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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Man In Motion - 3. Spring Break

March 22, 1985

New Haven, CT

I pulled up in front of Max's dorm and saw him waiting just inside the door. He strode out confidently with a large bag slung over his shoulder. His handsome face almost had an Andrew McCarthy look to it, especially when he was smiling, as he was now. I got out and popped open the trunk, which in the Porsche is in the front. Thank god his bag was flexible; there wasn't much room in there.

“You didn't pack much,” he said, noticing my small bag.

“I spend a lot of time in Malibu, and Stef's a shopaholic. I have clothes there already, so that's mostly books and shit I might need.”

He grinned. “And condoms in case you go to any parties.”

I smiled back at him. Max had become a good friend, someone I could relax with, someone I could talk to. I loved being around him; I just didn't love him. That was a shame too, because he was a great guy. “Don't know about that. Things are a lot quieter now than they used to be.”

“Right,” he said sarcastically. Actually, I wasn't sure if I was right or not, but I did know that for most of us, at least those with half a brain, the fuck-fests of the 70s and early 80s were over.

We drove up to the plane and hopped out. We'd used the same fixed-base operator since I'd been in New Haven, so they knew me pretty well. The pilots jumped down and loaded our stuff up, while one of the ground employees drove the Porsche off and parked it inside. There would be a few extra miles on it, but that was our unwritten trade-off: They got to play with my car if they kept it safe and sound indoors.

“Good evening, Mr. Schluter,” the pilot said. “Should be a smooth flight to Los Angeles.” I’d never met this guy, but he sure was fine. He was tall, dark, and handsome: a walking cliché.

“That’s good news. And you are?” I asked coquettishly.

“Eric Derringer,” he said, extending his hand. He gave me a cute little smile.

“Nice to meet you, Eric. You can call me Brad. This is my friend Max.” They shook hands too. It was cold so we continued our conversation inside. The plane had been reconfigured for two people. They'd turned the back section into a bed for us.

“You planning to get lucky on the flight?” Max asked, smiling. I knew him well enough now to tell he was slightly overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of a private plane, and he was just using humor to help himself relax.

“That's right. I hope you don't get grossed out seeing two guys together in bed,” I said to Eric, now blatantly flirting.

He laughed. “I work for your uncle.” Now that was funny, and true. He headed up to the cockpit, and I wondered for the millionth time at what an appropriate name that was for it.

The jet fired up and we were airborne in no time. As soon as we took off, I headed to the bed in the back. “You coming?” I asked Max in my slutty voice. I stripped off my clothes and climbed in, watching him as he nervously disrobed. He had such a sexy body; I'd really grown to appreciate how agile he was.

He was in bed then, on top of me, and I wrapped my legs around him as he ground into me. I loved the feeling of him like this, so in control, so determined in his thrusts, but he wasn't really into that. He was into blow jobs. He reminded me of my friend Doug back in high school. Soon we were lying side-by-side in a sixty-nine position, sucking on each other, sometimes slowly, sometimes more frenetically. I used my mouth to slick up my finger and probe his ass because it was fun and because he really liked it.

“Mmm,” he moaned when I hit his prostate, and that wound him up. He started thrusting into my mouth and back into my finger, losing himself in his lust, until he came without warning. I swallowed his big load readily and then shot my own wad down his throat. We trusted each other enough to do that without any second thoughts about it.

After I gently pulled my finger out of his ass, he moved back up so we were laying in the same direction and he snuggled up to my chest as usual. It was interesting. In this relationship I was definitely in charge. Of all of our private moments, the only time he showed dominance was like he'd just done a few minutes ago when he'd been on top of me. Normally that worked out just fine, because I like to be in control, but not now. The only time I really didn’t like to be in charge and dominant was right after I had sex; then I was more vulnerable. That's when I liked to be more submissive, the one cuddling up, the one needing affection and protection. But Max wasn’t like that; Max didn’t switch gears after sex like I did. He seemed to need that comforting embrace even more than I did. It was at times like this that I missed Robbie the most. He knew me and my moods, knew just what I needed, and he’d wrap his strong arms around me and make me feel so safe and loved.

“Why don't you just tell him that you still love him?” Max asked me, reading my mind in a way that irked me.

“Because he may not still love me. He's the one who ended us. If he wants to get back together, it’s only fair that he makes the first move,” I said, and knew I sounded petulant. I sighed and relaxed. “If I said that to him and he didn't feel that way, it would make him really uncomfortable. We’d end up with this ugly thing between us, and it would make it difficult for us to be around each other.” I didn’t point out that if he didn’t feel that way it would also embarrass the hell out of me. I also didn’t share with him my real fear, the fear that if I told Robbie that I still loved him I might lose what connection we still had. I couldn’t show Max how desperate I was for even that scrap of Robbie’s attention.

“You know how stupid that is, don't you? You're going to give up being happy just so your pride doesn't get hurt.” He felt me tense up at this mention of my pride, always a touchy subject.

“We'll see,” I said, closing the topic down.

“I'm lucky you don't wise up, otherwise I'd lose my blow job buddy,” he said cheerfully, making me chuckle. “How come you never try to fuck me?”

That really shocked me. He'd never mentioned that before. I paused to think up the best answer, not to invent something, but to put it in a way that didn't hurt his feelings. “Well, my dick is pretty big, and would hurt.”

“You think I'm a pussy?” he teased.

“You ever been fucked before?” I countered.

“I tried once but made him stop. It hurt too fucking much.”

“Then why are you asking me why I don't try and fuck you, you idiot?” I asked playfully.

“I don't know. You know what you're doing. I trust you. I could relax with you.” Now that was an amazing compliment, and a big ego booster. I leaned down and kissed him, and pulled him closer to say thank you.

“The other reason is that I guess nowadays fucking is a big commitment, at least for me it is. I really enjoy you, Max. You have become a really good friend, one of my best friends. I'm just worried that if we did that it might take our relationship somewhere that neither one of us is really ready for.”

He was really quiet for a while, which made me worry that I'd hurt his feelings. “I hear you. It's cool. I'm at the same place you are. See Brad, I think that Robbie is gonna eventually figure out that Neil is a chump, and he's gonna wise up and realize that he belongs with you. I don't want to be the ex-boyfriend that gets tossed aside. I'd rather be the friend that gets to stick around. Your friendship is way too important for me to risk.”

I smiled at him, and we made love with our mouths again as he liked to do. It was satisfying, nothing like sex with Robbie, but fun and fulfilling. What's more, I was in a relationship with him that felt right; it felt good. We seemed to be on the same page. “You've done a lot for me Max. A lot. More than you know. You've made this semester bearable. You've made me happy again.”

“Then my work here is done,” he said.

“What about you? You going to see your boyfriend when we're in Cali? Think he's still with that other guy?”

“He wasn't with another guy. He was with a girl. He's bisexual.”

I looked down at him, locking my eyes onto his. He’d never told me that before. “He’s bisexual?”

“Well, he won't even admit that. For him, I was just a friend that gave him a release, but that’s bullshit. He’s bisexual.” He paused, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was sad or deep in thought. “I'm not sure if I'll see him. Maybe surfing. Who knows?”

We dozed off after that, and didn't wake up until Eric nudged us. “Hey guys, we're landing. Think you could get up and belt yourselves in?” I saw his eyes move across our half-covered, intertwined bodies. He winked at me. God, he was hot. If I ever flew alone, I'd have to see if his co-pilot would let him take a break.

By the time we woke up, got dressed, and belted ourselves in, the plane was almost on the ground. We felt the plane touch down and smiled at each other, happy to be back in California: happy to be back home. Eric opened the door and when I walked out there was a big surprise waiting for me. I’d just been expecting a car to meet us, but Stef was there in person. I went bounding down the stairs with Max right behind me. “Bradley! How wonderful to see you!” He gave me a big hug. “And this must be Max. Well you are just adorable. After you graduate I might have to hire you to be my houseboy,” Stef teased.

“It's nice to meet you, Mr. Schluter,” he said politely and shook Stef's hand. I laughed as I watched Stef's eyes narrow.

“Mr. Schluter? Do I look 60 to you? You call me Stef, or I will hurt you.” Max laughed. The two of them joked the whole way back to Malibu. We had a great time until we arrived at Stef's house. As soon as I walked in, I could feel the tension in the air.

Greg was there to greet us. “Hey there,” I said, giving him a huge hug. “This is my friend Max Granger. His mother works for you,” I told him.

“Hello, Max. I recognize you from the pictures on your mother's desk, although you look much more handsome in person.” Max blushed. “Your mother is an amazing lady. Probably my best employee.”

“But not good enough to go on your boat?” I teased.

Greg turned to face me slowly, and I was surprised to see how pissed off he looked. “How I treat my employees is really none of your business,” he snapped. I was stunned. He'd never been so rude to me before.

“I'm sorry, Greg. I was just teasing,” I said, really worried. Stef stood there to the side, glaring at him. No one was more protective of me than Stef. I was worried that he’d flay Greg alive.

“Never mind,” he said grumpily, then stormed out of the room to his study. I saw Stef get ready to follow him but I went first, leaving Max with Stef. In the old days, before AIDS, that might have been dangerous. Stef had been such a slut back then, before he’d gotten together with Greg.

Greg was in his study, staring out the window at the ocean. I went up and put my arm around him. I felt him flinch at first, then relax and allow my affectionate gesture. “I didn't mean to offend you. It's really good to see you.”

“It's not your fault. I'm just not very good company these days.” I waited for him to go on. “It's really hard to see people that you know, that you work with, drop like flies around you.”

“You know, when I walked in I could feel the tension around here.”

“I haven't been good company, like I told you. Stef has suffered.” He looked guilty.

“I hope you don't spend so much time mourning the dead that you forget the living,” I said, risking his wrath. The gamble paid off.

“You're right. I guess the other thing is that I don't know if I'm about to be one of the dead. You have no idea how many guys I've fucked. And Stef too. Some of those guys are already gone, and many of them are sick. I just don't see how we can dodge this bullet.”

“Well, you guys have been pretty monogamous for a while right?” He nodded. “When do we get tested?”

He grimaced. “Tomorrow. I know it's Saturday, but I need to know as soon as I can. We’ll get our blood drawn bright and early, then we'll have to wait a few days to find out the results.”

“You think maybe we could go out on the yacht after we give blood? You love it, and I think it would be a neat environment for you to get to know Max.”

He smiled at me. “I'd love that, but we'll have another passenger. Your grandmother gets down here tomorrow. She wants to see you.”

Tonto! Just thinking about her put a huge grin on my face. “We'll see if we can talk her into going.”

 

March 23, 1985

Los Angeles, CA

 

We sat in the doctor's office only briefly before we were ushered into a sterile lab where they took a vial or two of blood from each of us. It was really early and I felt like a zombie, both from being tired and from the emotional strain of being tested. We were all uptight and on edge. Stef seemed worried and upset, while Greg seemed pissed off. He'd transformed his fear into anger, and his relationship with Stef had taken some big hits. Stef tried to hide the fact that they'd basically been sleeping in separate rooms, but it was easy enough to figure out.

We walked out of the office and got into the car. “Tonto decided to wait to come down for a few days. She's fighting a cold and does not want to fly,” Stef said diplomatically.

“You mean we're all such good company you didn't want her dry wit to piss us off?” I teased. I saw Greg actually grin.

“It is possible that is an additional reason,” he said, exposing his cheerful demeanor for just as long as it took him to speak that sentence. His serious mood was back almost immediately. “Brad, we should have our results back on Tuesday at the latest. I think we should just try to have a low-key, relaxing visit until then. This whole thing has been so stressful.”

“So stressful that you guys are sleeping in separate bedrooms,” I observed moodily. I’d blown the lid off their little façade. Stef looked at Greg with a worried expression, and Greg just looked guilty. “At least you two are still with the one you love.”

I saw Stef's lip quiver a bit, telling me how close to tears he was. “I hope that is true.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Greg asked aggressively.

“I am hoping that I am still the one you love. I know that I still love you.” I watched Greg get really pissed, so mad his face almost turned red, but then his anger faded as quickly as it had appeared.

“It's hard to love you right now, Stef. It's hard to love anyone. Any one of us could be struck down with AIDS. I don't know how I could handle seeing you sick like that. I don’t think I could stand watching you suffer from that disease while you slipped away from me.” Wow. He was really opening up. These moments were few and far between. “And I worry that if I have it, you won’t want to be around me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Stef got a resolute look on his face. “Let us resolve that issue right now. If you are sick, I will be there for you, for better or worse, just like the partner I have been. I will hold your hand, I will still kiss you even if they yell at me, and I will love you for whatever days we have left.” He looked at Greg and I saw a tear fall down Greg’s cheek. That was really rare.

“And I will be there for you,” he said. And then they hugged, a loving hug, the kind of hug Robbie gave me when he first got to New Haven.

“Will you let me move back into our room?” Stef asked.

Greg smiled. “You were the one who wanted to move out. Something about my snoring.” He was teasing now, lightening the mood.

“Bah. Your snoring never bothered me. Besides, I know how to wake you up.” Stef looked at him with the same loving look I'd seen so many times before, showing me that model relationship I hoped to have someday. It was the type of relationship I’d thought I had with Robbie.

We got home and the first person I called was Lark. Lark was my best friend in high school, and we shared a passion for surfing. He was going to school at UCLA, the son of a bitch, so he had the beach close by. He was here a lot, as Stef let him park in the driveway. That was quite a perk, considering how tough it was to find parking on crowded days at the beach.

“Hello,” he said, sounding groggy.

“Hey, Lark. Get your ass out of bed and get down here. Surf's up,” I said.

“B! You're in town! Awesome! I'll be over in, well, give me an hour.” It was so good to hear Lark's voice. He always called me ‘B’, as if using my full name was just too much work for him. Lark had been my best friend for years, my favorite surfing buddy, and the straight guy I lusted after. Of course, I'd finally gotten him to play around a little bit. That made me smile.

He got there in 45 minutes and we headed straight for the water. It was a nice day, beautiful spring weather, and even the cold water couldn't ruin the waves for us. Besides, that's what wetsuits were for.

“So what's new with you Lark? A new woman?”

“Had one. Didn't work out. Bitch.” He didn’t sound all that bitter, so she must not have been that important to him.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone new,” I said, a meaningless platitude.

I told him all about my Super Bowl weekend with Neil and how I’d banished him from my life during our phone call. “That dude is a loser,” Lark said, pronouncing judgment. “Robbie needs to grow a brain and figure out what he lost, then he needs to fight to get you back.” I smiled at him.

“He says he's in love with this guy,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to hide my sadness. “In the meantime, I met someone to make me feel better. He's a great guy, and he’s become a good friend. He's supposed to show up later on today to show me how well he can surf.”

Lark laughed. “We'll put him through the moves.” We took a break at noon to eat, and then snuck up to my bedroom. In no time at all, my “straight” best friend had his pants off and had me in a lip lock.

“Come on, B. It's been so long,” he whined as I dropped to my knees and engulfed his cock. I'd blown Lark enough times that I knew what he liked, and exactly how to make him blow, or make him not blow. I kept him on edge today, really taking my time, and when he finally came he flooded me. I ended up with his cum dripping down my chin. We were just finishing up when Stef buzzed the intercom to tell me that my friend was there.

I cleaned up really fast and we ran down the stairs. I was completely unprepared for the reaction that I got. Max looked stunned and hurt. The look on his face, the pain, ripped me to the core. I thought maybe someone died. I was about to go hug him when I realized he was totally ignoring me. “Hey, Lark. What are you doing here?” he asked.

I turned to look back at Lark, and he looked as surprised as Max did. “Hey Max. Just visiting B. He's an old friend.” Lark was trying to act all cool and play things off, but that just told me how freaked out he was. Stef looked at me, wondering what was going on. I was wondering the same thing.

“You still with that girl?” Max asked. Then it hit me. Lark was the guy Max had been into. Lark was the guy that broke his heart. I just stared at them with my mind blown.

“Nah. We broke up. What have you been up to?” Lark was obviously feeling guilty, because he knew he’d hurt Max.

“I transferred to Yale. That's where I met Brad.”

“Are you guys, like, together?” That was interesting. Lark was jealous, although I had no idea if he was jealous of Max or of me.

“We're friends. With benefits,” I said, grinning. Max blushed, and Lark just chuckled. “You know I'm irresistible.”

“You are,” Lark said.

“You guys hungry?” I asked, heading for the kitchen. I was conflicted about this latest revelation. I didn't want to be mad at either one of them. My first instinct was to blast Lark for hurting Max, but I thought that Max probably read more into their relationship than was there. As I watched them exchange uncomfortable small talk, I decided that they were both at fault, and that made it easier to deal with them.

“I should probably get going,” Lark said. Typical Lark. He was going to run away from the problem.

“Like hell. We've got some waves to catch,” I said firmly. “I don’t get to surf with you all that often. No way you’re bailing on me now.” He seemed to realize he was stuck, so we all ignored the proverbial elephant in the room and retreated to the milieu where we were comfortable: the ocean. We caught some killer waves, and I learned that Max was a top-notch surfer, and he learned the same thing about me. It was kind of funny, because we'd both been posturing about our abilities, and now that we were actually in the water, where we had to prove it, we both did really well. He was a worthy surf bud. No wonder he and Lark had become friends.

Lark seemed to relax a lot while we were in the water, to the point where he and Max actually seemed to be able to function together normally. When we finally climbed out of the ocean, it was almost 6pm. I paused to watch the huge orb of the sun as it began to set. It looked like the Pacific was swallowing it whole. I remembered Armand and the note he'd left me before AIDS had taken him. He was buried in the sea, his cremated ashes strewn over these waters, and he’d told me to remember him when I was surfing. It seemed appropriate that I did then, that I thought about him and remembered the young, vital man who had taught me how to be a lover. That memory really made me smile.

We headed to the house where we showered and changed. I was done first, so I waited for them in the huge front room that overlooked the beach, watching the rest of the sunset. Max came downstairs first.

“Well, I’d better get going,” Max said. “I need to call my dad and have him pick me up again.” He was feeling pretty stranded since his car was in New Haven.

“I'll give you a ride. That is if you can still stand to be in the same car with me,” Lark said as he walked down the stairs. He could be so charming and disarming when he wanted to.

“I'll try to put up with you,” Max said, grinning. Then the two of them took off and I found myself alone, staring at the sunset, wondering what Robbie was doing on his Spring Break.

 

March 26, 1985

Malibu, CA

 

“So he actually called you and yelled at you?” Stefan asked, amazed. I was telling him all about my encounter with Robbie in New Haven, and my subsequent phone call with Neil.

“Yeah. I told him that he was out of my life. I told him that I didn't want to see him again, not at Escorial, not here, not on the plane, nowhere. I'm sorry Stef, it's your plane, but I'm not riding with him again.”

“What is mine is yours. Anyone who treats you so badly will not be welcome in my home, or on our various modes of transportation.” That made me laugh, and he laughed with me as he usually did. “How did Robbie react when you gave him the check?” he asked in a more serious tone.

“He didn't say anything. I just handed it to him and left. Why?” I couldn't figure out if Stef was mad that I gave Robbie the money, or thought I had done something wrong. Whatever it was, his reaction made me nervous.

“Not all people are willing to take money like that. Some people are too proud, or worry that there are strings attached,” he said thoughtfully.

“There were no strings attached. I love him, Stef. He was stressed out, really stressed, and I had it within my power to help him out. Shit. You think he took it the wrong way?” Had I fucked things up even worse?

“Calm down Bradley. He knows you, so he knows your motives. I was just asking. That he was alright with it shows that he took it the way you intended it.” He paused for a minute. “I think that Robbie is not over you either.”

“What do you mean? He told me he loves Neil.” I was frustrated and intrigued at the same time.

“I wonder if Robbie just does not like being alone. You were not at Princeton and he was lonely. Neil was there, ready to, uh, take care of him.” He must have read in my expression how much the thought of them having sex bothered me. “I am not saying it is a sex thing, although that is probably part of it. I am saying it is a companionship thing.”

I was thrown aback by his idea. “You are saying that Robbie is with Neil because Neil is there? And that once he's out of school, he won't care about Neil anymore?”

“I do not think it is that simple. If I am right, that means that he felt a lot of distance between the two of you and felt adrift. Then he met Neil, who was there, who was willing to make Robbie the center of his world, as he said, and that was it.”

“So you're telling me to bide my time until graduation, and then see if I can win him back?”

He smiled. “I think that would be a good plan. But what do I know? My relationship was on the rocks until you came home and reminded us that we love each other.”

“It's easier to solve other people's problems. Speaking of that, I haven't heard from Lark or Max since Saturday. I wonder how that worked out.”

“Perhaps they are rediscovering each other?” Stef asked, giggling at his slutty reference. Just as I was about to offer some witty rejoinder, the phone rang, and Stefan ran off to answer it. I thought about Lark and Max together, and it didn't make me jealous at all. The thought of them together was really erotic though, and I had to shove my growing dick down to keep my erection from showing.

Still, I was worried about Max. Lark wasn't gay, he was bisexual, leaning toward women. The only thing that Max could really hope for from Lark was a relationship like he had with me, only less intense. I wondered if that was the reason why Max didn't push any harder with me, if he'd developed a pattern with Lark and just overlaid that onto our friendship.

I guess if I was really into him I could push him, push him out of that safety zone. It might be good for him to discover that there was more to being in love with another guy than just seeing each other once in a while for mutual blow jobs. On the other hand, I knew I wasn't the guy to take him there. I could only do that, would only do that, if I were in love with him, and I just wasn't there. Not yet.

Stef came walking back into the room. He had a twinkle in his eye, although he was trying to be really somber. “That was the lab. Our test results have come back.”

“And?” I asked. I felt the apprehension grip my body, the fears I’d been nursing all these months rising up trying to strangle me.

“It seems we are all negative, all three of us.” I sat there for a second, digesting the news. Then it hit me. I was negative. I didn't have it. Life could begin again. I jumped up and hugged Stef, I couldn't control myself. I picked him up like a rag doll and just swung him around and around. We were laughing so hard we couldn't stand it. When I finally let him go and put him down, there were tears in his eyes. Tears of happiness. Tears of joy.

“I cannot believe that I do not have it. The odds, everything was against me surviving. It is Greg who saved me. Being in love with him, being with him and not wanting anyone else: that is why I am negative. If I had not met him, I would have gotten it. I owe him my life.”

“And he owes you his. You going to call him?” I asked.

He looked at his watch, causing me to consult mine, and noticed that it was just a few minutes after eleven. “I have a better idea.” He called Greg's office and found out that he had no lunch plans, so we agreed to meet him at a chic bistro in Beverly Hills. Of course, knowing Stef, we'd end up shopping afterward.

We got there and snagged a good table. Stef was a well-known part of the Hollywood power scene, so even when he wasn’t with Greg, he was treated with the same courtesy. Greg was thirty minutes late, which irritated the restaurant staff since we were holding one of their prized tables at lunch time, but it didn't bother us at all. Nothing could. We were negative. Reborn.

“So what are you two doing in town today?” Greg asked.

“We just wanted to have lunch with our favorite man,” Stef said. Greg looked at him oddly.

“Did you get the results?” he said, a big smile erupting on his face.

“I did. All three of us are negative.” Greg stood up and let out a whoop, and then, realizing where he was, sat down again and smiled. The other patrons looked at us curiously but we didn’t care. None of us could stop smiling.

“You are the reason for that,” he said to Stef.

I laughed and he looked at me weirdly. “That's funny. That's the same thing Stef said to me when he first found out. Looks like being a couple has kept you both alive. I hope you remember that when you get all bitchy with each other.”

Greg looked guilty. “I'm sorry, Stef. I'm so, so sorry. I have treated you like shit the past few months. This has just been hanging over my head like a knife. How can I make it up to you?”

Stef grinned. “Take the day off, come home with me, and make love to me for the rest of the day.” I giggled. They were so cute.

Greg got up and headed for a pay phone then came back about five minutes later. “Your wish is my command. I am yours for the day.” I was really happy for them, but I was sad, selfishly sad, that I had no one to celebrate with. At least I’d gotten out of shopping.

 

March 29, 1985

Los Angeles, CA

 

Stef and I sat in the limo waiting for the plane to finish taxiing. As soon as the wheel blocks were in place, the limo whisked across the ramp and right up to the plane’s steps. Stef seemed really excited about something. He usually didn't get this worked up when it was just Tonto coming to visit. He was up to something, and he was so transparent it was easy to see, but I decided not to worry about it, to just let events unfold.

Just thinking about Tonto made me happy. JP had coined her nickname when he was a little kid. He called her tante, the French word for aunt, and she thought he was calling her “Tonto.” It stuck. The door opened and I saw her step gingerly out onto the stairs. She was 82 now, and even though her body was older and frailer, her mind was still sharp as a tack.

“Damn stairs,” she said. “Here, hold this,” she said as she handed off her massive purse to someone, probably one of the pilots. Why she needed a purse the size of a small suitcase was a mystery to me. I walked toward the plane to greet her and then froze. She hadn’t handed her purse to one of the pilots; she’d handed it to Robbie. What the fuck was he doing here? Our eyes met and he gave me that small awkward smile, the one that said he hoped it was OK for him to be here. I gave him a huge smile in return, to tell him how happy I was to see him. Then I thought about Neil and my smile vanished again. Surely he wouldn't be rude enough to bring Neil along? I'd send that piece of shit packing. I felt the anger surge and then forced myself to calm down. Robbie had watched those reactions, and because he could read me so well, his expression changed and now he looked a little nervous.

Tonto was on flat land so I moved up and gave her a big hug. “It's so good to see you, Brad,” she said. “I'm sorry I couldn't make it down until now. I wasn't feeling well. I brought you a surprise.”

“I see that,” I said with a smile. “It's good to see you too, Tonto. Your letters keep me in good spirits.” She wrote to me almost weekly, even though I didn't write back nearly as often, and her letters were full of the same hilarious banter that you got when you were with her in person.

Then Stef was there talking to her, guiding her to the car, tactfully giving Robbie and me some time alone. I walked up to him and gave him a big hug, sinking into him as I always did. “You happy to see me?” he asked stupidly.

“As long as you're alone,” I said, and I meant it.

“I am. I don't have a death wish.” I pulled him into another hug. I couldn't believe he was actually here. Did he come down here just to see me? What did this mean? I held on to him, enjoying the contact, savoring the feel of his strong arms wrapped around me and his body smashed against mine, while I forced my mind to shut off so I could just enjoy being with him. I heard Stef clear his throat so we broke off our embrace and got into the car.

“Wasn't that a nice surprise?” Tonto asked. “I figured that if I had to put up with that bitchy boyfriend of his for a week, he could keep me company on the flight down here.” Robbie and I both cringed at her mention of his boyfriend.

“It is good to see you both,” Stef said. He was trying to be tactful, but he was too curious not to ask a follow up question. “What did you do with Neil?”

“Should have brought him with us and tossed him out of the plane without a parachute,” Tonto said. “What's wrong with you? You have better taste than that,” she said, turning her attention to Robbie. I tried not to smile as I visualized Neil plummeting to the earth in a death dive. I looked over at Robbie and he just sat there looking really uncomfortable.

“Tonto, leave him alone. He can't control who he falls in love with,” I said, sticking up for him. Robbie gave me a nice smile to thank me for coming to his defense.

“He had to get back to New Jersey early, so he left yesterday. I figured that I'd ride down here with Tonto, and maybe hitch a ride back to Jersey with you on Sunday.” Robbie was speaking in his factual voice, and he only did that when he was shielding his feelings. There was more here than he was letting on.

“Awesome!” I said. “You'll get to meet Max.” He cringed at that, the jealousy so easy to read in his expression, and as happy as that made me, to know that he cared enough to get upset, I quickly tried to move on to save him more discomfort. “You'll never guess who his ex-boyfriend was, the guy he was all hung up on.” They both looked at me questioningly, while I made them wait for a bit, a pregnant pause for effect. “Lark.”

“No fucking way!” Robbie said. “Um, pardon me,” he said to Tonto. She just cackled.

“That is correct. The looks on their faces when they ran into each other at my house were just priceless.” Stef said. “Of course, we have not seen them since.”

“You engineered this,” I accused him. “You dragged Robbie down here just so I'd leave you and Greg alone.” I turned to Tonto. “Ever since they found out they’re negative, they've been all over each other.” Even as I said it, I was more confused than ever. Was this Robbie’s idea, or was it Stef’s?

“I did not want you to be lonely,” Stef said.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Tonto asked. “I'm not enough to keep him company?”

“You have to nap a lot,” Stef teased.

“Bah,” she said. The ride seemed to take forever. I couldn't wait to get home and talk to Robbie, to find out what he was thinking. I couldn't help smiling at him like a stupid lovesick high school girl, and that would have made me feel like a complete idiot if he wasn’t smiling back at me the same way. Finally we arrived at Stef’s house.

“I'm going to unpack and take one of my naps,” Tonto announced as she slowly worked her way into the front room.

I smiled at Robbie. “You should unpack too. Come on.” I took his hand and practically dragged him up the stairs to my room.

 

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Chapter Comments

Tonto is my favourite person in this saga, she keeps them all grounded. What a relief to hear they are all negative to Aids. Has Robbie, at last, rid himself of Neil. Great chapter, thanks.

 

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This chapter recreated the pain and deep worry that pervaded gay men at the time as AIDs was just taking hold. The tests helped. No jokes could relieve the torment. Lots of interconnections tied people together. Max and Lark were a great example.  Stef and Greg were staying safe for now. Brad was wonderfully relieved. BTW, I love Tonto

 

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Chapter 3- Spring Break 1985

-When Brad and Max fly to Cali, and Brad inducts Max to the Mile High

Club.

"Loverboy" by Billy Ocean

-When Brad discovers the toll that the AIDS crisis has been taking on

Stefan and Greg.

"Karma Chameleon" by Culture Club

-When Lark comes by, and Brad discovers he's the guy that broke Max's

heart.

"Secret Lovers" by Atlantic Starr

-When Brad, Stefan, and Greg find out they are HIV negative.

"It's A Miracle" by Culture Club

-When Tonto comes out for a visit, and Brad realizes that Robbie has

accompanied her.

"Wouldn't It Be Good?" by Nik Kersaw

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One negative test is great but to be sure another is needed a few months down the road, of course this is early days and as long as all play safe, they should be fine...Neil worries me, I have to wonder if he's not playing safe behind Robbie's back...

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On 5/16/2023 at 1:03 AM, methodwriter85 said:

Chapter 3- Spring Break 1985

-When Brad and Max fly to Cali, and Brad inducts Max to the Mile High

Club.

"Loverboy" by Billy Ocean

-When Brad discovers the toll that the AIDS crisis has been taking on

Stefan and Greg.

"Karma Chameleon" by Culture Club

-When Lark comes by, and Brad discovers he's the guy that broke Max's

heart.

"Secret Lovers" by Atlantic Starr

-When Brad, Stefan, and Greg find out they are HIV negative.

"It's A Miracle" by Culture Club

-When Tonto comes out for a visit, and Brad realizes that Robbie has

accompanied her.

"Wouldn't It Be Good?" by Nik Kersaw

I loved the soundtrack to Pretty in Pink, which contains the Kersaw song. 

4 hours ago, drsawzall said:

One negative test is great but to be sure another is needed a few months down the road, of course this is early days and as long as all play safe, they should be fine...Neil worries me, I have to wonder if he's not playing safe behind Robbie's back...

The early days…a wing and a prayer. 

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It'd so weird to hear it took 4 years to develop a test for HIV. By the time I was sexually active, getting an HIV test was routine and we'd go to a free clinic to get it done. As far as I know only a couple of the young guys in my circle of 30-40 friends ever contracted HIV and both are still alive. Both are devastatingly good looking and both had unsafe sex when fucked up, which is one of the reasons I don't like getting fucked up or being around those who do. And while only two of my friends got HIV, I lost four friends from my circle to drugs directly, one indirectly and one to drunk driving. of those who died from drugs directly, three of the five choked to death on their own vomit, too fucked up to roll over and spit it out. The one who was an indirect victim had a heart attack at 28 and died just months after becoming a multi-millionaire in his own when Google went public. They all died before 30 and each was a wonderful young man, but couldn't quit the party lifestyle so prevalent in the gay community.

I remember one year I went to like 10 funerals, three for the 20 somethings and seven for the older set (late 40's, early 50's) who died too young because of AIDS. While I was never a big drinker or someone who'd hook up with 4-5 guys a week, going to those funerals before I was 26 helped cement the idea I was on the right tack.

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4 hours ago, PrivateTim said:

I remember one year I went to like 10 funerals, three for the 20 somethings and seven for the older set (late 40's, early 50's) who died too young because of AIDS. While I was never a big drinker or someone who'd hook up with 4-5 guys a week, going to those funerals before I was 26 helped cement the idea I was on the right tack.

Mark did a lot of consulting with a doctor who began practicing in the early 80's, as well as a different guy who lived in Portland's gayborhood since the late 1970's and was in his mid-30's when AIDS hit. AIDS really hits hard by the mid-80's, but the mass funerals start tapering off after about 1996 because they started having effective medicines that could keep people in the HIV stage. 

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17 minutes ago, methodwriter85 said:

Mark did a lot of consulting with a doctor who began practicing in the early 80's, as well as a different guy who lived in Portland's gayborhood since the late 1970's and was in his mid-30's when AIDS hit. AIDS really hits hard by the mid-80's, but the mass funerals start tapering off after about 1996 because they started having effective medicines that could keep people in the HIV stage. 

I went to the premiere then after party for the movie, It's My Party. I was too young to have known Harry Stein, on whom the film was based, but I ran in the circles he was a part of. One of my older mentors was actually at the party and lived in the last house Harry designed. The movie had probably the biggest impact on me ever. My BFF/FB who went with me cried for an hour after the movie. My older friends who died, died of "something else", but it was the HIV that had so compromised their bodies.

I also remember being out one time in Boy's Town at a coffee shop and a guy showed up, wasted (not drunk, wasted as in 95 pounds) and gaunt. It was obvious he was deeply sick. The man I was with, went over, greeted him and brought him over to our table. I was freaked a little, but I think I hid it well. We talked for about 15 minutes until his boyfriend who had dropped him off, then went to find parking, came back. He took him to the club next door.

After they left, my friend told me he had been the absolute cutest boy in town, the nicest guy around, but also a party boy. He later showed me pictures of him. The transformation from gorgeous young twink to walking skeleton was shocking. What was most shocking that night was how people, especially people my age avoided him. The community that was supposed to be the most supportive, and was making demands on everyone else to be supportive, recoiled in the face of the reality. I hope we never experience a new plague like that.

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On 7/20/2023 at 7:17 AM, PrivateTim said:

It'd so weird to hear it took 4 years to develop a test for HIV. By the time I was sexually active, getting an HIV test was routine and we'd go to a free clinic to get it done. As far as I know only a couple of the young guys in my circle of 30-40 friends ever contracted HIV and both are still alive. Both are devastatingly good looking and both had unsafe sex when fucked up, which is one of the reasons I don't like getting fucked up or being around those who do. And while only two of my friends got HIV, I lost four friends from my circle to drugs directly, one indirectly and one to drunk driving. of those who died from drugs directly, three of the five choked to death on their own vomit, too fucked up to roll over and spit it out. The one who was an indirect victim had a heart attack at 28 and died just months after becoming a multi-millionaire in his own when Google went public. They all died before 30 and each was a wonderful young man, but couldn't quit the party lifestyle so prevalent in the gay community.

I remember one year I went to like 10 funerals, three for the 20 somethings and seven for the older set (late 40's, early 50's) who died too young because of AIDS. While I was never a big drinker or someone who'd hook up with 4-5 guys a week, going to those funerals before I was 26 helped cement the idea I was on the right tack.

You know, every once in a while you really share your life experiences.  💕. You may want to do that sparingly because it makes you so likable.  Seriously, that’s some serious crap to deal with.  Being closeted and bisexual, I dodged the AIDS nightmare of the 80s. If I wouldn’t have gotten married, I’d be dead. 

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