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    Talo Segura
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Camp Echo - 16. Chapter Sixteen - Entanglements

“It’s amazing these old trains still run,” Nate observed.

Max looked around the compartment. They filled it, Aeriol, Alex, Nads, May and themselves.

“Yeah, it’s like from another era,” Alex smiled.

The train made that very familiar clickety-clack sound as the wheels rolled along the tracks. They were still in London, as far as Max knew, but only on the assumption that they hadn’t seen any countryside.

“I think it’s rather nice having your own compartment,” May turned to Nads, who was sitting next to her.

“How far is it?” Nads was not in the best of moods. She’d been dragged along, outnumbered by May, Alex, and Aeriol.

Max had a certain sympathy for her. He didn’t expect it to be a great party and although Jules said they can all stay over, he didn’t imagine he lived in a hotel. Staying over meant sleeping, or not, on the floor.

It wasn’t long before they pulled into Surbiton station. “I’ve been here,” Aeriol observed, looking out of the window.

Doors swung open and clacked shut. A lot of city types in smart grey suits, carrying attaché cases, alighted, and headed like sheep being herded towards the exit. Aeriol had the window on the door down and his head sticking out, watching. It was a strange sight, the nine to fivers going home from the office. Maybe they’d stop off in the local for a pint before heading home to the wife and two point four kids. He smiled and pulled his head in as a whistle blew.

“You better sit down.” Alex grinned at Aeriol. “You see that sign,” he pointed at the door, where the window was still half down. “Do not lean out of window when train is moving,” he read.

“Yeah, people have been killed doing that,” Nate added.

“Guess they were looking the wrong way.” Aeriol laughed and sat back down.

“When were you ever in Surbiton?” May asked.

“We went to visit Hampton Court. I remember it well. The station looks like Art Nouveau.”

“Art Deco,” Nate interrupted.

Max looked at him a little surprised.

“It’s a masterpiece of Art Deco architecture from the nineteen-twenties. Art Nouveau was a bit earlier.”

Max smiled, impressed with his boyfriend's knowledge.

“We walked along the River Thames,” Aeriol continued. “It’s not far.”

“And when was this?” May did that thing where she sort of poses and pouts at the same time. Like a cross between your mother and a school teacher.

“Primary school. A class trip to Hampton Court Palace.”

The train slowed, causing the carriage to jerk and bump. Then they picked up speed again, without actually having stopped.

“It’s the next station I think,” Max stood up.

He stuck his head out the window as the train slowed.

“Mind your fucking head!” Aeriol joked.

Max ignored him and reached down to the door handle on the outside. He opened the door before the train had stopped, causing it to swing back violently. Everyone was crowding behind him as the train finally halted.

“This is in the middle of nowhere.” Alex looked around.

The car park was full of very nice cars, there was a little taxi office in front, but nothing else. If Surbiton station was a gem of Art Deco architecture, Esher was the exact opposite, not much more than two platforms, bricks and concrete.

“Let’s get a taxi.” May started towards the little office down the slope from the station.

“Hold up,” Aeriol said. “Jules said there’s a bus. Besides we’d need two cars for six.”

They followed Aeriol out to the main road. A few cars pulled out of the station car park.

“We could hitch,” Alex suggested.

Aeriol looked at him. “Really!” was all he said.

“Yeah, maybe not.”

Aeriol scrutinised the timetable on the bus stop. “Eighteen-thirty.” He had his finger on the glass. “It’s twenty minutes.”

Nads looked at her delicate gold watch, a gift from May. It brightened her mood.

“It’s five-thirty. Twenty-six, to be exact. That’s an hour!”

“No, I meant it’s twenty minutes on the bus. Anyhow that’s the last and only bus.”

Aeriol stood back up and looked around. It was like he was seeking inspiration.

“We could walk?” Max proposed.

“It’s too far,” Aeriol countered. “Besides, there’s a walk after we get off the bus. Nah, we’ve got an hour to kill.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Alex said. “There’s a little path going into the countryside. Just there,” he pointed and pulled a tobacco pouch from his jacket pocket. “Lets go smoke a spliff.”

Nobody disagreed.

*****

The bus dropped them in the middle of the countryside, apart from the few detached houses spread out, set back from the main road, there was nothing.

Aeriol looked at the folded paper Jules had given him, then looked around. He started walking in the direction the bus had gone, he needed to read the road name.

“Turners Lane!” He felt almost relieved to have found it. “Let’s go.”

“How far is it?” Nads wanted to know.

“About twenty minutes.”

“Aeriol, my man. Everything's twenty minutes for you,” she replied.

That made everyone crack up. They moved off down the lane, laughing and stumbling, pushing each other. Max was behind Nate, both hands on his back pushing him along. May was walking ahead like she was on a catwalk. They were quite stoned.

“We better get there before it’s dark,” Nads told them, which only served to invite more laughter.

*****

“You can take your hand off the bell now,” Jules smiled at them.

Aeriol stood up, removing his hand from the bell.

“It was a fucking expedition to get here, man!”

“You better come in then,” Jules stepped back, inviting the ragged group into the polished wooden hall.

“Nice place,” Max said, looking around.

“Leave your coats and stuff here,” Jules opened the door of a large cupboard under the staircase.

It was then that Sajani appeared, much to Max’s surprise and Aeriol’s. Nobody expected his girlfriend from the ashram would be here. Max never knew if Jules was gay or not, he’d never said, but he didn’t imagine the quasi religious lifestyle of ashrams and gurus mixing with weekend parties of drugs and booze.

“You’re the first here. Come into the lounge.”

Jules and Sajani lead them into the rather huge lounge with its grand fireplace, nice furniture, and large windows overlooking the gardens, which were not very visible as it was dark outside now.

*****

Max heard the cars before the doorbell, he couldn’t help wondering how this would go. The crowd walked in and took over the place, it was almost as if they, Max, Nate, Aeriol, Alex, and the girls didn’t exist. There was a nod from Thomas, Jules’ best friend from school, but he more or less ignored them. They poured themselves drinks, put on the music they wanted, danced and lounged about together. There was zero interaction between the two groups. Although Max noticed the look Thomas gave May, like he could use her just as easily as he snorted his lines of coke.

As the night wore on and people began crashing exhausted on the floor, some conversation did take place between the two groups. Max found Simon to be a nice guy, not at all like Thomas, who he hung out with. Thomas, he couldn’t stand. His attitude, his whole manner. Suzy, his girlfriend hung off his shoulder and every word he uttered. She had allowed herself to belong to him just like the expensive designer clothes and the car daddy had given him. Max wasn’t jealous of their wealth, but contemptuous of the way they acted, like they owned everything. Thomas was also distinctly homophobic. That much was evident by the way he treated Max after seeing him kiss Nate.

“You guys are GAY!” he exclaimed loudly, like it was a disease.

“You got a problem with that?” Max stared him down, feeling increasingly angry.

“If you wanna screw each other, just don’t do it here, around me.” Thomas scrunched his face up.

Suzy batted her eyelids and wound herself around him like a snake, her arm creeping over his shoulder.

“Deal,” Max said. “So long as you don’t fuck your girlfriend there.” He nodded at Suzy with an expression that left no doubt about what he thought of the two of them.

“You’ve probably never had normal sex,” Thomas sneered.

Max wanted to get up, walk over, and punch the guy, but he took a deep breath and turned away without replying.

“Everything okay guys?” Jules seemed a little embarrassed.

Obviously he’d heard the interchange and was in the unenvious position of trying to reconcile his two groups of friends, old and new.

“You didn’t tell me you were inviting a bunch of gays and lesbians,” Thomas looked up at Jules. “Suzy and me are taking a bedroom anyway.”

Max listened, but kept silent. Jules didn’t reply, he just gave a weird half smile. Thomas stood up, dragging Suzy with him. Everyone else who was still semi-conscious had watched the confrontation. When Thomas and Suzy left to go upstairs, Jules looked apologetically at Max and Nate.

“Sorry about him, guys. I guess he’s pretty out of it.”

As excuses go, that was a lame one, but Max wasn’t going to spoil the party, if that’s what it was. It seemed to him more like an old boys reunion which they had gate crashed.

Simon come over and sat on the floor next to Max and Nate. “Don’t pay any attention to Thomas. He’s an arsehole. Always has been, probably always will be. His family are very well off, very well connected, and have never spent five minutes with him. I’m not excusing his behaviour, just giving the background. Rich doesn’t mean happy.”

Max smiled at Simon. “Shame,” he replied. “But thanks, it’s not anybody's fault except his. That attitude is his alone.”

Simon returned the smile and moved away.

“He’s a rich prick,” Nate turned to Max, now they were alone.

“I don’t know how Jules ended up best friends with someone like that.”

“I guess we gotta stay the night on the floor?”

“Unless you want everything to blow up. And I don’t think we should do that to Jules.”

Nate wrapped an arm around Max and pulled him tight.

“I way too tired for fighting,” he smiled and planted a little kiss on Max’s lips.

“Me too. Reckon we’ll try to sleep a bit and leave in the morning.”

“By the way,” Nate was playing with Max's hair, winding it through his fingers. “My dad liked you.”

Max smiled and twisted to better face Nate.

“Yeah, the dinner with the parents went well.”

“And your mum?” Max asked.

“What?”

“I couldn’t quite work her out. I mean she was nice.”

Nate frowned.

“I know. Me too. When I told them. You know, that I’m probably gay.”

Max’s smile grew even bigger.

“Probably?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not easy. Or maybe it was for you, I don’t know. Anyway, my dad took it well. Much better than my mum. Maybe she blamed herself, or something. She was always trying to be the perfect parent. So perhaps she thought she did something wrong. So... if you wonder what she thought of you, well I wonder what she thinks of me. All the time. I’ve just got used to it and sort of accept her as she is. You know, hope with time.”

“I chickened out completely.”

“What do mean?” Nate asked.

“I never told my parents. At least not like you. Not face to face.”

“So they know or...”

“Yeah, they know. I wrote a fucking letter.”

Nate’s hand went to his mouth as he stifled some giggles.

“You didn't?”

“Well, first I moved out of home. I started sharing the flat with Aeriol. They knew all about that of course. My mum actually said, ‘You’ll be back in three months.’ But, I knew I wouldn't and why I wouldn’t. Then, after a while I decided I had to tell them. I guess I’d read all this stuff about coming out. I thought it was some sort of rite of passage. Like losing your virginity. But I couldn’t face it, not in person. So, I wrote a letter and even in the letter I never said, mum, dad, I’m gay.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that Aeriol and me were more than just friends.” Max looked at Nate. “Yeah, I know, I’m chicken, what can I say.”

Nate climbed across and kissed him full on the lips.

“But I love my chicken. Cluck, cluck, cluck.” Nate was laughing, flapping his arms.

Max grabbed him. “Well now you know.”

“My dad said we should go to Turkey.” Nate looked up at Max.

“Turkey? Why Turkey?”

“He has a business colleague. Someone who lives there.”

“Ah, someone to keep an eye on us.”

Nate smiled. “I suppose. But he offered to pay the fare and we’d have accommodation.”

“Let’s sleep on it.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

You can read some other parts of this story in Camp Echo the missing chapters

These are the events that I didn't include, for one reason or another in the main story.

Copyright © 2018 Talo Segura; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Did Jules really think that his old and his new friends would get along like a house on fire? And there may be reasons why Thomas behaves the way he does, but that doesn't totally excuse the fact that he basically behaved like nothing more than a total prick. At least Simon seems a bit more like a decent human being. And fair play to Max for not rising to Thomas' jibes (although that may have at least been partly due to the effects of the spliff).

Good to see that Nate's dad approves of Max. Odd in a way that he is the more accepting of Nate's parents. Very often it's the father who thinks he was the one who failed his gay son in some way. And while Turkey may not exactly be Morocco, who knows, hopefully Max and Nate will have some fun if they go there? And at least Max won't have to worry about how he'd be able to afford to "explore another culture" as he said he wanted to in the last chapter. 

Amusing interaction between the gang on the journey to Esher. Nads' "Aeriol, my man. Everything's twenty minutes for you" comment certainly had me chuckling. It seemed just the sort of comment for someone to make when totally stoned.

Maybe I'm just a sad bastard, but I actually googled Esher (as I'd never heard of it before) and Turners Lane. Turns out there actually is a Turners lane in Esher. And a very leafy suburb it appears to be, as well. I'm beginning to think our author may be drawing on memories of his own whilst writing this story. No harm in that, though. I'm basically doing the same for one of the stories I am writing here on GA...

:thankyou: for this latest update to Camp Echo, @Talo Segura! A very enjoyable read, and it sure helped me kill some time as I was waiting for the rain to clear when I got up this morning. :) 

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@Marty I always enjoy reading your comments and getting your take on things. Remember this is a fictionalised biography, the weekend party did actually happen. As for the location, that was not in any notes I had, except that it was south of London in the countryside. Seeing as Jules comes from a fairly well off family, "the leafy suburb" of Esher seemed like a good choice. As for Turners Lane, I like touches of reality, a bus ride away on the 515, about 10 minutes from the station to Hersham and then a 25-30 minute walk to Jules' house. That's not because I've been there, but I'm maybe as sad as you are, and I looked it all up, right down to the last bus at 18:30 from the station!

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For the record, boys, there’s nothing sad about getting the details right. Context is everything in making the story and the characters believable. It’s not about worrying about some arsehole weighing in about the details being wrong. It’s about a whole that holds together as the story unfolds. So, here’s to all the details that do, in fact, make it hold together. Bravo!

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On 8/6/2019 at 2:34 AM, Bensiamin said:

For the record, boys, there’s nothing sad about getting the details right. Context is everything in making the story and the characters believable. It’s not about worrying about some arsehole weighing in about the details being wrong. It’s about a whole that holds together as the story unfolds. So, here’s to all the details that do, in fact, make it hold together. Bravo!

I agree, @Bensiamin! :thumbup:

I actually had my tongue firmly planted in my cheek when I suggested I may be a sad bastard in my earlier comment. ;) 

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Another nice chapter, Talo. I liked the group’s camaraderie on the way to Jule’s house.

“You better sit down.” Alex grinned at Aeriol. “You see that sign,” he pointed at the door, where the window was still half down. “Do not lean out of window when train is moving,” he read. 

“Yeah, people have been killed doing that,” Nate added. 

“Guess they were looking the wrong way.” Aeriol laughed and sat back down.

And then there was the example that Marty pointed out. You have a good sense of humor, Talo. It adds to the story.

When I visited Hampton Court in the late 1960s when I visited my uncle in London, we went to the Hampton Court Station, not Surbiton.

Edited by Arran
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1 hour ago, Arran said:

When I visited Hampton Court in the late 1960s when I visited my uncle in London, we went to the Hampton Court Station, not Surbiton.

A walk along the river from Surbiton would take an hour and the path is on the Hampton Court park side, opposite bank. So either they stopped off to visit something nearby, then went on to the Hampton Court Palace or he remembered the station for some other reason. Certainly, Hampton Court Station at the end of the branch line is the closest or Kingston on the main line.

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I chuckle as I say this, but I got lost in the maze. I remember saying to a family behind me when I reached a dead end, “Wrong way',” and the little boy saying, “Daddy, he’s from America.”

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Jules is a nice guy but lacks maturity in many respects. He relies on his parents allowance and does feel the need to work or study. 

In his naivete, he never considers that two very distinct social groups of his acquaintances, past and present, many not  synergise at his house party. Not surprisingly, the party is not great but its mainly about the party, at that age.

I think they should all go and pants Thomas for his pompous attitude and teach him one of life's salutary lessons. That's way better than ignoring his bad behaviour and suffering in silence behind his back. How else is he going to learn that he is a prick of the highest magnitude?

Edited by Bard Simpson
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