One Moonlit Night - 2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The ensuing years saw the Tucker and Cocchetti households go through the typical changes that normally occur when there are grown children and those still growing. Junior continued to live at home and graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in criminology. He had planned to become a police officer like his dad. He ended up putting that on hold however, and became a paralegal for a small law office. He dated off and on but hadn’t gotten really serious with any one particular girl. Aunt Liz had expressed several times in a teasing way that she’d be old and feeble before he made her grandmother.

Beth graduated from beauty school and had a small shop attached to her home. She met and married a really nice and what was referred to as stable guy named, Jim. He was quiet and somewhat shy, but he adored Beth; but then who wouldn’t? Not only was she a sweet and loving person; she was bright, fun and beautiful. He was perfect for her as Beth, like her mother, was very much a take-charge person and Jim, though not henpecked, was not domineering.

All and all life went on and though there were ups and downs at times, for the most part things were good. Scotty and my friendship continue to grow and we were still inseparable. Scotty had progressed rapidly in his music. He had won the tri-State music competition three years in a row, and performed with the Philadelphia Philharmonic orchestra on a few occasions. The big feather in his musical cap was that he had won the Van Cliburn Award for his outstanding piano performance. I excelled in sports at school and though good at most sports, I found my niche mainly in wrestling and baseball. At school, Scotty and I both enjoyed a modicum of popularity for our talents. Neither of us had swelled heads though. Our parents saw to that: You’re gifted and talented, but you are no better than anyone else. You still have to pull your pants down when you sit on the throne and wipe, just as everyone does, they would say. Talk about your putting things in perspective!

It wasn’t until the tenth grade that Scotty’s and my relationship took a different direction. More like a dramatic turn. Over the years, Scotty and I must have had a million sleepovers. We had our share of pillow fights ending with a feather-sprayed room; broke a few bed slats practicing our trampoline acrobatics; and other mischievous antics. We did a little body exploring and compared our penises; innocent and typical childhood curiosity—nothing really sexual to the extent that “oooh, that feels good!” transpired. We naturally cuddled; don’t know why, we just always seemed to end up that way. Even as we got older, we still seemed to gravitate toward one another at some point in the night. We never were uncomfortable with it; maybe because it was comforting. I don’t think we gave it much thought to be honest. It just happened.

As we grew older we joked, teased and played grab ass. We made the typical derisive and belittling remarks as to our penis size, albeit, one area Scotty was not lacking. He had quite the growth. It belied his otherwise diminutive size. Well, after all he did have those long slender piano player’s fingers! We talked about masturbation and we even related our mutual shock and amazement when we experienced our first wet dreams. We, for a while, did have mutual jack-off sessions. We even enjoyed doing it to each other. It was fun; it was nice—it felt good.

One morning as I was slowly awakening I felt Scotty’s smooth hand on my penis gently stroking it. He was spooned up against me and I could feel his ample endowment pressed between my butt cheeks. I didn’t say or do anything as it felt really good. As he brought me to a climax, I let out a gasp. Scotty quickly pulled his hand away and embarrassingly stuttered, “I’m, I’m really sorry Bash. I don’t know why I did that. I’m really sorry.”

Before I could say anything, he quickly scrambled out of the bed and ran to the bathroom. I heard the toilet flush and the shower start. I really didn’t know what to make of it. I wasn’t upset. To be honest, I liked it. I wanted to tell Scotty that what he had done didn’t bother me. He was obviously very embarrassed so I decided just to let it pass. I acted as if nothing happened. In fact, by the next day I had totally forgotten about it.

We had our breakfast without the usual teasing and joking then went and finished up our homework assignments—again without our usual joking and ribbing one another. Scotty then stated he really needed to practice and hoped I didn’t mind if he didn’t go with some of our other friends to the park to hangout and play. A little disappointed at the turn in events, I however didn’t give it much thought and left to join my friends.

Monday morning I was sitting on the porch waiting for Scotty to come by so we could walk to school together. Now I’m usually the one who ran late, but this day Scotty hadn’t shown and it was getting way past the time we needed to get going. I ran over to his house and knocked and Aunt Liz opened the door and gave me this strange look and said, “Sebastian, why aren’t you at school?”

“Uh, I was waiting for Scotty,” I replied.

“Well, he left well over 45 minutes ago. He said he had to tutor someone before classes started. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Uh, no, I guess he forgot,” I said.

“Well, go get in the car and I’ll run you to school or you’ll be late.”

I was very baffled. I was the forgetful one. Furthermore, I couldn’t think of a time Scotty and I didn’t walk to school together unless one of us was sick. Oh, well, I thought, it would give me something to razz him about.

I had several classes with Scotty and when I saw him in history, I went up to tease him about leaving me stranded that morning. He, with his head buried in his history book, never looking up, replied, “Oh, uh, sorry, I guess I forgot to tell you I had to be here early.”

“No harm done, your mom gave me a ride to school so I wouldn’t be late.”

“Good.”

That was all he said, and went back to reading his history book. Still a little puzzled as to his behavior; I sloughed it off and said, “Okay, I’ll see you at lunch then.”

“Well, uh, Bash, I have to meet with a student at lunch.”

“Oh, well, okay, I’ll see you after school then.”

“Uh, ‘kay.”

I waited in the gym for Scotty after wrestling practice as I usually did and then we’d walk home together. When he didn’t show I thought perhaps he was tutoring a student. I walked over to the music room and heard the sounds of a piano; I walked in, but it wasn’t Scotty. It was Mr. Perino, the music teacher. I asked about Scotty and he said that Scotty left quite a while ago. I went back over to the gym thinking we might have missed each other, but he still wasn’t there. It was getting dark so I decided to walk home. Now not only was I confused; I was concerned. This wasn’t like Scotty at all.

I knew my mom would be at work so I went straight to Scotty’s house so we could do our homework together. When I arrived, Aunt Liz said that Scotty wasn’t feeling well and went to bed early. Not that I wanted Scotty to be sick, but at least it explained why he hadn’t hung around to walk home. It still wasn’t like him though. He would have at least told me or gotten a message to me.

For the next two weeks, Scotty avoided me. We didn’t walk to school together; we didn’t have lunches together; we didn’t walk home together; we didn’t study together and; even on the weekends he was busy. He always had a reason: tutoring students; busy practicing for a concert or other event; too tired or, not feeling well.

I was confused. I was angry. I was hurt. I was miserable. I missed my friend.

Finally, I had had enough. It was a Saturday in the late afternoon and I decided I was going to find out what really was wrong. I had no clue. I went over to his house and Aunt Liz greeted me at the door. When I asked if Scotty was home she said, “Oh, he went over to help Billy Farmer with his lessons.”

Now that was something that he and I did together: tutor Billy.

“Aunt Liz,” I said with tears starting to well up in my eyes, “Scotty has barely talked to me for two weeks now. He doesn’t walk to or from school with me. He doesn’t have lunch with me. He barely talks to me in the classes we have together. Has he said anything to you? Did I do something wrong?”

“Sebastian, honey, I also noticed you two haven’t been hanging around each other very much lately. I asked him if you two had had an argument and he said no. He just thought he was spending too much time with you and said he needed some space. I’m sorry Sebastian. Just…”

I turned and ran from his house as the tears started to flow. I didn’t understand. As I neared my front door I pulled out my keys to unlock it and noticed the key I had to Scotty’s house. He had one to mine also. I took it off the ring and ran back to his house and when Aunt Liz opened the door I handed it to her and sadly said, “Here, I guess I won’t need this anymore. I’ll miss my best friend.” I then turned and ran back home.

It became the weekend from hell. I vacillated between anger and absolute misery. My mom tried to comfort me. I just kept asking her—why? Why didn’t he want to be my friend anymore?

Late Sunday afternoon there was a knock at the door. When I answered it, there, standing with his head hung, was my friend—my best friend.

“I uh, I was wondering if you could help with some math homework?” he softly asked.

“Huh? Uh, sure come in.”

Yeah, I wanted to tell him to go to hell and slam the door in his face. But I couldn’t. After all, he was my best friend.

“Ya’ wanna’ Coke or anything?”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

He took a seat at the kitchen table and I pulled a chair up beside him. He was quiet for a moment. I started to ask, “Scotty, if I did anything wrong…”

He held up his hand to silence me and shook his head, “Bash, you didn’t do anything wrong at all. I’m sorry I have avoided you. I will just tell you I needed some time to think about some things. I want to leave it at that. I know that may not sound fair, but well, just know it was nothing you did. Bash, I missed you. You are my best friend. You do know that don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. And do you know why?”

“Uh, why?”

I smiled and jabbed his arm saying, “I know, because you need help from me for math, like Custer needed to be surrounded by more Indians.”

We both chuckled. Scotty was a math whiz.

“Well anyway, Bash, you are my best friend and I’m sorry I didn’t treat you like one. I hope you can forgive me for being an asshole.”

“Well I can and I do. But Tucker, don’t you ever do it again.”

We talked for a little while and then he had to get home. He said he see me in the morning.

A few seconds after he left I heard another knock at the door. I opened it and Scotty rushed past me and said, “Left my best pen,” as he snatched it up from the table, smiled and said, “See ya’ at 7:30 and don’t be late. ‘Night.”

“Good night.”

I was so happy. When I went back to the table to pick up our glasses to wash them, lying there gleaming, could have been the Hope Diamond, and it would have been no less valuable—my key.

We went back to being our regular selves again. We continued having sleepovers, though we didn’t continue to engage in mutual masturbation. If I brought up the subject of jacking off Scotty pulled the “not tonight I have a headache” routine. A little disappointed, I’d just shrug my shoulders, and go to the bathroom and take care of business, or wait until he fell asleep.

***[ ]*** 

Months later as the school year was coming to a close, Scotty was once again spending the night. It is really difficult to relate, explain or put into words as to what transpired that particular night Scotty slept over. We had had our dinner; got together and did our homework; played a game of Trivial Pursuit; discussed my upcoming baseball game; his concerns with the difficulty he was having with a particular piece of music—the typical, for us—stuff—before we hit the sack. As was our wont, we read a little and Scotty had drifted off to sleep book in hand. I gently removed his book, marked his page, and placed it on the nightstand. Turned out the light… Lying next to me with the moon casting a pale silver glow over his body, was this beautiful boy. It was the first time I could recall consciously taking notice.

As I gazed at this beautiful form, this beautiful lithe smooth body, something awakened in me. Scotty was lying on his back, one arm draped up over the top of his head resting on his silky blond locks, the other resting on his smooth hairless belly undulating slightly with each soft breath. His leg nearest me was slightly akimbo with his foot resting against his opposite leg’s lower calf muscle. As the light from the moon’s rays washed over Scotty, it enhanced his smoothness and gave his skin an almost alabaster appearance. As my eyes traveled up his body, I noticed the few fine baby hairs that highlighted his slender legs. I found there was something arousing about the look of his inner thigh just where it meets the perineum. He was wearing white jockey shorts, and my eyes lingered over the bulge of his ball sac and the outline of his penis as it lay flat, pointing directly at his navel. I had this overwhelming desire just to reach over and gently rub my hands over his crotch. I had a desire to feel his smooth body, to tenderly run my hand over his well-defined swimmer’s chest and brush his small nipples. As my eyes continued their journey, I noticed his thin delicate neck and cute little rounded chin. His lips, slightly agape seemed to be beckoning…

”Huh!?” “Wait a second!” “I can’t seriously be thinking of kissing Scotty. What’s wrong with me?”

Jolted out of my mesmerizing, the derisive boys’ locker room banter was filling my head and I started to feel ashamed and guilt-ridden. I had an erection. I couldn’t want my best friend—a boy—in that way.

I laid there for I don’t know how long grappling with all the conflicting thoughts and feelings wrestling in my mind. Was there something wrong with me? Was I weak or less than masculine? Didn’t I like girls?

“Nah, I was into sports…I was not less than masculine. Yeah, I liked girls.”

But then why did looking at Scotty…?

“Ah, it was just the moonlight.”

After all, everyone is always remarking what a pretty boy Scotty is.

“Yeah, that’s what it was—the moonlight.”

Having somewhat justified—though I won’t say convincingly so—my deviant thoughts I drifted off to sleep.

The following morning I awoke with the familiar hard-on; the familiar pain of needing to pee; and the familiar arm draped over my stomach. However, this morning with the thoughts of last night still lingering, the arm was like a branding iron. I jerked up suddenly, gently pushed the long slender-fingered hand aside, and made my way to the bathroom. I hurriedly took my shower and got dressed. Then casting one more look at the cute human form lying in my bed, made my way downstairs.

My mother gave me this questioning look as I greeted her with a less than cordial, “good morning” and asked if I was okay.

“Yeah,” I replied, and continued to sip my orange juice and eat my cereal.

“Where’s Scotty,” she inquired?

“Still asleep,” I brusquely replied and without further ado got up from the table and told my mother, “I gotta’ run. I’ll be back in time to go to the matinee” and sped out the door.

“What?…Where are you going Sebastian?” she yelled..

“To the park to practice,” I screamed back and sprinted off.

I needed to be alone. I really didn’t have practice that day and didn’t like that I had lied to my mother. I’d tell her the truth and apologize later. She, in the mean time was shaking her head quizzically, wondering—what was the matter? She had over the years gotten used to the fact that Scotty and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but we always worked it out. She just questioningly shrugged her shoulders and went about her usual morning routine figuring everything would come to a resolution in short order. She knew Scotty and I couldn’t stay mad at each other for any length of time.

Some thirty minutes later, Scotty, with disheveled hair and a bathrobe came shuffling into the kitchen. “Good morning, Aunt Tracy, what’s for breakfast?”

“Well, what would you like your highness?” My mother jokingly replied.

“Oh, how about eggs Benedict, a side of fresh fruit, orange juice and a cup of coffee with cream and sugar,” Scotty replied.

“Coming right up…,” and audibly, but under her breath, “yeah, when hell freezes over,” Mother retorted. “I suggest you grab a box of cereal, the milk and a glass of orange juice until the kitchen help arrives, your most royal pain in the butt.”

This sort of teasing had been ongoing with these two for a long time. It was this banter that caused my mother some confusion. Whenever Scotty and I had a disagreement, we both were very quiet and more or less just grunted our way through breakfast.

“Scotty, honey, have you and Sebastian had an argument?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, he was pretty terse this morning and rushed out of the house saying he had baseball practice.”

“He doesn’t have practice today, Aunt Tracy. We’re gonna’ catch the early matinee at the State Theatre,” he replied with a sense of concern.

“I didn’t think he had practice,” mother confirmed. “Oh, well, it must be hormones,” she said with a slight questioning smile. “He did say he’d be back in time to go to the matinee.”

Scotty just nodded his head in agreement and went on with his breakfast wondering though what was bothering his friend.

I, in the mean time, found myself at the park sitting on a swing gently swaying back and forth. My head was a jumble with a myriad of thoughts. I couldn’t get the images I had of Scotty from last night out of my mind. I couldn’t dismiss the thoughts of what Scotty meant to me. He was my best friend and confidante. My admiration for him knew no bounds. I couldn’t even begin to visualize my life with Scotty not being a part of it.

“Was I attracted to Scotty? Was I in love with him?” I questioned myself? “Hell, what do you know about being in love,” I averred?

I mean, my mother related to me her feelings about when she first met my dad. I have listened to Aunt Liz and Uncle Phil as they dreamily look into each other’s eyes recount their courtship. But, they are men and women, Scotty is a guy.

Suddenly, I heard the unmistakable baritone voice of Junior behind me. “What’s up, little buddy?” Ya’ look like you just lost your best friend. Did you and Scotty have an argument?” he asked with concern.

“Nah, nothing like that. Just thinkin’.”

“Oh, well it must be serious,” he said.

“Er, uh, Phillip?”

“Uh oh, when you call me Phillip it must be serious. What’s going on Bash?”

“Uh, when do you know you’re in love?” I asked.

“God, Bash, you just asked the 64 million dollar question, and I don’t know that I can adequately answer it—well at least not from personal experience. What I can tell you though is what my mom told me when I asked her. She said, and I paraphrase, as best as I can recall, it is when you cannot see yourself with anyone else. When that person is the one you realize you can build things with and realize your dreams with. A person you trust; someone who would not, nor would you, abandoned in times of trouble. Someone you would lay your life down for if necessary. Someone you can totally be yourself with—no masks, no deceptions; someone you accept with all their faults, foibles, and idiosyncrasies and see the good in them, despite them; someone you respect and care for; and someone that after time can still give you the warm fuzzies. If you can answer yes to the above; it’s a good chance you’re in love. Why are you asking Bash? You have someone in mind?”

“Sorta. I think. I don’t know—maybe. Uh, well, thanks Junior I gotta’ get back. Scotty and I are going to a matinee. See ya’.”

“Sure thing, kiddo, and Bash”, he said as I turned to leave.

“Yeah, Junior?” “You know you can talk to me anytime; no matter what.”

“Yeah. Thanks again Junior.”

Well, that was a lot for a 15-year-old mind to digest. I did have some serious thinking to do.

As I slowly sauntered back to the house, mindlessly kicking an acorn along the way, my mind was awhirl with what Junior told me along with strange feelings and thoughts bouncing around in my head. I started doing a mental checklist on what Junior said and decided I would sit down and write out what he told me and elaborate on the answers. I did this on occasion when I was stymied. Writing helped me see more clearly for some reason. I definitely needed some clarity. I had so many questions and at this point; so few answers. What was happening to me? What a quagmire.

As I entered the house and made my way to the kitchen my mother approached and asked, “How was practice?”

“Uhmm, well Mom, that was sorta’ a lie. I really didn’t have practice. I just needed to go do some thinking.”

“Oh, anything I should know about? Anything I can help you with?” she asked.

“No—no, not yet.”

I could see the look of concern on her face and added, “Don’t worry Mom, it’s, it’s just something I have to figure out myself. And, just in case you’re wondering, no I’m not in any trouble. I can’t explain it just now, okay?”

I know I must have had that, ‘please, now is not the time to grill me look,’ as she said, “Okay, honey, but you know you can talk with me about anything,” she replied and surrendered to my unexpressed wish.

“Yeah, I know Mom,” and for some reason I had to assure her by adding, “I love you Mom.”

“Ditto, kiddo.” And she gave me a hug and kissed me on my forehead. Then, patting me on the butt, she said, “You’d better get upstairs as there is someone there who is a little concerned about you.”

I nodded and proceeded up the stairs debating, should I or shouldn’t I confide in Scotty. I decided that for the time being I’d just wait until after I’d had more time to think and write it out on paper. After all, I was confused and don’t even think I could relate to him, at least not with any sense, what was careening around in my mind.

Upon entering the room Scotty, lowering the book he was reading, asked, “Hey dude, wuz up?”

“Nothin’ dud,” I intentionally mispronounced, in reply, trying to be light hearted.

“Well, it’s Mr. Dud to you,” he snickered. “What movie do you want to go see?”

“Oh, I don’t know—which one did you wanna’ see?”

“How about Terminator II?” he asked.

“Okay, what time does it start?”

“The first matinee is at 11:30. We have a little over an hour before we need to leave. Ya wanna’ play a game or something?”

“Not right now. I think I want to do some writing,” I replied.

“Oh, uh, well okay, I’ll just lie here and read till it’s time to go then. You okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I, uh, just had something I wanted to write about,” I replied.

Scotty knew something was amiss but sensed that it was not the time to ask a lot of questions—though he was dying to. What can I say; we knew each other pretty well. I grabbed my special note book—actually, it was a diary, though boys don’t keep diaries—and went down to the porch to try and get some clarity; to see if I could pass the ‘in love’ test; to figure out what I needed to do—or not do. To try and make some sense of what was going on with me—these new feelings I was experiencing. I scribbled away up until it was time to go. Scotty came down and gently nudged my shoulder and said we’d better get going. Mom drove us to the theatre and said she’d see us in about two hours with the typical admonishments to stay out of trouble and be good.

Once we secured our tickets, Scotty went to buy the popcorn and sodas and I headed to the restroom. Upon exiting the restroom, I heard a commotion over by the refreshment stand. Now I want to tell you, I am not a violent person. In fact, I hated getting into fights and would avoid them at all cost. I was accomplished at Tae Kwon Do and because of what we were taught; I found most altercations could be avoided by reasoning. However…

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going you little faggot?”

“Hey, sorry, it was an accident, okay? And you don’t need to be calling me names,” Scotty shakily replied.

“Fuck you ya’ little perv!”

“Hey, what seems to be your problem?” I brusquely asked.

“This little faggot made me spill Coke on my shirt, and what the fuck is it to you?” he just as angrily responded.

“He apologized didn’t he? And the last time I heard, in the civilized world they have this thing called detergent that will clean that right up.”

Sarcasm obviously didn’t go over too well with this bozo as he with great force shoved Scotty, causing him to hurtle forward and bash his head on the condiment counter, soda and popcorn landing all over Scotty and he lay there in a heap.

“Let’s see how the little fag likes it.”

You could harass me; you could threaten me; BUT you did not ever lay a hand on Scotty. He started to take a step toward Scotty as if his intentions were to inflict further damage. Enraged I swept the feet out from under Scotty’s assailant and as he went down I grabbed a hold of his wrist and you could hear the snap and his piercing scream from the pain. I wanted to hurt him badly, but Scotty hadn’t moved and I was more concerned for him than I was for revenge. I slammed the guy’s hand down as he lay writhing on the floor from his broken wrist and I ran over to Scotty.

“Someone call an ambulance!” I screamed. “Hurry!”

Scotty lay there motionless as blood was pouring from a gash across the bridge of his nose and another along his eyebrow line that had been inflicted when he was slammed into the sharp edge of the counter. Scared, nervous, on the verge of tears I held my friend, begging the powers that be that he would be okay. When the ambulance arrived, which seemed to take forever, they immediately went to work staunching the blood and asking if anyone knew who he was and could they contact his parents. Pulling myself out of my shocked state, I gave them his name and said I would go call them immediately. They said for me to tell his parents to meet them at the Hershey Medical Center emergency room.

“Is he dead,” someone in the gathering crowd asked?

Dazed, I shoved my way through the amassing onlookers to find a pay phone. I shakily placed the money in the coin slot, dialed the number, and once connected, I blurted out rapidly, “Aunt Liz, you need to get to Hershey Med as Scotty was hurt and the ambulance is taking him there. He is hurt pretty bad, so please hurry.”

Like I would have needed to say please hurry.

I didn’t wait for a response from Aunt Liz as I immediately hung up, called my mother, and told her quickly what happened and that she needed to come pick me up and take me to the hospital. The ‘forever’ minutes passed until my mom screeched to a stop outside the theatre and I jumped in and said, “Let’s go. Please hurry.”

As she pulled away from the curb, I could no longer hold back the flood of tears. I tried explaining to my mother what happened while uncontrollably crying. All manner of thoughts were racing through my mind.

“Why did I have to open my big mouth? Why didn’t I just grab Scotty and walk away? What if he never wakes up? Oh, God, I love him, please, please make him better. What if I never get to tell him how I feel?”

As soon as my mother pulled into the emergency room parking area, I bolted out of the car.

“Sebastian,” my mother yelled, “hold on!”

She was fumbling around in her purse for her hospital ID card as she hurried up beside me.

“Now, Sebastian, honey, I know you are very upset, but if you let me, I will be able to get a lot more accomplished if you try to remain calm. Understand?”

Nodding my assent, she put her arm over my shoulder as she guided me through the electronic doors and to the emergency room waiting area. In the waiting area were Aunt Liz and Beth, nervously fidgeting and pacing. I totally agushed with tears, rushed over and wrapped my arms around Aunt Liz.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for Scotty to get hurt. I’m really sorry. It was all my fault and I’m really sorry.”

I was just so wracked with guilt and remorse. Here was a woman who has been like a second mother to me and I am responsible for her baby boy getting hurt.

Aunt Liz and Beth gave my mother that—what’s he talking about look. My mother explained as best she could from what I, in my anguish, had blurted out to her on the way to the hospital. Then she told Aunt Liz and Beth she would go see what she could find out about Scotty.

Aunt Liz put her hand on my shoulder and her finger beneath my chin and lifted my head as the tears were streaming down my face and said, “Sebastian, sweetheart, you did not do this to Scotty. Whoever assaulted him did this, not you.”

“Yeah,” I blubbered, “but if I had kept my big mouth shut, he wouldn’t have gotten pushed. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? Do you think Scotty will be alright? I’ll just die if he doesn’t get better”, I wailed. “I’m just so sorry.”

At this point, no matter what Aunt Liz said in trying to console me or mitigate my guilt, I could not be convinced that it wasn’t my fault. All that she could do at that point was hug me and give me tissues to sop up the tears and the snot running from my nose.

Moments later Junior came racing through the doors and rushed up to us. “Is he all right?” he inquired. “Someone fill me in on what happened. All I heard is he got hurt at the theatre.”

Now I was really feeling like the worst person on the planet. This man who I looked up to; the brother of my best friend… I quietly slipped away from the group and went dejectedly and ashamedly to sit in a chair in the waiting area.

Filling Junior in on what information they had, Aunt Liz nudged her head toward my direction indicating for Junior to go to me. He came over to me and wrapped his arms around me pulling me into his chest saying, “Bash, this was not your fault. Besides, you and I both know Scotty’s tough. He’ll be fine.”

A few moments later my thoughts of self-loathing were distracted by a boisterous and very large angry unkempt, beer-gutted man dressed in an unbuttoned shirt with a stained wife-beater T underneath growling angrily, “You dumb son of a bitch. Ya’ can’t even go to the god damned movies without causing grief. What the hell’s the matter with you?” he was screaming.

As he was overshadowed by this rather large overweight man, I hadn’t yet notice Scotty’s assailant. Grimacing and holding his wrist, he whiningly stated, “Hell, Pop, I wasn’t doing nothin’, when this guy just trips me and I fell and broke my damn hand. If I ever see him again I’m gonna’ beat the crap out of him.”

“Yeah, and he’s gonna’ pay for this god damned medical bill too,” his dad retorted.

My head sprung up from Junior’s chest upon recognizing the kid and, somewhat startled, said, “That’s him. That’s the guy who shoved Scotty!” Enraged, I started to get up from the chair but Junior held me back.

“Hold on Bash. Don’t…”

And before Junior could finish his statement, Scotty’s assailant recognized me and blurted out angrily, “Pop, there’s the creep who did this to me,” pointing in my direction.

With that, the beer bellied man, fuming, made his way over to us yelling, “What the hell did you do to my boy? I hope you plan on paying for this you asshole.” He was screaming at Junior I guess, as his son was pretty big, he presumed Junior was his son’s nemesis.

I jumped up from my chair and angrily screamed back, “Mister, it wasn’t Junior that did this to your son. I did it and he’s lucky I didn’t break more than his wrist! Scotty wouldn’t hurt anybody,” I managed to blubber.

Without warning, the assailant’s father reached out, grabbed me by the front of my shirt, and said, “Why you little smart mouthed punk, I ought to…”

That’s about all he got out when this huge hand yanked him around and, with as much calm as he could for the circumstances, Uncle Phil said, “Sir, you’re under arrest for assault and battery on a minor.”

Sputtering and confused the alcohol-breathed man said, “Wh-what the fuck are you talkin’ about? Did you see what this punk did to my kid?”

Uncle Phil released the man to his partner, who said, “Sir, I strongly suggest you come quietly with me,” as he placed a pair of handcuffs on the obnoxious and obviously confused yet angry man.

Uncle Phil, kneeling down and with concern, asked, “Are you okay Bash?”

Throwing myself toward his huge arms all I could get out was, “Oh, I’m so sorry for everything, Uncle Phil. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Hugging me gently with those strong arms, he rocked me and reiterated what everyone had told me so many times, “Bash, son, this wasn’t your fault.”

Soothingly he said, “Bash, I need you to pull yourself together. Can you do that? Now, I need to go see what I can find out and talk with your Aunt Liz because I must get back to work. I, we, all love you and know you would never do anything intentionally to hurt Scotty. You stay with Junior while I go see what’s going on. Okay?”

Sheepishly I nodded as Junior put his arm around me and said, “Come on, Bash, let’s go to the john and clean your ugly mug up a little.” I walked robotically, as Junior led me to the men’s room. We could still hear the loud protestations of Mr. Polanski—the father of the assailant—screaming of the injustice and interspersing these with threats to his son and deriding him for letting some little punk kid get the better of him. Obviously ‘going quietly’ hadn’t register with him. He wouldn’t realize the grave he was digging for himself until later.

Two hours later a doctor informed Aunt Liz and Beth that Scotty’s condition was stabilized but he was still in critical condition. He suffered from a severe concussion and was in a coma. They could not ascertain if he sustained any major injuries to the vertebrae in his neck as there was some swelling and they couldn’t get a clear picture. They would have to give him another scan when the swelling was down. He was breathing on his own and his neck was in a brace. He had to have some 50 stitches to close the gash along the bridge of his nose and eyebrow. The next 24 to 36 hours were the most crucial due to the concussion.

In his present condition no one but his parents were allowed to see him. Well, my mother could as she worked as a nurse there. I wanted to see him so much. I just wanted see that he was still alive. I wanted to beg for his forgiveness. I wanted to tell him how much I cared for him.

Realizing there was nothing more to be found out or be done, my mother insisted—though I wanted to stay—I go home with Junior and Beth. She would stay to be with Aunt Liz until Uncle Phil returned. If there was any news she would call us.

It was decided I would stay at the Tucker’s. My mother thought it best as she was concerned about my emotional state. They promised me they would call if there was any change to Scotty’s condition. The ride to the Tucker’s was quiet, and I was doing my best to keep it together and not cry. I realized that Junior and Beth must also be beside themselves with anxiety and worry for Scotty. They seemed to be holding it together pretty well, though I could tell that Beth had been crying as her eyes were red and puffy. To be honest, I didn’t know what to say to comfort either of them as I was feeling so guilty for what happened, so, I just remained silent.

Once we got to the house, I was holding up pretty well until I walked into the living room and saw the grand piano. I walked over to it, took ‘my’ place on the bench, and slowly ran my fingers over its polished ebony wood; then I lost it. I jumped up, ran upstairs to Scotty’s room, threw myself on the bed, curled up in a ball, and cried. I eventually fell asleep from exhaustion and when I awoke, it was dark outside and the house was very quiet. I was still feeling drained and exhausted but I had to pee, so I made my way to the bathroom. When I was finished and walking back towards Scotty’s room, I heard the muffled sounds from the TV downstairs. I made my way down the stairs and saw Junior stretched out on the couch dozing. I went into the kitchen, grabbed a 7-Up from the fridge, and decided to sit in the recliner and watch TV. Not because I was interested in watching, but because I didn’t want to be awake in Scotty’s room by myself.

A few minutes later Junior started to stir and then awoke. Looking over at me he said between yawns, “Hey, Squirt, how are you doing? Did you get some sleep?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “How are you doing, Junior? And how’s Beth?”

“I’m doing okay. Beth finally went home about an hour ago. She was beat. I decided to crash down here in case the phone rang.”

“Oh, so no news yet?”

“No, not really, Mom called to check in and said things were about he same. At least he is remaining stable. You hungry, kiddo? I could go for a sandwich or something. You want one while I’m at it?”

“Yeah, I’m a little hungry,” I replied as my stomach let out a confirming growl.

Sitting silently, we ate our sandwiches and returned to the living room. I started to go sit in the recliner and Junior said, “Bash, come over here and sit with me and keep me company.”

I went over and sat down and Junior pulled me close and held me and said, “Bash, I hope you know we all love you and do not hold you responsible for what happened.”

He hugged me even tighter as I started crying. He just let me cry and eventually I fell asleep in his strong arms.

My thanks to Sharon for editing--SK