Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 24. Chapter 24

 

November 20, 1962

 

Chaos was the only way to describe today. Total and complete chaos. It was the last day before Thanksgiving break and everyone was scrambling to finish up and get out of town. Jason was fielding requests for deadline extensions, all kinds of whiny excuses for late work, and last minute requests for help. He was buried. But because he was so efficient, I didn't have to deal with those trifles. In fact, there was chaos everywhere, but not in my world. I was able to remain serenely aloof from all of the little crises that were plaguing him. Jason had proven his worth over and over again. When he got home tonight he'd find a Thanksgiving card with $100 inside. Enough to buy a ticket home if he wanted to.

 

I was walking through the departmental offices with a purpose, that purpose being to get in and out of my office without being tackled by someone and asked to handle the minutiae that Jason was so good at. I was not successful. Annie, one of the secretaries, jumped in front of me to get my attention.

 

“Dr. Crampton, you have someone waiting to see you,” she said.

 

“Can't they wait until after Thanksgiving?” I asked, frustrated. I immediately felt guilty. Whatever their problem was, it wasn't hers.

 

“It's a he, and I don't think so. He's in uniform.” I could barely contain myself, and only at the last minute did I remember to stay calm. I strode quickly back to my office, maintaining my cool. Could it be Andre? It wasn't.

 

Sitting outside my office was a young man with a crisp military air about him, looking at the confusion around him with a combination of surprise and disdain.

 

“I'm Professor Crampton,” I said, and held out my hand. He stood up at rigid attention and saluted me.

 

“Sergeant Otto Schmidt sir!” I continued to hold out my hand and he reluctantly broke his salute to shake it.

 

“Welcome Sergeant. We're not in the army here, so you can leave the parade ground protocol at the door.” He was short like me but big. He reminded me of that guy that delivered my appliances, the guy that I nicknamed the fireplug. This guy had the same build. His face was round with stubble on it, not because he hadn't shaved, but because it grew so quickly during the day. His light brown hair was clipped in a tight crew cut, and his neck was probably as thick as my waist. He gave off an air of raw, physical strength. He seemed slightly dangerous, and that made him interesting.

 

“Yes, sir,” he said reluctantly, as if unwilling to give up the rules he knew so well.

 

“Follow me,” I said as I guided him into my office. “So what can I do for you Sergeant?”

 

“Sir, Lieutenant Clerreault is my commanding officer. He asked me to personally bring you a letter.” And with rigid military movements he reached into his attaché case and pulled out a thick envelope. This was fantastic! What a great present. Without thinking I sat down in my chair and started reading it.

 

 

Dear JP,

 

Sergeant Schmidt has gotten leave for Thanksgiving and he's going to Chicago, so I'm taking this opportunity to send a letter to you. This way it won't go through the censors. If you grabbed this out of his hands and started reading it right away, he's probably standing in your office at attention. Tell him “at ease” and offer him a seat.

 

I looked up from the letter and laughed. “Lieutenant Clerreault says I'm supposed to tell you “at ease” and tell you to have a seat.” He smiled back at me, a beautiful smile that changed him from a walking death machine into a man with innate charm.

 

This is a tough letter to write. I'm torn between wanting to tell you the truth, and at the same time, not wanting to worry you. It's pretty dangerous here at times, at least when we're outside Saigon.

 

The military has instituted this idiotic program called the Strategic Hamlet Initiative. What that means is that we round up all the peasants and force them to leave their villages and live in fortified camps. Only the peasants don't want to leave so they hate it, and the Vietnamese, along with our brilliant generals, forgot to fortify the fortified camps. It's a disaster, and these camps have become a breeding ground for Viet Cong activity.

 

There are 10 of us Lieutenants that are supposed to be here at the embassy on “translation” duty, but in reality they rotate us out every two weeks to these Strategic Hamlets to try and help pull them together. The only good part of it is that the Vietnamese people are really good people. It's a shame their lives are being turned upside down like this.

 

Before you start to worry yourself to death, you should know that now that I've been out there I know the drill, so it's actually pretty safe. In the meantime, I spend most of my time thinking about you and jacking off, since those two are related. I'll never forget our last few days together. I've never been so satisfied, nor felt so close to someone as I do to you. I love you so much JP, it pains me that I can't say that in open communication, but at least I can say it here. You are everything to me.

 

If you would have told me 3 years ago that the person I'd want to spend the rest of my life with would have a dick, I would have called you a nut. But it's true. I don't care about society, or kids, or any of that shit. I just want you.

 

Anyway, now that I've buttered you up, I have a favor to ask. Fritz, that's what we call Sergeant Schmidt, has his family in Chicago but they are really fucked up. That's why he joined the army, to get away from them, and he actually tried to turn down his leave. But he ended up going, and while he won't tell you this, he's dreading that visit.

 

JP, on my first mission out into the camps we were assaulted by a group of Viet Cong fighters. If it wasn't for Fritz pushing me down and spraying them with bullets, I'd be dead. I owe this kid, and I want you to pay my debt for me. I want you to take him with you to Claremont for Thanksgiving. He deserves a good holiday, and he deserves a good family like ours to share it with. I know this is a huge favor to ask, and I hope your mom won't mind, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd help him out. He's a good kid, but really all alone in the world.

 

Of course he'll argue with you, but just make it an order and he'll obey. The army is all he has, and he's internalized it like you wouldn't believe. In the meantime, think of me often, and know that I love you with all my heart.

Andre

 

I fought back the emotions his letter had raised in me. The love, the fear, the agony of separation. I tried to stop the tears from flowing down my face and I succeeded, but they were still there like pools of water in my eyes. I stuffed the letter into my pocket and looked over at Fritz. He was sitting rigidly in the chair as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. For Andre I had to give him a good Thanksgiving. For Andre, I had to help this young man enjoy his hard-earned leave. I smiled at him.

 

“Where's your bag Sergeant?” I asked him formally.

 

“Outside your office sir!” he said. He was so cute with his military shit. I was going to have fun with him.

 

“Grab your bag Sergeant, we're going home.” He grabbed his bag and followed me.

 

“Begging your pardon sir, but I'm supposed to go see my family. They live in South Chicago.” I was walking fast on purpose to force him to move out to keep up with me. He had to carry his duffel bag and his attache case, and still walk as fast as my short legs would carry me.

 

“Change of plans Sergeant. You're assigned to me for the holiday. Lieutenant Clerreault's orders.” I said it as if I expected to be obeyed. Putting on an act was no big challenge for me, I thought sneering at myself. I'd been putting on an act for most of my life.

 

“But sir, I'm supposed to be on leave.” That was almost a whine.

 

I stopped and stared at him, giving him my deadpan look. “Sergeant, did you not learn about insubordination? I've conveyed an order from your commanding officer. You disobey it at your peril. Is that understood?” I'm not sure if I completely pulled the martinet thing off, but it seemed to work.

 

I saw him struggle with the inevitable. “Yes sir,” he said and followed me quietly.

 

He ogled my car and helped me brush the snow off it. It wouldn't warm up by the time we got home, but I turned the heater on anyway. We drove back to the condo and his eyes got really big when he got inside.

 

“This is a really nice place sir,” he said.

 

“Thank you Sergeant. Now we need to get a few things straight. First of all, don't call me sir. I'm not in the army, and it weirds me out. Call me JP. Say it.”

 

He struggled for a minute and then said “JP.”

 

“Good. I don't want to hear 'sir' again, is that clear?”

 

“Yes s...I mean JP.” he started to crack a smile and stopped it.

 

“Next, you are ordered to be permanently “at ease”, got that?” He nodded. “I don't want to see anymore of this standing at attention or saluting. You're on special assignment and you need to relax. Otherwise you won't fit in.” He thought about that for a minute, and then nodded. Andre was right. He really had internalized all of this shit.

 

“Finally, we're going to spend the night here, and then tomorrow we're going to Claremont, Ohio. That's where my family is. Once we get there you'll have your own room, but tonight you'll have to bunk up with me. You got a problem with that?”

 

“No sir, I mean JP. But if it's a problem, I don't mind sleeping on the couch, or even the floor. I'm used to roughing it.”

 

“Well, it's up to you, but you're on leave so there's no reason for you to rough it. You're supposed to enjoy the fruits of the society you're defending. One more thing. Smile.” He looked at me confused. “Smile. You've been holding it back, and you have a fabulous smile. It lights up your whole face.” He blushed and flashed me that huge, gorgeous smile. Wow. He was plain and ordinary without it, but that smile transformed him into exceptional. “Excellent. I want to see that as much as possible.”

 

Jason got home a few minutes later and I introduced them. After about an hour, Fritz started to relax. He seemed more comfortable around Jason, and I decided that must be because he equated me with an officer. It made sense, since I'd been ordering him around since he got here. Jason made us a terrific dinner, a huge dinner, and I wondered what I'd do with the leftovers. But between Fritz and Jason, there weren't any. Growing boys.

 

I gave Jason the Thanksgiving card and of course he argued with me about the money, but I got irritated and that shut him up. Fritz just watched me. He must think I'm a total dick. Oh well. Sixteen hours in the car and he'd figure it out. At the end of that time he'd either decide I wasn't so bad, or he'd have confirmed his opinion. We kicked back and watched television. Fritz was pretty impressed. He hadn't seen color TV before.

 

It was fascinating to watch Fritz decompress. He had been a virtual robot on campus and hadn't relaxed much by the time we hit the condo. Now, after three or four beers, he was lounging around here with Jason and me, making really stupid jokes that cracked us up. He imitated the characters on TV, and he did it badly, but that didn't bother him. He was a total goof ball, but he had a manner, a cuteness, that let him get away with it. My side hurt from laughing so much.

 

About 10pm all three of us were yawning. “I'm going to bed,” I announced, and they immediately decided to go to bed as well. I was starting to feel like the Pied Piper.

 

I showed Fritz where the bedroom was, and where the shower was. He looked at the shower, sniffed his underarms, and got this goofy repulsed look on his face. I laughed.

 

“I see you got the hint. Smelly Sergeants in my bed...not my idea of a good time.” About ten minutes later he walked out in his boxers. Without most of his clothes on, he looked like Mr. Universe, only his body was really hairy. He had a thick mat of hair on his chest and his abdomen, and his legs and arms had lots of hair too, the kind of hair that curls up, not the kind that lays flat. I guess being in the army had made him loose all self-consciousness, because he seemed completely at ease in just his underwear. He walked toward the bed and stopped in front of the window, dropped the back of his boxers, and mooned the city. I started laughing again.

 

“Just go to bed you idiot,” I said, but with a happy tone of voice that told him I really didn't mean it. I took his place in the bathroom, and by the time I came out, he was lying on his side snoring peacefully. I guess the army teaches you to sleep anywhere. At first I wondered if he'd roll over and spoon with me like Jeff, but he stayed rigidly on his side of the bed. I smiled to myself. Probably just as well. He could probably break me in half if he wanted to. His soft snoring was like a tonic that put me right to sleep.

 

I woke up later, aware that something was very wrong but not sure what. Then I heard the scream. Fritz was having some kind of nightmare. He was literally shrieking. I jumped on top of him, trying to wake him up, but he was crazed.

 

“Is everything alright?” I heard Jason ask from outside the door. I really didn't want to have to deal with him too. I decided I could handle Fritz on my own.

 

“It's fine Jason. Fritz is just having a bad dream. Go back to bed.” I heard him tromp off. Meanwhile, Fritz was still dreaming and I was having a hard time waking him up. I sat on his stomach. Man, this guy had muscles like Charles Atlas. He could be dangerous.

 

Suddenly his eyes flew open, and they were filled with rage. This was getting a little scary. He grabbed me and threw me face down on the bed next to him and ripped off my boxers. The next thing I know, he's ramming his dick up my ass. It would have hurt like hell except for two things. First of all, his dick was small. Second, his dreams had gotten him all keyed up and he was leaking lots of pre-cum. I sure as hell wasn't expecting this.

 

In his mind, he was raping me. In my mind, it was fucking awesome. I just laid there with my ass slightly in the air while he pounded me over and over again, grunting and growling while he penetrated me. I was totally pinned and totally helpless. His strong body just held me down, crushing me, while he had his way with me. The raw physicality, the total lack of control, the way he grunted like an animal, made it one of the most erotic things I'd experienced. I blew my load all over the sheets while he was still whaling away, but his final thrusts still felt great. When he came it was with a big groan, I thought he was going to literally force his whole body up my ass.

 

As soon as he was done, he looked at me and started crying. I just held him and let him cry. I pulled him against my chest and stroked his hair and his back, muttering soothing words to try to help him calm down. Finally he cried himself to sleep.

 

November 21, 1962

 

I woke up first, with Fritz still draped over my body. I could feel his morning hard on press against my leg. I gently stroked his back and he snuggled into me even more. All of a sudden he woke up and jerked away from me.

 

“What, what happened?” he asked me. He seemed genuinely shocked and upset about our contact.

 

“You had some nightmares last night,” I told him. He looked pretty funny, half propped up next to me with his hard cock sticking out of his boxers.

 

“I'm so sorry,” he said, and started to really freak out. His goofball sense of humor had completely left him now. I put my finger over his lips, and pulled him back down onto my chest. He fought me at first, but then yielded and laid back down. He was really stiff and clearly agitated, but I stroked his back and he gradually calmed down.

 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked me softly.

 

“No,” I answered honestly.

 

“Good. Sometimes I get a little out of control and get physical.” He seemed relieved.

 

“I didn't say you weren't physical, I said you didn't hurt me.”

 

He looked up at me, confused. He suddenly realized that I had no boxers on. “Oh shit. Did I try to rape you? I thought I had that beat.”

 

“You didn't try, you did rape me. Only it wasn't rape.” He looked at me, confused. “I enjoyed it,” I said, knowing that would freak him out, but I felt I had to be honest.

 

“You like getting fucked in the ass?” He asked me with a certain amount of scorn. “What are you, a queer?” He'd gone from being contrite to being disgusted in a remarkably short period of time.

 

“As a matter of fact I am. And it's a good thing too, since you had your dick up my ass last night. Don't you think? And yeah, I liked it. You were fucking amazing. I blew my load all over the bed and had to sleep in it all night.” His attitude had pissed me off, so now I was just trying to get to him. It worked.

 

“I'm no queer.” He tried to get up but I grabbed his arm.

 

“I didn't say you were. Look Fritz, you had a bad dream, freaked out and raped me. I'm just saying that since I'm a disgusting fucking faggot, it didn't hurt me, it didn't bother me, and in fact, I enjoyed it. I'm sorry if that grosses you out. Maybe I should have just acted all hurt and victimized this morning. Would that have made you feel better?” I had started talking to him with compassion, but my anger had emerged during my statement, so by the time I got to the end I was clearly pissed, and that stopped his bullshit dead in his tracks.

 

“I'm sorry. It just sort of weirded me out. I mean, I don't know many, uh, queers,” he said, trying to find the least offensive word for it that he could. With amazing tact, he changed the subject. “I've had these bad dreams for a long time, but I thought I'd finally worked my way out of them.” He returned his head to my chest and I continued to stroke his back. I felt him melt into me, his whole body welcoming the contact.

 

He looked up at me. “I don't know whether this makes me a queer or not, but this feels real nice.” And he smiled that dazzling smile at me.

 

“I'll make you a deal. You don't worry about the queer label, or that shit, and whatever happens stays between us, word of honor. No one will ever know. You promise?”

 

“I promise,” he said. Then he looked up at me again. “You saying that if we fuck around again, no one else is gonna know?” I nodded.

 

“You want me to fuck you again?” he asked.

 

“Yep. Right now, as a matter of fact” I said, and he grinned big, moved up and kissed me on the lips. He wasn't a great kisser, but he was enthusiastic. He rolled me over and ran his hands over my cheeks. “Nice ass,” he said, and slapped it.

 

“Hey, watch it King Kong,” I said, making him laugh.

 

“Me Tarzan, you Jane,” he said in a goofy Tarzan imitation and I was laughing hysterically when I felt his cock slide in my ass. “Jane have nice pussy. Nice and tight,” he joked as he moved in and out of me. I'd never fucked and laughed at the same time. He stopped joking as he picked up his pace, and I thrust back to meet him in time to his moves. It turned into a raw, animalistic fuck. No emotions, no niceties, no ear nibbling or that shit. Just his dick slamming into my ass. But I noticed that he worked hard to make sure we came together, and it was really good.

 

He lay down next to me and I moved up and put my cheek on his chest, in just the reverse position that we'd been in this morning. I liked his hairy chest, and I ran my fingers through his hair, playing with it while I stroked his skin. “Mmmm” he said. “That was nice.” He stroked my back.

 

“Yes it was,” I said.

 

“I started getting those dreams after my first tour in 'Nam. I'd have visions of killing people, or defending myself, and I'd wake up in a cold sweat. Then I'd have the rape dreams. That cost me a couple of girlfriends. It's been rough.”

 

“Have they tried to help you with them? You know, counseling or some other kind of treatment?” I asked.

 

“Not really. They aren't too worried about it. I love the army. I've been in for six years now. I'm up for a promotion when I get back from leave. I always planned to make it my career. But I hate being in 'Nam. My enlistment is up next March, and if I gotta go back there, I'm leaving the service.”

 

“That's a bummer. If you do, let me know. Maybe I can help you find a job.” He looked at me, his eyes wide.

 

“Thanks. That's really nice of you. I appreciate that. I'm not used to people offering to do things for me.”

 

“No problem,” I said. “My father runs a big construction company. A big gorilla like you is bound to be useful.”

 

He looked out the window. “You got a nice tree house here Jane.” I laughed again.

 

“Just don't try to swing from building to building,” I countered.

 

Then I moved my hand down his abdomen to his small cock and stroked him back into action. “Why Jane, you are a horny slut aren't you?” he chided.

 

“Just shut up and fuck me again Tarzan,” I said in a mock female voice.

 

“You're wish is my command,” he said, as he rolled me over again.

 

I finally got my slutty ass out of bed and got packed up. It was almost 11am by the time we left Chicago, and it was cold and snowy so we wouldn't make very good time.

 

Fritz was actually kind of quiet as we drove through Chicago. Andre had said his family life was fucked up. It was sad to see this happy jocular guy get all somber. He pointed out his neighborhood, but he wasn't very enthusiastic about it. It looked like the same one that Jason had lived in. After we left Chicago he seemed to put his family behind him and got goofy again. There were a couple of kids in a station wagon in front of us, sitting facing the back. Fritz and the kids made faces at each other for about ten miles until we passed them and got a dirty look from the guy who was driving. That just made us laugh even harder.

 

When we got halfway into Indiana, I let him drive. He raved and raved about my car. I really liked it, but ever since the new Corvettes had come out this one had lost its luster. There was a picnic area that I remembered and I told him to pull over.

 

“What for?” he asked. “You gotta pee?”

 

“You'll see,” I said. “It's a surprise.”

 

He pulled over and parked. He leaned back and put his hands behind his head and said “Now what?” I moved over and grabbed his zipper and slid it down.

 

“What the fuck?” he asked, alarmed, looking around.

 

“Just shut up and keep your eyes open.” He was about to argue more when I finally got his dick out and engulfed it in my mouth.

 

“Damn,” he said, “that feels good. Guess all that practice on bananas has made you good at that huh Jane?” I started laughing and almost bit him. After that he shut up. He moved his hands down and took control, jamming my head into his crotch while he thrust his cock into my willing mouth. It usually pissed me off when guys did that, but his dick was small, maybe about four and a half inches long, so he could fuck my mouth to his heart's content. Now if he was packing eight inches, the scene would be entirely different. He picked up his pace and I knew he was close. He didn't seem worried about blowing in my mouth. I noticed that once he got going, that was it. He just went for it, almost losing control. I was distracted from my analysis when his first shot hit my throat. He didn't shoot a lot, either because that's the way he was, or because we'd milked him pretty good today already. Didn't matter. Blowing him was fun.

 

He looked at me with a stupid grin. “Come on Tarzan, let's go. I don't want to sleep in the jungle tonight,” I said, and he laughed and hit the road again. The trip went really well, but I found that by the time we got to Claremont I was tired. I had been laughing and talking non-stop with him for about eight hours, and it was pretty exhausting. He was funny, he was charming, and he was good company, but I missed the satisfying silence that Jeff and I could enjoy. I found that with Fritz it was hard to be comfortable and quiet with him at the same time.

 

In any event, despite the crappy weather, we made it to Claremont safely. My parents were up and waiting for us. I think our house overwhelmed poor Fritz, and I saw him break into his rigid military posture with my parents. I guided him to the guest room and returned to chat with my parents. I explained Andre's letter and request, and after that they just absorbed Fritz into the family.

 

It didn't take him too long to relax with my parents, especially my father. They were able to compare notes since my father had been in the army. Fritz found out he had retired as a Lt. Colonel and insisted on calling him sir. I think my mother found his tasteless and goofy humor pretty crass, but she giggled anyway. He worked her over with his smile and charm, and it dawned on me that he must be quite a lady-killer. I left him with my parents and went into the kitchen to see Vella. She was happy, as usual, to see me.

 

“So Vella, what's up with Jeff? When I talked to him on the phone he was different.” She sighed.

 

“His parents been harassing him, trying to get him to come home. They're leaning on him something fierce. Fred Hayes got forced into early retirement at the mill, so I think they just want him home to pick on him. It don't make no sense.”

 

“He's not going back is he?”

 

“I don't think so, but they shore is trying. Your momma been keeping him in line, making sure he don't do something stupid. But ever since they're back in his life, he's been messed up. Crazy white people.”

 

I laughed. “He's come so far, and had so much success. I'd hate to see him blow it because of those idiots.”

 

I went back into the living room and told everyone I was going to bed. Fritz opted to turn in too. I walked into my room and was surprised to find it empty. I guess I'd expected Jeff to be there, just like last time, but he wasn't. Maybe he'd show up later. I sure hoped so.

 

November 22, 1962

 

I woke up, still alone. No Jeff. Why was he so mad at me? Why did he hate me? I took a shower, using the water to refresh my psyche. I dressed nicely, I mean it was Thanksgiving, and strolled out to see who was up. Vella was in the kitchen cooking like crazy. She'd already set the dining room table. It was a huge table, but it was crammed full of plates. I guess we were having quite a crew over. I walked outside, braving the cold, and strolled around our property. The wind was sobering. I was about to head back when I spotted Jeff outside Abe and Vella's house. I walked over toward him. When he saw me it looked for a minute like he was going to try to run away. This was just too weird.

 

“Hey there,” I said and was about to give him a hug when he stuck his hand out. I shook his hand and looked into his eyes. “What's going on? You hate me now?” I was really confused, but I was also getting a little pissed.

 

“I don't hate you.” he said.

 

“Well, that's a pretty big switch from the last time I was in town. I don't get it. I mean, I know I missed your birthday weekend, and I'm really sorry about that. But you don't have to totally ignore me.” He just looked at me.

 

“What is it? Why the cold shoulder? One minute you're one of my best friends, the next minute you won't even talk to me.” He still said nothing. He started to move off.

 

“Oh no you don't. That's bullshit,” I said, and grabbed his arm. “The least you can do is tell me what the deal is. You owe me that.” He turned around, and his eyes flashed with anger.

 

“I don't owe you shit. You made your choice, now live with it.”

 

I felt like we were speaking in entirely different languages. “What choice? What are you talking about? What are you, three years old, pouting because I missed your birthday party?”

 

“Fuck you. That's bullshit. You know what choice I'm talking about. You chose him, not me.” And he turned around and walked away.

 

I just stared at him, watching him walk away, with just about every conceivable emotion flowing through me. I pondered how this guy who just turned 18 was acting a whole lot more mature and rational than I was. It was too painful to contemplate what he said. It was painful because he was right. He had read me like a book. No one, no one had ever been able to do that before, but he had. He had guessed about Andre, figured out our relationship, or at least the extent of it. When I didn't come home and decided to stay with Andre instead, it must have devastated him. I felt tears in my eyes. Not tears for my own pain, but tears for his. How could I have been such an asshole? How could I have been so heartless? How could I have hurt him so badly? I wandered back to the house and went into my room through the patio, avoiding everyone.

 

I lay in my bed and cried. My mother knocked and I managed to pull myself together enough to shoo her away. I told her I was tired and I needed the rest. I heard laughter outside as guests arrived, and I heard Fritz's goofy voice as he joked with my relatives. Meanwhile, I just lay there and cried. How many tears had I cried lately? Too many. I wiped my eyes and tried to get a grip.

 

Maybe I'm destined to be alone. Maybe it's my cross to bear, to be a lonely fag in this great big world. And if I try to make a connection, I'm allowed to get close, allowed to get involved, allowed to almost be happy, but then something will come along and fuck it up. Just like Sisyphus. It was too painful to accept that the something that came along was usually my fault. It was easier to blame it on fate.

 

I must have fallen asleep because someone was shaking me, pulling me back into the real world. I opened my eyes to find Stefan staring down at me. Terrific. The last thing I wanted to do was deal with him.

 

“Hello. I'm supposed to wake you up. I can think of more creative ways, but dinner is ready.” He smiled that sexy smile at me and it was impossible not to laugh at him. I remembered that I had told him I wanted to be his friend, so I was required to make that effort.

 

“Alright, I'll get up.” I had a brainstorm. “Hey Stefan, did you meet Fritz?”

 

“You mean the soldier man?” he asked.

 

“Yeah. Can you do me a favor?”

 

“What?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“Help me keep him company this weekend. In a way, he's kind of like you were when you first got here. He's in a strange world, and he's all alone. He does speak English though. Think you could help out?” He smiled at me.

 

“Of course. He's kind of cute too.” I winked at him. Good, that should keep both of them busy.

 

Dinner was OK. Jeff was there and avoided me completely. When he looked at me all I saw in his expression was sadness. I felt like total shit. I wondered if he'd ever be able to forgive me. I bucked it up anyway and put on my happy face because that's what I do, and did my best to be a charming member of the family. Fritz sat down at the other end of the table with Stefan, not too far from Jeff and Sammy. His goofy personality had them laughing like crazy after a bit, and he pretty much had his end of the table rolling. My end of the table was stolid and boring. I found myself almost consumed with jealousy at the good time they were having.

 

About halfway through dinner it dawned on me that I could dull most of my pain by drinking a lot of wine, which I proceeded to do. I found that I was slurring my words and having a hard time sitting on my chair. Stefan, Fritz and Sammy were laughing at me, while my mother just gave me that disapproving look that told me I'd crossed a line into the realm of unacceptable behavior. Worst of all, Jeff combined her disappointed look with sadness.

 

I excused myself to go to the bathroom and locked myself in my room. I splashed water on my face, and tried to sober up. I even stepped outside for a few minutes. I was moderately successful, and I was able to finish the dinner without further embarrassment.

 

All the guys meandered into the living room to watch the football game. I wasn't into football, so I walked outside to get some fresh air. Jeff must have forgotten something at Abe and Vella's, because he came rushing out of our house and headed toward theirs. I walked over and positioned myself to intercept him on the return trip.

 

He began rushing back, carrying a trophy of some sort, but when he saw me he stopped, and it looked like he was trying to decide whether to just run away.

 

“Jeff, wait.” I said, trying to make the decision for him.

 

“I can't talk now, I have to get back in there,” he said as he pushed past me.

 

“Can you talk later?” I asked. He turned to me, and read the pleading look in my eyes. I could tell he wanted to say no, to just blow me off, but I could see in his eyes that he still cared about me.

 

“Yeah, I can talk later,” he said with resignation. “Leave your patio doors open and I'll stop by tonight, to TALK,” he said, with the emphasis on 'talk'. In other words, I wasn't getting any. It was better than nothing. The day couldn't end fast enough.