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- 10/29/2021
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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.
Timothy - 4. Chapter 4
I was standing in front of the dairy counter, holding a package of goat cheese, lost in thought.
"Timothy, are you okay?” Mrs. Kenner’s voice brought me back from my dream.
Laughing, “Yes, I had a friend whose family made and sold goat cheese. This goat cheese made me remember him. My friend joined the army and was killed. I think I’ll buy a package of goat cheese.”
“Come, get your cheese, and you can drive me home.”
I smiled as I helped Mrs. Kenner with her groceries.
That night as I lay in bed. My thoughts went to Donnie again. He enlisted as soon as we graduated. I think he had filled out the papers before we graduated. We promised to write. I remember when Mom told me he was killed. I attended his burial service, and I cried. I wasn’t ashamed, I loved him. I had tears in my eyes as these thoughts brought everything back to me.
Over the next few weeks, there were little things that brought back memories of Donnie. Mrs. Kenner knew what I was thinking. “Timothy, I miss my husband. We were married for 65 years before he left to build a place for us in Heaven. I think your Donnie might be helping him.”
I smiled, “Thanks, Mrs. Kenner. I’m sure there will be goats there as well.” For some strange reason, that gave me a feeling of peace. I’ll never forget Donnie. He’s in a special place in my heart.
I went to summer school, fulfilling some of my electives. I saw Booker T leaving with his luggage. One of his friends told me he wouldn’t be back. His dad said he wouldn’t pay for his tuition since he failed all of his classes.
I drove home every weekend that summer. I’d leave after class on Friday and return on Monday morning. When summer school was over, I stayed home until school started in the fall. This year I will begin my sophomore year.
During the first week, Freshman Week, there were no classes. I would run in the morning, and then I would spend the rest of the morning reading. I wanted to get a head start on some of my classes. After lunch, I worked outside. Cutting the grass, weeding the flower beds, washing windows, and any other odd jobs Mrs. Kenner had for me.
After showering and sharing dinner with Mrs. Kenner, I would spend time in the common room reading or watching tv. Two days before school would officially start, I was sitting watching tv. I had a book I was reading on my lap. The young man who had the room across from me came and sat beside me.
“You’re the guy who has the room across from mine.”
“Yes, my friends call me Tim.”
“My name is John, but my friends call me Johnny.”
Now I knew Johnny. He was on the football team, and it looked like he was a star player. During our conversation, he mentioned he was on a football scholarship. I asked why he was staying here instead of in the dorm. To my knowledge, athletic scholarships included room and board.
He started to laugh, “I prefer my privacy, which you don’t have in a dorm.”
“You read my mind.”
The following Friday night, I was in the common room watching television. “Hi Tim, what are you watching?”
“It’ an old Perry Mason show. I don’t think his style would work in today’s courts. Dr. Lewis said in today’s courtroom, the trials are not pre-written as they are for tv. Hey! Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Come on, Tim. You’ll like this. You know you want it.”
That brought back memories of Donnie, and I got hard. I got up and left, returning to my apartment.
Over the next few weeks, I got to know Johnny. We would meet in the common room. He never tried to play around again. But he did one thing, he reminded me of Donnie and when he and I made love. That is what we called it, making love.
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4
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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