For Ever Young - 1. Chapter 1

For-Ever Young

May the good Lord be with ya down every road you roam
And may sunshine and happiness surround you when you're far from home
And may you grow to be proud, dignified, and true
And do unto others as you would have done to you

Be courageous and be brave
And in my heart you'll always stay

Forever young, forever young
Forever young, forever young

May good fortune be with you, may your guiding light be strong
Build a stairway to heaven with a prince or a vagabond

And may you never love in vain
And in my heart you will remain

Forever young, forever young
Forever young, forever young
For-ever young
For-ever young
Yeah!

And when you finally fly away I'll be hopin' that I served you well
For all the wisdom of a lifetime no one can ever tell

But whatever road you choose
I'm right behind you, win or lose

Forever young, forever young
Forever young, forever young
For-ever young
For-ever young
For! For-ever young
For-ever young

Songwriters: Bob Dylan. For non-commercial use only.

Forword

Whenever the phone rings at 3AM in the morning it is assuredly not someone calling with good news. The sad part is that I’d bet my last dollar as to who was calling…and why. This wasn’t the first time I’d get a call like this, and somewhere and somehow Carver had been found or resurfaced as he was often wont to do.

Only this time I had known exactly where Carver was and why. What I didn’t know was why he was coming home so early from LA.

~~~

There was never a moment that I didn’t know Carver, he was there in the very beginning of our lives. We shared a birthday week and age and lived in the house next door. Our parents were the best of friends from before our birth, they often joked it was the peach brandy they consumed when on a beach vacation together, that led to our conception. Many times, over our formative years when on or the other, or both of us were the source of some mischief, our parents would look at the detritus of our escapades and mutter we were living proof of the fallacy of immaculate conception.

We were as close as two peas in a pod, each of us with our own personalities. I was fair skinned, a dusky tow-headed blond with green eyes and Carver had coal-black hair with deep blue eyes. We both played sports, tennis was my game, and I was ok at it and Carver excelled at baseball, there wasn’t a position he couldn’t play.

Academically I was more of a scholar, a bookworm if I could get away with it, tucked into an easy chair lost in the wonders of ancient history. Course work came easy to Carver, his memory and recall precluded him from serious studying. It was a trait that served him well in the plays and musicals he did throughout his high school years. He put in only as much effort as needed to match my grades, no more, no less. The sad part was that he was actually brilliant and could have been anything he wanted to be.

Beautiful Boy

Looking at Carver was to be mesmerized, I can’t think of the number of times his angelic looks either started or got us out of trouble. As little kids we sort of shrugged off the undue attention that came our way. Most of the time it was Carver’s looks that caught someone’s attention, mind you, I had been told, pinched on the cheek, uncomfortably patted on the bum, that I was nearly as cute as Carver. We’d giggle, blush, act embarrassed, and run off, needing to escape the odd, strange world of adults.

What was generally annoying attention we could ignore as it was incomprehensible to us. All that began to change once we hit our school years. At first kids seemed to gravitate to Carver and his outgoing, magnetic personality. Everyone seemed to want to be his friend, and by extension, me.

It didn’t bother me as it should I suppose, at the end of nearly every day of our schooling, we’d always walk home together. Sometime about the middle of our fifth-grade year, things we simply didn’t understand about the undue attention we garnered, were becoming clearer to us. It began to change the way we were looked at, and how some of those who did became uncomfortable for us, or so I thought.

We had the discussion with our fathers about the birds and the bees much to their dismay with our giggling and reactions as they discussed our bodies and the changes we could expect. Unbeknownst to them, our computers taught us so much more than they had expected. Growing up as we had, there were no secrets about our bodies between us. It seemed for a time; we were naked just as much as we were clothed. And yes, we played the boy games as boys are determined to do when sleepovers or other opportunities arose.

By the time we were in sixth grade we upped our playtime games, at first it started with dares, no longer was it simple touching or looking. Carver, as always, took the lead as we discovered the wonders of oral and the various ways we could pleasure each other. The odd thing was that when it came to sex games with other boys, and sometimes girls, I was always Carver’s partner. He had no compunction about letting others see him and his bits, and in fact, as I was later to learn his hidden side, he loved those who got off on his body, and especially when unclothed.

Telegenic

Junior high opened a whole new world for the both of us, mind you we were still thicker than thieves, and our relationship only grew stronger and our sexual escapades evermore intense as puberty descended upon us.

Almost immediately Carver signed up for roles in the student plays the school put on. Not having any interest appearing on stage, I soon found myself involved in a myriad of backstage roles. Whenever there was a production that didn’t interfere with our sporting interests, it was in the auditorium where we could be found.

The head of the Theater Arts Department had sent stills and a few video snippets to a couple of talent agencies. It led to a couple of print ad’s but in a sea of ‘talent’ Carver was the proverbial small fish in a bigger pond. That would, however, change later on in high school.

Exhibitionist

As mentioned before, Carver didn’t have a shy bone in his body. He’d be the one to walk to and from the showers after gym or athletic events with just a towel draped over his shoulder. He take an inordinate time undressing or dressing afterwards. Several times, as I came to realize later, he’d only wear his gym shorts sans underpants or a jock. He’d pick a target, someone he knew was interested, curious actually, and play a game of hide and seek with his bits.

It must have been shortly after we discovered gay story sites that Carver found a way to publicly indulge his ‘inclination’. If memory serves me correctly, it was a serial story on Nifty about a young teen who was similar to Carver and what he experienced. The good-looking teen had come to realize, discovering actually folks staring at him when they were out and about in public. Often it would be an older man or a teacher, a group of silly girls, and much to his delight classmates and older boys.

The boy knew why these folks were staring at him, at some level he didn’t see it himself and, on another level, he found it thrilling that he was the object of attention, of the sexy kind. At night when alone in his bed he’d often replay those moments while he pleasured himself. One afternoon when out at the mall with friends they found themselves at a McDonald’s for lunch when he felt someone looking at him, his eyes focused on the space between his legs. He had been wearing as usual baggy shorts and feeling adventurous, he left his underpants back at home.

With a slight repositioning and opening his legs a little bit wider to confirm the boy’s interest. He knew the boy from school and was a couple years older than him and had noticed him staring on occasion.

Taking a chance, he lifted his foot up on the seat fully exposing himself watching his admirer’s mouth open as he fully grew hard. He sat like that ‘til it was time to go. As they were leaving, he realized the power his sex could have on others, and he was loving the thrill it gave him.

After reading that story Carver was nearly insatiable and turned it into a game between the two of us, that we played many times. I was to find out much later that he’d recreated that scenario several times alone and more than once, needed to make a hasty exit.

I think what sort of drove a wedge between us Carver’s kink and my growing awareness of it. Don’t get me wrong, sex between the two of us was fantastic and for me, very fulfilling. I had gone over to his house one Saturday morning; his parents would be out until mid-afternoon. I found Carver in his room lying on his side in his birthday suit. My eyes instinctively followed the seam on his perineum towards the portal I’d soon be entering. One hand was gently prising his buttocks apart while the other held his phone. When I entered the room, he let out a frustrating sigh and had me take the picture he wanted. By the time his parents came home there were several images of what we had been up to including evidence of just where I had been.

A couple of weeks later we were back at it again and while Carver was in the bathroom cleaning up after another boisterous round of lovemaking. He had asked me to download the images off his phone to his PC. I don’t know how he managed to do it and bypass the age restriction, but Carver had a profile on reddit twinks and there he was in all his glory, showing everything except his face. There were few other pictures of us having sex. Mind you, there wasn’t any way you could tell who we were, it was just a bit disconcerting he took that liberty. He promised not to do it again, I could not stop him from posting, his likes and comments were through the roof, and he was proving to be one of the more popular posters.

Truthfully, while I was pissed at what he had done, I had to admit the pictures of the two of us were hot. It simply seemed to me Carver was giving into his urges and there was a part of him I simply could not reach, I’m not sure anyone could.

Your Public Awaits

By the time we were halfway through high school, things had cooled a bit between us, while the sex was just as good as it ever was, Carver could pound my backside like there wasn’t any tomorrow. In the beginning I had wanted that despite his reluctance to do so. I have no explanation as to why after a couple of years, it became something we both enjoyed tremendously.

~~~

After the end of the theater department’s latest fall play, one of the talent agencies came to see the latest production. They were looking for someone like Carver to cast in a sitcom similar to The Waltons. By the time Christmas had come and gone, so was Carver from my life.

The show was a hit, two full length movies were made as well. Sadly, shortly after the third season it all came to an end when nearly half of the cast members were killed in a small plane crash. The problem for Carver was the fact he had been typecast, as it was explained to him, the audience so identified him with the role he had been playing, that it would be some time before the audience could or would accept him in any other role.

There were a few guest appearances, and a spin-off was put into production and the ratings simply weren’t there. Carver wasn’t hurting for money, he had been paid well, the movies were a hit, and he was at loose ends. I knew he wouldn’t be coming home and said as much in his phone calls and emails to me. In an attempt to derail his image as it were, Carver poised for a series of advertisements featuring of all things, underwear.

The print ads were a sensation as the product was form fitting, leaving little doubt as to what was being concealed. All of a sudden America’s wholesome, squeaky-clean, all-around son every mother ever wanted discovered sex, and wasn’t shy about it as the images proved.

Wasted Days and Nights

In Los Angeles and Hollywood, the temptations luring someone like Carver are ever-present and hard to resist. He had fallen in with a popular crowd of young actors like himself, caught in the never-ending days and nights of debasement and debauchery. There were a few embarrassing public incidents, more than one trip to dry out and as with Justin Bieber, he was no longer America’s wholesome heartthrob.

I’m not sure how to say or describe the following, Carver was like a single dandelion flower at the beginning of this stage of his life. Like the dandelion, he indiscriminately spread his seed far and wide with many and sometimes, multiple partners. That he didn’t fall prey to anyone of the various, easily transmissible sexual diseases was a minor miracle.

What we would find out later on was that Carver was full of surprises.

Fall from Grace

Carver had been approached by the folks at Studio Felix. He had met one of the ‘stars’ at one of the notorious parties he had gone to. Rowan was much like Carver; they were in fact kindred spirits as they were both exhibitionist at heart. While the sex between the both of them was good, it was an offer from Studio Felix, that Rowan forwarded to be featured in an upcoming production.

Studio Felix’s claim to fame was that they made historical style films along the lines of Penthouses’ Caligula. A touch of historical relevance, a bevy of fit, nubile, and sexually eager bodies copulating for the non-discriminating audience. Movies ran the gamut from; cowboys and Indians, early settlers, civil war and Victorian eras, to Alexander the Great to the fall of Troy, if it was from an intriguing era in history, it could be made into a movie. Scenery, sets, location, and costumes were all disposable.

The acting, while not atrocious, was a step up from what passed from what other productions were creating, and at the end of the day it was the sexual component that sold. Studio Felix was banking on Carver being a draw, they’d keep the news of his participation as quiet as possible. The set would be closed and on location. Professional script writers worked hard and delivered a plausible story line. Acting coaches were hired to work with the inexperienced actors. Once the running through the non-sexual scenes were up to snuff, all non-essential staff were sent home, and the ‘real’ filming began.

Your Fifteen-Minutes are Up

Treasure of the Conquistadors proved to be a sensation much along the lines of Caligula. As one critic noted the only angle not used in filming, was the one used to show Carver’s tonsils by way of a ‘long, in depth rear view camera angle’. The film recovered it’s production costs and a bit more. Sales of the DVD’s and subscriptions to Studio Felix’s website did very well, ensuring Carver not only could bank his contracted fee, but a percentage of all other sales.

Carver wasn’t a fool, he knew that his marketability and future income would be destroyed, that his career was over. As I later found out it was part of his plan, he had been an object, not a person for the entirety of his life. No one was interested in Carver, the vast, overwhelming majority of folks were in love with an image, not a person.

A few months after the release of Treasure of the Conquistadors, found Carver once again, drying out in a private clinic. While he was there, he met Sam Ohanian and the two began a romance. Surprisingly Carver was thriving with Sam despite an age difference of some twenty-odd-years. His career shepherding various tech start-ups, with his venture capital firm ensured Sam would never have to work again.

They married a year after meeting and retired to a ten-thousand-acre ranch deep in the Montana hills. I spent the week before and a month after the wedding with Carver and Sam. I think the biggest surprise wasn’t the fact that Carver married, no the biggest surprise was five-year-old Owen, a dandelion seed that found fertile ground. Owen’s mother succumbed to her addiction to heroin, and the DNA test was conclusive, leaving no doubt as to who the father was.

Can You Ever Go Back Home

Time flies when you aren’t looking at the calendar. Little Owen was approaching ten-years-old and thriving at the ranch, truly being a delight in his father’s eyes. I think this was perhaps Carver’s salvation. No longer hounded for everything he wasn’t. Some folks are beautiful babies and as they grow older the bloom fades. While it certainly wasn’t true with Carver, age and prior lifestyles had left their mark. Time out on the ranch in all weather had prematurely aged his face and he reminded me of some of the old tintype photos of century ago depicting the men and cowboys who worked the land.

Carver’s idyllic sojourn on the ranch came to an ugly end as his husband of several years was knifed to death. Sam had gone to San Francisco to finalize the selling of his shares in the venture capital firm he had partnered with. A homeless person was indignant when Sam had no cash on him.

I soon found myself out at the ranch, trying to hold things together only to watch Carver disappear, drop off the radar with the exception of a scattered phone call or two. As it turned out, he had committed himself back into rehab, deathly afraid of relapsing. It was there he found the support he needed to maintain his sobriety.

His being there became news of a sort, as a staff member called someone who called someone with an ill-gotten photo. The producer of his old TV series spotted the news clip and went to visit Carver. A movie was in the making along the lines of Lonesome Dove. The part of the lead trail hand was a serious role. This was a serious movie with roles played by established actors, who could not have been more gracious in working with Carver. The money men had issues though and were a tough nut to crack. Money wasn’t an issue with Carver, Sam’s death had left him in a secure financial position, secure enough to finance several movies if he so wanted to, and in the end that is what happened.

~~~

Carver wouldn’t take no for an answer. I have never seen him so argumentative or obstinate. He had asked me to come to Montana to look over Owen for the months filming would take place. He went so far as to threaten to buy the company I was working for, and fire everyone, the prick. Oh, he didn’t buy the company…just me, and that’s how I found myself learning all about the ins and outs of ranch life.

Epilogue

The Trail to Laramie was a box office success, the critics raved, and Carver was nominated for the best actor’s Oscar. Unbeknownst to me, the week before the Oscar’s, Carver went to the dermatologist at the UCLA Medical Center for a lesion on his neck. As I was to learn, it was a melanoma that had gone unnoticed far too long. He’d been feeling poorly for some time, always shrugging off whatever was bothering him as just a spell, with rest it would pass.

He was at the Vanity Fair after party with his Oscar when he slipped into a quiet corner and asked for assistance. He needed to get to Montana without delay. Somehow and quietly as to not create a scene, a private jet was arranged and the call I never wanted came.

~~~

I’ve had time to process and think about Carver and the demons occupying his soul, tormenting him. Folks never saw Carver for who he was, never took the time to know him. To the vast majority of folks, he was an object to be used, for their own selfish gains and pleasure.

I have to believe that his destructive and exhibitionist streak was an outgrowth of that, to somehow show he was simply human just as the rest of us were.

The night, the first time he made love to me, Carver let me in to see his innermost being. We couldn’t have been much older that fourteen at the time. Holding my face in his hands as he approached the pinnacle of his moment, he implored me to look into his eyes as it happened, it was a magical moment.

When alone and nearing my own moment, my eyes always rolled back as my neck lost the tension as my head fell back to my pillow. That night, however, when it was my turn, Carver once again held my face as I looked down at him, locked in his gaze as my moment came, he saw all that I was.

I struggle and curse the day Carver left for the bright lights feeling he was forever lost to me, and the hidden demons he could no longer control found a new playground. While he always found me when he needed me, he could never stay except for this last time.

~~~

I was at the airport waiting for his plane to land and was stunned at what I saw. Carver was but a shell of himself, the fact that he was sick no longer hidden. I was trying to figure out how he had hidden his illness from me for so long, when I realized it had to be one of his greatest performances to date.

Sitting in the limo on the ride back to the ranch, my hand in his as he leaned into me letting me know the awful truth, the upcoming meetings with his attorneys and financial people. There was some time he told me, in a voice that failed in hiding his feelings. Asking me to stay by his side and to hold his hand, the shakiness of his voice letting me know he was scared but not afraid so long as I was nearby.

~~~

It's late spring and the memorial service is about to begin. I’m fussing around the gravesite waiting for those who have been invited to attend. There’s a bit of dirt on the headstone and as I brush it off, the epitaph becomes clear again, just under the names and dates it simply states, For Ever Young.