for that, and they might be offended." "That would be marvelous, Father," she said. "Please do it for Rick." When she said that, I knew there was no way I could refuse. It turned out Vince and I were exactly the same age and had been ordained the same year. I liked him immediately, and I think he liked me immediately, too. After the time in Sarasota, he and I stayed in touch. At first just through email, and then we took to calling each other. He was gay, just as I was, and he was struggling with his vow of celibacy, just as I was, too. We became kind of an informal support group for each other. "Jerry, I could really go for you, man," he said on the phone one night shortly after Labor Day. "I know, and don't think it's not mutual," I said. "I told you about my little scrape with the law in Boston, and I told you about coming on to Rick Mashburn. Those two episodes made me really think, man. I want to be a priest with all my being, and that includes celibacy, at least until they change the rules." "I know. Me, too," he said. "But it's so difficult." "I'm guessing you masturbate," I said. "I do." "Shit, that's my middle name. The Internet has been a God-send for that," he said. I laughed at his choice of words. "That's kind of ironic, isn't it?" he said, laughing, too. "It is ironic, but I know exactly what you mean," I said. "The only Internet connection in this rectory was in the office, so I'm paying for a connection in my room." "Me, too," he said. "By the way, Justin Davis talked to me the other day about going through RCIA. He's starting this week," I said. "That's the big blond one, right?" Vince asked. "Yeah," I said. "Be still my heart," Vince said. "I know. That kid and Kyle Goodson both exude sexuality to me," I said. "They're both really good boys, though. It's going to be all I can do to keep my hand out of my pocket when I'm counseling him." "I hear you, brother," Vince said. "I need to run. Keep the faith." "And spread it," I said. "You, too," he said, and we broke the connection. * * * When Kyle Goodson had first talked to me about being received into the Church, I had made it a point to bring up the topic of homosexuality with him in a private discussion. I wanted to make sure he didn't have any moral hang-ups about the way God had made him, and he didn't seem to. Naturally, when Justin and I met the first time, I took the same approach. "Justin, I want to talk about homosexuality," I said. "Why?" he responded. I was a bit taken aback. "You're gay, aren't you?" I asked. "Yeah. So are you. I don't have a problem with you, Padre," he said. What he said wasn't the least bit funny objectively, but the way he said it was hilarious to me. "Justin, I know you don't have a problem with me, and I don't have a problem with you, either. Do you have a problem with homosexuality?" "I've got it, but I don't consider it a problem," he said. "I mean, it ain't contagious." I didn't know if I was going to be able to get through this counseling session or not without dissolving into a puddle of laughter. When I finally pulled myself together, I took a deep breath. "Bubba, are you trying to be funny?" I asked. "No, sir," he said, and I believed him. I was the one with the problem, not him. "Okay, I want to be serious for just a little while," I said. "Yes, sir," he said. I went through my usual spiel about what the Church teaches about homosexuality and homosexual acts, and he listened politely. I told him about the passages in scripture that many people use to condemn homosexuality as an abomination. "What does that mean?" he asked. "What does what mean?" I asked in return. "That big word you just said," he replied. "Abomination?" I asked. "Yeah. What is that?" "It means 'something awful, terrible, seriously wrong,'" I said. "Oh, okay. Even if two guys are in love?" he asked. "That's what they believe. Yes," I said. "That's bullshit," he said. "Justin, my friend, I think you just proved you understand what I'm talking about pretty well," I said. I told him about selecting a sponsor. "Could Doc do it again?" he asked. "Doc?" I asked, not really keying in on George Murphy immediately. "Tim's daddy. George Murphy," he said. "Oh. Sorry. I forgot that you guys call him Doc. He'd be great, but it's kind of time-consuming. Let's get a back-up if he's not willing to do it again," I said. "Kevin?" "Kevin would be wonderful," I said. "Or Rick." "Not Rick. I love that man to death, and I look up to him in every way, but he doesn't know much more about the Catholic Church than I do," he said. "Let's go with George first and Kevin as a back-up," I said. "Can I have two?" he asked. There was absolutely no reason in the world why he couldn't have two, but, if the RCIA had any flaws, it was in the amount of time it demanded of the sponsor. I made a quick decision with that fact in mind. "No," I said. "Okay," he said. Justin ended up not asking George Murphy, and Kevin Foley was his sponsor. * * * There were eight people in the RCIA program that year. Most of them were established adults. One pair was a married couple, and one young man in his early twenties was engaged to a Catholic girl. One was a very handsome single man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. The other three were people who were already married to Catholics. Justin soon became the darling of that group. The women loved him immediately, and I think the men appreciated his respectful demeanor and his incredible sense of countrified humor. Hal, the thirty-something single man, couldn't take his eyes off him, and he listened to what Justin had to say with the same reverence and awe as the teachers had listened to the boy Jesus in the Temple. After the second or third class, Kevin invited me to join him and Jus for dinner. "I think you've got an admirer in the class," Kevin said. "What are you talking about?" Jus asked. "Hal. Don't you have any gaydar at all, Jus? Am I right, Jerry?" Kevin asked. "It looks that way to me," I said. "So I don't get what you mean," Justin said. "Hal's a nice guy. He and I talked about maybe going hunting this fall." "He wants to sleep in your tent, Bubba," Kevin said. "He might want to share a sleeping bag with you." "Well, he's shit out of luck," Jus said. "I've had more than my share of those old farts. I got all the boy I ever want, and y'all know it, too." "So, do you think you and Brian are going to commit to one another for life?" I asked. "Yeah. We already have, Jerry. We haven't had a ceremony yet, but there's never going to be anybody else for either one of us," he said. He and Brian were awfully young, but I knew a hundred straight couples who had been together since high school. In fact, my own parents had been high school sweethearts, and I knew it was possible. "Well, be nice to Hal, Jus. I think he's very lonely, and I think he has a crush on you," I said. "I'll be nice to him, but he's not getting anywhere with me," Jus said. "Justin, I've been meaning to ask you this. Why do you want to become a Catholic?" Kevin said. "Is it because Kyle did?" "That's a fair question, Kevin. Brian asked me the same thing. And I'll tell you what the reason is, Bubba. Two reasons, in fact," he said. "What are they?" I asked. "One reason is Kevin Foley, and the other reason is Rick Mashburn," he said. He had tears in his eyes, and I could tell it was a very emotional moment for him. I looked at Kevin, and his eyes were weepy, too. "I'm not sure those are very good reasons," Kevin said. "We're really not that religious, Bubba." "You might not be all that religious, Kev, but I don't know two better people on this fucking earth than you and Rick. I don't know what part being Catholic played in that, but that couldn't have hurt," he said. "I know you don't think I pay attention when Jerry's saying the homily at Mass, but I really do. I know that when he talks about the Christian community and what it's supposed to be, he's really talking about our family. I pretend to be dumb, and I joke around a lot, but I was there from the beginning of that family, almost. I know what happens in that house to boys who need love." "Justin, I know what goes on in that house, too, son, and you're absolutely right," I said. "Love goes on in that house, Bubba, and I don't mean physical, sexual love. Although I suspect there's some of that, too." Justin and Kevin both laughed at that line. "What I see is transforming love. Love that accepts all who present themselves. Love that is unconditional and unlimited. I've been the recipient of that love, and it's made all the difference in my life. Justin, I can't think of a better reason for wanting to be a Christian, a Catholic Christian, than you've just said," I said. "This discussion made me feel a hell of a lot better than that hamburger did. I'm needing me a big bowl of ice cream for dessert right about now, though," he said. Kevin burst out laughing, and Justin laughed hard, too. I was in the dark. "I'm sorry, Jerry, but it's sort of a family joke. Whenever we have an emotional family discussion, or when we're celebrating a family triumph of some kind, we always have banana splits with tons of trimmings. That's what he was talking about," Kevin said. "What a great tradition," I said. "Yeah, and sometimes one of us gets the banana standing up straight between two big gobs of ice cream covered with coconut hair," Justin said. "That means the one who gets that is the MAN that night." "That's funny," I said. "And pretty apropos, given the environment." "Y'all, I really do want some ice cream," Justin said. All three of us had the biggest confection the Pelican's Post had on their menu.
My blog, or Weblog, was a lot of fun. I wrote about my daily life as one of four gay men living together as two monogamous couples. I didn't post something every single day, but I averaged five times a week. My regular readership had increased to about a thousand people a day, and I regularly got comments from a number of faithful readers. Some of the people who were the most faithful readers and some of my commenters were my brothers, both real, honorary, and in-law. Most of the time they had very funny things to say, especially the Emerald Beach crowd, and I looked forward to their comments as much as I did to writing my stuff. They often corrected details that I had gotten wrong. One time Kyle wrote something that was hilarious to us in Emerald Beach because it was an inside family joke, but Josh, my real brother, thought Kyle was criticizing me. Josh felt as though he had to defend me, and he wrote back an angry comment to Kyle. "He doesn't really know, does he?" Kyle said about Josh's reply. "No, he doesn't. But I'll set him straight, Bubba. Don't worry about that. I thought what you wrote was a scream. He has no idea about our relationship, Kyle. And there's no way he could know," I said. "If he keeps doubting how I feel about you, I'm going to need to drive to Jacksonville and kick his ass," Kyle said. We were both laughing. "Him and his interior-decorating boyfriend," Kyle said. Kyle and I were laughing so hard we had to prop each other up physically. Later that night I talked to Josh on the phone and straightened it all out with him. "Jesus, I feel like a total shit," Josh said. "I guess I forgot that Kyle is Clay's brother. I mean, I knew one of them was, but keeping all those people straight in my mind isn't easy. You might want to consider doing a 'cast' list." "That's probably a good idea," I said. "I need to apologize to him," Josh said. "What's his email address?" I gave it to him, and he must have written a hell of a letter of apology. The next time I saw Kyle, which was just a day or two later, he told me everything was fine with Josh. "He got it all wrong, but I'm proud of him for what he did, Jeff. He jumped to your defense, just like a big brother is supposed to," Kyle said. "I know. I thought about that aspect of it, too," I said. "Damn right," Kyle said. "That boy's stock went way up in my mind when he did that, even though I was going to have to whip his ass over it." "Kyle, how many asses have you actually whipped?" I asked. He laughed. "Not enough," he said. "Do you, like, notch the headboard of your bed every time you whip somebody's ass?" I asked. "No, but that's a damn good idea," he said. "I need to sharpen my pocketknife," he said. "Don't mess up the furniture," I said. "I'd never do that, Jeff. Give me a break, man. I'm about ninety-five percent bullshit. I thought you knew that by now," he said. "And so is Justin. I'm an actor, you know? And so is he, even though he's never been in a play." "I know, Kyle. It's fun, though, isn't it?" "Yeah," he said. "Kyle, tell me if I'm wrong about this, okay? Clay didn't have an accent at all. He spoke English the same way I do, and Rick and Brian and Tim do. I think your accent is part of your act, too," I said. "Am I right?" I could have counted on one hand the number of times I had seen Kyle blush, but he blushed deeply just then. He was a very cute guy, and the fact that he looked just like the man I had been in love with didn't detract from his appeal. "Jeff, when Clay was here in Emerald Beach, he talked the same way I do. I know that when he went to Gainesville and met you, he talked the way you do. And I can talk that way, too, when I want to. As I am right now. But this is a small town, you know? And Clay and I are natives here, from a prominent family, too. I use the Emerald Beach accent to let people here know I'm one of them. I'm not a tourist. I'm not an outsider. I belong here. This is where my roots are. My daddy doesn't talk the same in, say, New York City as he does here. My mother talks the same way all the time because she thinks the Charleston accent is the only way English is supposed to be spoken. They all do in Charleston. I guess because it's such an old city, and all. But, yes, you're right. My accent is part of my persona when I'm here." "Kyle, that's amazing. That is an incredible analysis, and I think you're right," I said. "Well, the analysis isn't original. I actually learned it in school my junior year. We read the book The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and my teacher did a unit on American dialects, or accents, in connection with that book. Mark Twain makes a big deal about accents in that book. That's where I learned that stuff. But I was switching back and forth in the way I talk long before I learned that. And so was Clay," he said. "Kyle, you used the word 'persona' a few minutes ago. Do you know what that word means?" I asked. "Yes. It means your mask, the image of yourself you present to others," he said. "I ain't as dumb as I wanna be." I laughed with delight. "You're something," I said. "I know. I'm a bullshit artist," he said. "You're an artist, all right, but it's not bullshit. At least not all of it," I said. * * * In addition to the comments I got on my blog, I also got email from readers. I had no idea of the profile of my "average" reader, and I really didn't care all that much what the profile might look like. I was mainly writing for me and for my extended family, so the "average" reader didn't matter. But I got four or five comments every day, and many of them were from younger readers. Here's an example. Hi, Jeff Whats up? I'm foreteen and I'm gay. when I read about you're brothers i wish I could be their in that house with them in the wrost way. I get picked on at school, and I need some big brothers to help me out. Nobody but you knows i'm gay. I don't want to be gay, but I can't help it. I hve two little brothers 12 and 10 and the other day the 12 called me a fagot. Please pray for me Jeff and ask your brothers to pray for me to. i'm not going to hurt myself or anything so don't worry about that, but i'm miserbly. thanks for riting you sorty. your friend, Billy When I got that, I printed it immediately. I remembered being fourteen and knowing I was gay. I had an older brother, of course, but he had problems of his own to contend with. I wasn't so much picked on as I was ignored by the "popular" crowd. God, my heart ached for Billy. "Babe, look at this," I said, presenting the email to Tyler. He read it quickly. Then he just looked at me with eyes that enveloped Billy and me in a huge hug. "I know," I said. "I know." He put his arms around me, and I knew I was safe and secure with the man I loved. "What do you write back to something like this?" he asked. "I don't know," I said. It was a Friday night, and Chuck and Tony were in the living room watching TV. Ty and I were in the "study," also known as the computer room/guest room. We went out there with them. "There are ninety-five channels on this fucking cable, and there is almost never anything on worth watching," Chuck said. "We've got something here worth reading," Ty said. He handed the paper to Chuck, and he and Tony read it together. "Oh, my God!" Chuck said. "I'm not believing this." "I think it's true," Ty said. "Oh, I know it's true," Tony said. "I think he meant he really didn't want to believe it." "Exactly," Chuck said. "What can we do?" "I don't know," I said. "I'm going to write back to him and tell him we're on his side. I'm going to tell him he's not alone, but that's not much consolation." "Can't you just picture him? A sweet little kid, struggling to have friends, to be accepted, to avoid the bullies," Tony said. "Guys, I'm about to lose it right now over this kid." He had big tears forming in his eyes. I think that reaction made me love Tony more than I ever had before. "When I was his age, I wanted a big brother so bad I could scream," Tony said. "He's not an only child like I was, but it sounds like his little brothers aren't giving him any support at all." "What if we all write back to him?" I proposed. "Yeah, and we'll get the kids at Kevin and Rick's house to write, too. Do you think they'd do it?" Chuck asked. "I don't think there's any question about that, and I think it's a great idea," I said. "Any clue about where he lives from his email address?" Chuck asked. "No. It's a Yahoo account. I can't even get an IP address from that. If I could, I could pinpoint it," Tony said. "Actually, there is a way to do it, but it's very difficult, and there are legal issues related to privacy involved." Suddenly, we heard the front door open. "Knock, knock," a voice said. The Big Four from North Lagoon Drive came in bearing pizzas. Kyle was carrying four of them, and he had a definite look of urgency on his face. He plopped them on the counter, and he turned to look at us. He had a broad smile. "Goddamn, those things are hot," he said. "I about burned my hands off." "You wimp," Tyler said, grabbing him in a headlock hug. "Get off me, you big brute," Kyle said. Then he and Tyler hugged. We all hugged, in fact. "There are four big 'meat lovers' right there," Kyle said. "We knew y'all were all meat lovers, just like us." We all laughed at his pun. "Dive in, boys," Kyle said. "Justin, where's the beer?" "Shit, I'd forget my damn nuts, if they weren't attached," Justin said, and he went back out to retrieve the beer. He brought in two twelve-packs. "Kyle, how do you guys buy beer?" Chuck asked. "The same way you do. We give the man money," Kyle said. "That's not what I mean, and you know it," Chuck said. "You don't ask, and we don't tell," Kyle said. "You sound like the military," Tyler and Tony said in unison. "I know, and we're keeping a military top secret right here in this family," Kyle said. We all laughed. The pizza was delicious, of course, the beer was ice cold, and the company was the best. After we had eaten and sucked down a couple of brews apiece, we got quiet. "I want you guys to read something," I said. I handed Billy's email to Brian. He read it and handed it to Tim. They both starting crying quietly, trying to conceal their emotions. Justin read it next. "Read this, Kyle. This is fucking bullshit. We got to save this kid," Justin said. Kyle read it. "Damn! Don't you just want to grab this kid and hug him?" Kyle said. "Yeah, but how do you do that?" Justin asked. "Let's call him," Kyle said. "We don't know his last name or where he is," I said. "Brian knows how to figure out where he is," Kyle said. "He located Josh, didn't he?" "I can't do this one, though, Kyle. Maybe it's possible to get his IP address, but I don't know how to do it," Brian said. "It can be done, but it's very complicated," Tony said. "And even if we got the IP address, we still couldn't call him. We don't know his phone number or even his last name." "So what do we do? Jerk off in his honor?" Justin asked. We all laughed. "You write to his ass, that's what you do. That's all we got to go on. This boy is screaming out for support, and we've got to give it to him," Kyle said. "All we can do is write to him, but I think if we all do it, it'll have an impact, maybe." "That's what we thought, too," I said. "Forward that message to the whole family, Jeff," Kyle said. "We'll make little Billy know he's got brothers in Florida." * * * In a couple of days, I got another email from Billy. hi, jeff whats up? I got a ton of emails from all of your brohers saying I'm there brother, to. They said alot more than that, and they made me sore ski high, man. i'm felling so good right now about myself I can't stand it. Thank you so mch. i love you jeff and i love all those boys there with you. they said they wold keep writing to me, and i think they will. Thank you so much. i love you. Billy I showed that email to Tyler, and to Chuck and Tony. "Emerald Beach is slowly seeping across the country," Chuck said. "If he knew what it was like in that house, he would haul ass to get there." "I know," I said. A few days later, I got another email that disturbed me. Dear Jeff, I've been reading your blog for several months. I mean, I found it about a month ago, and I read all the archives. And I've been keeping up day by day since then. I'm fifteen years old, I live in Virginia, and I'm gay. My mom and dad found out I was gay about two months ago when a boy I thought I could trust told his parents what I had told him about my feelings for him. Since then, my life has been hell. I made a botched attempt at suicide, but obviously I survived. I learned from that mistake, though, and I now know how to do it for real. I don't want to, though. I want to come to Emerald Beach and live with you and Kevin and Rick and the rest. I want to live. Please say it's okay for me to come there. Please write back to me. PLEASE! I love you. Your Brother, Sean Kelly When I read that, my insides turned to water. My first impulse was to delete the whole blog from the Internet. I wasn't a counselor, and I didn't need to be in this kind of business. I wasn't ready for this kind of stuff, and I didn't think I'd ever be ready for it. I sat at the computer for a long time, staring at the letter. Chuck came into the room. "What's wrong, Jeff?" he asked. "Read what's on the screen," I said. He read it. "Wow! That's pretty heavy stuff," he said. "I know. What am I supposed to do, Chuck?" "I don't know, but print a bunch of copies of it so we can talk about it," Chuck said. I printed ten copies of the letter. I gave one to Tyler to read when he came home. "Wow! This is much more serious than Billy's letter, isn't it? I mean, this kid is smart. There aren't any mistakes or typos or anything. He probably really does know how to do it," Ty said. "I know. Babe, I've created a monster with that fucking blog. I hate it. I want to delete the whole fucking thing," I said. "Jeff. No. You've created an angel, not a monster. Don't you see? That blog has given him hope. It's given him a place to turn to. He wouldn't have had that without your blog. Now we have to figure out what to do about it," Ty said. He was right. I was overwrought, and he helped me see more clearly. I put my head on his shoulder, and I hugged him to me. "We're going to wait for Tony to get home, and then we're going to go to Kevin and Rick's house to talk about this. This thing belongs to the whole family, not just to you," he said. "I can't tell you how much I love you," I said. "I think you just did, Jeff. And I love you that much, too," he said. We stopped and got subs on the way to Kevin and Rick's house. We got enough for them, too, and those boys tore into them. I knew they had plenty of food in that house at all times, and I also knew those boys had already had a snack that night. But you can't put a Subway sandwich in front of a boy and him not want to eat it. The exception was Murray. He had it almost to his mouth, and Kyle took it away from him. "It's just turkey, Kyle," Murray whined. "I know, but it's turkey and bread and mayonnaise and shit you can't have, if you expect to lose weight. Let me get you some tomato juice, real spicy. It'll satisfy you," Kyle said. "You really care about me, don't you?" Murray said. "Fuck, yeah, I care about you, you little fat-ass queer," Kyle said. Murray and Kyle grinned at each other the way brothers do when one is taking care of the other. Kyle came back into the room in a few minutes with a huge glass of tomato juice with two stalks of celery, three stalks of pickled asparagus, and two pickled green beans. I figured he had dumped enough Tabasco sauce into that drink to see Murray through the next two bowel movements. "What's up, guys?" Kevin said when we had finished eating. "Kevin, it's something pretty serious," I said. I told him about the letter, and I passed out copies for the others to read. Everybody was dead quiet, and I knew the letter was having an effect on them. "Is he going to come live with us?" Denny asked. "I don't see that happening," Kevin said. "Not that we wouldn't want him, but he's in another state. His parents would have to voluntarily relinquish custody of him to us. What do you think, Babe?" "I think you're right, Babe. Like you, I want to help him, but I don't think we can take in kids from all over the place, especially without going through Tyrone Williams and the Children and Family Services Department," Rick said. "Maybe we could tell him to call us collect." "That's a start," Kevin said. "We took in Alex when he ran away and just showed up here," Kyle said. "Yeah, but what's the difference between Alex and Sean?" Kevin asked. "I don't know. Alex is cut and Sean's uncut?" Kyle asked. We all laughed. "Kyle, that was funny, but let's keep this serious, okay, Bubba?" Rick said. "I'm sorry," Kyle said. "Kyle, the difference is the age. Alex was legally an adult, and this boy isn't," Kevin said. "If he were eighteen, we'd send him bus fare, but he's only fifteen. We can't encourage him to run away to come here. We'd get in so much trouble if we did that we'd probably never see any of you again." "This age shit is a pain in the ass," Kyle said. "Well, maybe so, but it's the law, whether we like it or not," Kevin said. "Here's what I suggest we do. Jeff, write back to him and ask him to call us. Make sure you print a copy of every email contact you have with him, and keep them on file. If anything comes up about our trying to lure the boy away from home, we need to have that as back-up." "Okay. I had already thought I would do that," I said. "Whose number do I give him? Mine?" "Yes. Give him your cell number, and tell him that's what it is. Tell him you showed his letter to all of us and that Rick and I want to talk to him. He obviously knows who we are, but he might be reluctant to call one of us without talking to you first. Don't say anything about it being unlikely that he'll get to come live here. That seems to be a ray of hope in his life right now, and we damn sure don't want to dim that ray," Kevin said. "Let me write the letter here, and I want you all to read it before I send it," I said. "That's a good idea," Rick said. I went into the study to write a response. Dear Sean, I am really sorry to hear about what happened to you because of your friend. That shouldn't happen to anybody. When I got your letter, I knew I had to share it with Kevin, Rick, and the other guys here. I printed it out and took it to Kevin and Rick's house. We talked about it, and we agreed we all want to help you out somehow. I would like to talk to you on the phone. Please call my cell phone number collect so you and I can talk. I'm going to keep my phone turned on and with me at all times. The number is 555-850-1621. Call me as soon as you can. Love, Jeff Martin I called the guys into the study to read the letter. "I think it's good," Kevin said. "So do I," Rick agreed. "Have you printed it?" "Not yet," I said. I clicked on the "print" button, and the printer started up. After it was printed, I hit the "send" button. "I guess there's nothing to do now but wait," Rick said. "Kevin, when he calls me, I'll put us on a three-way call after I make sure he's comfortable with that, okay?" I said. "That's a good idea. I hadn't thought of that," Kevin said. "This boy knows his technology," Tyler said, grinning at me. "I've got school work to do tonight," I said, "so I need to get on back home." "Okay, guys. Let's keep our fingers crossed we can work something out," Kevin said. I stayed up much later than usual that night, waiting for Sean to call. I checked my email every half hour or so, too, just in case he decided to respond that way. Nothing. My precious angel stayed in the room with me, studying on the guest bed while I used the desk. Eventually, he pulled down the covers on the bed, took off his shoes and shorts, and got in. He went to sleep in a few minutes. Instead of waking him up to go to our own bed, I got undressed and crawled in with him. * * * Sean didn't call that night, and there wasn't any email from him the next morning. I kept my phone with me hooked to my belt all day long. I went to class at FSU, and then I went to work, as usual. That night I haunted my email in-box, but nothing from Sean. My phone didn't ring, either. The second day was a repeat of the first. "I sure wish he'd call," I said to the Townhouse Boys. "Maybe no news is good news," Tony said. "Maybe. I sure hope so," I said. We went through the third day, and, once again, there was no contact from Sean, either on the phone or through email. I wrote to him again to say that I was waiting to hear from him. If he had gotten scared, he needed to know that I was serious in what I had said. In the evening of the third day, my phone rang as we were watching TV. I snatched it from my belt so fast that I dropped it. I checked the number, and it was Kyle. "Hello," I said. "Hey. Did he call yet?" "Not yet. And if he's trying to call right this minute, he's going to be shit out of luck, isn't he?" I said. "Don't you have Call Waiting?" he asked. "Yeah. I forgot about that," I said. "Use the ole noggin, Bubba. That's what you've got it for. It's not just for Tyler to stick his dick in, you know?" I started laughing. "You are such a little shithead," I said. "Yeah, but I'm a cute little shithead, ain't I?" he said. "Yes, Kyle, you are. And such a modest little shithead," I said, and that made him laugh, too. "Well, I don't want to tie the line up any more. You might forget again that you have Call Waiting and not answer it if it rings," he said. "Go to bed, Kyle," I said. "Thanks for calling, and I love you, Bubba." "I love you, too. 'Bye." "I take it Kyle was calling to see if Sean had called," Chuck said. "Yeah," I said. "What was so funny?" Ty asked. "He told me to use my noggin. That's what I have it for, not just for you to stick your dick in," I said. My housemates laughed. "He is a little shithead," Ty said. "Yeah, but a cute one, he reminded me," I said. They laughed some more. * * * By the fourth day, I had given up on Sean calling. I hoped his initial email was something he had written during a panic attack and that things had improved. That afternoon I was working the front desk with Stephen. Justin and I basically shared half of a job now, instead of sharing a whole job as we had before. I was in the office working the on-line registrations, and Stephen was out front. "Jeff, there's somebody out here to see you," Stephen said. "Who is it? Is it one of my brothers?" I asked. "No. I don't know who it is," Stephen said. I went out front, and there was a kid standing at the desk. He was stunningly good looking, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a very nice haircut. His clothes were rumbled, but they were nice. He was definitely preppy. "What can I do for you?" I asked. "Jeff?" "Yes," I said. "I'm Sean Kelly," he said. |