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    Bill W
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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. 

The Castaway Hotel - 4 - 5. Chapter 5 -Brent

Brent started talking to Danny and Brandon after we left the restaurant, and the boys were telling him more about our family. They also told him how we had met Mark and why he had come to visit. Mark also joined into this conversation and added his slant on what our family was like. He explained to Brent that shortly after we’d met him, we offered to take him with us while sightseeing around the Grand Canyon, so he joined us and had a great time. Then he added how we’ve continued to help him out since that time and how close he felt to all of us. I guess hearing Mark’s comments gave Brent a little boost of confidence and was enough to convinced him he could confide in us, because the next thing I knew, he was telling them the whole story about what happened with his parents. Danny and Brandon both hugged him and tried to comfort him, and I could also see that Brent was enjoying the contact more than on just an emotional level.

Once the ice was broken, the boys talked and joked around during the rest of the ride home. The trip took a couple more hours after we resumed our journey, and it was late when we pulled into the old homestead. Brent looked at the house and concluded it didn’t look very big, but I think he changed his mind about that, once he was inside. That’s the thing about our place. The exterior appearance can be quite deceiving.

The younger boys were already in bed by the time we got there, but some of the older boys were still downstairs when we came in. They were happy to greet us, but weren’t expecting any other company besides Mark. After introducing Brent to those present, the next thing I had to do was to figure out what to do with Brent for the night. The Spences were still here and using my room, while Sammy and Andrew’s Japanese grandparents, the O’Haras and the Lawrences were occupying several of the other bedrooms. I was sleeping on the sofa, and Pat was going to let Mark have his bedroom after the others left and until he went back to college, so most of the rooms were filled with our guests. On top of that, some of my older children would be coming back tomorrow to celebrate the New Year, so the boys were already going to be utilizing the family and recreation rooms and sleeping on the floor for the time being.

In addition to the current situation, I was also thinking ahead to what we were going to do after our guests returned to their homes. Pat had already agreed to let Dustin bunk in with him again, until Mark left, and that meant all the rooms would still be full. Of course I could have Dustin remain in with Pat, if they were both agreeable, which would leave the old computer room bedroom for Brent. That might work, but I’d have a lot of convincing to do before that was settled.

I quietly pulled a few of the boys aside, so we could discuss how we were going to handle the current billeting dilemma. It was during that time when Brent came up behind us and overheard some our conversation. However, he didn’t see the situation the same way we did.

“No. I’m not going to take someone else’s bed and you don’t have to move anyone around to fit me in,” he stated, emphatically. “I can sleep on the couch or on the floor.”

“Well, you might just have to do that, until our company leaves,” I admitted, “but once they’re gone, we’ll do some rearranging and make room for you. I’ve been sleeping on the sofa-bed while our guests have been here, but I’d be happy to let you have it until the others leave.”

“I don’t want anyone to have to give up their room or you to give up the sofa-bed for me,” he reiterated. After saying that, he hesitated before he spoke again. “What if I just slept on the sofa-bed with you?” he asked, casually. “That is, if it’s big enough and you don’t mind.” He didn’t look at any of us while he said this, and glanced off to the side and down at the floor.

“Whatever you’d be most comfortable with,” I told him. “We do things like this all the time, giving up our rooms to our houseguests. We did it over Christmas and we’ll be continuing the process through the New Year holiday.”

“That’s fine, but I’ll either sleep on the sofa-bed with you or on the floor,” he emphasized, restating his position. “Which should I do?”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor on your first night here, so that option is out,” I challenged. “You’re a guest in our home and guests get priority treatment.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Really!” he added. “It’s more than I’ve had the past few weeks. I’m just thankful the weather wasn’t bad.”

Suddenly it hit me. In a flash, I realized something I hadn’t considered before. Brent had been kicked out of his house prior to Christmas and had spent the holiday on his own. He never got a chance to celebrate, received any presents or enjoyed a wonderful family meal. Now, I felt even worse about his situation.

During the interim, Danny had gone upstairs and brought down two pillows, two sheets and two blankets. Once he returned, Brandon and he inflated the air mattress that we used on the sofa-bed, since it wasn’t comfortable to sleep on it without one. Slowly, they set everything up and got it ready for us to use. They are always so helpful and thoughtful like that.

While the boys were setting up our sleeping area, some of the other boys gave Brent a quick tour of the house, showing him the important things, like where the toilets were. Once they brought him back to the living room, I sent Brent to shower, before he went to sleep. When he finished his shower, I gave him a quick once over and noticed he hadn’t done a very good job at washing up. He was still dirty around the back of his neck, ears and parts of the underside of his arms, so I sent him back to try again and told him if he needed any help to just let us know. He wasn’t at all happy about this, since he thought I was treating him like a little kid, but he went back in and this time came out clean.

Brent was currently standing in the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist, digging through his belongings. Seeing him rummaging through his dirty things, I suggested it would be a good time to pull them out, so we could wash them in the morning. As he pulled out the filthy items, I left the room and allowed him his privacy, but he quickly came out looking for me.

“Aren’t you going to sleep in there too?” he asked.

“Yes, but I didn’t want you to think I was gawking at you while you were changing,” I replied. Slowly, a grin crept over his face.

“Hey, I’ll bet you’ve seen your boys like that and I’ve got the same equipment they have,” he joked.

“True, but I wasn’t sure you were ready to display it yet,” I teased back. “You can have all the privacy you want here, even if we are a bit crowded. You certainly don’t have to worry about that.”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, before letting the subject drop.

Once we returned to the living room, I asked him what he felt comfortable sleeping in, as I was sure the boys could dig up something for him to wear, if he needed something he didn’t have with him. However, he quickly informed me that he usually slept in his underwear at home, so that’s what he would do here. I told him that would be fine and tucked him in and said good night, after the rest of the boys had gone to bed themselves. While Brent was getting comfortable, I took his dirty clothes to the laundry room, so someone could throw them in with the other things that needed to be laundered tomorrow.

Once I’d finished that task, I went to the dining room and sat down at the table, so I could think about what I was going to do with this kid. I hadn’t been there very long before he came walking in to join me, seemingly not caring that he was only in his underwear.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” he asked, looking a bit confused.

“Yes, I was just sitting here doing some thinking,” I explained. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“Kind of. This place has its own set of noises, but it’s not that,” he responded. “It’s just that I keep thinking about my parents. I guess talking about them tonight has kinda gotten to me.”

I got up and walked over to him, put my arm over his shoulder, turned out the light and guided him back to the living room. I shut the door behind us, walked over to turned-down my side of the sofa-bed and sat down. While he watched what I was up to, I pulled the covers back on the side closest to him and indicated he should get in. He flashed me a grin and quickly slid in next to me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked him, referring to his recent thoughts about his family.

“Maybe,” he hinted, although he did not continue. However, I didn’t pressure him and merely waited until he was ready to continue. Instead of speaking, he turned his head into my chest and began to cry. “Why can’t my parents love me like you do your boys? Am I so awful that they don’t even want me around any more?”

I tried to calm him down and reassure him. “It’s not you,” I said soothingly, “it’s them. They can’t deal with things that don’t match up with their long held beliefs. You are different and don’t fit into what they see as normal, so they resort to displaying the hatred that has been ingrained in them. It’s not your fault and you shouldn’t blame yourself for their stupidity and prejudices. Don’t dwell on the past, but think about the present. You’re here, where you’re safe and loved. You don’t have to worry any longer, because we won’t turn you out into the cold.”

His body shook as he continued to weep, so I wrapped both arms around him and squeezed tightly. We stayed like that until he calmed down. Once he regained his composure and was ready to go to sleep, I quickly shed my pants and shirt, staying just in my underwear too. Then I moved in beside him again and slid my arm around his shoulders and squeezed his body into mine. I wanted to let him know that he was safe and everything would be fine from here on out.

As he began to relax, we both lay back and got comfortable, but I still held on to him and let him know he wasn’t alone. He moved his body tightly against mine, relaxed some more and soon drifted off. Even though he was asleep, I continued to hold him, but I also kissed his forehead, before I also gave into my exhaustion.

We must have spent the whole night that way, because he was still in my arms the next morning when I awoke. I came to first and didn’t want to wake him, so I just lay there and watched him, until I saw his eyes flutter open. He was startled when he first looked around, not immediately remembering where he was, but then he looked at me, smiled and sighed.

“I was almost afraid this was all just a dream,” he said, after a minute or so. “I think that’s the best I’ve slept in a very long time.”

“Me too,” I told him, even though I hadn’t really slept very long. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, but I rather stay like this for a while longer, if it’s okay with you.” He looked into my eyes, gave me the sweetest smile, and I melted into his angelic countenance.

“Of course it is,” I assured him. As we lay there, I continued to study him, wondering what was going through his mind. “A penny for your thoughts,” I finally whispered, when I thought the moment was right.

“What?” he asked, looking confused. Either he hadn’t heard what I’d said or had never run across that expression before.

“A penny for your thoughts,” I repeated.

“What does that mean?” he asked, looking me straight in the eye.

“It means that I was wondering what you were thinking about,” I explained, which evoked a sudden understanding from him.

He kind of blushed, but then he answered. “I was thinking about how lucky I was that you picked me up yesterday…” but then he hesitated. “And I was thinking how I liked lying here with you like this,” he added, blushing even more.

“Hey, I’m enjoying it too,” I told him. “My boys like to sleep with me like this from time to time, if only to make sure that I still care about them or feel that I’m here for them.

“My dad would never have done this with me,” he confided. “He would have told me being this close to another guy was queer and would have called me a fag if I’d even suggested it.”

“Well, it’s different here, so don’t worry about it,” I assured him.

“Yeah, it is different here and I like it this way,” Brent agreed. After a moment of hesitation, he continued. “Am I going to be able to stay here?”

“I can’t give you a definite answer to that question just yet,” I told him, “but today I’ll contact a couple of my friends and get the ball rolling, to see if we can get you squared away.”

“What do you mean by that?” he wondered, looking a little scared about what I might be suggesting.

“I mean, they’re both good friends of mine and one is a social worker, while the other is a judge. Sally, the social worker, will know what to do to get custody of you and Steve, the judge, will be able to advise me how to do it without breaking the law. We may have to start legal proceedings against your parents for child abandonment, since they threw you out of their house. How would you feel about that?”

He looked at me and I could see the wheels turning in his head. Finally, he spoke what was on his mind. “Do you think we should do that? I don’t want to have to face them again, like in court or anything. They always make people think that everything’s my fault. And I don’t want them telling everyone that I’m a rotten, cock-sucking fag. My dad will do that, you know.”

“My friends know how to handle things like that and will try to make it as easy on you as they can. Usually, we just end up making a few threats about legal action and then the adults realize they could be in serious trouble and do whatever we ask them, as long as it isn’t too unreasonable. I’ll work with both my friends, so you won’t have to face your parents again, if you don’t want to. Most likely we can work this out without getting you directly involved, but there is still a slim chance that this will go to court and the judge will want you there. It won’t be my friend the judge, since he has to refuse to handle any cases involving his family and friends, but we’ll do everything we can to prevent it from going that far.”

“Yes, please. I don’t know if I could handle seeing them again,” Brent admitted. “They really scare me now.”

“I’ll do everything I can to prevent it, but like I said, there will always be that slim chance.”

“Okay, I trust you,” he admitted, which in itself seemed remarkable to me, since he hadn’t known me for very long. “Just do what you have to do, so I don’t have to go back there or be near them on my own. I think they’d kill me, especially if they think I’d caused them to get into trouble.”

“I’ll make sure the judge knows that too, if it should get that far,” I agreed. “For right now, however, I don’t want you to worry about that. Come on. Let’s get up and get something to eat. I can hear your stomach growling.”

He laughed at that comment. “Yeah, I wondered if you heard it. I wasn’t sure anyone but me could pick up on that. Okay, let’s go eat then, because I want to get to know the other boys too.”

He got up and walked toward my door, as I got out of the other side of the sofa bed. As I started to walk around toward the door, he walked toward me and threw his arms around my middle-age paunch. He then put his head against my chest and hugged me for all he was worth. I bent my head down slightly and kissed the top of his head.

“Thank you for everything,” he said at last. “I think I’m really going to like being here.”

Copyright © 2010 Bill W; 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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