"Oh, I just knew it...you couldn't be someone who would do those terrible things," his mother said, looking relieved.
"I said 'sort of', Ma."
Her concerned expression returned.
"Tell us what happened, son," his father said softly.
"Well," Alan said, feeling the need to come clean, to purge himself of the deception somehow. "I went to the park because...because I was looking for the guy I met a week ago Friday night." He looked up at his parents. They both stood, mute, waiting for him to go on.
"Uh...we had a little misunderstanding and I was hoping to meet him again to straighten things out."
"At the park?" his dad said skeptically.
"Yes," Alan said. "Actually that's where we met in the first place."
"But you told us you met at the A&W or was it at Casey's? I just don't understand," his mother said, shaking her head as if to clear it so the logic of what Alan was saying would come into focus.
"How did you meet him, exactly?" George asked with a hint of suspicion in his voice.
Alan took a deep breath. "I left a note on the wall of the bathroom, and he...uh.... he..."
"He met you there," his father finished the sentence. "But how did that lead to this?" he continued holding out the citation.
"Well, when he didn't show up I decided..." Alan took another deep breath, "to...um...to try to meet someone else and well...this guy invited me to walk with him and..."
"Alan, are you telling us you're homosexual?" his dad queried.
Bracing himself, Alan nodded.
His mother gasped and put her hand over her mouth. His dad straightened up, a perplexed look on his face.
"The mistake is that I didn't do anything. I went to the park looking for Tom. This guy invited me to follow him and I did. He just asked me a few questions. The next thing I knew is he turns out to be a cop and that he was arresting me."
"You went to Delph, even after I warned you?" his father asked.
Alan nodded again.
"How can you be a...one of those?" his mother went on, apparently not able to say the word. "You're so handsome. You've always had girlfriends, hasn't he, George?" she said, turning to her husband. Then turning back to Alan, "What about Millicent?" George glared at his wife with a 'shut up' expression on his face.
Alan looked at his mother. He felt sorry for her. He knew she had no frame of reference for this. Homosexuals were persons completely out of her realm of experience. He didn't know exactly how she thought of them but it was probably in some stereotypical way: a limp wristed, effeminate man with a lisp who giggled a lot.
"Homosexual men come in all shapes and sizes, Ma." "But Alan, why did you decide to be...one?" His mother persisted. "Don't you want to get married, have children?" Alan glanced at his dad. He couldn't read the man's expression. He wondered what he was thinking. Alan turned back to his mother, who was now sitting on his father's recliner, wringing her hands.
"It's not something you decide. It's something you are. I've known it a long time, ever since I was a kid. I just knew." He paused. "You remember when you decorated my room with cowboy stuff?"
"Oh, yes, dear. I remember how you loved Roy Rogers." She tried to smile.
Loved is right, Alan thought.
"Well, the bedspread and the curtains had a lot of silhouettes of cowboys on them," he continued. "There was one silhouette of two of them standing together leaning on a fence. I used to pretend that was me and a friend. I used to make up stories about us."
His dad walked over and sat next to him on the couch.
"It was that Tom person, wasn't it?" his mother asked as if searching for some more logical explanation, one other than two fabric cowboys on a bedspread. "He made you decide to do this, didn't he?"
"Martha!" George broke in. "Aren't you listening? He just told you it isn't something you decide to be, it's something you are. No one can make you be a fair..." He stopped and looked at Alan. "...a homosexual. Just like no one made Alan be a blonde or six feet tall. It's just something he is."
Alan looked at his dad, surprised at his apparent understanding and acceptance. From the way his father had always talked of homosexual men he would have expected the opposite.
Alan's mother, however, just kept wringing her hands. "Was it something I did?" she said beseechingly. "Was it because I made you do the dishes, or the laundry...or..." she almost sobbed, "...take music lessons? Oh, Alan, dear I'm so sorry. If I would have known that would lead to this..." She started to cry softly.
Both Alan and his father stared at her. Then George turned back to his son and asked, "Do you need me to come to court with you, son? Should we be getting you a lawyer?"
Now it was Alan's turn for tears. His eyes filled and he swallowed hard. His father seemed to be accepting this turn of events.
"No, Dad, thanks. I have to do this on my own."
George put his arm around Alan's shoulder. "It's gonna be all right."
Alan smiled at his dad, then got up and put his arm around his mother who was rocking back and forth, still quietly crying.
Chapter 9: Dilemma
Tom had built up a sweat working out after he had asked Alan to leave that Friday night. He went to the bathroom, but avoided the mirror. He didn't want to see the recriminating look he might be giving himself. Stripping, he jumped in the shower.
As the water cascaded over his body, he leaned against the wall. Why had he dismissed Alan so callously? Alan was a nice guy...a handsome guy...in every way a guy who deserved better than Tom had given him.
I'm a jerk, Tom told himself. But he couldn't, wouldn't let the feelings that had come when he had been with Alan surface.
They were from another time in his life, and he wasn't going to allow himself to go through that again.
He took a deep breath, got out of the shower, dried himself and went to bed.
* * * *
The weekend dragged by. Tom studied some, went to work and then went home to pick up his laundry.
While there, his mother asked, "What's wrong? You look like you just lost your best friend."
Tom just shrugged and pleaded fatigue. His father made some snide remark about his having no real friends. Tom ignored him.
Sunday afternoon Tom considered going to the park. But, strangely enough, he had no desire to hook up with anyone. So he went to the movies instead. He saw Planet of the Apes. But even the rugged, hairy-chested Charlton Heston didn't revive his libido. Tom returned to his apartment to study some more and ponder what was going on within him. He didn't want what Alan represented in his life. Yet he couldn't stop thinking about him.
Monday morning Tom woke late. He had class that afternoon. Getting up, he looked at the clock: 11:55. He hadn't worked out all weekend, hadn't felt like it. After his morning piss, he looked at himself in the mirror.
"Get a grip, Clarkson!" he told himself. "Alan didn't deserve what you did to him, that's true, but it's better this way. You're not gonna go down that road again. Remember what happened last time." Tom remembered all right. He remembered the pain of realizing the one you loved wasn't being honest with you. That he was fooling around behind your back, making you look like a fool for giving your heart away by bragging about his cheating to all your friends. No, Tom wouldn't make that mistake again even though Alan seemed so different from...no, he wouldn't go there.
He walked back into the all-purpose room that was his apartment and stood for a moment with his hands on his hips, looking at the weight bench and rack of dumbbells. He had to shake this mood. He had to forget about Alan, his momentary lapse of judgment, and move on. He resolutely sat down on the bench and, picked up a pair of weights and prepared to lean back and begin a workout.
There was a knock on the door. Tom froze. He put the weights down on the floor, quietly got up and went to the front window. The knock came again as Tom looked out and saw Alan's Mustang parked at the curb. Tom closed his eyes as his heart raced. He turned from the window and went to
the door. The knocking came once more. Tom put his hand on the doorknob, leaned his head against the mirror and held his breath. A fourth volley of thumps vibrated against his forehead.
I can't...I'm sorry...I can't...Please, just go away, he thought, biting his lower lip.
The knocking ceased. Then Tom heard the sound of retreating footsteps. Sighing, he turned away from the door and went back to the window. He looked out in time to see Alan getting into his car. Then he saw Alan look up at the window.
Tom pulled back, hoping he hadn't been seen. Then he watched, hating himself, as Alan drove away.
* * * *
"What are you doing here?" Tom asked, sitting up and looking at the handsome, sandy-haired, naked man standing at the foot of the bed smiling at him.
"Not happy to see me, lover boy?" the man asked in a mocking voice.
"No, Connor, I'm not," Tom said. "Go away."
"That's no way to greet your old boyfriend," Connor replied. "But don't worry...I'm not really here. You're dreaming." Connor walked around to the side of the bed and sat down.
Tom closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, Connor was still there, smiling.
"What do you want?" Tom asked. "Why am I dreaming about you?"
"I'd like to tell you it's because, despite the way I treated you, you're still in love with me...but we both know that isn't true."
"You got that right," Tom said. "So?" Connor sighed. "I came to warn you." "Warn me?"
"About Alan."
"What do you know about Alan? You're a dream."
"Ah, but I'm your dream, and you know Alan...so therefore I know him," Connor said smugly. Tom had always hated the snide way Connor had of putting him down.
"Okay. So, what do you know about Alan that you need to fuckin' warn me about?" Tom asked, sitting up taller and crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.
Connor's smile deepened. "I know you're in love with him." "I am not!"
"Oh, yes you are, Tommykins."
Tom winced at Connor's using his old nickname. He'd always hated it. It sounded so queer.
Connor laughed as if he knew he had hit a nerve. "In fact," he continued, "You love him more than you ever loved me." Tom didn't argue the point. Deep down he knew it was true. "So what's the warning?"
"He'll hurt you...just like I did."
"No he won't. He's a kind, gentle, innocent guy. Besides, he's new to all this...He just discovered he's a queer."
"That's the point, isn't it?" Connor asked, sounding triumphant.
Tom wrinkled his brow. He didn't understand.
"He won't be satisfied with you after awhile. He'll want a taste for more, for variety, to explore and find out what queer sex is all about. He'll start sneaking around behind your back just like I did. And when you find out, he'll deny it, and all your friends will think Tommykins has done it again, given his heart away, only to be made a fool of."
"Shut up!" Tom yelled. "Shut your fuckin' face or I'll---" "Or you'll what? Wake up?" Connor laughed. "Yes, you'll wake up and you'll know it's true...know it's true...know it's true..."
Tom woke with a start. He sat up and looked around wildly. A gentle breeze ruffled the curtains on the window next to the bed. Sweating, Tom lay down again and turned on his back. He stared at the ceiling.
Connor's right. Can't take a chance.
He closed his eyes and, after a while, drifted back off to sleep.
* * * *
Throughout the next few days Tom thought of his dream often. He knew what Connor had said was true. Well, as Connor had admitted it wasn't really Connor, it was Tom himself speaking through Connor in the dream, saying the things that Tom wouldn't say. It was Tom's subconscious which knew the score and spoke the truth to him. Every time Tom would think of Alan, wishing he hadn't thrown him out, he would remind himself of the dream and the debate would be ended...for awhile.
In order to take his mind off his ongoing dilemma, Tom applied himself to his studies. This surprised him as well as Dr. Barry, who expressed his pleasure at Tom's new-found enthusiasm and focus in class.
"Mr. Clarkson," the professor said when Tom expounded on the political motivations behind the civil rights movement and legislation in Congress to end the discrimination against colored people, "With this keen grasp of political maneuvering I would think you should consider a political career for yourself. What, may I ask, has lit this fire in you?"
Tom, while pleased with the praise from the handsome professor, whose sexy persona had been the main motivation for taking this class, was nonetheless perplexed. The truth was he was trying to douse a fire. For despite his determination to forget Alan and what had transpired between them, he couldn't get the man out of his mind.
Tom smiled at Dr. Barry and said, "Well, doc, I'll give it some thought, but as for what lit my fire...let's just say when one fire goes out...another begins."
The professor smiled. "I for one am glad. May you keep these fires burning."
Tom smiled back. But he knew this academic flame was just a flash in the pan. It would only keep burning until the possibility of the fire he really wanted to keep under control was extinguished completely.
Tom's work at the bakery also benefited from his need to try to put Alan out of his mind. He volunteered for extra hours and shifts. He'd do anything to keep his mind from contemplating any course of action aimed at seeking out this man who seemed to be trying, without actually being there, to turn Tom's life upside down. Tom's industry was not lost on his boss. The old man was so impressed with this new work ethic, he offered Tom a promotion to shift supervisor along with a raise in pay. Tom was tempted to accept but, as with his burst of energy and dedication to his studies, he knew once he had his emotions under control he would revert to the less responsible, do only enough to get by, person he had always been. So he declined the boss's offer.
* * * *
Sunday, a week after his date with Alan, seemed to be a turning point. Tom was horny. He woke up that way, the first time since he'd sent Alan away. He hadn't had relief in a week now and his nuts felt it---blue balls for sure. Tom was glad. Things were getting back to normal. Now how could he take care of this problem? He didn't want to just jerk off, he wanted man-to-man contact. This pleased him, too. The park? At first he thought, No, I might run into Alan. But then he decided that was too remote a possibility. Alan wouldn't go back there; too much a neophyte. Besides he probably had moved on, wasn't interested anymore. That thought caused a momentary sense of loss which he shook off with the resolution, Yeah, I'll go back to Delph and get me some ass.
* * * *
"Crap!" Tom exclaimed out loud. He stood in the john by the sink reading the writing on the wall...Alan's writing.
Like to try it again? Say when? Really like to see you.
The note was dated Wednesday of the previous week. Alan had been here. As of Wednesday he was still interested.
Tom's mind swirled. He tried to put the lid back on the feelings he had so recently declared were under control. He wanted to turn away from the message but didn't seem to have the strength or the will to do so. Then a voice from behind him said, "Catching up on the latest reading material, are ya?"
Tom whirled around. Standing with his hands on his hips was a handsome, older man of about thirty-five. He smiled at Tom, who shook his head and said, "Matt Wilson, you old son of a bitch. How the hell are you? You still in the business of trying to save the world from us fuckin' perverts? How many did you round up this week?"
Officer Matt Wilson laughed and said, "A bunch. Their trials are tomorrow."
"So, you on duty now?" Tom asked.
"Naw, I just came around to see if there was any action I could get in on."
Tom laughed, "One of these days you're gonna get caught by one of your own collars and then it'll be you whose goin' to trial."
"That'll be the day." The cop laughed. "The guys I usually decide to pick up are so scared of arrest they'll do anything I ask and sw
ear their lips are sealed. That is everyone but you, you little cocksucker. You never were scared a me. How about it? Wanna give this big bad cop a piece of your ass?"
Tom hesitated. His mind was still on the note and the implication it carried: Alan was still interested. But was Tom? If he was, he didn't want to be.
"Well...make up your mind. You got another hot date or something?" Matt asked a little impatiently.
Making a decision, Tom said, "Fuck no!" a little louder than he intended. Maybe this was the way to drive these thoughts about what might be with Alan out altogether.
"Same routine, Officer?"
"Yep," the cop replied. "I pretend to arrest you so my cover is in tact, and we go to your place and I fuck your ass raw." He laughed. "Come on."
The two men walked out of the brick restroom, Officer Matt Wilson roughly holding Tom by the arm. They got in his unmarked car and headed out of the park.
* * * *
When they arrived at Tom's apartment, Officer Wilson slammed the door shut behind them, walked Tom backward and pushed him down on the bed. Officer Wilson stood in front of Tom and unzipped his fly then pulled out his fat cock. It was already hard and dripping.
"Get to work, cocksucker," he commanded.
Tom obeyed. He pushed the foreskin back with his lips as he pulled the man's hard prick into his mouth. Closing his eyes, Tom let feelings of arousal wash away the turmoil and confusion that had been with him since the previous week. This was where it was at---sex for the sake of sex---no emotional attachment, no commitments, no expectations that led to hurt and disappointment. It was just the physical arousal and intense responses to animalistic sex.
"That's right, boy. Suck this cop's big boner. Yeah, take it all the way down," Officer Wilson chuckled. "That' big tool makes ya gag, huh? Well, sonny boy, it's gonna do more than that when I stick it up that man-cunt a yours."
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