Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 40. Chapter 40

April 26, 1963

Jason had the condo scanned for bugs and it turned up negative. I think we both felt a little ridiculous and paranoid for doing it, but at the same time, I felt relieved. The new television was neat, and I'm glad I got it this week; otherwise Jason would have been bored out of his mind. Still, I think he was getting a little obsessed with some of the soap operas, so much so that I'd started bringing work home for him to do. At least that was my excuse, never mind that I didn't want to do it myself. I'm not sure if it irritated him or not, but I figure that since I'd just spent $7500 to free him from bondage, it wasn't asking too much that he skip “Days of Our Lives” and do some grading.

But none of that really mattered right now. The only thing that mattered right now was that Jeff was on his way. I found myself pacing the apartment, but as soon as Jason noticed, I stopped and forced myself to sit down. Then I realized that he'd be hungry when he got here, so I ordered a few pizzas and made Jason go down and pick them up. Then, with him out of the house, I was able to pace again.

Jason got back with the pizzas and we ate some. It was midnight and Jeff still wasn't here yet. I was beginning to worry. It wasn't until 1AM when the door opened and there he was. I jumped up and ran over to welcome him. I didn't have to play those stupid games, like playing hard to get with Jeff. He knew how easy I was. I was startled to see someone else behind him, startled then pleased. He'd brought Sammy with him.

“Sammy! Welcome!” I gave him a hug too. I was so happy that he finally made it to Chicago.

“Hey JP. Wow! Nice place!” He browsed around while Jeff headed for the pizza. Through some amazing intuitive insight, I'd gotten a small bed (it looked like a couch) for the study. It wasn't the prettiest thing, but it was practical. I asked Jason if he'd get that set up for Sammy, and he helped out like he always did.

Sammy strolled through the condo then noticed that I'd given his paintings prime locations, even more prime than the paintings my parents had given me. He stood admiring them proudly.

They ate some pizza, and then we headed for bed. We were all tired. I made sure that Sammy was tucked in and then I headed to bed. Jeff was already in bed, and already asleep. And he was wearing boxers. What was that all about? He hadn't worn boxers for ages. That was like a sign that said “hands off.” I swallowed my disappointment and spooned up behind him. I expected him to respond to me, to move back into me, but he didn't move. And I could tell by his breathing that he wasn't asleep.

“OK Jeff, what's wrong?” I asked, unable to hide the irritation.

“I'm tired JP.” he said.

“That's a bunch of bullshit and you know it. Turn around and tell me what I've done to piss you off. I mean, shit, I've only been gone a week. Last week you were totally in love with me. This weekend you act like you can't stand me.” The voice in my head kept telling me to get a grip, but the emotions wouldn't let me. He said nothing.

“You know, if you're going to hurt me like this, hurt me this bad, you should at least tell me why.” He still ignored me. Now I was getting pissed. I punched him in the back, hard. Well, hard for me.

He turned around to face me with fire in his eyes, really pissed. That's fine. I'd rather have him mad then get no response at all. He looked like he was going to hit me, but he didn't. He just looked at me. There were tears in his eyes. I reached up and touched his face tenderly.

“What's wrong? Tell me Jeff. I love you. You're my world.” He pulled away.

“No. I'm not. I can't be.”

“What do you mean?” He was confusing the shit out of me.

“JP, we can't be together anymore.” His mouth said it, but he didn't mean it. I could read it in his eyes.

I fell back on one of the best parts of our relationships. I reached up and grabbed his head and pulled him to me, kissing him aggressively. He fought me, tried to pull away, but I was winning. I felt his mouth open, felt our tongues meet, and then I felt him surrender to our love. It was as if now that I had broken down his barricade, he just gushed forward. He rolled over on top of me and grabbed the Vaseline, lubing his hard cock. He wasn't gentle, and he wasn't loving. It was as if he was desperate. I didn't care. I loved this man so much I'd do anything for him. He fucked me with abandon, sometimes hard, sometimes soft, the lust and passion was there, but not with the love he'd shown before. It was there, I knew it was, but he wasn't letting it out. We both felt it. He was holding back emotionally.

When we were spent, he lay on my chest and I stroked his hair. “So are you going to tell me what's going on? Please.”

“JP, I'm getting married.”

“What?” I was stunned.

“Carol and I, we've had sex a few times. Twice actually. And now she's pregnant. I have to marry her JP. I can't let the baby grow up without a daddy.” That was typical of Jeff. So focused on kids.

“Did you use a rubber?” I asked.

He glowered at me. “Yes I used a rubber. But they don't always work.”

“When are you getting married?”

“We're set to do it right after graduation. No firm date yet, but probably a few days afterwards.” He definitely wasn't excited about it.

“How do you know it's yours?”

“JP, I know you're mad and hurt, but don't call Carol a whore. If she says it's mine, it's mine.”

“You do know that she's slept with other guys?” I asked. He became enraged.

“You say you love me, and then you start telling me lies to try to get me not to marry her. That's really twisted JP. Really twisted. I thought better of you.”

“I caught her with Stefan when we were at Tonto's” I said, going on like an idiot, like someone whom the gods wished to destroy.

“Yeah right JP. He's queer. That's real good. I'm not the father, because Carol fucked some gay guy.”

“I thought you were gay?”

“Maybe I was just confused. Maybe I had just fallen under some spell you cast on me.” He was really upset, and out of control.

“Jeff, don't be ridiculous. I'm sorry if I insulted you. If this is what you really want, then I can't stop you. I won't stop you. But I will miss you.”

“JP, there will be someone else. You'll find someone who actually deserves you.” He seemed sincere. This was bullshit. This was tragic.

“No, I won't. You are the one for me. Period. Losing you will be harder for me than losing Andre, and he was killed.” He just looked at me stunned. To be honest, I was stunned that I said it too. He got out of bed, got dressed, and grabbed his stuff.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I'm getting Sammy and I'm going back to Claremont. Right now.” I just rolled over and hid my head under the pillow. I had nothing to say. There was nothing I could do. I heard him arguing with Sammy, and then I heard the door slam. And then silence. Dead silence. What just happened here? What the fuck just happened?

April 27, 1963

He didn't come back. I lay in bed, hoping against hope that he'd come back, but he didn't. I'd lost him. How did I lose him? How did this happen? I lay in bed, miserable. Around noon, Jason came in to check on me.

“Where's Jeff?” he asked.

“He broke up with me and left,” I said. I sounded like a high school girl. No, if I was a high school girl, I'd probably still have him.

“What? You've got to be kidding. Why?”

I looked at Jason, trying to control myself. I could do this. I could be strong.

“He's getting married. To Carol. She's pregnant.”

“Shit. That sucks. How's he know he's the father? She's fucked all kinds of guys.”

“I tried to tell him that, but he didn't believe me. Thought I was just trying to spread lies so he wouldn't dump me.”

“Well he's blind. If he asked anyone, they'd tell him.” Jason was being logical. Jeff and I weren't.

“You try and tell him that. He wouldn't listen to me.” This conversation was taking way too much energy. I was tired. So very tired.

“I'm sorry JP.” he said.

“Thanks Jason. I'm really tired. I didn't sleep much.” He nodded and left me alone. I stayed in bed all day and all night. I slept, woke up briefly, long enough to torture myself, and then I'd force myself back into a slumber. When I slept, I didn't hurt. So I slept.

I didn't cry. Not a single tear. This was bigger than that. All I could do is bury it deep, deep into the bowels of my psyche. If I couldn't forget Jeff, couldn't forget my feelings for him, at least I could hide them. So hide them I did.

May 2, 1963

This week had been grueling. On the outside, I did my thing, lectured, met with students, and even blew Ted Bailey. But on the inside, I was empty and hollow. I'd never felt this lonely and sad before. Maybe it was because when I'd had to deal with the horrible crises that been inflicted on me before, I'd always had someone there to fall back on. Someone to give me strength. I tried to think of that someone as an amorphous group of friends, but I knew that wasn't realistic. The someone had been Jeff.

Now, when I lost him, I had nowhere to go. Sure, I had friends. Jason had stepped up like a trooper, put up with my moodiness, anticipated my needs, and jumped in to shore up any of my weaknesses that I showed. He even came in and slept with me a few nights, not in a sexual way, but just in a human way, providing me with a nearness that I needed to get through this. And he was such a good friend he didn't make a big deal about it. In the morning, it was business as usual.

I wondered when I'd get over this. When would I be able to burst through this malaise and become a person again? Before I did that, I had some milestones to get past. I had to go to graduation. I had to see Jeff and Stefan graduate. Well, I at least had to be there for Stefan. The little shit had turned out to be a star student. At first I thought that was an indicator that French schools were superior, but then I realized that it had nothing to do with that. He is a bright, very bright young man. It was incumbent on me, as his cousin and friend, to show him support, to nurture his progress. And maybe fuck him once in awhile, I thought to myself with a smile.

And then there was Jeff's wedding. Should I go? Would I be able to go? Would I be able to control myself? This week had been turmoil for me, primarily about this marriage. It was clear to me that Carol was trying to trap him. But he wouldn't listen to me. So what could I do? I could try to gather proof of her infidelity, but that may backfire. He may just ignore it and hate me even more. Or I could go see Louie and have him eliminate Carol entirely. That made me smile, but not even I was that ruthless. And the weird twisted options flowed through my brain, but the bottom line was the same. If Jeff loved me and trusted me like he had claimed, he would have worked through this with me. He would have shared his thoughts and fears, and we would have crafted a plan together.

That was a pleasant line of thought. That led me down the path that would enable me to hate him. I could blame him for everything, for hurting me, and even imagine that he did it on purpose. That he played me for my money and the gifts I'd showered on him. An almost-new Corvette, a trip to Paris, clothes, spending money, all those things. But it didn't work. I know he wasn't with me for the stuff. Stuff just didn't mean that much to him. And I knew that the core of his commitment to Carol wasn't love, it was honor. He made a mistake; he was going to take responsibility. That was part of his code, part of being a man. And now the line of thought wasn't pleasant, because I realized once again what I lost.

I turned on the television, hoping maybe the news would cheer me up. The internal sarcasm at that concept made me laugh out loud. There had been good news in the past. Truly we were making progress. The President had pledged to put a man on the moon by the end of the decade and we'd had men in space, in orbit, several times now. The Mercury Program was set to launch another flight in June. And communications were facing a huge revolution, pioneered by Telstar.

Tonight on the news, though, there wasn't anything good. Only bad things, very bad things. All over the screen were images of the racial tensions in Alabama. And while they'd been bad before, tonight they were horrendous. The segregationist sheriff in Birmingham had unleashed dogs and fire hoses on demonstrators in that city, not unusual, except many of the demonstrators that were attacked were mere children. Hoses that could rip the bark off a tree were turned on ten year old kids. Dogs bit at their heels, while policemen rapped at their heads with clubs.

Jason came in as the story started and just stared at the television with me. Neither one of us said anything, but when the story was over, there were tears in his eyes. I just shook my head sadly and retired to my room. I needed to sleep some more.

May 6, 1963

Another long, lonely weekend was over. Thank God, even though there obviously wasn't one. I'd slept through most of it. I woke up late, around noon, ate something, and went back to sleep by 5pm. I was so tired. I always seemed to be tired.

On Monday classes went off just as planned and there wasn't anything new to really get excited about. Normal classes, normal office hours, and no research. I was being totally unproductive, and I didn't give a shit. This wouldn't get me tenure, I'd need to pick it up if I was going to achieve that goal, but right now, I just didn't care.

I got home that evening and stared at the bar. I'd thought about drowning my sorrows, and even had a whiskey or two, but the only thing that was going to get me through this was control, and when I drank, I lost control, and that was not acceptable. I tried to cheer myself by noting that now that Jeff was out of my life I could truly rebuild my walls and shield myself from attack. I'd be the impervious JP Crampton that had blown away persecuting professors at Princeton, the JP Crampton that never ever lost his cool. The only guy with a battering ram had retired. I was impervious.

That night though, I got something in the mail that jolted me from my state of melancholy. I got a letter from Isidore. She'd been stalling on coming to the US, and though I'd been suspicious of her motives, I finally deduced from her correspondence that she was nervous about flying with little Andre until he was just a bit older. But she'd fixed her arrival date for June 9, which was perfect. Graduation at Northwestern was on the 8^th, and graduation at Claremont High was a week later, on June 15^th. There was a lot to do before she got here.

The first thing I did was contact my lawyer. I'd hired a guy here in Chicago when the Jensen shit had started, and he seemed bright and competent. Aaron Sanders was his name, and despite his anglicized last name, he was obviously Jewish. I explained the entire situation to him, including my relationship with Andre. He had the lawyer-client privilege thing to deal with, so I could trust him. I'm not sure why I felt it important to reveal my homosexuality to him, or to reveal that Andre and I were lovers. Maybe it was some perverse desire to shock him. That didn't work. Maybe it was my way of reminding myself that I'd been in love and happy before. That didn't work either. I think, in the end, I wanted him to be fully aware of why I was so interested in Isidore and little Andre, and to realize the legal pitfalls that may result from it.

I was surprised at all the issues that arose from our meeting. If Isidore stayed here, could she get a Visa? What about the status of Andre Charles? Would he, and she, be eligible for military benefits? What were the rules concerning common-law marriage in France and the United States? Could we prove he was Andre's son? We'd had blood tests done, and to the degree that they could, they pointed to Andre as his true father. As far as I was concerned, he was Andre's son, but would that be enough for the military? And if they stayed here, what parenting rights would I have, or did I want? Did I want to adopt him? Did I want to marry her, just to solve many of those problems? If I did, there would have to be some sort of marriage contract to protect my assets. It seemed like every answer just provoked a new question. The whole thing fatigued me, so I left it in his capable hands.

The next issue was easier to solve, or so I thought: space. The building I lived in, despite being completed some nine months ago, was still not full. I went to see the builder and he presented me with a number of options to consider. The condo next to me on the 20^th floor, the one facing away from the Lake (so it was cheaper) was available. I could buy it and blow out some walls, turning it into one big place. That would cost me some $35,000 plus renovations. Or on the floor above me, the 21^st floor, there had been no real activity at all. Only a few of the walls had been roughed in. I could basically buy as much of that floor as I wanted and design it out as I thought fit. He offered to sell me the whole floor for $100,000, but then the entire design and construction project would also be on my shoulders. Or I could move to a house, buy one near campus. That way Andre Charles would have a yard to play in. That was a plus, but I liked condo living, and the pool in the summer was a real plus.

All of these meeting wore me out. I was tired, so tired, so I went to bed early. On Thursday, I decided that I needed some advice. Friday found me on the road, once again, to Claremont.

May 10, 1963

I'd been driving all day and the weather was beautiful. Gorgeous Spring scenery assaulted my senses, but I didn't really notice it. I was pretty much numb. I'd have to knock this if I was going to fool my parents and Vella. Tonto would be harder, if only because she was so assertive.

I got to the familiar sign announcing I was entering Claremont City Limits, and took the familiar turn that led me up Skyline Blvd to the familiar house that I'd called home, most of the time. I parked in the familiar garage, and headed to the familiar kitchen. I should have been excited. I was back on good terms with my parents and Vella. But I wasn't. I didn't feel anything.

Vella was in the kitchen, as usual, and dropped everything to run over and give me a hug. “JP. Here you go, coming into town and not tellin' me. I'm gonna get real fired up if folks keep leaving me out of the loop.”

“And once again Vella, no one knows I'm coming so you're the first to see me,” I rejoined, with a smile.

“Well, I guess that's OK then. It's good to see you.” And with that she hustled off to her house.

I found my parents in the living room, watching the late news on television. My mother spotted me first. “JP, what a nice surprise!” She came over to me and hugged me. Her hugs were still those demi-hugs that were the norm, but they seemed to have some more feeling behind them.

My father stood up behind her and he gave me a hug, not one of those perfunctory things, but a real hug like he used to give me when he loved me. Maybe he truly loved me again? That brought a smile to my face.

“I'm glad you're home son! It's been lonely around here since you went back to Chicago.”

I beamed at him. “It's good to be back here, and to see you both.”

He was still my typical Type-A father though. “So what brings you home? Did you just miss us?” He was smiling.

We all sat down and he flipped off the television. “Actually, I need some advice.” They looked at me, surprised. I hadn't asked them for guidance in a long time. I saw the look shift, almost simultaneously in both of them, to a look of concern. Poor people, I thought to myself, they were probably wondering what latest nightmare I'd come to drop in their laps.

“We are all ears,” said my mother, using an expression I rarely heard her use.

“Andre has a child,” I said, letting that sink in. That hit them like a bolt of lightning. “When we were in Paris last year, he had a brief, uh, relationship with a young lady named Isidore. When I got his letters, there was a letter from her explaining that she was pregnant.”

“Was this before you and Andre, uh, became a couple?” my father asked, and now the lightning hit me. How thoughtful of him to ask, worried about how I'd handle it if it was infidelity.

“Yeah Dad, it was. Thanks for thinking about my feelings though.” He smiled at me.

“What makes you sure it is his child?” my mother asked.

“Well, when Jeff and I went to Paris in the spring I met her, and I met the baby. Mother, when I held him, I just knew he was Andre's. My instincts usually serve me well.” She looked skeptical. “But I am not a fool,” I said. “I had blood tests done, and to the degree possible, they show that he is indeed Andre's son.”

“So what does this have to do with you?” asked my father.

“I feel a responsibility for the baby Dad. If he's Andre's son, he'll need people to help him, watch out for him, and love him. I owe it to Andre to be that person. He trusted me, left me all of his life insurance.” I didn't know if he'd buy that, but he seemed to. At least he nodded. I guess it was that same “honor” thing that had cost me Jeff.

“So what do you need our advice about?” asked my father, once again getting to the point.

I told them that I'd asked her to move to the US, and told her that she could stay with us. I'd meant Jeff and me, but I think my parents thought I was referring to Jason and me. I laid out my three options for housing, and put the schematics for the condo expansion on the table.

I expected my father to jump in and tell me what to do right away, but he didn't. “JP, can you let me look at these? I'd like to ruminate on this for a day at least. When do you go back to Chicago?”

“I planned to leave Sunday morning Dad. I've got classes to teach on Monday.”

“Good, we'll talk about this tomorrow night. In the meantime, you look exhausted. Why don't you get some rest?”

“Thanks Dad. I am. It's been a long day, and a long drive.” I kissed them both on the cheek and headed to my room. I had, by now, multiple wardrobes so I didn't pack anything except my latest books, but I retrieved them from the car and settled into my own personal space in Claremont. This room, that had so many good and bad memories, which had sometimes seemed like a jail, now seemed comforting.

I took a shower and laid in bed nude, thinking about that time I'd caught Sammy watching me jack off. I chuckled and picked up a book and tried to read it. I found that, where before I'd gotten here I hadn't been able to internalize a single word, now, with some effort, I was actually able to get into it. I'd ripped through the first few chapters when I heard the sliding door open.