Chapter 1 – Chapter 1

Hi all, this is an edited version of the first part to my story. Just wanted to get all the mistakes out! Thanks to Juls and Nomoretears for their support and technical help on this one! 🙂 As always, Vote and Comment!

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Paul sighed and stared out over the water. The Hudson River rushed by him as he stood on the back porch of his friends Todd and Eric's house. Remnants of the party blew about with the gusty fall air so that napkins and party hats floated on the wind with crisp, dried leaves. The early evening sun shone down on him, but was starting to get too weak to fight off the New York autumn cold. He lifted a hand to his mouth and took a drag of his cigarette. He heard the glass door slide open and shut behind him. It would be Todd, he thought.

"Those things'll kill ya." Todd said.

"There are worse ways to go."

"Not many. Eric's aunt had emphysema and toward the end she could barely breathe even on oxygen." Todd came to stand next to him. "Scary shit, man. Nothing I'd want to go through."

"Don't forget we get to pay ten bucks a pack for the privilege." Paul said and took another drag.

"I've always said you were a smart guy, Paul, but so stupid about some things."

"Hey, I can't be perfect. It would put too much strain on the rest of you little people."

"That reminds me, I've also always said you're a bit of an asshole." Todd said with a grin.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Just for that I'm taking you out of my will."

"You'd never do that." Todd said, confidently.

"Oh no? Why not?"

"Cause you have no one else to leave it to. Course, I'm sure the government would appreciate fourteen million dollars." Todd chuckled.

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen what?"

"Sixteen million dollars." Paul said and no longer felt a single emotion at the statement. Not happiness in acquiring the money, or even the satisfaction that he was more financially solvent than most states in the union. It was just a statement of fact.

"Wasn't it just fourteen not too long ago?"

"It was, but there was a payoff with an investment that I had entirely forgotten about. Some land I bought in El Salvador years ago, thinking for some stupid reason that it would be a nice place to retire to. Apparently there's oil on a neighboring tract of land and the only way to get large machinery into the area to get to the oil is to go through my land. Thus, I have more money now than I did then. Whoppdie fucking do."

"Hey, if making more money is making you miserable you can always let me share your burden."

"Every time I offer you money, you refuse."

"Well, I figure every multimillionaire needs at least two friends that don't use him for money."

"One, you and Eric are my only friends and two, that's bullshit. You love your life. You love your husband, you love paying bills and bitching about the small stuff. Your house is a home, while my house is a show place. That's why you don't want the money. That's why if I die first, you will tuck away a couple million so you don't have to worry too much but donate the rest to charity."

"Bet you can't guess what charity we've decided on." Todd asked with a smirk.

"The Alzheimer's one." Paul said simply and was rewarded by seeing Todd's smirk disappear.

"How did you know?"

"Because every time that commercial comes on with the woman who talks about what it's like to start forgetting stuff, you get all weepy."

"It's weird how well you know me."

"We did date."

"For six months and that was nineteen years ago." Todd said.

"Nineteen? Really?" Paul said, aghast and disgusted.

"Yeah. I dated you and then I met Eric and we'll be celebrating eighteen years this coming July."

"Jesus. I thought it was only ten."

"Yeah, no. It's nineteen. We're getting old, kiddo."

"Apparently." Paul said, gesturing toward the party favors. "You didn't have to do that, by the way."

"Course I did, it's October 10. It's not every day that someone turns fifty and you can't turn fifty without a party."

"I don't think anyone should have to turn fifty if they don't want to." Paul sighed again.

"Well, you've got enough money to try and turn back the hands of time."

"I only have sixteen million. I somehow think that it wouldn't be enough."

The door opened and closed again. Paul knew it was Eric and watched with a small twinge of jealousy the way Todd turned to his lover and brightened.

"Hey babe." Todd said and they wrapped their arms around each other.

"What are you guys talking about out here?"

"Time." Paul said. "Money." Todd said at the same time.

"Interesting conversation." Eric observed. "What brought that on?"

"Oh I was just feeling old." Paul said.

"Bullshit. You were feeling lonely and you're only just realizing that you have no one to share your life or your large…. fortune with." Todd contradicted.

"Lonely? I'm not lonely."

"I may not be as old as you are, Paul but I am a psychiatrist. I know loneliness when I see it."

"You're four years younger than I am, Todd. Not exactly a spring chicken yourself."

"That's true, but I'll always be four years younger than you are so my statement stands. Both of them actually. You are one of the loneliest people I know and my heart breaks for you."

"I'm not saying I'm lonely, but even if I were, there's nothing I could do about it. I'm too old to go to the bars again, too young to go on a gay cruise for seniors. I don't feel like going through the humiliation of blind dates and too disinterested in being a sugar daddy. So that basically leaves me where I am. Alone." Paul took another cigarette from his pack and lit it.

"See? Lonely."

"Alone is not lonely. Alone just means that there's no one with you, lonely means you're pissed that no one's with you."

"He's right, honey." Eric said.

"Shut up, baby." Todd frowned.

"No, he's right. That's what alone and lonely means."

"Thank you, Eric." Paul nodded as if he'd won the argument.

"But he's wrong about which one he is. He's alone and lonely."

"Thank you, Eric." Todd smiled as if he'd won the argument.

"Oh fuck you both. Queers in relationships are as bad as breeders. They all think the world should be in one."

"Not the world. There are a lot of people I wish weren't in a relationship. But there are a few people I think need one desperately and you're at the top of my list." Todd said and turned to Eric still had his arms around him. "Wouldn't you agree, baby?"

"I would. You really need to find someone, Paul. I'd hate to see you all bitter sitting on your money like it's the only thing worth living for."

"Do I do that now?" Paul was genuinely hurt. "Do I sit on my money? I give to charities that I think deserve it, I give to friends when they're down on their luck. I enjoy my money. I took us all to Puerto Rico last Christmas. We had a blast."

"We did." Eric agreed fervently. "That was awesome!"

"Start thinking about where you'd like to go this year. I was thinking somewhere in Asia. Sri Lanka, maybe or Thailand." Paul suggested.

"Oh babe, he's gonna take us to Thailand!" Eric said, his eyes bright with childish excitement.

"Eric, we're not talking about vacations!" Todd admonished. "But I'd rather go to China." He said on a side note. "We're talking about Paul living his life without anyone and trying to fill the void with money."

"Well, we could just not talk about it at all." Paul said and looked back out over the river.

"Paul, there's no one you know that you're interested in?"

"No."

"What about dating sites?" Eric suggested.

"Please! They're worse than bars."

"What about people you used to know?" Todd asked.

"Well, there is this guy that I knew once but he's taken." Paul grinned at his ex boyfriend who was still wrapped in his lovers arms. Todd grinned back.

"Yeah, right. We were never serious. Our relationship was always friendly."

"I remember some times when it wasn't so `friendly'."

"Hey! I'm standing right here." Eric said without true heat. He'd never had a problem that Paul and Todd had once dated but that didn't mean he wanted to hear too much about it.

"What about Dylan?" Todd said and Paul's face fell.

"Who?" Paul hadn't thought of Dylan in a very long time, but when the name was mentioned Paul knew exactly who Todd was talking about.

"Don't give me that shit. You know who I'm talking about."

"Who's Dylan?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, Paul. Who's Dylan?" Todd asked in a voice which suggested he knew.

"Dylan's a memory. Someone I knew from my past who is better left there." Paul angrily flicked the last of his cigarette over the railing and desperately wished he could light another one without showing the stress he felt from the conversation.

"Dylan is the voice in the back of Paul's head that whispers shit when he starts getting close to someone." Todd answered sagely.

"Dylan is not the reason I'm alone, Todd."

"No, Paul. You're the reason you're alone."

"How do you know about Dylan?" Paul asked.

"I found some letters you wrote to him once. They had never been mailed."

"You went through my stuff?!" Paul yelled.

"Yeah, like nineteen years ago when we were dating. I'm sorry. Get over it. Now tell us about Dylan." Todd ordered and Paul sighed again.

"He was a boy I grew up with back in Denniston."

"Where the hell is Denniston?" Eric asked.

"It's no where. It was wiped away in some floods in the early eighties. The town's completely demolished and no one's rebuilt it for good reason."

"Ok, where was Denniston?"

"Upstate New York."

"I never knew that." Todd said, amazed that he had never known where his ex boyfriend had been from. "I thought you were from Westchester or the city or something."

"Yeah, I moved there when I was nineteen so I just thought it was easier to let people think I came from there." Paul said feeling uncomfortable speaking about his history that he had tried to hard to bury.

"Why?" Todd asked.

"To say Denniston was rural would be kind and to say that my family were the trailer trash of said rural community would be a flat out lie. We didn't even have a trailer. We lived in a shack that was tucked up into the hills. We didn't own it, but whoever did didn't bother to kick us out so we stayed. Or squatted rather. You can imagine why I wouldn't want to share that with people."

"So you came from…. humble beginnings." Todd had thought hard to find a nice way to describe Paul's early years. "So what?"

"Dylan was my best, first and only friend. He was also my first love."

"He didn't love you back?" Todd asked.

"I don't know. I never told him."

"Why not?" Eric asked.

"Dylan was from the richest family in our area which isn't saying a lot. But I was from the poorest. He was out of my reach so I never told him." Paul admitted.

"If you could do it again, would you? Would you tell him that you loved him?" Todd asked.

"Yeah, probably."

Paul drove home and watched the automatic gates that led to his house swing open. He parked his B.M.W. in front of the garage and walked up the steps to his front door. All the lights in the house were off and as he stepped inside the silence reminded him that, despite some plants he was the only living thing in the house. He put his coat in the closet and went to the living room to watch some t.v. before bed. He was feeling rather tired and knew it wouldn't be long before he headed up stairs. Three hours later, he was staring at the television still unable to make himself retire for the night. He wondered what was keeping him up and could only describe it as a vague feeling of anxiety. Like he was supposed to do something that he hadn't, or that he wanted to do something but he wouldn't.

Paul shut the television off and went to his office to check some emails and give a quick look over his portfolio. He hoped that would do the trick and bore him enough to help him sleep. It was either that or warm milk and being lactose intolerant, that wasn't an option. The emails popped up on the screen and he read them thoroughly but they didn't seem to tire him, neither did going over his investments. He shut down his computer with disgust and leaned back in his chair. He looked about the office in the dim light of his Tiffany desk lamp and his gaze was caught by something set on his wall of bookcases.

`That's why I can't sleep.' Paul thought. `Mother fucker.'

Paul stood and headed over to take a small wooden box that had sat untouched among his books since he had moved in. It wasn't covered with dust thanks to his cleaning service, but he knew that it hadn't been opened in years, or at least since Todd had rifled through it nineteen years ago. Paul couldn't remember the last time he had gone through that box. It opened with a creak and Paul brought the letters out.

They were yellowed with age and a few had stains from before he had placed them in the box to protect them. Paul took the first one and unfolded it. The penmanship was atrocious, the spelling was even worse. Even though he had been eighteen and nineteen when he had written them, his schooling had been so poor that he had had to take remedial classes for two years before being at college level.

Deer Dilan, Yu havnt bin arownd much latly sinse yur wurkin at yur dads shop. I miss yu. I dont no y I have thees feelings but I do no that I love yu. I bet my pa and ma wud beet the livin shit outta me if they new I did. I wish yu were heer with me.

In another one he had written:

Deer Dilan, I saw yu the other day swimin down at bakers pond. I wantid to talk to yu but yu was with yur frends and I no they dont like me. They think Im trash but I no yu dont. Yu dont treet me that way. Its won of the reesons I love yu. That and yur butiful too!

In yet another, Paul noticed the penmanship had improved as did the spelling. He knew it was written after he had moved to New York and was enrolled in the program for disadvantaged kids who needed help to prepare for either vocational school or college.

Dear Dylan, I heard from your sister that you got into Duke just like you wanted to. I think that's great! I'm so prowd of you. I wish I could tell you in person but I don't think I'll be able to get to North Carolina anytime soon. I don't think it's a good idea if we see each other anyway. I'm not even in college yet, just this class for stupid people. I know that I'm not even going to send these letters. I justwanted to tell you how I feel and this is the best way I can even though you're never going to see them. Maybe someday when I'm rich and famous I'll find you and tell you. I still love you. I will always love you. Paul

By the time he had finished the fourteen letters, Paul had tears in his eyes. They splashed on the paper leaving wet spots and smearing the old ink. He chuckled at himself and shook his head at the wealth of emotions still in his heart after all that time. He had been cursed to find his one true love at such an early age and to have that love reject him. Paul realized that everything he had done in his life from that moment on had been for Dylan. Todd's question came back to him, `If you could do it again, would you?'.

"Yes." Paul answered out loud. He suddenly felt tired and emotionally drained. He went upstairs and undressed before laying in his bed. It was a large bed, more than enough for two people much less just one, and it had never felt so big or so empty. His large bedroom echoed the sound of the small fan he used for white noise to help him sleep. He turned off the light which stood on his end table, closed his eyes and was soon asleep.

Paul woke to the absence of the fan he slept with, sounds of birds chirping and the feel of sweat running down his face. His room felt like it was two hundred degrees. `Shit,' he thought. `The power must have gone out during the night. But the generator should have kicked on automatically.' He then realized the side he was sleeping on ached hard as if he were sleeping on a floor. He hadn't slept on the floor since….

Paul's eyes flew open and instead of seeing his large, opulent bedroom he saw a dirty, dingy wall. He spun his head around and saw the rest of the little shack he had grown up in back in Denniston.

"What the fuck?" He said and his hand flew to his throat that had made sounds he hadn't made in thirty two years. "What the hell is going on?" He asked himself in a voice better suited to an eighteen year old.

"What are you carrying on about over there?" Another voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked over to see him mother sitting at their small kitchen table.

`Impossible!' he thought. `This is fucking impossible!'

It was on shaky legs that he stood and he looked over his body with interest. He was thin. Not that he'd been obese before falling asleep but his age and wealth had left him a little softer than he had been. He stood tall, but not quite his full six foot two and though his shoulders had widened he hadn't filled out with muscle yet. His hands were no longer filled with the aches of mild arthritis but with the strength of youth. His bare chest was broad, strong and covered with the beginnings of the black fur mat that had covered his body since he came of age. He ran a hand through his hair and found it black with no hint of gray and almost shoulder length. The dark and dirty jean shorts he wore were a size too small and encased his large frame tightly, showing off his large package swollen with a piss boner. He needed to relieve himself though he was too shocked to find himself in this fucked up dream that he pushed the need to the side. He wanted to find a mirror to see his face but knew there would be no mirror in the shack. Paul heard a cough and turned back to stare at his mother as she drank her morning coffee and had her first cigarette of the day.

"What are you staring at?" She asked in her usual grumpy and tired voice.

"You're dead." He answered simply.

"I'm what?"

"You're dead. I went to your funeral. I paid for the fucking thing, casket and all."

"Well fuck you too, you son of a bitch!" It was her favorite insult for him though she never understood the irony of a mother using it on her own son. Paul walked over and pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. He was instantly deposited on the floor next to the overturned chair.

"You fucking moron! That chair's only got three legs. If you can't sit on it right sit on the floor before you go breaking any more shit!"

"I forgot." Paul said and sat the broken seat on it's remaining legs before sitting gingerly on it. "What's the date today?"

"Date?" His mother looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

"Yeah, the date."

"I don't know. I think it's May."

"What year?"

"Boy, you feeling 'specially stupid today? It's nineteen seventy nine. You're sure in a mood." His mother said as she lit another cigarette with the one she had just finished smoking.

`Nineteen seventy nine?' Paul was astonished. `There was no way.' Yet here he was sitting across from his mother.

She was exactly as he remembered; tired of life, gaunt and thin with stringy hair and dull brown eyes which were tinged with yellow. She would remain here till the end of her days, surviving the flood that wiped out the entire town which sat lower in the hills, only to die a few years later of uterine cancer. Paul would have just closed his first big deal for Hathaway Inc. and would use his bonus of ten thousand dollars to send his mother to the afterlife in style. He hadn't been close to his mother, not many people in the world could say they had been close to Connie Stark, but she was the woman who had given birth to him and occasionally protected him from his father's beatings. She deserved something. He had just started to wonder where his father was, when the door to the shack slammed open and a large man entered.

`There's the bastard now.' Paul thought. If this was his dream, why wasn't the asshole still dead?

"Traps were empty. We don't have no food for tonight." Eddie Stark said without preamble or emotion.

Eddie was a large man, standing six foot three with wide shoulders and hands like bear paws. His hair was as unkempt as his wife's and his beard hadn't been tended to in sometime. His clothes were stained, though clean and mostly threadbare. Paul felt his body shake as he took in the sight of his father, a sight he had not seen in over twenty years, and didn't know whether he shook with fear or anger. Eddie glanced over at Paul and swept a large arm to knock him off the chair.

"You know that's where I sit, boy." Eddie said and grabbed the chair from the floor to sit at the table.

Paul lay on the floor for a minute with a hand held over his bruised jaw. His mother made no comment and gave no look or indication that she had even noticed but stood to fetch his father a cup of coffee. `It's definitely anger.' Paul thought as his body shook even harder. He was going to kill the bastard if he didn't leave and soon. He stood and headed to the door but his father's query stopped him before he could escape.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"I have to piss." Paul said trying to keep the resentment out of his voice.

"Hurry up. You're going to get food from old Mrs. Welch."

Paul's stomach clenched. He had totally forgotten about that. Forgotten or blocked it out. His father had made him beg for food from Mrs. Welch, an elderly woman who worked for the church. She would give it to him, but she would also let everyone in town know that his family had required charity again and isn't it nice that Jesus and his church could help such low life's as the Starks. It was an embarrassment that he hadn't needed then and sure as shit didn't need now.

Paul left the shack and stepped out into the heat of the day. He looked up into the canopy of trees above him and saw the bright sun shining down. It was still low in the sky which meant it was early, but it was unusually hot. The budding leaves on the trees seemed to suggest early spring, such as May but the sweat still dripping from his brow told a different story. Then a distant memory crept up into the forefront of his mind. There had been one early spring that they had been hit with a heatwave that had gripped the Northeast for weeks. The year was nineteen seventy nine. The year he had almost graduated from high school. It was also the year that he had run away from home after his father had found the first of his letters to Dylan and had read it with the help of his mother. This was the worst year of his life.

Paul pulled his fly open, took his penis in his hand and let go with a stream of urine that had been straining against his bladder. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Why was he dreaming about this year? Why not a better time, like the year he had finally broken a million? Why not relive the day that he had spent the day fucking two Spanish sailors who had been on leave in Buenos Aires? Why this day? He knew why of course. He had asked for it. With Todd's instigation and question would he do it all again, Paul had been thinking of this particular time in his life. Now he was just going to have relive the past with all he knew of the future. Paul smiled. It could be fun.

He finished pissing and put his penis back in his shorts, then headed off through the woods towards town. `Let's go see the old bitch, Mrs. Welch.' He thought. It took him a half an hour to climb down the mountain and walk into the small municipality that was known as Denniston. Most of the people from the surrounding area lived in the few blocks of the town proper which left the woods, hills and other areas for the poorer "lower class" people. The higher up the mountain you were, the more of an "undesirable" you became. No one lived higher up than the Starks.

Paul reached town and walked down the main street toward the old lady's house who lived just opposite the Lutheran, and only church in town. He walked up the back steps to her house as had been his habit when he was younger and knocked. It took a few minutes for the old bat to answer the door.

"Here for food, I guess." She said as a statement not a question.

"Yup, I am." Paul answered brightly. He no longer cared what this woman thought of him for a number of reasons but his favorites were because; he would go on to accumulate a hell of a lot of money in his life, and because she was a long dead and rotting corpse.

Her face showed her surprise and distaste at his boldness but again he didn't care.

"Who is it?!" Called the voice of Mrs. Welch's sister-in-law who had lived with her since the death of her husband. He had actually never seen Mrs. Welch's sister-in-law, for to his knowledge, she never left the living room and he was never allowed further in than the kitchen.

"It's the Stark boy!" Mrs. Welch answered.

"Again?! Wasn't he just here the other day? You'd think trash like that could stretch our charity a little more and make it last longer."

Paul stepped into the kitchen as Mrs. Welch held the door open for him.

"Trash is as trash does." She answered her sister-in-law as she began putting cans and packages of food into a small paper bag. "They ain't got no consideration."

"You know there are other hungry people in our area. It's not just your ilk. You don't even go to church and thank Jesus for what he gives you."

"Can you just please give me the food without your hypocritical preaching, stereotypical judgements and general nastiness? I'd be much obliged." Paul said with a charming smile.

The old woman handed over the bag of food with a confused look on her face but didn't say a word as the young man left.

"What did he say?" Asked her sister-in-law from the other room.

"Something about our stereo." Mrs. Welch called back, still confused.

Paul took the food and wandered about town feeling it strange to walk down roads and by houses that no longer existed. He remembered the people who lived in each and funny stories about them. Like the time the Mrs. Zimmerman ran about the yard with a rolling pin after her husband who had left his tractor carburetor in her kitchen sink one too many times. Or the time that Cindy Burwell was caught with the minister's son, who was engaged to another young woman, in the back shed. And being of a lower caste in the town and thought of as invisible he knew an awful lot of their secrets. He knew that Mr. Preet would make advances toward the young boys of his boy scout troop during camping trips and that Mrs. Rowe had an affair with Mr. Arlin while her husband was away on a business trip.

Paul stopped in front of one house, a large white house with blue shutters and a lawn gnome. It was Dylan's house. Though he had grown up with Dylan and even been his friend, he had never stepped inside. The inside of houses in town were not for the likes of people such as him. It was sometimes an unspoken rule, but often people had said it outright to his face.

"Is there something you needed?" An irritated voice pulled him from his thoughts and he turned and saw Dylan's mother and younger sister walking up the side walk toward their house.

"No, Mrs. Boch. I was just…" Despite the fact that he looked like an eighteen year old, Paul knew he was fifty years old and shouldn't be intimidated by this woman and yet he found himself exactly that. "Is Dylan home?"

"No. He's not." She said shortly.

"Would you tell him I stopped by?"

"No." She said as she brushed by him and started up their walk way. "I won't."

Dylan's younger sister came to stand next to Paul and they both watched the older woman make her way to the house.

"I'm sorry she's such a bitch." Laura Boch apologized.

Paul remembered that she had only been a year or two younger than he and Dylan and like Dylan, had always treated Paul as if he were a person.

"It's not your fault. Most of the town was that way." He caught himself. "Is that way."

"It doesn't make it right." Laura said.

"Laura! Come inside now!" Mrs. Boch yelled from the front porch.

"All right mom." She answered before turning back to Paul. "Dylan's up at Baker's pond swimming."

"Thanks." Paul said and headed back up the mountain to the little swimming hole.

His shack was on the way, so he stopped by to drop off the food. Paul's father wasn't there for which he was grateful.

"This is all they gave you?" Connie asked as she scanned the contents of the bag.

"You know old Mrs. Welch, she's a fucking rag. Treated me like shit to get that much." Paul took a swig from the bucket they kept filled with stream water.

"They're getting cheap in their old age." Connie said as she wondered how this little amount of food was going to satisfy her husband. It looked like she and Paul would go hungry again tonight. "I can't wait till they die and someone else takes over the Church's pantry."

"Yeah, well they're going to hold on for a good many years yet. It's all the piss and vinegar." Paul said.

"You say that like you know when they're gonna die." Connie mentioned and Paul paused realizing it wasn't a good idea to let his mother know that he did know when they all were going to die. Even if this was a dream, it was best to act like everything was normal. Or most things, anyway.

"No, it's just our luck that they won't die till for a while yet." Paul said and saw his mother accept his explanation. "Where's Eddie?"

"Red rock." His mother said simply.

Red rock was where Eddie Stark kept his still and brewed his form of moonshine. Most likely he would come home wasted and be in a piss poor mood looking to fight.

"Will you be ok if I don't come home tonight?" He asked.

"I'll be fine. That'll actually leave more food for your father and if he's not hungry he won't be so bad." She answered.

"Well, eat a little yourself before he comes home. He won't miss it if it's not here." Paul advised.

"If I eat something what's left might not be enough for him. He'll get ornery."

"If what's left isn't enough for him what's there now won't help and he'll probably get ornery either way. Would you rather be hungry or not hungry when you get beat?"

"I suppose." Connie answered, impressed by her son's point of view.

She glanced at him and thought he was different today. She wasn't sure how, but he seemed a man grown, more mature. When he turned in the light she almost caught a glimpse of what he would look like when he was older. She knew she had no right to be proud of him and that the little good he would have in his life couldn't be attributed to her, but she felt it anyway. Her son was going to be a strong man, not like her or her husband. He would be smart and he would get very far away from this hard, dirty life they lived. She felt almost as much anger toward him for it as she did joy.

"You should leave." Connie said, embarrassed by her thoughts. "Be far gone before he gets back."

"He won't be back till the sun goes down. It's not even noon." Paul said.

"Well, maybe I don't want you around. You ever think of that?" She said testily.

"Fine. I'll be back tomorrow." Paul said, though he doubted she even cared.

It was only a twenty minute walk to Baker's pond and the sun was high in the sky by the time Paul arrived. He heard the splashing of many people swimming and realized that he was standing in the same spot where he had watched Dylan and his friends swimming so many years ago. This was the day that Paul had written his first letter to the love of his life. The letter that was found by his parents and was responsible for the beating he received that made him flee to New York.

He peaked through the brush, saw his classmates and for a quick minute his stomach was clenched with a familiar hesitancy. It was a feeling that came over him when people he thought of as his betters were around. He had learned it in these very hills and it had lasted through much of his adult life, till he realized that no one knew where he was from or who he had been then. The Paul Edward Stark of Denniston had died when he had moved away and been reborn in Paul E. Stark of Manhattan. But today, this crazy day, he was that boy again and subject to those feelings of insecurity.

Paul shook his head and forced himself to remember that he was a fifty year old man who had left behind his near illiteracy and his poverty to be the man he was…. well, yesterday. He could handle a bunch of adolescents and anything they threw at him and come out smiling. He could handle this.

"Come on, losers!! Get in the water!" Called an achingly familiar voice.

Paul glanced again through the leaves and watched Dylan fly through the air holding the rope swing, let go and splash down into the water. He came up moments later and walked up the shore of the pond. Water dripped down his young, muscular body and glinted on his skin. Dylan's build was similar to Paul's as they were the same height but Dylan was slightly slimmer and more muscular. While Paul's hair was jet black, Dylan's was a lighter brown and gave him a softer look from his own sharp qualities. Even his personality was comfortable and put people at ease. He radiated friendship and inspired loyalty. It was hard not to love Dylan Boch and Paul knew he wasn't the only one who did.

"Dylan, stay away!" The young woman screeched as Dylan came toward her. From the mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes, Paul knew he meant to toss her in the water.

The young woman was Sarah Tolling and she had been Dylan's unofficial girlfriend since sophomore year. Whenever Paul had asked Dylan about her, he had always shrugged his shoulders and smirked.

"Not ready to get tied down yet." He had answered and Paul's heart would skip a beat.

The chase didn't last long and Dylan picked Sarah up and tossed her into the pond to the hoots of laughter from his friends. Sarah came up shrieking.

"Dylan, you asshole! I didn't want to get wet!" She shouted.

"Why did you come then?" Dylan asked in answer. "It's a swimming hole. You're supposed to go swimming."

Paul watched them for a moment more and then drummed up some courage to step out into the open. He wasn't afraid of Dylan's friends, but was nervous to see Dylan himself. He took a breath and walked toward them.

"Oh no! Look who it is." Paul overheard one of the group say.

He ignored the comment and it's speaker and made his way over to Dylan.

"Hey."

"Hey Paul! How's it going?" Dylan was the only one genuinely happy to see him, of that Paul was certain.

"Good. Just running around. It's hot today." He answered and felt a little abashed that he was fumbling like the eighteen year old he looked like.

"Uh duh, Einstein." Mark Van White sneered. "It's called a swimming hole. You go there when it's really hot out."

"Hey Mark, why don't you shut the fuck up and let the big people talk, ok? I'd appreciate that, buddy." Paul dropped the command with just a hint of a smile which really pissed Mark off.

"What did you say to me, dirtbag?"

"I said, shut the fuck up…" Paul repeated his comment slowly as if talking to an imbecile. He had to admit, it did feel good finally speaking his mind to these little shits.

Mark walked forward and stood in Paul's face but Paul didn't back down.

"You want to repeat that, ass wipe?" Mark whispered, threateningly.

"I already said it twice. Are you not hearing it or not understanding it?" Paul smiled back.

"Hey, guys. Why don't we all just take a step back and cool off?" Dylan recommended, stepping in between the two. "This pond's big enough for all of us."

"No, Dylan. I don't think it is. Besides, he's trash. I don't swim where trash is." Mark said, turned and left. Most of the group followed him.

"Come on, Dylan. Let's go." Sarah said but stopped when she realized he wasn't coming with her. "I said, let's go."

"I don't want to go. I want to swim." Dylan said. "You head back with the others. I'm gonna stay here with Paul."

"Are you serious?" A look of disgust passed over her face as she glanced over at Paul.

"Yeah. I'm staying. I walked up here to go swimming and I'm not leaving till I'm ready." He said and they both watched her walk off in a huff.

"Jesus, man! What's gotten into you?" Dylan asked with a bit of a chuckle. "I've never seen you stand up to them like that."

"I just got tired of their shit. Didn't feel like taking it anymore." Paul answered honestly and then thought `better late than never'.

"Well be careful around Mark. He's got a short fuse. You don't want to set him off." Dylan warned.

"From the tales I've heard he's got shorter things than fuses." Paul mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Well, are we gonna go swimming or just bullshit?" Dylan said and ran and jumped into the water. Paul smiled and followed him in.

The water was freezing as it hadn't had warmed up much in the heatwave but Paul was thankful for the cooling effect it had on his body. Seeing Dylan after so many years looking beautiful as always had given him a hard on that he could crack teeth with. The shock of the water helped to temper his… affections. They swam till their bodies couldn't take the cold anymore and then climbed out to sun themselves on the warm rocks while they talked.

"No, seriously. Erica told me he put it in the wrong hole." Dylan related the trials and tribulations of mutual acquaintances.

Paul didn't care about Erica and Mark's love life, or even the fact that Dylan was acting like Paul was friends with these people and would want to know. He just loved to hear Dylan talk and the laughter that almost spilled out made Paul grin until he couldn't stop from laughing himself. It also brought back his raging hard on and he rolled over to be face down on the rock to hide his erection.

"Dylan, no man `puts it in the wrong hole' accidentally. He either is a total moron, which in Mark's case is actually possible, or he likes doing it up the butt."

"No way! Up the butt? Really? Gross! Why would you want to?"

"It's just a different way." Paul added.

"Do girls like it?"

"Some do."

"Wow." Dylan frowned. "I've never thought about it."

Paul's heartbeat raced as he thought of how to phrase his next statement.

"Some guys like it too."

Dylan looked over at Paul with confusion on his face.

"Some guys like what?"

"Some guys like it up the butt." Paul watched Dylan's face for his reaction.

"Well, I guess it'd be the same as doing a girl up her chooch but you'd get shit all over your dick."

"No, Dylan. Some guys like taking it up the butt." Paul saw the moment of comprehension wash over Dylan's face.

"I know that. Fags do. They do each other up the butt. That's just weird." Dylan was frowning again, but this time it looked like he was more disturbed with the conversation than contemplating what it meant.

"It's not weird, if you think about it. It's just sex. Sometimes it's even more, just like with a man and a woman. Why can't two men love each other just like a man and a woman? Why can't two women love each other for that that matter?"

"So you think it's all right to be gay?" Dylan asked. "What about the bible where it says `thou shalt not lay with a man' and all that stuff. That's gospel."

"That's bullshit. Love can be between two people who see something special in each other. That's all it takes. Love doesn't check to see that one has a dick and the other has a chooch." Paul said and closed his eyes, afraid that Dylan was going to react badly to what he had said.

"Have you ever been in love, Paul?" Paul's eyes opened and saw Dylan looking down at him from where he sat.

"Yeah. Haven't you been?"

"I thought I have but now I don't know. What does it feel like?" Dylan asked quietly.