Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Late Summer

It was the last week of summer vacation. It would be the last sleep over 'till Christmas break.

My mother was never happy about me spending the night at his house. He wasn't the type of person she wanted me to be friends with. His family was nothing like ours.

His parents were divorced, I think. His mother had a live-in boyfriend. His mother and her boyfriend had two daughters together, they were about 10 years younger then him. The sisters were constantly doted upon. They could do no wrong. The only thing he could do, was wrong.
He got into physical fights with his mother's boyfriend regularly. They never got along.

He was like an odd piece of furniture in a matching set. Everyone else in the 'family' looked alike, him. His 'real' his father was Native American, which made him look exotic. He had skin that was reddish brown, and his hair was dark and kinky. His body was thick and stocky. Even at 13 he looked ready for pro football.

When we were in third grade we painted portraits of ourselves in a winter scene. I painted myself on skis. He was on a red sled. He told our teacher he would need a different color for his skin. One darker then the 'flesh' color the rest of us were using. Not knowing what to say the teacher explained to him that he was white like the rest of us, just a different kind of white. He took this comment with indifference and went back to panting.

On the night of our sleep over his mother and boyfriend were playing cards with neighbors up stairs. I could hear is mother just above the ceiling stomping her foot, screaming, "PIT! PIT!" A chorus of laughter erupted. I thought the noise would wake up his sisters but they slept trough it. They must be used to the noise.

He and I were supposed to be watching a movie on cable, but we were trying to watch the Playboy Channel. All we could see was skin but we couldn't make what was happening or who's skin it was. The screen had thick back lines going up the screen over and over again. We fiddled with the box, then with the channel, but nothing helped. I wasn't really interested in seeing naked women, so I was relieved when he finally give up.

He decided he was going to take his nightly shower. I sat on the sofa and watched Battlestar Galactica reruns. I looked around the living room, I could see why mother didn't want me here. His mother had decorated with beer ads and empty liquor bottles. My mother would be mortified.

After his shower he came back into the room in his bathrobe. He bragged about how he was growing hair on his balls. He had matured much faster then most of our friends. As long as I could remember he had a moustache. I didn’t even have peach fuzz.

"No you don't," I said.

"Fuck you, I'm not lying," he said.

Then he opened his robe to show me. Suddenly my stomach felt funny. I was a bit freaked out and excited. I stared to shake a little.

"See, right there," he pointed.

He brought it closer to me, so close that see the moisture on his skin that hadn't dried yet. He smelled so clean. I could see a patch of black curly hair on his groin. My body started to feel warm. I didn’t say anything. I felt awkward. My breathing was heavy.

He gave me a half smile, "I dare you to put it in your mouth."

With out answering I did. Why am I doing this? He grew in my mouth. I almost choked. The taste was familiar. My head started to feel light. My face was getting warmer. Oh my God I am going to hell. I pulled back to stop, he wouldn't let me. He grabbed the back of my head to put it back where it was. He started to moan. Why does this taste so familiar? Oh shit we are going to get caught. His moaning got louder and louder, then he stopped.

It was over.

I slid back on the sofa. He looked down at me and smiled. I was felt shame. He patted my head as if to say good boy. My stomach felt worse. I got up, ran into the bathroom and threw-up all of the pizza his mother had bought us. My body stared shaking even more now. I went to the sink and rinsed my mouth out.

"Are you Okay?" he asked.

"Yeah fine, don't tell anyone," I said.

He nodded.

"Can we just go to bed?"


I walked past him to his bedroom. I put on my pajamas. He turned out the light. We laid down next to each other on his double bed with out touching each other. We did’t say a word. He still smelled so good.

I wanted him to put his arms around me and hold me close to him, like I had seen couples do on TV. I wanted him to do something that made me fell special. He didn't. He just started to snore. I wanted to cry. I laid on my side, stared at the wall, and tried not to move.

These were the first failures in my life. I wanted to be a good Catholic boy, but I wasn't. I didn't want to go to hell, but I was going. I tried so hard not to be a faggot, but I was.


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