Florida USA
Part 5

Paul had roller bladed over to my house, so I suggested we go for a blade around the hood. "I feel like getting some wind in my face or something," I said as I heaved myself outa the pool.

"How can we talk if we're blading?"

"We'll blade somewhere, then talk."

"Like where?" he asked as he exited the water and headed for his blades, which were scattered on the lawn with his clothes.

"Anywhere. It doesn't matter. I wanna think about stuff. I need some open space. And don't worry about your shirt, dude," I added as he was about to pick it up. "Let's blade shirtless."

"You wanna show off, huh?"

"Let's both show off, Paul. Just 'cause I'm bigger than you doesn't mean you don't look awesome. You've got a magic bod, bro."

"Not compared to yours."

"Says who? I've seen the guys gawk at you... and the girls. And they're not the only ones. I gawk too, y'know."

Sure enough, after we'd arrived at the mall, we were getting plenty of stares from all kinds of folks... young, old, male, female, whatever. To me, it meant that a good bod was something to be admired by everyone, no matter who they were. And, for me, it was a great incentive to keep in shape and stay healthy. Hey, there was nothing like an ego boost to make a guy feel better about himself. Woohoo!

Half an hour later, Paul and I were sitting on a bench under the shade of a large tree in a nearby park.

"Did you see all those people checking you out?" I laughed.

"Most of them were checking you out."

"Not according to my calculations, bro. Anyway, we've got something more important to talk about. This Cindy bullshit is not gonna work, bro. Actually, it's gonna backfire big time. Your folks are gonna start thinking you're straight, so that's gonna make the problem worse. You know what I'm saying?"

"There's a website I visited. It's run by a teen who came out to his folks. His dad got so fucking mad when he found out his son was gay, he went totally ballistic. Anyway, his folks split up. I don't want that to happen to my folks. Would you want your folks to split up?"

"No," I admitted. "So what does that mean? That we're gonna live the rest of our lives as total straights?"

"Maybe not that long. Maybe there'll come a time when it's OK to tell them."

"Yeah, right. If they don't like it now, they never will. Anyway, what the fuck is gay? Do you talk with a lisp and wave your fucking wrist around like you're being attacked by a swarm of bees? We're not like that. Our buds aren't like that. So I don't really understand what gay means."

"According to my dad, it's when you don't have a girlfriend. At least, that's what I think he thinks. And if you don't have a girlfriend, you're never gonna get married."

"I wonder what it would be like to have kids, especially a son. I guess you'd be expecting him to do all the regular stuff, huh? Like sport, and girls, and college, and getting married someday."

"Yeah. And I've heard that some gay guys get married just to please their folks."

"Whoa! Imagine that! Imagine finding out your dad was gay."

"I guess it's a bit like finding out your son is gay. It's not what you expect. So what's your plan?"

"Plan? What plan? I don't have a plan. I figured maybe something would come to me, but the more I think about it -- the more we talk about it -- the more complicated it becomes. Damned if we do, and damned if we don't."

"What about Cindy?"

"What about her? You wanna keep seeing her?"

"She's a pretty cool chick."

"She's using you, buddy. Hey, listen, you wanna visit Pop?"

"You wanna tell him about all this stuff?"

"Dunno. The last thing I need is a fucking lecture. But who else do we tell? I mean, all the other guys have got the same prob... more or less. You wanna see the old dude?"

It was no surprise to see Pop's eyes leap out on springs at the sight of two, tanned teen chests after he'd opened the front door. Then he smiled and stood aside so that we could blade down the hall toward the kitchen.

We'd finished our first beers, and were into seconds, by the time Paul and I had told Pop about our problem as we sat at the kitchen table.

"You want a solution?" he said before taking a swig of amber liquid, then studying our young faces for a little while. "There are three... none of them easy. In fact, they're not solutions, they're alternatives. You can choose to tell your folks now, in which case you'll risk their disappointment and, perhaps, disapproval. You can tell them in another five or ten years, in which case you'll have exacerbated the seriousness of the situation because they could be outraged by your keeping them in the dark for so long. Or you can never tell them, in which case you will never be true to yourselves."

"But what if my dad goes ballistic and my folks split up?" Paul asked. "It's happened to other guys."

"It's not for me to advise you as to which of the three alternatives you should choose. I'm just trying to clarify what your options are."

"Options?" I snapped. "What fucking options? No matter what we do, we're fucked. We hurt our folks or we hurt ourselves. You call those options? C'mon, Pop! Get real!"

"Can you think of any others?"

"So whatever we do, we're in deep shit. Is that what you're saying, Pop?"

"It depends on an unknown factor... how your parents will react."

"They're not gonna throw any fucking party, that's for sure."

"I know it sounds trite to quote an old maxim, but when you get to my age you begin to realize how true and relevant maxims can be. And in this situation, I can only say that honesty is the best policy."

"You mean like tell our folks now?"

"Ask yourself this question: When will there be a better time?"

"There's no such thing as a better time or the right time, Pop! No matter what we do, we'll be in the shit!"

"Up to where?"

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you want it up to your ankles or up to your neck?"

"So you're saying we should come out to our folks now?"

"Excuse my using another maxim, guys, but time heals all wounds, and time is currently on your side. The longer you postpone the truth, the more difficult it will become. I can assure you, it won't get any easier."

"No offence, Pop, but we were kinda hoping you could solve this damn problem."

"It always helps to talk about it, but I can't wave a magic wand, Daniel. I wish I could. Ultimately, the final decision rests with one's self. There's no easy way. The right answer for Paul might not be the right answer for you. Each case is different, and will have different consequences."

"Hey, Pop, we've gotta jet. Thanks for the beers."

"You're welcome anytime. Sorry I couldn't be more help. And thanks for the view."

"View? Oh... yeah. Hey, no prob, Pop. You know me... I like to show off."

"I'm glad you do," the old dude chuckled.

As Paul and I bladed back toward my house, I couldn't help feeling disappointed with Pop's comments. If anything, he'd made the whole fucking issue even more complicated. I'd been hoping for a simple answer, but all he gave us was a load of psychobabble crap. Honesty is the best policy? Yeah, right. Pop was getting old, and he didn't understand teens... not any more. And he didn't understand parents.

Paul wasn't saying anything either as we sped along the sidwalk. I figured he was thinking the same as I was... that we were between a rock and a hard place.

By the time we got home, mom was preparing a barbecue lunch of hamburger patties, crusty bread and salad. Andy was there, as well as Greg and Lindy. It was cool to be with everybody, and to be enjoying lunch by the pool, but it also brought home the fact that there was an invisible divide between them and Paul and me. I kept hearing Pop's words over and over in my head. "It won't get any easier." But how the fuck was a guy supposed to tell his folks about gay stuff?

Later in the afternoon, we teens plus one dog had hit the pool. It was just like always... goofing off, splashing around, and having a totally neat time, as though there was nothing troubling Paul or me. Was that the way it would always be? Seeming to be one thing but being another?

As the sun began to set on another hot Florida afternoon, mom asked Lindy and Paul if they'd like to stay for dinner, but Lindy had other plans. She and her girlfriends were gonna have a hen's night. Bwaaaak, bwk, bwk, bwk. Paul was cool, though. He phoned his mom and checked to see if it was OK to sleep over. And Greg? I guessed he figured he was gonna get a blow job either way. Maybe two since Paul was there.

So it wasn't until about 10 or so that Paul and I got another chance to talk privately. We were in my room while I was checking for email and stuff.

"You wanna set up the tent in the backyard?" he asked as my eyes scanned the comp screen.

"Bit late now."

"It'd be cool, though. I like sleeping in the tent."

"You thought about what Pop had to say?"

"Kinda." Paul went on to explain a few things but I wasn't listening. "You agree?" he asked eventually.

"About what?"

"About what I just said!"

"Sorry, bro, I wasn't paying attention. I've been reading this email from a dude named Tiger. He's had a lung transplant. He's on all kinds of medication to stop his bod from rejecting the lung."

"What's that got to do with what Pop said?"

"He'll be nineteen soon but he's not looking forward to it. He hates having birthdays ever since his twin bro died over a year ago. They were identical twins, and he says they were also best buds. I've read about identical twins and it's like they're almost one person. He must've felt like his arms were being ripped off."

"So how come he's telling you all this?"

"He's heard about me."

"From who?"

"He's a friend of Kostik's."

"You're losing me, Daniel."

"Don't you see, Paul? This guy's probs make ours look like fuck all!"

"It's all relative, Daniel. Just 'cause he's got worse probs doesn't make ours go away."

"Maybe not, but it helps to put ours into perspective."

"What are you saying? That we should tell our folks we're gay? About all the parties and shit? The orgies?"

"It won't get any easier. That's what Pop said."

"Pop said a lotta things but he didn't give us any answers... just all that fucking lame mumbo jumbo about options. It was all crap, Daniel. A waste of fucking time. We're no better off now than what we were yesterday. If anything, we're worse off. Too damn much to think about."

"So you're gonna keep seeing Cindy?"

"I dunno, Daniel. I'm so fucking confused, I dunno what to think anymore. Sometimes I wish I was..."

"Dead?" I offered after a pregnant pause.

"It'd be easier."

"For who? You? What about the rest of us? What about me?"

"You've got plenty of other friends."

"But only one Paul. Come to think of it, your folks have only got one Paul, too."

"Yeah, the Paul they think I am. That's the fucking problem, Daniel. They don't really know me."

"One way to solve that, dude."

"OK, here's the deal. You tell your folks first, then I'll tell mine. How's that?"

"Yeah, right. And while I'm at it, I'll show them all the porno on my hard disk, including the pics of me."

"So you're not gonna tell 'em?"

"I dunno, Paul. Maybe I will someday, and maybe you will, too. Meantime, do me a big fav, OK? It's important... really important."

"Sure."

"Let's you and me stick together no matter what happens. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

That's about the most positive ending I could think of for this story. There's no simple answer to the problems Daniel and Paul are facing in this particular story. As you know, Daniel is based largely on the Captain's experiences. If Daniel's life was based on Joshua's or Spencer's lives it would be a very different situation. Both those guys are out to their folks, and everything's pretty rosy. So I guess you could say that I wrote this story, as Pop said, "to clarify the options". But I also wrote it to demonstrate that friends need to stick together, and support each other. Anyway, I hope I've written something that makes you think and, in particular, something that will he helpful to the Captain as time goes along. MrB

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