The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street - 4. Chapter 4

When he wasn’t on the garage roof after school, Caleb found himself spending nearly all his free time engrossed in the Chronicles of Malvern until it was time for bed and there were many night’s he’d be back out on the garage roof stargazing.

The days were getting shorter, and while temps in the low 80’s were still warm, it was nothing like July. Three weeks in sophomore year was becoming routine, he knew what was expected in his classes and had a few classmates he could share a lunch table with without the fear of letting his secret slip.

August quickly edged towards September and preparations were beginning for the big Halloween and Fall festivals, parades, and dance. Every year his sleepily community went all out for Halloween, it was something Caleb found ironic considering how deep they were into the bible belt down here.

It was one of those inconsistencies everyone lived with much like their faith, hellfire and brimstone on Sundays and Wednesdays, boozing on Saturdays and whoring around and generally condemning their souls to hell on the other week days. There were no acts of Christian charity for those caught sinning, acting out and disturbing the norms. Old Lot had it easy.

The first week of September, Caleb was sitting at the lunch table with the regular crowd discussing which ‘decorating’ committee to join when ‘he’ walked in. It was hard to miss the new guy in a school as small as his. Nearly every pair of eyes, at least those who hadn’t shared a morning class, turned to watch the new kid walk up to and through the lunch line.

Most of the lunch tables were taken with the various cliques and all were nearly full and it was some small surprise to many, if not all, when the new kid walked over to Caleb’s table. Smiling ‘Berto’ introduced himself and asked if anyone minded if he sat there.

Mary Sue Cartwright was the self-appointed ‘leader’ of the table of misfits. At five-foot-ten and easily 20 pounds on anyone at the table, Mary Sue was a bulldog. Too big for cheerleading, her heart’s desire, too socially awkward to be a part of the ‘in-crowd’, Mary Sue decided her talents were better suited to lording it over the less unfortunates who graced her lunch table.

Mary Sue was a daddy’s girl, spoiled rotten by her father who was the president of the local bank and the keeper of many secrets and nefarious tales. A single man, divorced when his wife ran off with the Cuban gardener. Bob Cartwright may have had the gravitas to survive such a scandal but the apple of his eye, fell far from the tree.

Both were supremely self-absorbed, golfing with Bob was a necessity and a chore if you wanted to do business in town, take out a mortgage or a car loan. To top it off…Bob was a hack. Conversely, everyone was nice to Mary Sue…to her face, fueling her self-delusion. Whether she chose to live in her fantasy world or was trapped, one was never sure.

Everyone chose to live with her eccentricity early on, an upset Mary Sue would find comfort for what ailed her in the arms of her father. Folks learned early on that bothering Mary Sue only invited approbation and trouble.

Mary Sue was delighted that the new kid…Berto wanted to grace ‘her’ table, with her best saccharine smile and doll house voice welcomed and introduced him to her tablemates. No one knew if it was a deliberate oversight but Berto ignored or did not see Mary Sue patting the seat next to her. As he greeted everyone at the table, shaking their hands, he made sure that Caleb was last and then sat next to him.

Conversation with the new kid was easy, if you discount the cartoon knives Mary Sue was casting from her eyes. The game of twenty questions commenced, Berto was from Manchester New Hampshire, full name was Roberto Michael Spinelli, glad to be missing another New England winter, yes…snow and cold was miserable. The rest of the year was ok, he’d miss the fall foliage and school was about the same as far as he could tell.

His dad was an ex-marine, going to work for a local aerospace contractor, Living on Maple St, just behind Elm, no brothers or sisters, a stay at home mom and a mongrel dog named Sprog. Berto listened attentively to everyone, asked a couple of questions, and made sure to make frequent eye contact with Mary Sue especially when he asked what her father did for a living and acted suitably impressed.

Caleb found out during conversation they shared the same afternoon classes, History, English, and PE alternating with Home Economics. The rest of the lunch period passed quickly and it was time to head off to history class. As they were leaving the cafeteria Mary Sue was overheard commenting to one of her so-called girlfriends that the new kid seemed ok but he was Italian, had to be Catholic, not much better than a Cuban.

History proved to be interesting class. They had been studying the Pilgrims and the early colonial societies along with the witch trials. One of their classmates, Todd Peter Kusters was the preachers’ kid, better known as TPK. You couldn’t get any more ‘saved’ than TPK. Of all of Caleb’s classmates TPK was the one with the definitive career path nor was he shy. He preached in his father’s church on Wednesday evenings and the sermons were pure bible belt, full of hellfire and brimstone. He knew the path or righteousness and he tread proudly; it wasn’t so much as he was convinced, it was because he knew.

There was a lively argument concerning the fate of those who lost their lives in the hysteria of Salem Massachusetts. On the morality of those religious figures who were leaders of the community, the accusers and what was the rational justification for the trials? As one could expect the debate at times grew heated with TPK defending faith-based governments based on the bible. At one point in the debate the teacher looked towards Caleb and asked him for his opinion and he quietly responded looking directly at TPK and said, “Judge not lest ye be judged.”

The bell signaling the end of class went off and as the class was breaking up TPK was heard to say to Caleb, “It is the type of comment one could expect from a sinner, a loser, someone who hasn’t graced the doorway of church in quite some time!”

A hush fell over the departing students and stopped them in their tracks, stunned at such a venomous personal attack. Responding, Caleb placed his books down on the nearest desk and held a hand up silencing the last few murmurs, “As an American, my right to worship God in the manner I so chose, is a sacred freedom guaranteed to me and enshrined in the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. It is not something you can challenge or deny me as I cannot to you. I would strongly suggest you do two things…reread those two documents and for good measure read the Danbury Letter. Secondly…mind your own business, look towards yourself and try shutting your mouth for a change.

The room was hushed, stunned, it was the most demonstrative any of his fellow students had ever heard Caleb speak. Someone started clapping, a ripple of laughter broke out and as everyone departed the classroom for the next class nearly everyone was laughing at TPK, who had just been rebuked thoroughly, standing there with a most unchristian look on his face.

~~~

It was only a week and, in many ways, it seemed like a lifetime of experiences as Caleb and Berto became the fastest of friends. Caleb was beside himself, Berto was someone he could call friend, a close friend. While he hoped and knew it was wishful thinking, that Berto would think of him as he did of Berto. Caleb wasn’t stupid, he had been on his toes and ever so careful not to reveal the terminal fact that he was gay.

What truly confused Caleb were the touches, bumps and elbows that ‘innocently’ came his way, the way his eyes seemed to find the deepest recesses of his psyche, always saying the right thing at the right time and the right moment. Caleb, the former wallflower was beginning to blossom.

It wasn’t unnoticed, however no one picked up on the sexual tension between the two boys, it was Caleb’s classmates began to realize that here was a kid who, without trying, was becoming popular in the most unassuming manner. Both he and Berto were asked to be part of the sophomore class on the Halloween Committee, the second most desirable committee after Fall Committee, traditionally the province of the jocks and that was just fine with the boys.

As Caleb continued to come out of his self-imposed shell with Berto’s quiet encouragement TPK found himself becoming marginalized, and more often than not, thought of and referred to as a parrot. For someone who had serious designs on becoming a leading pillar of the community like his father, it was a bit too much as he seethed over the recent events.

Every time TPK would confront Caleb in class he came out on the losing end. How was he supposed to know that Caleb had read the bible, that he could quote scripture as well as he could and counter all of his hellfire and brimstone. For someone who was at the top of the food chain, it was fast becoming a humiliating turn of events. It was becoming very evident that a certain someone needed and would have to be put back in his place, along with that fucking new kid.

***

Most likely it was Mary Lou Prentice who was the trigger, the catalyst that finally set TPK over the edge. And it was his own damned fault. The more he marginalized himself, the easier it was for Mary Lou to see him for what he was. A bigoted, self-serving, self-inflating asshat of the first rank.

Mary Lou was without guile, she was a sophomore cheerleader on the varsity squad, she knew her place in the pecking order. A solid straight A student, Mary Lou was one of a rare breed of person, she was without affectation. For years it was always assumed that she and TPK were the ‘Golden Couple”. Things began to change towards the end of Junior High School. Mary Lou started to become more self-aware. She found learning, and the challenge of the difficult college prep track, enjoyable.

Through church and some of the outreach programs for the elderly shut-ins, young struggling families, she developed and gained a broader perspective of the larger events that affected her community’s ecosystem. In short, as Mary Lou became ‘self-aware’, TPK was becoming a regrettable, embarrassing caricature. The end of the reign of the ‘Golden Couple’ may have started a couple of years ago but the final nail in the coffin was Mary Lou asking Caleb to the Fall Dance. It was to be a double date, Sara Foley, Mary Lou’s best friend, would be escorted by Berto.

Mary Lou knew she was taking a chance, but the signals were there, difficult at first to find or see…but they were there. They were the same looks and subtle signals her beloved older cousin Jarred gave off with his boyfriend. As hard as they tried not to slip up, Mary Lou knew, she simply just knew…and kept their secret as they kept hers.

~~~

It was after a late autumn Florida afternoon thunderstorm that Friday afternoon, over shortly as soon as it started, Caleb and Berto had plans to meet at Caleb’s house to go over a history project. Berto needed to speak with his math teacher after school and would meet Caleb at his house shortly after.

Grabbing his bike Caleb was distracted by thoughts of he and Berto alone for an hour or two, his brother was off to a sleepover and the parents were off and out to an early dinner.

Something was there, it was hard for a petrified sophomore, so certain of his sexuality, to take that first step, to make it known he was receptive to the signals that were becoming over time, not so subtle. He never saw TPK and a couple of cronies begin to follow him.

As Berto finished up with his math teacher a sudden feeling of dread overwhelmed him. It was a race to his bicycle and he couldn’t get there fast enough. Caleb was in trouble and every passing moment he felt the danger increasing. Pedaling as fast as he could, cutting across traffic in front of the school, he went as fast as he could in the direction Caleb would have taken.

~~~

At the last moment Caleb saw a fast-moving blur come at him from the side, the next thing he knew he was dazed and lying on the ground. Standing above him was a very angry TPK. Scrambling to crawl away and stand he caught a shod foot to the mid-section, knocking the wind out of him. Someone was screaming at him, the words indecipherable as he absorbed more body blows. And then it went quiet.

Looking up thru blurry eyes, the two goons were on the ground holding their heads, turning back towards TPK he saw a foot appear suddenly between his legs. As if he was watching in slow motion TPK’s eyes rolled back into his head and a stream of projectile vomit flew out past Caleb as TPK collapsed to the ground, falling on his knees holding his midsection.

Berto, going as fast as he could, saw Caleb hit and thrown to the ground. Jumping off his bike he grabbed some crushed limestone rocks from the side of the road bed. Within seconds the two goons were out of the action, nursing very sore heads. Two steps later his right foot connected squarely with TPK’s testicles.

The only thing that saved TPK’s bacon were the two construction workers who had witnessed the entire episode. Had they been thirty seconds later it would have been anyone’s guess as to what might have happened. A homeowner coming out to check his mailbox also saw what happened and offered to call the police as the construction workers kept the three miscreants under control.

Statement were taken, TPK and his ‘helpers’ were bundled off. Caleb insisted he was fine, he just needed to go home, it was just around the corner. His bike was damaged and he’d walk. Obviously Berto would go with him. On closer inspection, his jeans were torn and covered like the rest of him in mud and dirt. What wasn’t covered were coated in grass and weed stains. There were a couple of scrapes and it was obvious that there would be some bruising.

Together the two of them limped towards Caleb’s house…grateful that there was no one home to witness the two of them in their disheveled state. Placing the bikes behind the garage Berto turned to Caleb internally upset and nearly as bad as Caleb looked. Reaching up he started picking twigs, leaves and some grass from Caleb’s hair.

Leaning forward Caleb bent his head and placed his hands on Berto’s hips as he luxuriated in the moment. He felt Berto place a finger under his chin when he finished and lifted his head up. As his eyes traveled the contours of the face belonging to the boy, he loved he noticed there were the slightest beginnings of a few tears leaking. Reaching up he wiped at the corner of Berto’s eyes with his thumbs and gently brought their foreheads together. After savoring the closeness for a moment, words were unnecessary as Caleb sought Berto’s lips.

Frisson would barely describe the tremors quaking, coursing through both boys. Frustrations released, questions wordlessly answered, each boy surrendered to the other as they melded into each other. Hands traversed the outlines of the boy in front of them as they remained lip locked.

Seared into Caleb’s memory was the first shower after gym class when Berto, standing next to him, nonchalantly removed his clothes as if there wasn’t a care in the world. It was a conflicting moment for Caleb, here was the boy he was fixated on and in his nakedness, he did not disappoint. It was a matter of focusing his will and it took supreme willpower as he quickly removed his clothes and headed for the showers right behind Berto clutching his towel.

Praying…praying as hard as he could, to any of the gods in gay heaven that would hear his plaintive plea and supplications, that he would be able to stop the events conspiring with his wayward penis, to keep his recalcitrant member from escalating…extending its ailment any further.

It was a waking, walking dream Caleb decided, one that had his full attention and exercised his powers of concentration to his fullest, as he watched the lithe, winsome specimen of male teen anatomy walk to the showers with a towel jauntily tossed over a shoulder. His eyes followed the line of the spine as it descended downwards to the cleft that began and defined his buttocks and further to the legs that carried him. Caleb was reminded of Michelangelo’s David, for here it was in front of him.

As he walked into the shower area Caleb passed Berto who had stopped to talk with a classmate who was exiting the showers. Heading to the first available shower head he stood under and began to wash. Quickly soaping up, washing his hair he failed to notice Berto taking the slot right next to him.

As Berto began to wash his hair Caleb could not help himself, he had to look, see his maleness, and wonder what would it be like to hold it, to bring his foreskin back, see the opening, where what he desired most would come forth. Knowing his time for looking at Berto like this was short, as it was instigating a rather undesirable reaction despite his best efforts.

Knowing he needed to focus on not revealing his true nature Caleb quickly turned the shower spray to cold and gave his nuts a quick flick of a finger. The resulting efforts had their looked-for effects. It bought him time to fully rinse off expeditiously and hustle back to his locker and get some clothes on.

The towel carefully wrapped around him barely concealed his growing erection, it was quickly becoming full-blown and it would have its way. Opening his locker Caleb withdrew his underpants, putting them on before the towel came off, his shorts followed. Thanking his lucky stars his baggy tee-shirt followed. As the hem of the tee-shirt finished the concealment. As he turned to grab his deodorant, he saw Berto coming around the corner and breaking into a wide grin as he saw Caleb, who couldn’t help but admire the sight coming towards him.

Berto’s broad shoulders framed his wide hairless chest, two quarter sized dusky brown nipples begged to be kissed and as his chest and ribs tapered downward to reveal a ‘innie’ bellybutton. Framing the base of his penis were light brown pubic hairs, which lay in front of two walnut sized testicles held snugly in their reddish-brown scrotal sack. It was everything Caleb had dreamed of.

The memory faded as Caleb winced when Berto slid a hand down his side, he was sore from being kicked and it provided an unnecessary interruption in the boy’s discovery of their common interests, that they wordlessly answered the questions left unasked.

Breaking their clinch, evidence of their arousal clearly not obscure, they shyly grinned at each other. Placing a finger to Caleb’s lips Berto began to examine the obvious areas of damage to Caleb’s clothing. It was noticeable that a shower was needed, one that Berto was going to administer personally. Starting with the filthy shirt he began to remove the soiled clothing. Before long both boys were naked, clothes in the washing machine and standing in the shower, hot water cascading. Ever-so-gently Caleb was washed, Berto was exceptionally careful in cleaning his penis and scrotum, he was determined that their first time would not be in the shower. Both were hard, painfully hard, by the time the shower was done, their towels would lay discarded on Caleb’s bedroom floor.

It was an hour of mutual self-discovery as both boys satisfied their curiosity, hands and fingers telegraphed their destinations as they explored each other’s firmament. Caleb made the first significant move as he closely studied the erection he held in his hands. This was everything he wanted and needed, what he had dreamed about since he first met Berto. Lowering his head, he slowly took him into his mouth.

It was a case of sensory overload as Berto writhed under Caleb’s oral administrations and knew he’d be climaxing sooner than he would have liked and it was evidently obvious as he gurgled out the warning he was about to, to let Caleb know in time that…he…was…just…that close and then he surrendered as his body crashed as his orgasm overtook him.

It wasn’t long afterwards when Berto returned the favor, in the back of his mind was Caleb’s seminal fluid. Would he have a reaction to it or would they be compatible? Berto knew he would soon have to have a discussion regarding the events and issues surrounding him, his true identity. First though would be this first test, would his body welcome Caleb’s essence or was all of this in vain? He had fallen hard for Caleb, in any other time and place, any other dimension he knew with total certainty he would do everything whatsoever it took to be the one Caleb looked towards when he saw his lover.

As Berto established a rhythm, one nearly older than time, he instinctively knew what to do, when to speed up, change the pace and prolong the delicious agony he was putting Caleb through.

Caleb’s impending orgasm wasn’t vocalized but telegraphed in a myriad of signals; a twitch of his leg, the curling of his toes, the hands clutching the sheets in a desperate attempt to stay connected to some form of reality. The way his breathing changed, the huffing, gasping for air and finally the tensing of his body as rigidity set in, and finally the bright white light that shooting stars exploded from as the crux, the quintessence of his fundamental nature surged outwards from his rapidly deflating body.