One Moonlit Night - 11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Anxious for the school day to end…Four whole nights with my sweet Scotty kept playing through my head. Even the two and a half hours of shopping with my mother didn’t dampen my spirits. Since Beth was helping Aunt Liz with her food prepping, Scotty came over to help my mom and me. We laughed, joked around and did eventually end up in a food fight. Flour and whipped cream all over the place and on each other. It was late when we finally got everything and ourselves cleaned up. We were exhausted. Kissing my mom goodnight Scotty and I plopped into bed. Gave each other a kiss, and in minutes, wrapped in each other’s arms, were fast asleep.

The next morning we awoke around 7:00. We took a quick shower and then headed over to Scotty’s to pick up a large casserole dish of candied yams to take to the homeless shelter where we would spend a few hours volunteering our time helping serve food. It was inevitable that Scotty would end up playing the piano for a while. We did this almost every year at Thanksgiving and Christmas time. We arrived close to 9:00 and there was already quite a gathering of people queued up, waiting for the doors to open, which they would at 10:00. The smell of fresh roasted turkey waft throughout the meeting hall and it smelled great. We went about helping set up the food line, and to add a festive air, setting the tables with holiday napkins and some simple centerpieces as decorations. Everything ready, the doors were opened and the festivities began.

About a half hour into serving someone yelled toward the kitchen, “Yo, Stan we need some more turkey.”

“Comin’ right up,” came the reply.

I was on the mashed potato and gravy detail on the food line when I heard, “Right behind you, hot stuff coming through.”

I stepped aside and there holding a plate mounded with turkey was Stanley Polanski.

“Excuse me,” he said as he slid the turkey from the plate into the pan on the steam table.

Once he recognized me, he gave a nervous smile and said, “Oh, uh, hi—Sebastian—right?”

“Yeah, how are you doing Stanley?”

“Great—and please call me Stan. Stanley sounds so, ah, so formal.”

“Hey, Stan,” came a voice from one of the people attending, “Ya, think you’re ready to get your butt beat playin’ cribbage later.”

“You wish old man,” Stan responded in jest. “But, Henry, don’t know if I’ll have time, if not today, will you take a rain check for tomorrow?”

“Sure, sure, today, tomorrow, the result’s still gonna’ be the same—I’m still gonna whoop your butt.”

“We’ll see about that Henry. Happy Thanksgiving to you, enjoy your dinner and say hi to Max, that cantankerous reprobate friend of yours, for me. Catch ya’ later.”

Stan then turned to me and said he needed to get back to the kitchen and we would see each other later. At the same time as he was heading back to the kitchen, Scotty had begun to play the piano. Stan stopped in his tracks when he recognized who was playing. He hesitated a moment, took a deep breath, and walked over to the piano and said hi to Scotty. Their conversation was brief, but both had smiles on their faces as Stan turned and went back to the kitchen.

Scotty and I stayed until one o’clock and then needed to get home, as we would be having our Thanksgiving meal around 2:00. We, over the course of the morning, learned that Stan was working at the shelter as part of his court required 200 hours of community service. He said he planned to continuing his volunteer work there even after the required time was put in as he really enjoyed the people, well most of the people he amended. We enquired as to how his mom was doing. He said she was doing fine. She was up north taking care of her father who had become ill and would spend Thanksgiving with relatives there. He, however, had already committed to being at the shelter and planned to go join her for a few days on the weekend. When asked what he was doing for Thanksgiving dinner he said he would probably grab a plate and take it home. After Scotty and I conferred, we approached Stan and told him that he would be joining us for dinner and saying ‘no’ was not an option. Moreover, any polite refusals on his part would be ignored. If he resisted, he would be tied up and dragged to Scotty’s house if need be. He had a smile on his face but we could see moisture in his eyes as he expressed his appreciation.

To say a few were a tad stunned when we walked through the door with Stanley Polanski in tow, would be an understatement. However, they quickly recomposed themselves and welcomed him warmly. No one brought up the theatre incident either. For that, I think Stan was very grateful.

Dinner was a lively affair with lots of teasing and joking. At first, Stan appeared awkward. He eventually did loosened up a little and joined in on some of the conversations. After we were all sufficiently stuffed, we men gathered in the family room to lounge in front of the TV to watch football, while the women cleaned the kitchen. Scotty and I both forgot to be cautious in our affection for one another and snuggled up to watch the game. At one point, I looked over and caught Stan eying us and I immediately became self-conscious and moved away from Scotty. Scotty gave me this questioning look as to why I moved and then he too realized what we had been doing. Stan then asked, “May I use the bathroom?”

“Sure.” I mean what are you going to say, “Hell no, wet your pants.”

He catches my eye and indicates he wants to talk with me so I stood and said,

“Yeah, I gotta’ go too. I’ll show you where it’s at.”

“Uh, I take it you and Scott are more than just friends,” Stan remarked as more of a statement than a question, once we were in the hallway. “That’s cool by me. Just wanted you to know that and there is no need to be uncomfortable because I’m here.”

He went on to explain that occasionally a runaway teen would show up at the shelter who had been thrown out of his house because he was gay. He admitted at first he was uncomfortable, but eventually overcame his homophobia. He realized these kids were not much unlike him at one time: scared, angry and confused. They were just looking for help and that’s what he was there to offer.

“Can’t say I understand it totally, but I’m not uncomfortable being around gay people. Besides,” he said with a grin and a jab to my arm, “you two look kinda’ good together.”

He went into the bathroom and I, with a smile, returned to my cute boyfriend and snuggled up to him once again.

After the game was over, Stan said that he needed to get home as his mother would be calling and would worry if he wasn’t there. Armed with a three-day supply of leftovers and expressing his appreciation for the invitation and great dinner, Junior then gave him a ride home.

That night, Scotty expressed how grateful he was that Stan didn’t end up in jail, indicating that he liked this outcome so much better. I gave him a kiss and said I had to agree. Then I told him since it was Thanksgiving I wanted to express to him, in a special way, my gratitude for him being a part of my life. With a devilishly evil grin, as I pulled him toward me, he coquettishly asked, “Why whatever do you mean, Sebastian?”

Moments later he sighed, “Ooooh, oh, yes, oh, God. Express away babe.”

And I did.