Nemesis - 3. Chapter 3: Bobby's Story

Bobby’s Story

Bobby

When I woke up, I was lying on … a kitchen table? I really felt weird. I didn’t know where I was. Why was I in somebody’s kitchen? There was a guy and a kid standing at the sink. I think I recognized the kid. The guy was washing the kid’s hands and arms, and saying stuff like, “What made you think you could put your hands through safety glass without getting cut?” and “Stop whining. If I don’t get the glass out of the cuts, you’ll be scarred for life.”

Nemesis

It was hard to argue with that. The kid whose place I had taken said I would be immortal. I wasn’t sure I wanted to have scars for that long. It hurt, but the guy was gentle. I watched him clean the cuts. I also stared at him. The muscles of his arms were ripped; he probably spent a lot of time in the gym. I wondered … what it would be like to be a 12-year-old getting fucked by a man like him? It was something I’d dreamed about when I was 12, and the exact opposite of what I’d dreamed about as I got older. When did that change? Why did it change? I’d never wondered about that, before.

We both heard the gasp from the kid on the kitchen island when he woke up.

The man turned. “Well, welcome to the world. As soon as I finish here, we’ll take care of you, okay? Your nosebleed has stopped, but you really need to be cleaned up.” He smiled.

“Yes, please. Who are you?” the kid asked. He was looking at me.

“Um, I’m the guy who just pulled you out of the car … ”

“I saw you … you broke the window … did you kill him?”

“Yeah.”

“Who are you, and why is your T-shirt all torn? Did he do that?”

“Uh, my name is Nemesis,” I said. I was still a little shaky about saying that.

“And it’s not a T-shirt, it’s a chiton, and it’s not torn … that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” The chiton covered only my right shoulder, leaving my left shoulder, both arms, and most of my chest bare. Not that there was much to see. Despite my apparent strength, I was pretty skinny and had almost no obvious muscles. I was just the kind of little boy I used to dream about.

Gary

Nemesis, he said. Like the planet or dark star that people once thought visited Earth periodically to create havoc and destruction. I saw him put his hands through the car window and then pull the man halfway out; I saw him spring the hinges on the passenger door when he opened it. I saw the way the guy in the Mustang treated him. I’m watching his cuts heal as fast as I clean them. He’s more than human, but … what is he?

“Nemesis,” I said. “Means destroyer or dark destroyer, doesn’t it?”

The boy in the chiton looked at me. His eyes … his eyes were older than the rest of him. I wondered how he would answer.

Nemesis

“I don’t know about destroying; I was told that I was justice and retribution.”

The man nodded. “I’m Gary, by the way. And justice and retribution are a lot easier to understand than destroyer. Uh, but who was the guy in the Mustang?”

“Death,” I said.

The man nodded again. “Figured he was something more than ordinary, just like you.”

“Why were you there? Why did you help us?” I asked.

“The shopping center was for rent; I thought I’d take a look,” Gary said.

“That’s why you were there,” I said. I was amazed at my perspicacity—and courage. I wasn’t accustomed to being courageous. “Why did you help us?”

“I wish I could tell you in a way that you would understand,” the man said. Gary looked at me, and then he looked way past me. His eyes sort of unfocused, as if he were thinking. Finally, he said, “I saw two boys, hurt. I believed that I could help them. I wanted to help them.”

He has the same desire I once had: to help a helpless boy. But he has the courage to do it … courage that I always lacked. I am such a loser!

“I understand,” I said. “I really do.” I put my arms around the man and hugged him. “I really do. Thank you.”

I realized then that the cuts, the long gashes on my arms that he’d cleaned, were healed. There were no marks to show where they had been.

Gary

I was startled when the boy who called himself Nemesis hugged me, but not too startled to hug back. We stood like that for a moment: his head pressed against my chest, my nose buried in a mop of honey-colored hair. The moment was interrupted by the boy on the kitchen island.

“Are you guys gay or something?”

My first reaction was to push Nemesis away, and I almost did before he hugged me tighter … a lot tighter … so tight, I couldn’t push him away. The kid was strong, but I had seen that. It didn’t seem like he was going to say anything, so I answered.

“I am,” I said. “But that’s not why we’re hugging. Sometimes, hugs are just for comfort, for feeling good, without sex.” Then, I froze. Why did I say that! I’ve spent the past 12 years hiding that I was gay … why now, and why to a couple of kids I don’t even know!

Nemesis looked up at me. I was shaking. I opened my arms. “We need to take care of … ”

I looked at the boy, and asked, “What’s your name, anyway?”

Bobby

“I’m Bobby,” I said. “Are you two boyfriends?”

The boy in the torn T-shirt stopped hugging the man, and turned away so that I couldn’t see his face.

The man answered my question but he said it to the boy. “No. Not now, and maybe never. We just met, and you don’t get to be friends right away. It’s something you have to explore.”

Nemesis

What a fucking coward I still am! I should have just said ‘yes, I’m gay,’ and ‘yes, we’re boyfriends,’ even if we weren’t and probably never can be. I should have had the courage to say something! I started crying. Fucking immortal god of retribution, and I’m still a coward.

Gary

I was careful to say ‘friends’ and not ‘boyfriends’ when Bobby asked. There was no way I could be ‘boyfriends’ with a 12-year old … no matter how much I wanted to. Plus, there was something …no, a lot of things … funny about this kid who calls himself Nemesis. He may not be an avatar of justice and retribution, and the guy in the Mustang might not be Death, but they are something different. That was a genuine hug, but he’s afraid. And, he’s crying.

I put my hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Let’s talk later, okay?” In a normal voice, I added, “Will you get Bobby cleaned up?”

We took Bobby down the hall, got his clothes off, and got him into the tub. Nemesis knelt on the floor, handing Bobby body wash and loofa and brush. I ran cold water in the sink and put Bobby’s clothes in to soak. I added my shirt. There was blood on my khakis, too. I didn’t think before taking them off and adding them to the sink. Nemesis noticed, and stared. He may not be gay, and he may not want to be boyfriends, but he sure is interested.

Nemesis

Whoa! What a bod! The guy must be a gym rat! And if that bulge in his y-fronts is any indication, I’m not sure I would want to be fucked by him. On the other hand … I felt something deep inside me, and shivered. Then, Bobby demanded my attention. He wanted me to wash his back. A dilemma: stare at a nearly naked man or wash a little boy’s back. I turned to Bobby while my own erection hardened under the chiton. I’ve got to get some underwear, I thought. I can’t be poking out the front of this thing. Then I realized I was 12 years old, and my dick wasn’t but three inches, hard. (Yeah, I’d checked while I was cleaning up the motel room and admiring my butt.) Still, I didn’t like the notion of walking around with a stiffie under my chiton. Hmm. Maybe I did. I’d have to think about it.

Gary

I watched Nemesis’s eyes widen when he saw me. He was as attracted to me as I was to him. Yeah, I was attracted to him physically. But, there was also the emotional attraction, the desire to help him that I used to sublimate the physical attraction I had to young boys. Still, my erection was becoming right obvious—and painful in my briefs.

“Guys, I’m going to go to the other bathroom and shower. When you two get cleaned up, go into the bedroom. I’ll put some gym shorts and T-shirts on the bed for you. We’ll get some other clothes for you, soon, okay?

The boys nodded.

Nemesis

I rinsed Bobby with the spray nozzle on a hose. I thought we were through, until Bobby spoke.

“He said for you to get clean, too,” Bobby said. “Do you want to get in the tub with me? There’s lots of room.”

It was tempting, and I yielded to temptation. The tub was just big enough for two 12-year-olds to be comfortably close. Bobby scrubbed my back; we got erections. Even though Bobby was clean, I rubbed body wash on him. He rubbed body wash on me. But, neither of us was bold enough to touch the thing we wanted to touch, the thing we wanted the other to touch. Like I said, I’m a coward.

Bobby

He didn’t say he was gay, like the man did. But I think he wanted to touch my stiffie. I wanted him to touch it, but he wouldn’t. I kind of pushed it toward him, but he kept backing away. I didn’t want to be first. I was afraid.

When we were dry, we found the clothes like the man said. They were huge, but the shorts had drawstrings, so at least they wouldn’t fall down. The other boy put on his funny skirt thing.

The man came into the room about the time we were dressed and asked how we were. I said, “Hungry.” Nemesis didn’t say anything, but nodded.

“I’ve called someone to get you both some new clothes,” he said. “They’ll be delivered in an hour or so. Let’s see what we can find in the kitchen.”

Gary

My iPhone had a huge contacts list … partly because of my businesses and partly because, well, I like people and found it easy to get along with a lot of different folks. I punched the number of Isaac, who worked at the department store. He didn’t ask why I needed clothes in kid sizes, but promised to have them delivered quickly.

Bobby was happy to get into cargo shorts, a pullover shirt, white sox and trainers. Nemesis, however, thanked me for the clothes, and then said he was supposed to wear the chiton and sandals. I nodded, and put the clothes in a bag, in case he changed his mind.

“Now, guys,” I said. “I think we need to talk. If you don’t want to talk in front of one another, one of you can watch television while the other talks, but I do want to hear from both of you. I need to know why you were there, and what you want to happen, now. Who’s first?”

Bobby looked at Nemesis. His lips were set in a hard, thin line.

“I’ll go first,” Bobby said. “And it’s okay if he hears.”

Bobby

“My mother died when I was eight. My father got married again. My stepmother never liked me. When my father died, she kept me around because I got his social security survivor check. Then, she got married. She and her new husband figured out that I wasn’t related to either of them. They told me that … they told that I was more trouble than a $400-a-month government check! And then they kicked me out of the house.

“I lived with a friend for a while, but his family couldn’t afford to feed themselves, much less me, too, so I tried to get some money. I was … begging, I guess you’d say … near the Mercantile when this guy came up. He said he’d buy me lunch, so I went with him. His car was in a parking garage … it was dark. He played with himself … and …put his hand inside my shorts … and then pushed me onto the floor of the front seat. He hit me, a couple of times. He drove off. The guy hit me a couple of more times. Then, the car stopped and Nemesis stuck his hands through the window and killed the guy.

“You’re like a super-hero or an X-person, aren’t you?”

Nemesis

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t tell this kid and the man I was a god. They’d never believe it … I wasn’t sure I believed it.

“Nemesis?” Gary looked at me. “He’s thinking in the right direction, but hasn’t quite gotten it, has he? You’re more like one of the kids in the Riordan stories, children of the gods?”

I had no idea what Riordan stories meant, but I did understand children of the gods. Perhaps that would be the way to answer.

“Yeah, sort of. I’m the son of Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance, and a mortal father. I can do some things … I’m not sure what all, because I just found out, today. I heard Bobby … I saw the man hit him … I … I had to stop him.”

Gary and Bobby bought the story.

“Is that why you have to wear the chiton?” Bobby asked. Clever kid, I thought.

“Yeah, I think so. Actually, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do and what I’m supposed to not do. Like when I killed that guy … and … ” I didn’t want to talk about Death in front of Bobby.

“I don’t know what the rules are,” I said. “I’m afraid to do anything.”

Gary

Nemesis’s answer was too pat. He was too quick to latch on to the idea of a child of the gods. I wish I hadn’t given Nemesis that idea. He was still troubled. Apparently he’d just found out who or what he was, and wasn’t sure even of that.

I had learned why the boys were at the shopping center … if I can believe Nemesis’s story. Now, I have to learn what they want to happen, next.

Disclaimers

Land Cruiser, Jeep, Mustang, Chef Boyardee, Florist Telegraph Delivery, and Google, as well as any other trademarks herein are the property of their owners. (Can you say, “tautology”?)

The book, “On a Pale Horse,” and others in that series, by Piers Anthony, while not the initial inspiration for this story, quickly contributed to its direction. They are most excellent, and still available from many sources. The briefly mentioned “Heroes of Olympus” books by Rick Riordan are also most excellent. If you have an iPad, check iBooks for them. If not, check your local public library.

“Erewhon” is, of course, the title of Samuel Butler’s classic. Erewhon is traditionally thought to be “nowhere” spelled backwards with one set of letters transposed. Naming the refuge for abandoned, abused, and discarded boys, “Nowhere” was deliberate. There should be many such places; there aren’t. Given the sickness of our society, it’s likely that there never will be.

Again, I must acknowledge the inspiration of the “Clan Short Universe” stories. Link to them from the Gay Authors site to “acannex.us.”

Nephylim, a beautiful and complex person whose stories are on the Gay Authors web site, has been for a long time an inspiration and a friend. In her honor, I’ve chosen Welsh names for some of the people in this story. Gary (full name, Garreth) means “modest and brave.” Like Nemesis, that’s how I’d like to be. Like Nemesis, I lack the bravery part. Oh, well, what’s the use of being an author if you can’t fulfill a few wishes? “Walters” means “ruling warrior,” a fitting goal for someone who is both modest and brave.