How do you tell a houseful of guys that one of their brothers was murdered? Kyle second-guessed the whole thing, and he knew our unique mid-day meeting was about Sean. I recklessly bleated out that he had been murdered, and suddenly the atmosphere froze. Pete hadn't known him, but of course the others had. Anyway, you can't just drop the news that someone who had been as close as Sean had been, had been murdered, without it having an effect. There was dead silence, with no movement, after I said "He's dead." "How'd it happen?" Brian asked, eventually. Kevin recounted as much as we knew. "I knew it," Justin said. "That could have been me, too, you know?" We did know. Those of us who knew his story knew, anyway. "His mother told me he really loved Rick and me, and he loved you and Kyle, too, Jus," Kevin said. "He had crushes on us, Kevin. That wasn't really love," Justin said. "I didn't like that boy that much, but I'm sorry he's dead." He started crying quietly, and that seemed to make it okay for the other boys who knew Sean to cry, too. "Sean was reckless and disrespectful. He had no regard for what this family stands for. He just didn't get it," Justin said. "I didn't like him, and I thought he was a prick. The fact that he's dead doesn't change that." Quiet. For a long time, as we processed what had happened and what Justin had said. "Buddy, he had issues with his parents," Brian said. "Oh, yeah? Besides Kyle and Tim, who in this house doesn't have issues with their parents? Huh? Except for them and Todd, none of us knows who our father is. Todd's got parents, but he can't live with 'em. Murray has Nana, but she's too old to take care of him anymore. I don't doubt Sean's parents are assholes, but he wasn't that much different from the rest of us," Jus said. "Jus, Sean was deeply troubled, Son," Kevin said. "I know he was, Kevin, but don't you think the rest of us around here have troubles, too? I'm shutting up," Justin said. "I don't want to argue." I didn't know what to say. I looked at Kevin, and he was drawing a blank, too. Justin was right. Sean wasn't that different from the rest of them, and he had come from a hell of a lot more affluent background than most of the rest of them. We all sat quietly, thinking about what Justin had said. "So what happens next? Is there going to be some kind of funeral or something?" Kyle asked. "We don't know any details yet, Kyle. We assume so, though. His parents are going to New Mexico to get his body this afternoon," Kevin said. "When are we going to find out?" Kyle asked. "Tomorrow or the next day would be my guess," I said. "Are we going to go? To his funeral, I mean," Kyle asked. "Kevin and I will go, right, Babe?" Rick asked. "Yeah. I think we have to," Kevin said. "I think his mother would really like it if Kyle, Tim, Brian, and you, too, Justin, were there. Based on what she said on the phone to me today." "Kevin, I'd be a hypocrite if I went to that funeral. I hated him. I hated him for what he did," Justin said. "Jus, I understand and appreciate that, but funerals are for the living, not for the dead. His mother mentioned you by name today as somebody Sean cared about. I think his parents would really appreciate your being there," Kevin said. There was a long period of dead air. "Okay," Justin finally said. I breathed easier, and I knew Kevin did, too. "Guys, it's three o'clock. A few minutes after, in fact. Kyle, will you make us some coffee, please?" I asked. "Yeah, sure," he said, and he went out into the kitchen. "This is very hard for me, for a lot of reasons. You know?" Justin said. "Yes, we do know, Jus. But you know what? You're fast becoming what Nana calls a Mensch. A man, Justin. A kind, loving, totally masculine man. One who is capable of influencing others to do what's right. One who can lead other men, but with insight and integrity and compassion," Kevin said. "I don't know about that," he said. "Maybe not, but we do, Jus. You made the right decision to go to that funeral, Son. Thank you," I said. Neither he nor any of the others responded verbally. Brian looked at us, smiled softly, and nodded his head. * * * The six of us flew out on Thursday. The funeral was on Friday, but the viewing was Thursday night. We looked like a matched team of waiters in our navy blue suits, and it was obvious Dean and Dr. Kelly appreciated our being there. They have a lot of friends, evidently, and the place was full. I noticed a distinct dearth of people around Sean's age, but maybe that was to be expected because he had been gone the whole school year. His parents were extremely cordial, and his mother teared up when Kevin and I introduced ourselves. "Rick, we'd like to ask you men to be the pallbearers at the funeral," Dean Kelly said to me. "Sir, it will be an honor," I said. The funeral was a simple service devoid of any religious content. We performed our duties as pallbearers respectfully and well, and we put our little brother to rest. All six of us cried anguished tears, and I'm sure the people at that funeral wondered who we were and why we were so moved. Burying one of our kids was painful, and we weren't supposed to have to do that. We're going to continue to have foster sons, though, and the boys around us prove it is worthwhile.
I have a whole lot of mixed feelings about Sean dying. I basically didn't like that boy. I mean, I was nice to him, and all, as best I could be, but I knew he was fucking around. Kyle has a network of friends, but a lot of those boys are my friends, too. I mean, you can't be Kyle's best friend and brother, and not know the people he knows. "Did anybody hear anything more tonight about what happened?" Kyle asked. We were all in the room the kids were sharing, even Kevin and Rick. We were having a drink, not that there was anything to celebrate, like a vacation or a party or something. "I talked to one of the family friends, and he said they really don't know very much about when or why or even how it happened. He apparently had been dead for a couple of days before they found him, though. That's why it wasn't an open casket," Kevin said. "Open casket? You mean so you can see the dead guy? Do they do that sometimes?" Kyle asked. "That's the way they usually do it," Kevin said. "That's why a wake is sometimes called the 'viewing.'" "Nuh-unh," Kyle said. "Uh-huh," Kevin said. "I'm sorry, but that's gross," Kyle said. "And scary as hell, too, I bet you." "It's sort of strange. I haven't been able to get my mind on anything but Sean since we found out about it," I said. "I'm sorry I treated him so bad." "Don't say that, Buddy, because you didn't treat him bad at all. I know you really cared about him, and that's all that matters. I know he rubbed you the wrong way, but you weren't mean or rude to him," Brian said. There was a knock on the door. "Did somebody order room service?" Rick asked. We all said we didn't. He opened the door, and there was a guy standing there. He looked like he was a teenager or maybe a little older. I had seen him at the funeral home, but I didn't know who he was. "Hi. Can I help you?" Rick asked. The boy looked a little scared or nervous or something. "I, uh, I'm Jared Long, and I'm a friend of Sean's. His mother told me you were staying here. May I come in?" he said. "Sure," Rick said. He introduced us all, but I'm sure Jared didn't remember all those names. "Would you like a drink, Jared? We're having one," Kyle said. "Yes, please. You all are Sean's friends from Florida, aren't you?" Jared asked. "That's right. He lived with us for about five months," Kevin said. "Sean and I dated briefly, until his father made us stop seeing each other. We weren't really boyfriends, and we certainly weren't in love, but I liked him a lot," Jared said. "Sean had some very nice qualities," Rick said. "We're all sort of devastated by what happened." "I'm sure. I am, too," he said. "Sean and I kept in touch through email while he lived with you. He really seemed to like you guys. Even though I haven't seen him in a long time, I consider him a good friend. I don't know. If we had been able to keep seeing each other, it might have worked into a long-term thing, you know?" "I'm glad you found us, Jared. It's important to be around people you can talk to when you lose a friend, especially the way it happened," Kevin said. "Thanks. I was pretty scared just coming here like I did. But you guys are as nice as Sean said you were," Jared said, and he started to cry. "Let it out, son," Rick said, and he put his arm around his shoulders. "This is the first time I've been able to cry since I heard about it. It was all over campus. Dean Kelly, Sean's dad, is a real big shot around here. 'Local Boy Found Murdered.' Big headlines and all of that," he said. Everybody was sort of quiet, and Jared calmed down. "He told me he had a boyfriend, but he also told me he was having a good bit of sex on the side, so to speak," Jared said. "Yeah, we know. The reason he ran away was he got caught having sex at school. He had to go to court, and he was going to have to spend a week in the county detention center," Kyle said. "At least we think that's the reason he ran away." "That doesn't seem like the best thing to do with a young guy who's in on a sex offense," Jared said. "Why?" Kyle asked, and I wondered the same thing. "Well, jails are notorious places for sexual abuse," Jared said. "Who does it? The guards?" Kyle asked. "Some, maybe, but it's mostly the other inmates," Kevin said. "Of course, with it being all kids where Sean was supposed to go . . . " "You're Kevin, right? And he's Rick?" Jared said. "Right." "Kevin, I'm a criminology major, and I did a big paper for a course in juvenile corrections on sexual abuse in juvenile facilities. It's rampant," Jared said. "A lot of sex behind bars is consensual, even with kids, but there's rape, too. There's also a lot of sex to pay off debts. In fact, that's probably more common than consensual sex." "What do you mean, pay off debts?" I asked. "There's not much to do in prison, even a juvie facility, where they typically have school programs. Guys gamble on stuff just for the diversion. If you don't have money to pay your gambling debts, or anything else of value, either, then sex becomes the currency," Jared said. "Me and my brother used to bet each other blowjobs all the time," Kyle said. "Huh?" Tim said. He said it so cute, too. "Don't worry, Babe. It never happened. We were just joking, and we both knew it," Kyle said. "A lot of guys play around and say stuff like that," Rick said. "There's a guy right now in Sarasota who owes me at least fifteen blowjobs, but I knew I'd never collect." "Yeah, but in prison they collect. And not just oral sex, either," Jared said. "Everything." "I'm glad he didn't have to serve, then," I said. "Those guys don't know how to butt fuck, and they can tear a fella up, that's for sure." "Were you in prison?" Jared asked me. "No!" I said. "But I know what guys can do to you, and it ain't fun." "How did you and Sean meet?" Tim asked, changing the subject, which I was glad of. "We met in a coffee shop. I worked there, and he used to come in. It was a homey place, kind of a student hangout. When we weren't waiting on people, they encouraged us to talk to the guests. He and I got to be friends. One night he asked me if I was gay, and I told him I am. We went out maybe eight times. That's all. It wasn't a serious 'relationship,'" he said, doing his fingers in the air when he said "relationship." I didn't used to know what that meant, but now I do. I don't do it, though. "I don't think any of us got to know Sean all that well. He had friends that he spent a lot of time with. Plus his other activities. Especially after he got his car," Tim said. "I took him to get it after they called from the dealership to say that his parents had given it to him. I don't think I've ever seen anybody happier than he was that afternoon." "Oh. By the way. The car," Rick said. "His dad told me tonight he and Sean's mother want to donate it to, as he put it, 'the Foley-Mashburn Residence.'" "Really? That's a cool car," Kyle said, all excited. Tell you the truth, I was pretty excited myself. "What brought that on, I wonder," Kevin said. "Babe, I think I might have put a guilt trip on Barbara. I pointed out on the phone that they hadn't contributed a dime to Sean's support when he was with us, and she seemed horrified at that. I'm sure that's what motivated the gift," Rick said. "We can sure use it. Pete's old enough to drive, and Denny and Murray won't be far behind him. They both have sixteenth birthdays this spring," Kevin said. "An extra household car would solve a lot of potential problems." "How many guys live in your house right now?" Jared asked. I had been looking at that boy, and let me tell you something. He was nice looking. He was kind of on the thin side. Around 5'7", or something like that. Normal size, anyway. Brown hair. Brown eyes, as best I could tell from a distance. Not real masculine, but not feminine, either. Just sort of neutral, like most guys. It seemed like he was smart, and he was very, very nice. "Ten at the moment," Kevin said. "That includes Rick and me." "He asked about guys, Kevin," I said. "Justin, you shit," Rick said. "'How many guys live in your house right now?' That's what the man said, and I think that's an exact quote," I said. "The answer is nine, Kevin. Nine guys and one gaping asshole," Rick said. "I wonder who that might be." Pause. "Oh, yeah, Rick. I forgot about you," I said. "Is this Got You Last?" Jared asked. "Yeah, something like that. You know about that?" I asked. "Yeah. I mean, I know quite a bit about you guys. Sean told me stuff in email, but he also put me onto Jeff's blog. You sound like an incredible family. I actually have plans to be in Emerald Beach week after next for Spring Break. I was hoping I'd be able to see Sean and get to meet you guys," he said. "Well, come on down, Bubba. We got room in the inn," Kyle said. "Ain't we?" He looked at Kevin and Rick like he was a deer in the headlights or something. It was cute. He could put up a damn army, if he had to, but his places are all rented. Except that big condo that he almost never goes to. Kevin and Rick were grinning. It isn't often you can get Kyle to stew in his own juices, but that was one of 'em. They were enjoying it, too, just like the rest of us. Of course, Jared didn't know what was going on. "Yeah, there's room in the inn, Kyle," Rick said. "I've got the feeling that Jared is a new friend of ours, and we always have room for our friends." "We could always put him up at the condo," Kyle said. He was back pedaling, and it was funny to me. "Naw, we want him to stay at the house, with the rest of us," Rick said. "And you need to rent out that condo. There's not any point in something that nice sitting vacant." "But that's my home, Rick," Kyle said. "Your home?! Your home is on fucking North Lagoon Drive in the bedroom right next to us. What the fuck you talking about, boy?" I said. "That one is my emotional home, but the other one is my legal home. I don't know, but I'm not renting it out," Kyle said. "That place has personal stuff in it, and I don't want strangers fooling with it." "Whatever, Kyle," I said. * * * The next day was one of the most emotional days of my life. The funeral was at ten, but we had to be at the funeral home at nine. The six of us from Emerald Beach were going to be the pallbearers. I wasn't really sure what that meant, but I think it meant we had to carry the coffin. And it did. The whole thing took place at the funeral home, and it wasn't religious in any way. One guy gave the details of Sean's life, at least the ones he could say in public. Somebody read a poem, and a lady sang a song about coming home. It was pretty unreal for me. After that, we got to ride in a black limo to the cemetery. It was pretty cool. I didn't know if we could smoke in that car or not, but Kevin lit up, so I did, too. We cracked the windows a little bit, but it was kinda cold. At the cemetery, we had to carry that coffin a pretty long way. On that carry, I lost it. I cried my eyes out for Sean. He was so young. He was so cute. He was fucked up, but we could have worked through that, if he had just stayed with us. We could have made him whole. God, almighty, if they had made me whole, they could make anybody whole. I knew that in the depth of my soul. Love heals, but Sean hadn't let us love him that way. The thing at the grave didn't last all that long. When it was over, we stood in line to say our goodbyes to his parents. Everybody else had overcoats on, but none of the six Florida boys did. I don't own one, and I don't think they do, either. We have cold-weather clothes for skiing, but that isn't anything you can wear to a funeral. I was shivering from the cold when we got in that limo. We had the driver turn the heat way up, and we got warm in a few minutes. "That was very hard, wasn't it?" I said. "Putting our little brother in his grave. I never thought that would ever happen to any of us. I hope and pray to God almighty that it won't happen to any of the six of us anytime soon." We left that afternoon on a plane for Cincinnati, then Atlanta, then Emerald Beach. I don't know that I said another word until we got home. I cried a good bit for Sean that afternoon and night. I loved him because he was my brother, but I hated him for what he had done. I was in pure conflict over him. As that little plane we were on was landing in Emerald Beach, I decided I had to let Sean go. That landing felt good. * * * The Monday after we got home from the funeral was when the crap started for me at the college. I went to my morning classes, as usual, and Kyle and I, and some other boys, got together in the Union cafeteria for coffee and to shoot the shit a while. I was only working ten hours a week at the hotel, even though they were paying me for forty, so I had time to do stuff like that. I was making some pretty good friends with the Beta Rho boys, and some others, too. When I went out to my truck, there was a flyer on the windshield under the wiper. They do that all the time around that place, advertising this and that, and it is a real pain in the ass. There are "No Littering" signs all over the parking lot, and they will give you a ticket if a campus cop sees you throw one of those things on the ground. So, then, what do you do with the damn things? I just put 'em in the cab of my pickup. Most of the time I remember to throw them away when I get home, but sometimes I forget, and the damn things pile up. As I got closer, I realized it wasn't a flyer. It was an envelope. I took it off my windshield, and I saw that it had "Justin" written on it. I didn't recognize the handwriting, but I'm not real good at that, anyway. Unless it's Brian's, I never know whose it is. I got in my truck and tore the envelope open. It was a handwritten letter. Darling, it said, and I started laughing. That fucking Kyle! You don't know me, but I hope we will soon do something about that. I see you every day, and, when I do, my dick immediately gets hard. I imagine us together, you with your big, strong arms around me. We're both naked and very aroused, and you gently but passionately kiss me on the lips. Your tongue snakes its way into my mouth, and I obediently yield to your desperate search for pleasure. You use my body to fulfill your needs, and I eagerly urge you on. My nipples, my neck, my chest, my navel, my scrotum, and then, finally, my cock. You engulf it with your mouth, and ecstasy shivers through my body. I melt. That damn thing was two pages long, and I was starting to get a little turned on by reading it. I damn sure didn't want that, right there in that parking lot, so I skipped to the end to see how Kyle had signed it. It was just signed "D." That didn't make sense to me, and I wracked my brain trying to figure out what the D meant. There's a D in his last name, but it isn't any of his initials. For the life of me, I didn't know why Kyle would have signed it "D." Then I read the last paragraph. If what I've said appeals to you, my sweet, meet me in the second floor men's room in the library at noon today. I'm desperate to feel you inside me, and I won't give up. All my love, D That guy! He wants to do to me what that guy did to him that time, and scare the shit out of me in the process. I was going to keep this entirely to myself because I knew Kyle Goodson couldn't keep quiet about it. I was just going to watch and wait to see what happened. That night he didn't say a thing about any of it. I kept looking at him, which ain't all that hard to do, anyway, for some clue on his face or a smile or something. But I drew a blank. He and I are in the same classes, and we study together for tests and such. We had one coming up in World Religions on Tuesday, so he and I huddled over that stuff at the dining room table that night. "Did you do all the reading?" he asked. "Yeah. Did you?" I asked. "I've got a little bit more to do tonight after me and you get finished studying," he said. "It's not very interesting, Kyle, and some of it is hard, too," I said. "I know. I've done most of it," he said. "I'll sit up to read. I won't read it in bed, and maybe it won't put me to sleep." We studied the way Kevin had taught us. We summarized the major material, we asked each other questions, and we made up a bunch of potential essay questions and what we should write to answer them. That's what we had done for the first test, and we had both aced it. I was hoping it would work out that way again. The whole time we were doing all of that, he never said or did anything to hint at that letter. Our schedule is different on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The classes are an hour and a half, instead of fifty minutes, and the religion class is the second one of the morning. We could leave as soon as we finished the test. Kyle and I were well prepared for that test, and I finished it in a little more than an hour. He was still writing to beat the band when I finished, and there was no telling how much longer he was going to be. I decided not to wait around for him. I had to work that afternoon, so I went on out to the parking lot to go home. As I got closer to my truck, I saw another white envelope on the windshield. Shit, he don't quit, I thought. I couldn't figure out when he had had time to put it there, though. Darling, I was terribly disappointed that you didn't meet me yesterday at noon at our designated spot. I don't know your schedule or if you had to work, so I won't despair. Your hard, throbbing penis dances in my mind's eye as I imagine us coupling in my bed. In my fantasy, you want me on my back with my legs up to my shoulders. You moisten me with your tongue and you . . . It was more of the same bullshit, and again I was starting to get hard. I had on good clothes for work, and I could just see myself going into that hotel with a big wet spot, or a cum stain, on my khakis. Again, I skipped to the end of the letter. I have been in a state of constant and total arousal while I've been writing this. I've provided a sample of my semen for your enjoyment. That's only a small portion of the love nectar that awaits you. All my love, D He had drawn a box at the bottom of the second page, and there was a wad of something that had once been wet enough to smear the ink of the box. I sniffed it, and it was the real McCoy, all right. It looked like the paper was still a little damp there, too. I didn't touch it, of course. Right away, I started thinking that "D" was not Kyle Goodson. First of all, it was borderline too gross for Kyle, even. Second, I know he doesn't jerk off, or only now and then, and I know Timmy would never go along with something like this. Third, I doubt he even knows that cum is called semen. Naw, this probably isn't Kyle. But who can it be? Is the guy serious? I wondered. If he is, he has to be some kind of nut case. I decided to lay low again. On the outside chance it was Kyle, I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of getting me last this bad. That night we talked to the brothers, shared news that different ones had gotten in emails, and just talked about regular stuff we always talk about. Kyle had gone to Todd's baseball game that afternoon, along with Kevin, Rick, and some of the other ones at Beachside, and we talked about the game. "Bubba, you know I would have been there today if I could have been," I said to Todd. "Oh, sure, Jus. I knew you had to work. But you know what? You've already seen me play baseball more times than both my parents combined, in my whole life," he said. I had been to, like, five games. "When's your next game?" I asked. "We have one Thursday, but it's an away game," he said. "Justin, please don't feel bad about missing the games. I understand." "We need to start taking in some debates, too," Kyle said. "It's a damn shame. I haven't been to a one. Have any of y'all?" Kevin and Rick said they had been to a few but not nearly enough. Ole Denny was just a-grinning. I knew Kyle was right, too. "We have the county tournament this weekend, starting after school on Friday. Friday afternoon and early evening, and then all day Saturday," Denny said. "Where is it? Beach High?" Kyle asked. "No. It's at Beachside this year. They rotate it. This year it's our turn to be the host school," Denny said. "I'll be there, Bubba," Kyle said. "Tim, can I speak for you, too?" "Absolutely," Tim said. "Let's make this a family outing on Friday," Rick said. "We'll all go, watch Denny and Murray debate, and then go out to eat someplace nice after it's over. Can you make it, Todd?" "Yes, sir. I have practice Saturday morning, but we don't practice on Friday afternoon if we have a game on Thursday," Todd said. "How about the rest of you? Brian, can you do it?" "Yes, sir," Brian said. "I'll be there." Brian usually works with the dogs on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday afternoons, and sometimes on Saturday, too, during hunting season. He has his English class at the college on Monday and Wednesday, so he can't work then. He is making money hand over fist with those dogs, but he loses money when he doesn't work. He had to miss Thursday and Friday the week before for Sean's funeral, and now he was going to miss another day for family obligations. Not only that, but that dog training's play for Brian, not really work. That shows you the kind of boy he is, though, doesn't it? Brian loves his family, and he knows the importance of sticking by 'em. How could anybody not love him? The next morning I found another letter on my windshield. There was a little brown medicine bottle taped to it. The plastic was dark, but I could see it had a liquid inside. I knew right away what it was, so I didn't even open it. I thought that was disgusting, and I wondered if the son of a bitch wanted me to drink it. I didn't even bother to open the letter, either. I pretty much knew what it said without even reading it. That night I got everybody's attention while we were in the den after our snack. "Something's going on with me, and I don't know what to make of it. I need y'all's help," I said. I was being real serious because it was starting to scare me a little bit, and not even Kyle or Rick made a joke when I said that. "Monday morning, I found a letter under the windshield wiper of my truck. When I read the first word, I thought it was one of you guys playing a prank on me. I laughed, but it got pretty serious after that," I said. "It was all sexual stuff." "Do you still have it?" Rick asked. "Yeah. I got it right here," I said. "Why don't you read it for us?" Rick said. "Rick, I don't think y'all are going to want to hear this," I said. "Just read it, Bubba," Rick said. I started reading the letter. "Whoa, Jus. You were right," Rick said, after I had read the first couple of paragraphs. "Let me read the end of it," I said. "It ain't bad like that first part." I read the last paragraph about meeting the guy in the men's room of the library. "That was what made me think for sure it was Kyle. I figured he was doing to me what that guy had done to him that time in the library. I didn't say anything that night because I wanted him to give away his hand. I didn't think he could hold it in. If you remember, he and I studied right in there in the dining room for a religion test we had yesterday. He never once said or did anything to even hint at this letter. But Kyle's a very good actor, you know? "The next morning after my test, I got a second letter. I haven't read either one of them all the way through, but it was the same kind of shit as the first one. Only this one had something special. At the bottom of it was a wad of his cum," I said. "Ewww," several of them said. "I thought right then, No way is Kyle Goodson doing this," I said. "But still I wanted to lay low. No way was I going to say anything. I'd hide and watch." "Bubba, I'd never do anything like that," Kyle said. "The first one I'm capable of doing. Yeah. I didn't, but I could see how you'd think of me first for something like that. But I'd never do that second one." "I didn't think you would, either, Kyle, but you've burned me a few times, you know? You remember that time we were pissing in the Mississippi River in New Orleans and you pissed on my dick?" I asked. "Yeah, I remember it. I trembled for days after that, just knowing you were going to get me back. You said I will know not the day nor the hour, but you never did get me back," Kyle said. "I know I ain't yet, but that's only because I ain't been able to think of anything as good as that," I said. "I still might, one of these days." "Well, I deserve it, but I didn't do this. I swear that on my Eagle honor," he said. "Well, you don't have to do that because I know you didn't. For one thing, the vocabulary in the letter is harder than you could use," I said. "Fuck you," Kyle said. "No, he wants me to fuck him," I said. "Guys, let's move on, okay?" Kevin said. "Okay. Sorry. This morning I got a third letter, and it had this taped to it," I said, producing the pill bottle. I held it up for them to see. "My God," Brian said. "When I saw that and saw what it was, I didn't even open the letter," I said. "Did you keep it?" Rick asked. "Yeah. It's right here," I said. "Denny, Murray, Todd, Pete. Y'all go on upstairs and get the homework going," Rick said. All four of 'em were slow in getting up, and when they stood up, I saw why. All four of 'em were hard as rocks. I looked at Kyle, and he grinned at me. Brian slapped me playfully on the arm, and Tim did the same thing to Kyle. When the other boys were upstairs in their rooms, we all busted up laughing. "Do you guys need cold showers, too?" Rick asked, and we all laughed hard again. "I think we're all fine," Tim said. "A couple of years in age do make a difference, don't they?" Kevin said. "Justin, this is potentially pretty serious. It sounds like a case of stalking to me." "Tell me about it," I said. "Why do you think I came to the family with it?" "Let me see those letters, please," Kevin said. He read the first one silently and passed it to Rick. They read all three that way. "This is a big load of DNA right here, but the cops won't do any DNA testing for something as relatively trivial as this. I mean, no violent crime has been committed," Rick said. "Yet," Kyle said, and that made my blood run cold. "Don't say that, Kyle," Kevin said. "Why not? Saying it won't make it happen, but I think it's definitely something to think about," Kyle said. "I agree with him, Babe, but I'm really more worried about the other boy than I am about Justin. There was a pretty thinly veiled suicide reference in the third letter. Did you pick that up?" Rick asked I hadn't because I hadn't even looked at the third one. "Yeah, I did," Kevin said. "He signed them 'D.' Anybody have any ideas who it could be?" "Somebody named David, probably," Brian said. "Do you know any Davids?" "Not that I can think of," I said. "Do y'all?" "I probably know six Davids, but none of them pop up as being the kind to do something like this. It could be Danny or Dan, too. Denny, even," Kyle said. We all looked at each other, kind of worried. "How would Denny even get it to the college?" Brian asked. "Naw. Forget our Denny. It could be another Denny, though. But that assumes the D is the initial of the guy's first name, and we don't know that." "If it really is his first initial, it could be a thousand guys," Tim said. "I know. What do I do? What do we do?" I asked. "Well, first of all we keep everything. Jus, you've already done that, and that's good. And we don't let Justin out of our sight. Kyle . . . ?" Rick said. "Don't you worry. I'm going to be on his ass like sticking plaster," Kyle said. "What is sticking plaster?" Tim asked. "I dunno, but that's what they say around here for somebody who's always with somebody else," Kyle said. "I guess it means I'm going to stick to him. I don't know how plaster fits in, but that's what they always say. And I'll get Skeeter and some of those other ones to watch his back, too. We're in the right place at the right time for me to get this thing organized." "Let's just see what, if anything, happens tomorrow," I said. "I don't know about y'all, but I've got some reading to do tonight. I need to get to it." They all said they had plenty, so we broke up for the night. * * * The next day I didn't get anything on my windshield, so I thought it was over. On Friday, though, I got another little bottle of cum, only it was two or three times as much as the first one. I also got a little bottle of shit, or what looked like shit through the bottle. This guy was getting grosser and grosser. We thought Jared from Virginia was supposed to come on Saturday. When he didn't, we called him. It turned out it was the next Saturday he was coming, and he was driving Sean's car to us. Nothing happened in my "case" over the weekend. On Monday and Tuesday there were more letters, but then they stopped. When we woke up Friday morning, the headlines at the bottom of the front page of the paper said, "Murder, Suicide in Lynn's Landing." A nineteen-year-old boy named Diesel Smith had killed his mother, and then himself. They had what Kyle said was his senior portrait in the paper, and he was fat and ugly. The article said he was a student at Emerald Coast Community College, and it said he left a note blaming it all on a "big, blond muscle-stud" who wouldn't give him the time of day. I knew that was me he was talking about. "Well, I guess that solves the mystery," Kyle said at breakfast. He was ready to get on with fun for the weekend. "Maybe so, Kyle, but how the fuck do you think that makes me feel? Huh?" I asked. "Justin, you didn't do a fucking thing in this fucking world wrong, man, and you know it. This guy was seriously mentally disturbed, and you happened to be his victim," Kyle shouted. "I will not let you blame yourself for this. I know you blame yourself for Sean, but this is no more your responsibility than Sean was. Snap out of it! You can't help the effect you had on this kid. On Diesel. Anymore than you could have done anything about Sean. It ain't your fault, Justin. Goddamn it. Listen to me," Kyle said. "As long as y'all don't think it's my fault, I guess I can live with it. Otherwise, I couldn't," I said. Brian poured me another cup of coffee and fixed it for me with cream and sugar. He took my hand and put it on the handle of the cup. "Babe, it's not your fault. Neither Sean nor Diesel. Justin, I love you with all my heart, and you know that. I couldn't, if I thought you were responsible in any way for either of them. Buddy, please trust me," Brian said. "I do trust you, Little Buddy. I trust all of you. Thank you," I said. |