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Idle Recreation (4/4) (mm, mf, teens)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
"You couldn't afford it and you know that. You're not going
to have a job."
"I'll get something eventually."
"McDonald's at four bucks an hour?" I stay silent for a
while, Shaun keeps looking out the window. I check what he's
looking at, half hoping the kid I saw had come back, but no one I
recognize is in the parking lot. The sun keeps bouncing off the
street, and the Houston humidity makes the sun break apart,
forcing me to squint. Shaun's face, gold from being out in the
sun, keeps a steady watch on the highway. He doesn't say
anything for quite a while, his ice cream melting. Finally he
looks at me.
"I'll miss you." He watches my face, probably hoping I'll
change my mind and stay.
"I'm not gone yet, Shaun. I'll probably still be here a
couple of weeks, maybe. I didn't get many specifics on what the
situation is."
"Have you told anyone else?"
"I just found out," I tell him. I grab his spoon and take
some of his dessert. He starts to push the rest toward me, but I
shake my head. Instead, I spoon out another bite and feed it to
him, his lips wrap around the spoon, and he watches me, staring
directly into my eyes as he swallows. He hints a smile but the
plastic spoon still in his mouth hampers his efforts. I use it
and grab another bite for myself.
"Listen," I start off, "do you want to come over to the rec
center tonight, about nine thirty or a little after?"
"I thought you closed at nine."
"We do," I tell him, smiling as I chew up a small peanut.
"I figure we can go for a swim or something. It's so cool to see
the pool, if you shut the overhead lights off, and all you have
on are the lights under the pool. It looks like the whole thing
just glows. We can't do that when people are in the pool for
safety reasons, you can't see if anyone is in trouble..."
"But after you close," he finishes, realizing I'm talking
about more than swimming or glowing water.
"Is there a problem with you being out that late?"
"I'll just tell my mom I'm spending the night with you. She
won't care." He takes the spoon and finishes the last of his
peanut and pecan, sliding the dish over to me, touching my hand
as he does. I do a quick check, but since it's the middle of the
afternoon, not many people are here. I hook his finger with
mine, watching his face.
If you've never seen a Houston sunset, you're missing out.
I've been told there are better places, but as far as I'm
concerned, it's one of the things I'll miss when I leave this
city. The sun doesn't even go completely down until nine, the
flat lands looking red, the fire setting and illuminating the
clouds. If you're looking in a direction where the sun sets
behind the city, it looks like the whole city is glowing from the
outer edges.
We have a three quarter view from the swimming pool. All
three walls are just giant windows. They don't fog here like
they do further north because the humidity inside and outside is
often close enough not to cause fogging. I'm sitting in a lawn
chair about 9:20 or so, one of those floating lawn chairs, going
around the pool. I told Troy that I'd just walk home, and that
Shaun was going to be with me. He's been so preoccupied with his
business in the last couple of days I don't think he even heard
me. He says the office that wants to take over the land,
DataCorp, will probably keep the majority of the buildings and
the pool and use it for a gym for its workers. I remember joking
with Troy, telling him that since they often kept the first
erected buildings in a city as monuments, that they should keep
my bedroom since I know a lot of boys who were first erected in
there. He didn't get it.
The orange sunset is flooding the whole room as I float
around the pool, just wearing my shorts. The pool is heated and
you can feel steam rise off the surface. I had shut the lights
off earlier, and the light is coming off the surface in a blue
hue. Eventually the sun slips completely behind the land at
about the time I hear a door in the back of the building open and
close, and I see Shaun come in through one of the doors. He has
on his oversized T-shirt and swim trunks.
"What are you wearing swimwear for?" I ask him. He walks
over to the side of the pool nearest me.
"My mom made me wear them."
"She knows you're here?"
"She knows Troy's going to be here. He's not, right?"
I gesture the affirmative and he slips off the shirt and
shoes and dives into the pool, skimming the blue water and
popping up in front of me. I help him onto the lawn chair and
grab him tightly, pulling me tight against me where it's hard to
breathe. He settles in next to me.
"You don't know how much I wanted to reach across and kiss
you in Braum's today," he tells me. Yes I did, Shaun.
"I hear that behavior is more acceptable in What-a-Burger."
He smiles and I kiss him, his lips tasting faintly of chlorine
from the pool. He scrapes his tongue against mine before pulling
away.
Outside, the sunset is just finishing up the show. The pool
is about the only thing illuminating the room. I run my hand
across his tan chest, his nipples hard from the combination of
water and air. He is slightly chilled from being wet, and I pull
him closer to my body, his skin feeling cold against my side.
"I love you," he tells me. I press lightly against his lips
with my finger, watching his eyes.
"Don't talk. Don't say anything." I replace my finger with
my mouth, hitting his teeth with my tongue with a sloppy kiss as
he adjusts himself on the chair. But his movement is too
erratic, and he tips the chair over letting us fall in the pool.
I use the moment to my advantage, while underwater I grab
his shorts and pull, relieving him of his clothes. Swimming
over, I pop up a good ten feet away from him, waving his swim
trunks in the air.
"You just beat me to them, Adam," he tells me. I fling the
wet shorts over to the side, and follow up the measure by
removing my own. I swim toward him and pull him to the shallower
section where we can both stand.
I get in front of him and wrap my legs around him, letting
him support my body. He would never be able to do that normally,
but the water counteracts my weight so he can support me. The
feeling of another's body against you while you're in a body of
water like a pool, while you're both sans clothes has to be the
most unusually wonderful feeling, next to the act of making love.
The way the skin can feel kind of rubbery, kind of, and the way
his cock kind of rubs your body, not really erect, not really
anything, just strange.
I wrap my arms around him as he supports me by my ass and
kiss him again. I run a hand through his drenched hair, pulling
it all the way back. Water runs down his face like beads of
sweat while we kiss, rocking our heads and letting no breath
escape from our lips. I stop and stare at him for a moment,
watching the way the light from the pool illuminates his face,
the water slowly running down his cheeks, his nose twitching
slightly as the water vapor from the surface tickles it a little.
His baby smooth, boyish face just staring at me. I'm breathing a
little hard as I pull him against me, almost crying out of love.
I don't want to move, I don't want to let go. I don't even want
to consider Dallas anymore, I don't want any of this to end. And
for tonight, it won't.
"What's wrong?" he asks me. I realize I haven't moved,
haven't done anything for a long while.
"I was just...I dunno...Looking at your face...that face,
you've a..." I stare for a moment. "I'm going to miss that
face."
He smiles at me, understanding.
"I love you, Shaun. It's weird, I never figured I'd get
caught up in this. I mean, being gay and everything, that's a
little heavy."
"You don't like it?"
"No, it's not that." I don't quite know how to explain it,
so I don't bother. He looks at me, waiting for me to continue,
but I just shake my head and let myself down, standing on the
pool floor. His hand is interlaced with mine as I lead him to
the edge. He hops onto the concrete side, his legs still
dangling in the water. I move in front of him, still in the
pool, his erect boyhood staring me in the face and I look at him,
as if waiting for the go ahead.
"You look like you want something," I tell him. "Well,
parts of you, anyhow," indicating his erection. He grins and
stares at me.
"Hold on a second," I tell him. I jump out and walk to the
side to grab one of the mats that are sitting against the wall.
They're stretching mats people use to stretch on before doing
laps or pool exercise, about eight feet by four feet. I drag one
of the dark blue mats over to the edge and lie Shaun down on it,
dipping my hand in the pool to keep his body wet. The mat is
relatively soft, enough where my knees don't hurt like they would
if I was kneeling on the bare concrete.
His cock is hard from attention and he looks at me, waiting
for me to make my move. I grip him and pull what skin he has
back, and touch the head with my tongue. He closes his eyes and
lets his entire body melt on the mat. We smell of chlorine and I
keep dipping my hand in the pool, his body drying fast against my
wishes. I inch his boycock, stroking the roughness of my tongue
along the sensitive underside of the head.
He moans slightly, a quiet moan that's echoed because of the
large room with the pool. He has his eyes closed and I watch him
for a moment, the way he looks, remembering the way he twitched
when he was asleep. He opens his eyes and looks at me, wondering
why I've stopped. He doesn't say anything. Just looks. I smile
lightly and move back down on him, taking his penis that has
started to soften because of the lack of attention.
I remoisten the underside of the shaft and the blood begins
to flow back into his organ. A little water from the pool helps
as I get his skin wet, his belly soft and glistening from the
blue hue of the pool. I cup his testicles in my hand and hold
them, weighing them in my palm as I rub my tongue along his cock.
He shifts slightly.
The ridge of his cockhead seems hard and I can taste the
chemicals from the pool that his skin has absorbed. I pull off
and encircle one of his balls, allowing it to shift from the
sudden heat in my mouth, making note of its size, the ridges that
are just beginning to form in his scrotum. The second is matched
with the same treatment before I come back to his cock and move
it in as far as I can in my throat, almost letting what little
pubic hair he has on his body rub against my nose. I move out
and go back down, simulating humping movements as he releases a
tiny drop of precum through the tip of his prick. His body
begins to dry and I quickly locate more water from the pool,
letting the heated water run across his chest.
The end of his penis keeps hitting the roof of my mouth as I
keep my tongue along the side. The very tight "string" on the
back of the cockhead is the most sensitive part, the part I keep
running my tongue against as Shaun keeps shifting, his 13 year
old body almost glowing by the pool.
"Are you close?" I ask him, briefly interrupting the
process. He mumbles "uh-huh" without ever opening his eyes. I
run my hand across his chest, across his nipples before moving
back to his boycock. I keep massaging his penis as the precum
continues to flow, a little bit more as it pulses from him. The
testicles start to shift again and Shaun gets a little louder. I
push one hand under his buns, feeling the sweat as I lift him
slightly, pushing his cock a little further, a little deeper into
my throat. With my other hand I rub his nuts, shifting them.
Shaun opens his mouth like he's about to say something but never
does. He moans a little more, gasping for air.
His cock fills entirely, now rigid as a signal Shaun is
close to orgasm once again. He finds my head with his hand,
resting his hand on my body as he begins to shudder. His scrotum
becomes tight as he says something quietly, too soft for me to
hear. In small spurts, the semen begins to squirt from his body,
hitting the roof of my mouth. I pull from him and rub his cock,
letting him finish by shooting in the air as I watch the spurts
of come hit his belly. He starts to slow and finally stops,
watching me as I rub his stomach and consequently rub his own
semen into the skin. He watches me as he dips his hand into the
pool, throwing water at me.
"Hey!" I yell as he laughs. He scrunches and holds his
chest as he laughs and I push him off the side, into the water
with me diving after him. He comes up to the surface and finds
me but instead of more splashing, he grabs me. I put my lips to
his.
Chapter Eight
I'm on the dog food isle of H.E.B. at what's probably the
busiest time of the day for this grocery store. People with
carts full of food and screaming kids are pushing past me as I
clamber to get out of the way. I walk over to the end and see a
door, which I walk through. When I walk through, I find myself
inside a camper, one of the smaller ones. I can feel it moving
as if being towed and there's a kid sitting at the small table,
eating. For some reason I open the door to the bathroom, but
instead of what I expect, I see the highway below us shooting out
into the distance. I slam the door and turn to the kid.
Pancakes and eggs are sitting in front of him. He's a boy,
about 11 I'd guess. Well, hell, I know who he is. It's the kid
from Braum's.
"Any good?" I ask him. He shrugs. "Any more?" I ask.
"Do it yourself, do it for less," he tells me.
"What?"
He looks up for the first time. Same clothes as I remember
him having at Braum's. "It's not how fast you go, it's how well
you go fast." I shoot him a blank look. "In thirty seconds or
less, explain yourself."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I tell him.
"Do you know who I am?" he asks, suddenly taking on a very
British accent. The trailer hits a bump and rocks, shaking the
entire contents.
"You're from Braum's."
"I was born there," he tells me.
"You were born in a Braum's. Got it. What's your name?"
"David. And don't say I didn't warn you." And then I'm
awake. I'm lying in my bed and it's 4:30 in the morning. I hate
it when I wake up, wide awake at some God-awful hour and can't go
back to sleep.
"My mom asked me what I did last night."
"What did you tell her?"
"Swimming. Would you have liked me to have elaborated?"
I flip through the channels. Nothing but soap operas and
game shows. I hate daytime TV. "She say anything?"
"She's just overly worried because she still doesn't know if
I'm going to be all right. Because of losing my dad."
"Are you all right?"
"It helps to have you. You're doing a lot more for me than
you know right now." Shaun apparently says something to someone
in his house. "I have to go. Are you going to be home later?"
"Probably the rec center. Are you going to stop by?"
"If I can. Te amo."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I can't say what I want to say in English.
Later."
"Bye."
Troy has informed me that I'll be flown to Dallas in four
days. Since I'm still out on Summer break from school, it's
pretty much a matter of just leaving. The school where I'll be
going starts in a week, which is the reason for me leaving
Houston so soon. Four days. Four fucking days. How am I
supposed to close everything in four days?
The first thing I do is call Julie. God, it seems like
forever since I talked to her. The last time I talked to or saw
her was the contest at Jack-Off point. That's only been four or
five days, but it seems like a lot longer. She answers the
phone.
"Julie, Adam."
"God, Adam, where the hell have you been."
"Sorry. Listen, do you think you could come to the rec
center?"
"Now? What do I tell my parents?"
"Tell them the truth, I need to talk to you. A few things
have happened I need to talk to you about."
"Sure, what time?"
"How soon can you be here?"
"I'll be down in a few minutes."
That few minutes soon becomes almost two hours. Julie walks
in the door and finds me looking at the pool from the upper deck.
Troy's been in and out all day, making phone calls and whatever.
He's been contacting people about refunding the remaining
membership fees, which I understand is not that hard of a job
since the memberships are way down.
"What's wrong?" Julie asks me. I lead her into this little
area with a few tables and some vending machines that are just
about empty.
"I'm not going to be able to see you anymore."
"You're dumping me?" she asks. She has this look of horror
over her face.
"No, it's not that. Troy's selling the business, and I'm
going to live with my stepmother in Dallas. I'm leaving in four
days."
"What does Troy selling have to do with you leaving? Why
leave?"
"It's all financial. He can't afford me, basically." I
don't say anything for a while. "I'm sorry."
"Well, it's not your fault, I guess. I dunno, I was going
to talk to you to. I've kinda been seeing someone else."
"You have?" Now I'm not believing this. "I thought we were
so close."
"We are, but..." She trails off.
"Who is he?"
"Well, do you remember Jerry from that one contest?"
Julie left shortly after telling me that, but not before she
told me, in graphic detail, on how wonderful a lover Jerry is. I
wasn't jealous because I'd lost Julie, I was jealous because I
never had Jerry. I mean, he came to me first. Didn't he? I was
trying to sequentially put together their dates and that time
when Jerry came into the locker room and figure out whether he
had given up on me and then found Julie, or whether he already
was going out with Julie and I was just a side-effect. I never
could figure it out.
"Is your stepmom living with anyone?" Shaun asks me. I
shrug. Shaun's been sitting in my office playing computer games
for half an hour.
"If she is, I've never heard about it. I doubt she'd tell
Troy something like that, so she may very well be."
"When do you leave again?"
"Friday. Lunch flight, leaves at 11:30. Troy just gave me
the ticket."
"Do you know anybody in Dallas?"
"Nobody."
"Where in Dallas does your stepmom live?"
"Actually it's Arlington."
"That's where Six Flags is, isn't it?" he asks me. He gets
killed on his game and shuts off the computer.
"She actually lives about a mile from it."
"Somebody told me it's better than Astroworld here."
"Somebody from Dallas told me Astroworld's better," I tell
him. Shaun shrugs.
"Are you going to call me?" he asks me.
"Whenever I get the chance. But you have to call me
sometimes."
Then we stop. All the conversation has run out. Shaun just
watches me for a second, then checks his watch and waves bye.
Then I'm alone.
It wouldn't be so bad if I felt like it would go on. The
only time I feel like Shaun and I have something that's going to
last is when we're actually having sex. It's like in the pool
the other night. I brought him off, and that was pretty much it.
I'm starting to feel used. He says "I love you" but for the
first time I'm starting to doubt it. For the first time, I'm
falling out of love with Shaun.
I find Troy in his office. He informs me that tomorrow is
the last day the center will be open to the public. After that,
the pool will be drained and the place will have some massive
cleaning before the buyers take a last look around. Datacorp,
the buyers, are interested in using the place as a facility for
the workers and will probably keep most of it, maybe even just
build stories onto the building with offices. I was tempted to
tell Troy to tell the Datacorp people I'd be willing to throw in
a copy of the "Greatest Acts" cassette, but Troy wasn't really
listening and probably wouldn't have gotten it, either. I know I
told Shaun I was going to erase the tapes, but I never did.
Probably never will.
Shaun calls me later and tells me he wants to spend one last
night with me, the last night I have, Thursday night. I say fine
and hang up, and actually feel like I want to. Then the phone
rings again.
"Adam Traugott?"
"Yeah."
"Derek. Aron's brother. Can I stop by?"
"Oh, Derek..." I'm at a loss for words. I figured I'd
never hear from him again. "Well, I'm not really taking people
to bed anymore, if that's what you want, but if you want to just
stop by or something. I won't be here past Friday, but sure,
come on by."
"Why Friday?"
I run through the entire story-to-date, leaving out my
relationship with Shaun and just tell him I quit screwing because
I was leaving Houston. He decides to stop by and see me and when
he shows up later, his brother is with him. Aron is dressed in
sweats. Some things never change.
"So what's the deal with the center, how come the guy is
selling it?"
"Needs the money." Derek's pacing while Aron checks out my
office. Finally, Aron says he wants something to drink and
leaves to hunt for a vending machine. Derek looks relieved.
"I'm sorry for getting so pissed at you," he tells me. I
shrug, not saying a whole lot. "I guess I should have gotten
over it sooner, I might have gotten laid."
"Depends," I tell him, "I might not have taken you back."
He laughs a little.
"So are you going to find a whole bunch of people in Dallas
to fuck around with?"
"No, I'm outta business."
"Listen, as long as your leaving, do you think I could have
that tape, the one with my first time with you on it?"
"I'll give you a copy," I compromise. He accepts this and I
hunt down a second VCR from Troy's office and hook it up to mine.
By this time both Derek and Aron are in my bedroom. Aron has
found the tape.
"I still can't believe how small your dick is," Aron tells
Derek.
"Aron, fuck off," he returns. I start copying.
"So like, what is it with you two? Do you not like each
other anymore or what?" I ask them.
Aron tells me, "Derek's still pissed because I fucked his
ass."
"He made me bleed. My mom bitched at me all day about it,"
Derek continues. "The sheets were stained and everything." I
stay out of this and they start going back and forth about who's
fault it was, and what one should have done and whatever. I
finish the copy and toss it at Derek, then leave the room. I'm
starting to not feel so bad about leaving anymore.
Chapter Nine
By the time the afternoon rolls around, I'm ready to do
something besides sit in the damn locker room. I finally take
off to Braum's after a failed attempt at calling Shaun. He was
out somewhere. Business is steady but I manage to locate a
table. It's hot out and a lot of people are getting ice cream
like I do. Rocky Road. I remember the first time I had this
flavor. Some foster home I was in when I was young, probably 5
or 6. Shortly after my parents were killed in the car wreck. I
don't remember who they were, all I remember is that I was
crying, wanting to know where my parents were, and they were
trying to coax me not to cry and one of the bribes was Rocky
Road.
I never knew my real parents, not really. I had gone
through about two foster homes, then in the boys center for a
while. That place was rough. I had to have been 8, almost 9.
The guy I was staying with at the time got transferred by his
company to Los Angeles and another home was not available
immediately. That boys home was where I started getting ass
fucked. This nine year old kid being brought in, not knowing
what's going to happen, and kids who have been there forever,
some of them almost 18, pinning me down and... I shake the
thought from my head as I dig into the ice cream.
The parking lot is busy, this one guy nearly hits another
car pulling into the lot. And of all the cars that come in, the
Dodge Caravan, the red one, pulls into the lot. A woman and her
son get out. The woman I take for the mother, and it's the same
kid I remember. I watch them as they walk in and order, and the
kid takes off for the restroom. I jump up and follow him. The
restrooms here have a little airlock, sort of, where you go
through one door that's just labeled "restrooms" and then the two
other doors for men and women are inside. By the time I get in
the airlock, he's already locked the door. I wait. And wait.
My ice cream is melting, my table could be taken by someone who
thought I left. I check outside, and it turns out the woman, the
mother has sat down at the table, my ice cream pushed over to the
side. Terrific, I think. The mother takes my table while I'm
casing her son in the restroom. Finally the kid walks out. He
looks at me and I smile briefly, but he walks past me.
"Wait a second," I tell him. He turns around, not sure if
it's him I'm talking to. "Could you come here for just a
second." He looks confused but walks over to me. He looks at
me, expecting me to say something. "Are you David by any
chance?"
"Nope," he tells me, then turns and starts to walk off
again.
"Wait..." He turns around again, looking desperate to get
back to his mother. "Just tell me, what's your name."
"Why, what's yours?" he asks me.
"Adam Traugott."
"Why do you want to know my name?"
"Just because, I just want to know who you are."
"But why?" he asks again. This is becoming irritating and
he looks out the door to check on his mother.
"I saw you here a couple of weeks ago. You got in a car,
took your clothes off, and left."
"I was changing."
"Why here?"
"We were going swimming," he tells me, impatiently. He
wants to leave. I look at him for a moment and wonder why I'm
asking him his name. Because I want to know. Because his
identity has been haunting me for a week. Because every goddamn
dream I've had for the last eight days has had him in it.
Because I have to know who he is.
"What is your name," I state more than ask.
"Aerck. A-E-R-C-K. Pronounced just like 'Eric'" Then he
walks out the door. Now I know.
I leave the melting ice cream on the table his mother took
from me and walk out the door to locate my bike. He watches me
leave but as soon as I walk out the door, he comes after me.
"Wait," he tells me. I turn around. "Where do you live?"
I think about it for a moment. "Dallas," I finally tell
him, then smile. He returns the smile, then says a quick "Bye"
in his little-kid voice and walks back into the restaurant. I
keep smiling at him, even though he's gone.
Final Chapter
The closet squeaks. Always has. Rows and rows of video
tapes, lining the shelves, being black and bold. Some of the
names on the spine have rubbed off, the dates slipping. I'd like
to think that there are real people with real feelings on these
video tapes, but there isn't. Most of them I don't know who they
are, how they came to me or even if they enjoyed what happened.
Money. That's what this is all about. Troy's fifty percent and
my fifty percent and we were rolling in the dollars. I can't
picture faces anymore. It's odd. They're just names on an index
card and my only memory is being a part of their sexual identity
for five minutes or less.
I don't watch these tapes. I've recorded just about all of
them since I started, hours and hours of ravishing sexual
experiences, but all I do is record. Because when all you're
watching is a picture, and the little emotional involvement that
there was in the first place isn't evident, just two people
sliding around on a bed, there's really nothing to see anymore.
But there's something I want to do first.
I pull out three separate tapes, three selected ones and put
the first in my VCR. A second deck has been hooked up and I
place a blank tape it. Hit play. Hit record. The sex act goes
on for a few minutes, and I watch with a blank stare that passes
for interest. It's over. Go to the second tape. Fast forward
until the counter reads the number I want. Copy. It's over.
Repeat with the third and wonder how many of the kids on all the
video tapes knew about the camera sitting in the corner. The
third is over.
I pull out the fresh compilation and set it on the VCR, so
as not to confuse it with the other tapes. Walk out the door,
find Troy's toolbox, find Troy's hammer, go back to the room. I
can't really hear the crack as I hit the case of the tape but the
plastic shards fly onto the floor. The reel escapes and lays a
path across the room. Do the second tape. Forcibly pry the
casing and release its contents. The third.
Over a hundred tapes in all. As I sit on the bed and watch
the pile of magnetic chrome media that litters my floor, I
silently pray and hope that these people, these children's lives
that I have invaded will forget what's been recorded.
I grab the one video tape I separated from the rest, and
walk out the door.
"He's upstairs. He might be asleep," she tells me. She's
so quiet, a subtle reminder that her life was disrupted quite a
bit, and she will not recover any time soon. I've wondered
before exactly how hard Shaun's mother took the death. I know
Shaun wasn't terrifically affected by it. Too many problems that
were solved rather than aggravated when he died.
Shaun is asleep when I walk into his room. I sit and watch
him sleep for a moment, staying silent on his bed, remembering
how he looked when he was asleep in my bed, his arms wrapped
around his body. He wakes slowly when I rest my hand on his
body. He's tired but sits up.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, yawning. I lay the tape
on his lap.
"To give you that," I tell him. "And to say goodbye."
"You don't leave until tomorrow, I thought."
"I know. But I figured this would be easier." He looks
disappointed but doesn't say anything.
"What's the tape for?" he asks.
"It's a copy of all the times you were with me, the ones
that got recorded, anyway. It's the only one, so if you lose it,
that's it."
"What about all your tapes?"
"They're gone." He doesn't say anything. He just looks at
me. I was tempted to just leave Houston without saying anything,
to avoid this. Avoid feeling the way I feel right now, not
wanting to leave, not wanting to leave Shaun alone. I didn't. I
couldn't do that to Shaun because I knew he'd never forgive me.
I don't know what's going to become of this, honestly. We can
say we'll write, we'll talk on the phone, maybe he can make it to
Arlington for a few days. Maybe we'll just forget about each
other.
He sets his hands on my shoulders and I move toward him,
wrapping my hands around his body and pulling us together. I
just shut my eyes as he hugs me. His warm body touching mine,
just the way it's always been. His grip is tight and I feel
something wet drip onto my neck and realize he's silently
tearing.
"I love you."
So my entire life is packed into a suitcase on a shuttle
flight to Texas' twin cities. In less than two hours I'll be at
Dallas Love Field, ready to start my life over. Shaun didn't
come with me to the airport. Troy stands at the terminal
watching me leave. He tells me that the contract has been
signed, that the Houston Recreation Center is now officially
D.E.E.G. - Datacorp Employees Exercise Group - although there are
rumors that it will be open in limited membership to the public,
for those that want to pay the price. Troy turned down a large
check for the sale in trade of a smaller check and a guaranteed
job with Datacorp. His new life, the one I'm not a part of,
starts on Monday. Troy won't miss me. Troy doesn't miss
anything.
Julie and Jerry made it knowledge at the school they go to
that they are going out. "Going out" in 14-year old terms means
a lot of holding hands, however I'm sure they're doing a lot more
than that in Jerry's bed.
The seat is hard an uncomfortable as I put my seat belt on.
I'm in the very first row of coach with only one seat beside me.
A small girl flying by herself colors with crayons and
occasionally looks up at me, as if to suggest I might try to take
one from her. The plane rattles as the engines start up, and
with what honestly looks like a golf cart to me, they back the
plane out of the terminal. From my view I can see the windows in
the terminal. I don't see Troy and I figure he's already on his
way back to his car. He's rid of me.
It's strange to watch the fumes float across the runway on a
hot day like this. The runway stretches out into the distance
before the plane turns and all I can see is the highway some
distance from the airport. The captain makes some announcement
and all the stewards and stewardesses disappear for a moment. We
shift and rock a little before starting. The power drive just
before we take off, the one that pushes you back into your seat
is the part I like best. I close my eyes and feel it pull me
backwards. As I close the window shade, I watch Houston
disappear.
end of part 1
End of Book
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Nick Tails
1705 14th Street, #364
Boulder, CO 80302
Please make all checks payable to Nick Tails.
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