One Moonlit Night - 16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

On the return trip home, my cute lover softly snored away in the back seat—it seemed anytime he went anywhere in a moving vehicle, he zonked out. As he traveled frequently, it was one way for him to relax and catch up on the sleep he was deprived for many an early rising. My mother, running a hand through her long dark brunette hair, turned to me with a smile. I asked her about what was making her smile. She related how proud she was of me and how maturely I had handled the incident with Uncle Dom. She said I was growing up so fast and it seemed like only yesterday I couldn’t decide whether to have hot or cold cereal for breakfast without making it into an NBC Nightly News topic. Soon you’ll be going off to college, she stated. Where had the time gone, she added? I knew my mother, at times, felt guilty because she worked so much. I never felt a lack of being loved or of her attention because of it though. I never felt she wasn’t there for me. If she disagreed with my approach to something, short of life threatening, she allowed me to experience whatever it was and let me learn, for many times my stubbornness and self-will-run-riot. What she did do was be supportive, no matter the consequence and either lauded me for my efforts and successes or if unsuccessful, asked me what I had Iearned from my errors. I think I can count on one hand the times she may have said, “I told you so.” This beautiful, petite, Italian woman, my mother, was along with Scotty the most important person in my life. I could not conceive my life without either.

The New Year started as though we were shot from a cannon. Scotty’s concert schedule was demanding. He was scheduled to perform nine major concerts within the first four months of the year. That and he had added a few fundraisers to his schedule. This kept him very busy practicing, which meant our time together for intimacy was limited. I too was training hard to compete in the state wrestling championship to be held in the latter part of February. I was grateful that Scotty and I had a solid foundation in friendship, and, over the years, had acquired the ability to adapt to each other’s schedules—most of the time. This is not to say, occasionally, that it wasn’t frustrating. Trying to get a few hours together was like trying to juggle chainsaws.

I did go on to win the state wrestling championship. Scotty, my greatest fan, became hoarse from yelling and cheering me on. Chris Kreider made it to the finals, but was eliminated in his second match. Chris was disappointed until Junior pointed out to him that he was the only sophomore to have made it to that level of competition and should be quite proud of himself. And of course, a proud Bobby Arnold was there to bolster his spirits. Once the championship competition was over, I was left with a lot more free time until the track and baseball season started. I tried not to annoy Scotty too much, but sometimes while he was practicing, I’d start getting a little too amorous. He felt guilty because he would have to spurn my advances so he could continue preparing for an upcoming concert. I can’t deny I missed the sex, but I missed the impromptu affection—hugging, cuddling, and kissing, more.

One afternoon while Scotty was practicing and I was reading a book—attempting to read that is, my eyes kept diverting over to Scotty. He was having a difficult time with a movement and kept scolding and berating himself for screwing up. Having heard enough of his self-debasing, I set my book down, went over to him, picked him up and carried him upstairs to his bedroom all the while he was protesting, “Bash, no, I have to get this right. Come on, dammit Bash, let me go.”

I ignored him. When I finally had my frustrated and angry boyfriend behind the closed door of his bedroom, I said, “Scott Tucker, I promised myself I’d never interfere with you and your music, but,” and I locked my lips on his. He struggled for a moment, and then surrendered. When I pulled my lips from his, I continued, “What is it you tell me to do when I stubbornly bang my head against the wall? I’ll tell you: ‘You just need to stop, take a deep breath, give it some time and come back to it later.’ Well, love of my life; since you won’t take your own advice, I feel it is my lover’s duty to enforce your profound wisdom, and cause a diversion.” I then went back to lovingly kissing him. His resistance dissolved. From there our hands, heart, and emotions took over. Our lovemaking was sensual and passionate and as we lay together afterwards snuggled in each other’s arms, Scotty said, “God, I miss this; miss you. Sorry, I haven’t been very attentive, have I?”

“Scotty, you have a lot going on right now. Yeah, I miss this too, but it bothers me more when you start ragging on yourself. You’re a fantastic and accomplished pianist. I’ve seen you frustrated before, but this time you went too far, so I took drastic measures. This has been on my mind for a while, babe, but I think perhaps, for the coming year—our senior year, you might want to spread your concert schedule out or not schedule as many; just a thought.”

We slowly untangled ourselves and decided to take a shower. After getting dressed Scotty went and sat on the bed as I went to the door to head back downstairs he said, “Cocchetti, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Huh? What, what am I forgetting?” I asked.

“Me, you’re forgetting me. You carried me up here, I think it only fair since you kidnapped me, that you have to carry me back,” he said with a devilish smile.

I went and scooped up the cutest guy in the world and carried him back downstairs and seated him on his piano bench, kissed him, and went back to reading my book.

A few moments later I heard, “YES! I got it!” He turned to me and gave me a big smile.

“I want credit for that you know,” I teased.

“Okay. Ahem, ladies and gentlemen of the great metropolis of Boston, and patrons of the arts, I could not have performed this piece so eloquently and with such precision if it had not been for my boyfriend giving me the best blowjob and fuck. May we have a round of applause for Mr. Sebastian Cocchetti,” and he unexpectedly let go a fart.

“You are such a brat,” I responded, while taking my well-deserved bow. “However, for such a sophisticated crowd you might want to reword that to, fellatio, anal intercourse, and you left out, what I consider the pinnacle act, analingus. Oh, and the passing of wind adds that needed touch of sincerity to the tribute.”

We were both hilariously laughing when Junior and Shelby came through the door.

“What got into you two?” Junior asked.

“It’s more like, what got out,” I replied, causing Scotty to go into another bout of uncontrolled laughter.

Junior turned to Shelby and said, “You’ll have to get use to these two, hon. They have all the strange genes in the family.” Shelby smiled and gave us both a hug and stated she thought we were cute. Sticking out our tongues, we gave Junior a raspberry for his insult.

Scotty received rave reviews for his Boston performance, which was wonderful except it brought about more demands for his talents. Heeding my advice though, he staved off most of these requests. He had a long discussion with his agent and his parents, admitting his schedule was putting a strain on his academics, health and to a lesser degree our relationship. This alleviated some of the concerns of Uncle Phil and Aunt Liz, as they too were worried Scotty might be over extending himself. The one thing they tried to do over the years was to ensure Scotty lived as ‘normal’ a childhood as could be had. His exceptional talents made that a difficult endeavor. I thought they did a remarkable job.

The ensuing months seemed to go by quite rapidly; another school year came to a close. Scotty had a respite from performances and, for me, the sports season was over. We now looked forward to the nuptials of Junior and Shelby.

The Tuckers, much as my mom and I, were not avid churchgoers. We attended sporadically and for special occasions. I, of course, being Italian was baptized Catholic, but never took a catechism class nor had I been indoctrinated into the church’s teachings. Scotty’s family, when they did go to church, usually attended a Methodist church, and Junior and Shelby opted to be married there. Scotty and I were happy with their choice as Methodists are a lot more liberal and tolerant of differing lifestyles than most organized religions. Scotty was in a dilemma as he wanted to perform at their wedding, but Junior had also asked him to be his best man. Junior said he would let him choose as, either way, he would be an integral part of the ceremony. Being Scotty, he had to look at all the pros and cons. We spent hours discussing, whether he should ‘trust’ someone else to play his special compositions. Whether it was more important he attend to his brother or provide beautiful music. I was to be a groomsman along with Mr. Hastinger, the wrestling coach, and two of Junior’s buddies from college days. Scotty finally made his decision and asked Junior if he minded selecting me to be his best man, as he wanted to provide the music. He had composed two pieces; one for during the ceremony and a simple waltz he was hoping that Junior and Shelby would choose to use for their wedding dance.

During all of the wedding madness planning, we met the Connors, Shelby’s parents. Mrs. Connor was a very chatty and sweet woman. Scotty and the rest of us could not comprehend how she managed to end up with Mr. Connor as her life mate. He was arrogant, demanding, and somewhat snobbish. He did, however, see his only child, Shelby, as the proverbial apple of his eye. Shelby could use her charms to get him to accede to her requests on just about anything. Mr. Conner had not been thrilled that she was marrying Junior in the beginning, as Junior was a mere paralegal. He became more accepting when he was informed that Junior had aced his LSAT exam and would be attending law school the semester following the wedding. Mr. Connor was an established attorney and had a small law firm consisting of four associate attorneys, one of which was Shelby. Scotty and I couldn’t figure out if he was bemoaning the idea that perhaps he felt he would be obligated to take Junior on since he would be his son-in-law or happy, because now he’d be a potential addition to his firm.

After several meetings with the Connors, and their discovery of the fact that I really wasn’t a Tucker, Mr. Connor couldn’t understand why I seemed to be a part of everything. After speaking with us, Junior and Shelby, because of her father’s old-fashioned views, decided to tell him for the time being, that from pre-school age I was taken care of by the Tuckers and essentially became a member of the family. That and Scotty and I were more like brothers, best friends. That seemed to appease and mitigate his curiosity and concern.

Junior and Shelby were married the weekend following the last day of school. Shelby looked so beautiful and Junior was studly and nervous. I was partnered with one of Shelby’s best friends, Celia, the maid of honor. She had a great sense of humor and teasingly joked, in a whisper, as I escorted her down the aisle, that I was such a hunk and wondered if I’d like to tie the knot since we were already in church. Junior stood at the altar fidgeting; Scotty had tears running down his cheeks as he played the wedding march and Shelby, grasping her father’s hand while making her way gracefully down the aisle had the most beautiful smile on her face, her father just as stoic as ever. As they were exchanging their vows, Scotty played a composition he had specially written that was—well; it was my romantic Scotty personified—soft, almost whispering, beautiful chords. It was a lovely wedding with Aunt Liz, not to mention Scotty, having tears stream down their faces throughout most of the ceremony.

The reception was held at the Hershey Golf and Country Club, to which Mr. Connor was a member. No expense was spared. The hall was resplendent with white linen tablecloths, crystal goblets, champagne glasses, and candleholders. Bouquets of lavender and white verbena adorned every table. The wedding table on a raised dais had a backdrop of layered white shear curtains. It was beautiful.

Being the best man, I was required to toast the wedding couple. I wanted to say so many things about this man I so admired. When I was rehearsing it with Scotty, he told me it was a toast, not a biography, so I kept it short and sweet. “Ladies and gentlemen, Shelby—oh, and Phillip Junior, well, this has been a long time anticipated event. We didn’t think Junior would ever tie the knot. It is clear he was waiting for the perfect woman, and he definitely found it in you, Shelby. Of course, our sympathies go out to you, but all and all he’s not a bad guy—he’s house trained. With all sincerity, I raise my glass to probably one of the most wonderful and loving guys I know. A true friend, mentor and, soon to be, a promising lawyer. May you both enjoy the greatest happiness. May your marriage be filled with lots of love, joy, and laughter. Here’s to Shelby and Phillip Junior.”

Junior got up, came over to me and gave me a hug telling me he loved me too. He then whispered in my ear, “I noticed you and Scott aren’t wearing your rings—put them on.”

I was surprised by his request as neither Scotty nor I wanted to distract or detract anything from this auspicious day. We knew that Mr. Connor was an old stodgy-type and we didn’t want to cause any discomfort for Shelby. “Are you sure Junior?” I asked while nodding my head toward Mr. Connor. “Yeah, Shelby and I are sure.”

“But what about Coach Hastinger,” I asked.

”Hey, trust me, just do it.” And he turned and went back to sit down.

Scotty, though technically not a part of the wedding party, was seated at the far end of the wedding table, much the stickler to protocol; Mr. Connor felt he should have been relegated to the family of the groom’s table. Shelby however insisted he be seated on the dais; she got her way. That Scott was a well-know personality may have also softened Mr. Connor’s objections.

I went over to Scotty and told him what Junior had said, and he too was surprised by the request. “It’s his wedding,” he stated, so we excused ourselves for a few moments to go to the restroom. We had to undo our bowties in order to get our rings from the gold chains around our necks. Re-bowtied and en-ringed, we went back and joined the party. When it was time for the couple’s wedding dance, Scotty quietly got up, joined the small band, and prepared to play. It was a beautiful waltz, and Scotty, because he had the means, had a CD cut and intended to have pictures of the wedding and reception recorded over the music he composed as a wedding gift. After the dance Scotty while making his way back to the table, was intercepted by Junior and Shelby and they expressed their love of the waltz. The band began playing Dan Folgelberg’s Now That We Love. Shelby and Junior pulled Scotty into a three-way dance and a few bars into the song motioned for me to join them. We danced and chatted for a few moments, then Junior and Shelby pulled away and pushed Scotty and I together, stating, “This is our gift to you for all you’ve done, now finish out the dance.” I scanned the room, and then nervously I wrapped my arms around Scotty’s waist and bent forward as he put his arms around my neck. I knew it was Junior and Shelby’s wedding—but for the remainder of the song, Scotty and I were lost in each other. It was a very special gift.

To be honest, I do not think many people were even aware as most were engaged in conversation or caught up in their own dancing. Also, Junior and Shelby blocked most any view as they danced beside us. However, Mr. Connor noticed, as did Coach Hastinger. Mr. Connor said nothing, as I’m sure Shelby had had a talk with him. Mr. Hastinger, whom I tried to avoid, eventually came up to me and said quietly, “Sebastian, don’t you think I’ve known about you and Scott? If you’re worried about repercussions from me regarding wrestling or any other school-related activities—forget them. I have four boys and Jim, my oldest, is gay.” With that, he just winked, patted my shoulder, and walked away. My concerns regarding Mr. Hastinger alleviated, I could relax and enjoy the remainder of the reception.

Scotty and I had our share of requests to dance from the young ladies in attendance. Beth and I cut the rug as we did our version of the jitter-bug and received a smattering of applause. Shelby and Junior made the required visits to each guest’s table, made small talk and thanked them for attending. When the time came for the cake to be cut, several of the guests were wondering if they would smash the cake in each other’s faces. Scotty and I both knew Junior would never do that; we were right. Later after they were whisked away in a stretch limousine to the airport—destination Hawaii—the Tuckers, my mom, and I bade our farewells to the Connors and went home exhausted. It is the only time I recalled Scotty just taking off his clothes and dumping them over a chair. As happy as he was for Junior and Shelby’s marriage, there would be a void in his life. Junior would no longer be living at home. It was an adjustment he would have to make. After a loving kiss, he laid his head on my chest and clinging to me tightly, fell asleep. As he softly snored, I again was overwhelmed with my feelings of love for this sweet, beautiful guy. I also had thoughts of wanting to do something special; just the two of us on our summer break. I then joined him in dreamland.