Remembering Tim - 7. Chapter 7 - I'm a Homo

“I want to do it with you.”

Those words hung in my ear like the creepy music in a horror flick. They made shivers go up my spine, a nauseous feeling to turn my stomach, disgusting thoughts to trouble my mind. Why? Well, because they came out of the mouth of the last person I might have expected to come up with such a request.

After church on Sunday, I was not in the mood for much of anything. Seeing Mark on that stretcher and knowing there were people in my high school capable and willing to do what they did to Mark was a little beyond my understanding. The Sunday papers ran some interesting articles on the incident. There wasn’t a lot of detail other than Coach Jorgenson and the football team’s backfield did a pretty good job of nearly killing Mark. There was no mention of the broom handle, where Mark was bleeding, or that he’d been beaten up because he ate lunch with a suspected homo. I knew that was the real reason.

I’d known for nearly a year I was on the suspect list at school. I was not athletic. I was already in the running for valedictorian of the class. I was sensitive. And, I’d been in the hospital, the psych ward of all places. Nobody went there unless they were crazy or homosexual; and, everybody knew crazy people weren’t allowed to go to a public high school.

Tim was underdeveloped and he played tennis, which everyone knows is a queer sport. It didn’t help that he’d also been friends with Stevie, another suspect, but being Stevie’s tennis partner was his most damning evidence. And, now, this year, he was sitting at the Fairy Table, sometimes next to me. The whisper circuit at school hadn’t decided, but I knew it was only a matter of time before Tim was going to find his name on the list, too.

Kiel was an unknown. Last year, he’d attended Roosevelt High School down in Seattle, a school known for its snobs and queers. He’d played basketball on the freshman team and had a good reputation as an overall athlete, but it was no secret that his former friend, his boyfriend to those who knew, had been on the suspect list at Roosevelt. Yet, kids hardly mentioned him in conversations. It was as if Kiel wasn’t even attending North Park.

So, of course, people were jumping to conclusions over Mark because of his supposed friendship with me. Then his outstanding performance at the Ballard game changed everything. Suddenly, he was a potential football hero. North Park didn’t have too many of those considering our usual record was 0-12 or, on extraordinary years, 2-10. We hadn’t had a winning season since 1938 and now we’d beaten Ballard, the league’s traditional powerhouse, and Mark played a significant role in the game, enough of a role to get written up in the Saturday morning papers.

But, to be beaten up and have a broom handle shoved up where broom handles don’t belong by his teammates at his coach’s home was something I couldn’t understand. Mother wasn’t any help. I tried to ask her about what happened, but all she said was that football players and their coaches were a strange breed and it was best I didn’t associate with animals like that. The pastor at church gave a short prayer for Mark’s quick recovery, but he also prayed that the situation with Coach Jorgenson and Mark’s teammates being in jail be resolved with due haste. It seems people couldn’t believe North Park’s finest were capable to nearly killing a football hero.

I wasn’t in a good mood, so there wasn’t much else to do except go out and make myself miserable throwing the basketball at the backboard; and, I was pathetic, too. On any bad day, I could expect to make at least two or three shots in an hour, but I was making about every other one when Kiel walked up and took a rebound.

“I told you before, keep practicing and you’ll get good at this,” he said. He spun around, jumped, released the ball, and SWISH! It was unnatural the way he did that. Creepy.

“I was trying to make myself feel bad about what happened to Mark.”

“Tim will be over in a couple of minutes with Monica,” Kiel said, slipping up close and giving me a quick peck on the lips. “She has some flowers and wants to take them to Mark. We’ve got time for a quick one, if you want to come with me into our garage.”

“A quick what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I don’t want anything, right now.”

“Suit yourself, but my cock is starting to like the feel of your ass.”

“God, Kiel, is that all you can think of?”

“What’s the matter? I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

“Well, yeah, but not today.”

“Come on, it’ll only take a minute,” Kiel said, grabbing my arm just above the elbow. He squeezed hard enough to make me cringe. I’d seen that look in the psych ward, the glazed over eyes, taut muscles around the lips, and a slight tremor at the corner of an eyelid.

“No!”

“Don’t be an ass, come on.”

He pulled me to their garage. What the fuck was he doing? This wasn’t Kiel. This was some person I didn’t know. I could see his erection in his jeans. There was nothing I could do. He was too strong. Tim pulled into the driveway and lightly honked his horn.

“Shit!” Kiel whispered. He looked at me with anger spread across his face. “One word about this, one word and you’re dead. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t understand. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing you’d understand. Come on, our friends are waiting.”

**********

I do not like hospitals. I especially do not like County General. There are people in that hospital who know me. There is a male nurse up on the eighteenth floor, the psych ward, who likes the feel of a tight teenage ass around his cock and doesn’t mind spilling a little blood to get that feeling. There’s an orderly on twelve who likes the feel of young teenage lips around his cock and knows how to hurt you if you don’t want to cooperate, if you don’t like swallowing. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Dawling giving me a few good pointers on pleasuring perverts, I might have been conveniently killed, or worse, for all the attention I was receiving from the staff at the hospital during my two stays in that wonderful institution.

Mark was in a private room on the fourteenth floor, something you don’t often find in that place. Of course, he was the victim of a crime, the kind of crime you don’t want to talk to others about, especially other pediatric patients who might wonder. You can almost see their parents trying to explain why a boy had been raped with a broom handle. Mark looked like he’d been beaten with a broom handle, but he was awake and in a good mood, probably due to the drugs they were giving him. Nothing like a shot of Demerol to pick you up.

Mark’s parents were there, but they stepped out when Monica appeared with the flowers. I guess they didn’t want to interfere with young love. Kiel, Tim, and I followed her in and we stayed in the background letting Monica do whatever it is that girls do when their boyfriends are in the hospital hurting in places where you’re not supposed to hurt. What does a girl say? “I hope your asshole feels better, honey.” “Does it hurt bad when you shit?” What can anyone say?

The only good thing I could tell about Mark’s room was the view of Elliott Bay, a million-dollar view. A hell of a view to pay for with a broom handle up your ass. I watched the boats in the harbor, the ferries going to Bainbridge Island and Bremerton, seagulls flying wherever seagulls fly. I felt a hand on my ass. I didn’t want to look. If it was Tim, well, that might be okay, but I knew it was Kiel.

“I hope I can wait ‘til we get home,” he whispered in my ear. “If this takes too long, we might have to find a broom closet.”

“What the hell is with you?” I said loud enough for Mark and Monica to look at me. I tried to step away from Kiel, but he stayed close seemingly matching my steps to get away from him.

“Hey, Geoff, what’s gotten into you?” Mark asked.

“Are you okay?” Tim asked, obviously ignoring Mark’s question. “I mean, well, you know.”

“It hurts like hell and I have stitches where you don’t what to have stitches. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said, walking to the door. “I’ll be out in the waiting room.”

“I’ll come with you,” Kiel said. “There’s nothing in here for me.”

“Geoff, will you wait a minute, I’d like to talk to you,” Mark said. “Thanks for the flowers, Monny. You’re great, just what a foot, an ex-football player needs.”

“You’re not going to quit, are you?” Monica asked.

“There’s no point in going on, not after what happened. Come on give me a kiss and let me talk to Geoff.”

They were cute the way their lips tried to meet without hitting any of the stitches around Mark’s mouth. And, then I was alone with Mark. I walked over to his bed, wondering what he had to say, dreading what he might say. The last thing I needed to hear was that he hated me because of what happened and was going to tear my balls off when he was better.

“Coach didn’t want to use just a broom handle,” Mark said, staring at me, but not my face, lower down. “He wanted all of them to rape me. You know, fuck me, but they said they weren’t queer and wouldn’t do it. So, Coach hit me. He hit me! He kept on hitting me and calling me a faggot. I must have passed out.”

“What did the police say?” I asked, if only to change the subject.

“They don’t believe me,” Mark said, turning his face away from me. “They think I was raped and dumped there by a bunch of faggots. That’s what they said, but they had to arrest the other boys and Coach because my dad said he’d call the papers and say the police refused to investigate my beating.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what do you want from me?” I asked, feeling I should be afraid of what he might say.

“You know, Geoff, I’ve always liked you. And, I, well, I don’t mind if you might be, well, you know.”

“Gay?”

“Is that what you call it?”

“What do you call it?”

“Homo, queer, faggot, but not to my older brother.”

“Those aren’t nice words,” I said, thinking about the latter part of his statement. “You mean Gary?”

“Yeah, but that’s not important. They were calling me those words because I know you; and, that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

He sounded nice, as if he had something good to say, something I wanted to hear.

“When I’m better, maybe in a couple months,” Mark said, reaching over and taking hold of my hand. His hands were muscular, but he was being gentle. “I’d like it very much, well, this is kind of hard to say because I don’t know how you’ll take it, but I want to do it with you.”

“Do what?” As if I had to ask, but maybe he wanted me to take him to the zoo or something just as innocent. I could hope he wasn’t thinking what I didn’t want him to think.

“I know you have sex with other guys. Stevie Carlson told me.”

“Fuck, that damn bastard’s done it again. Damn it, what else did he tell you?”

“That you’d suck my cock if I asked you,” Mark said. His hand was still holding mine, but there wasn’t any threat in his grasp. He was simply holding my hand, like he might hold Monica’s. Did he think this meant something to me?

“You know, I really thought he was my friend, but I’m beginning to find out he wasn’t all that great a person.”

“Yeah, well, I still want to do it with you and not just you doing me, either. I want to do everything, well, not the fucking, but everything else. I’ve been nearly killed because some assholes think I’m like you and, well, I thought you’d help me find out for sure.”

“God, Mark, do you know what you’re asking?” I asked. I took my hand out of his. I didn’t want to touch him. He’d never been appealing to me. He was just another guy, a big muscled football guy.

“Look, Geoff, my dad knows what happened and he said, well, he said that I’m different now. He said Coach and the other guys must have had good reason to do what they did. That’s about as close to saying I’m a homo as he can get. He’s not kicking me out or anything, but he, well, he says I’m not the same son, anymore. I remember him saying the same thing to Gary when he found out Gary liked guys, like you like guys, and, maybe, like I’m supposed to like guys.”

“God, Mark, you’re not like me. You’ve got Monica. How can you think we could do that, together?”

“I just want you to think about it. That’s all. I just want you to think about doing it with me. I’m willing to do anything, except you can’t fuck me. I can’t do that.”

“I can’t do this, Mark. I can’t.”

“I just want you to think about it. It’s not like we’re going to do it today. A couple months, then if I still think it’s necessary, we’ll do it. Okay? Just think about it. Okay?”

“I’m not going to be able to think about much else.”

**********

The ride home was quiet. No one seemed interested in saying anything. Tim missed a turn immediately after leaving the hospital parking garage and we were suddenly heading downtown. I was enjoying the view, but he seemed to be getting flustered because he kept turning corners. When we passed City Hall for the second time, I’d had enough.

“Hey, Tim, do you know where you’re going?” I asked.

“No, damn it. How do you get out of this?”

“Go straight,” I said. “Don’t make any turns until I tell you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

After a few minutes, we were on Aurora heading back to familiar territory in North Park. I was kind of hungry, but I didn’t want to go anywhere with Kiel. He was acting too weird for me. Forcing me to have sex is not a turn on; and, with Mark propositioning me, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be anywhere near Kiel for the rest of the day. It was bad enough sitting next to him in the backseat of Tim’s car.

“Does anyone want to get a pizza?” Tim asked.

“No.” Monica, Kiel, and I almost said in unison.

“Well, I guess I’ll take all of you home.”

He went to Monica’s first. She thanked him, but it was obvious Mark was on her mind. A few minutes later, Tim drove up into our driveway. I got out and held the door for Kiel, but when he climbed out, I sat back down on the front seat. Kiel looked at me as if I’d forgotten what he said.

“I need to talk to Tim about something,” I said, holding the door, ready to shut it. “Maybe I’ll talk to you later.”

“Do you want pizza?” Tim asked after I shut the door.

“Not really, a burger would be better. How about Dave’s? I’ll buy.”

“Sure, that sounds great and you won’t have to give me directions.”

He headed down and across Oak Park. This was obviously another shortcut, but it seemed to me to be the long way around Lake Mallard to North Park College.

“What do you want to talk about?” Tim asked.

“I just need someone right now, someone who isn’t interested in anything else. Okay?”

“Are you still seeing Kiel?”

“Yes,” I whispered. He thought I was crazy. This wasn’t going too well.

There weren’t a lot of people in Dave’s. It was one of three restaurants in the little shopping district between Thornton Creek Country Club and North Park College. As far as I was concerned, they had the best cheeseburgers in North Park. Lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, cheddar cheese, mustard, ketchup, and a juicy burger still sizzling from the grill, it was enough to make any teenager want to leave home and live outside Dave’s for the rest of their life. Tim led me to a corner booth away from the other customers.

I was never certain what a college hangout was supposed to look like, but Dave’s probably did an honest attempt to have the atmosphere for philosophical discussion or chitchat between lovers. Dark paneling with pictures of North Park graduates who’d gone on to have successful lives. The booths had dark green seats and backs. The tables were stone, probably marble. There were small tables across the floor with planters holding huge houseplants spaced to provide some degree of intimacy and privacy. Voices always seemed to be hushed; making the restaurant seem more elegant than it was, what with loud, boisterous teenagers flocking in there for the cheeseburgers.

The waitress brought our water and menus then seemed to disappear. Tim looked at me from across the table. He was trying to smile. I was trying very hard not to start crying.

“Do you want to order to go then take them to my sister’s apartment?” Tim asked.

“Yeah, that’s probably best,” I said. “Can I ask why you live with your sister?”

“My parents travel a lot because of my dad’s business. There’s just Mrs. Albright, the housekeeper. She’s nice, but I need to be around family, even if my sister isn’t home a lot. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

And, so, I told him about what Kiel tried to do, including the threat at the end. I practically had to force him to secrecy, but Tim assured me he wouldn’t tell. When he said it, he had the look of someone who talks to crazy people a lot. It was just meaningless words to him. Then I told him what Mark wanted.

“He wants to have sex with you?” Tim asked. We’d finished our burgers and were still working on our extra thick chocolate milkshakes. We hadn’t left after deciding to have the milkshakes, which Dave’s did not offer for takeout. “But he’s Monica’s boyfriend. He can’t do it with you. You’re not going to let him, are you?”

“I’m hoping in two months he’ll decide Monica appeals to him more than I do, or maybe his father will decide Mark isn’t gay after all. I don’t want to do it, Tim. It’s bad enough having Kiel try to force himself on me, but to do it with Mark, man that’s just too much.”

“Do you need to get home, or can we go to the apartment?”

“I can call my mother to see, but I don’t see why I can’t.”

**********

We didn’t have sex. We were in his bed, naked, lying close to each other, but we didn’t do anything. I held Tim against me and cried myself to sleep.

It was nearly nine o’clock before I woke up. Tim had disentangled himself from my embrace, but hadn’t gone far. I touched his bare chest and he opened his eyes.

“I guess it’s time to take me home,” I said, tracing a finger around his lips.

“I called your mother and said you’d fallen asleep. She said you don’t have to come home until tomorrow morning before school. We had a long chat about you. She’s really nice, you know.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The telephone rang.

“If it’s Kiel, please don’t say I’m here,” I said.

“Geoff, please, cut the crap about Kiel, for me, please,” Tim said. He ran out of the room.

Tim shut the door, but I could hear his side of the conversation. It didn’t seem to be going too well. Tim’s voice was rising. Then he said, “Well, fuck you!”

I went out to the living room. Tim was standing beside the telephone stand. The receiver was in the cradle. He looked kind of cute standing there, naked; or, at least his butt looked cute. I walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He flinched away from my touch.

“It was my dad, he said he knows about me bringing you here last time,” Tim said, turning to me. He came in close, wrapping his arms around me, laying his head against my shoulder. “I said you were just a friend. He said he knows you’re queer. He said he doesn’t want a queer son.”

I held him against me and the touch of his soft skin to mine did its magic for both of us. My hands floated across his back, my fingers caressed his innermost feelings. That night we were together free from Kiel’s threat.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” I said. Our lips met, parted slightly allowing our tongues to entice and excite. I felt a soft hand encircle my growing lust.

“In a minute,” Tim said as he knelt down in front of me. He took me into his mouth drawing me deep with his tongue. His small, tender fingers kneaded my balls, spreading my legs. My own fingers sank into his hair holding his head as my hips began to thrust myself down into his throat.

As much as I wanted this moment to linger, I could not wait or hold onto the excitement Tim was creating along the length of my throbbing cock. I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to imagine a world with Tim’s young, naked body against mine forever. I held on, but tonight my own fuse was cut short. The warmth came out of me without warning. I was coming before I could utter a sound.

Tim held me to him until I could give him no more. I wanted to collapse down to meet his lips, but he rose up to me. As our lips joined once more, I felt his erection press against me. Then hot cum erupted between us. My hands held his body against mine as the spasms shuddered through him.

“Thank you,” I whispered, reluctantly breaking our kiss. I wanted this moment to last a lifetime, but reality set in when we heard his sister’s key in the lock.