My roommate only stared at me. He had no clue because he had not been doing his Latin homework, had he? Nope. But I was the star student in Latin class, looking up things on my own, like how to swear in Latin.
I looked Jerome right in the eye and added, “Vescere bracis meis,” with a big fat lying smile. I doubted very much that he would ever eat my shorts, but it felt good to say that.
* * * *
It turned out that only four of us were not going home for the holidays, so they closed up the classrooms, the cafeteria, and all the dorms except for one. Didn’t matter which one, what mattered was that there were three of us boys and one girl. Who would share the bedroom with the girl? We drew lots. The girl got me. The other boy, a guy named David, got Tory. I was borderline sick to my stomach with jealousy, as was David.
I shouldn’t say boys and girl. We’re all over twenty-one by now, real adults, but the minute the real real adults, that is, the teachers and staff, left the campus, we turned about fourteen years old again. From the eyeballing that was going on, and the heavy sighs and pouting, it appeared that perhaps David and Angela, the girl, had something going on.
Wednesday night, we all just went to bed like they, the real adults, had planned. Until around five in the morning, when I woke to retching noises coming from the bathroom. I could see Angela’s bunk was empty. It was oddly light out with the wind howling. I got up and looked outside, almost going blind from the glare of snow piling up and hitting the window. It was beautiful—of course, the soundtrack stunk, but it was silly at the same time. I wondered if the girl had something contagious or not.
I tapped on the bathroom door. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”
The door opened an inch. She was a mess, hair straggling all over, her face pale and blotchy. “Yes. There is a bottle of medicine for me, but I forgot to go get it. It’s in the infirmary.” Then she shut the door and was sick some more.
The infirmary, or clinic, was in the administration building, which was an old family mansion. I’d been in it plenty of times, well, the first floor anyway, but it was closed and locked now. I seemed to recall the infirmary was on the second floor. I dressed quickly and pulled on my coat, hoping I’d find an unlocked window, I guess. I was still half asleep. When I opened the door, someone joined me.
“It’s me, Tory. I just woke up David to keep an eye on Angela.”
Over his shoulder, I heard her voice. “You asshole, this is your fault. You get in here and hold my hair!”
Tory giggled. “I think they have something going on. Like, oh, a baby?”
“At least someone’s getting laid,” I mumbled, then gulped.
We pushed our way through the snowbanks. I felt like I was in a movie, a disaster movie, a teenage serial killer movie.
“How are we going to get in?” I asked, once we reached the safety of the porch.
There were double doors on the front of the building, around by the parking lot, but the back door was closest to the dorm. This was where we were huddled. If I hadn’t been so cold, I might have enjoyed having Tory pressed against me, except our big fat coats eliminated any chance of actually touching.
“Here,” he said, “Put your foot in my hand, and I’ll boost you up through the oriel window. It’s broken, and all you have to do is push it open.”
Inclined to do whatever he said no matter what, I did. And up I went. I had no idea this lithe runner was so strong! I went up like an elevator on steroids, thought to grab the window and push, and then I was falling. I landed on the floor with a thud and heard laughter from outside.
“I should let you stay there!” I mumbled, loud enough to feel rebellious but quiet enough that he couldn’t possibly hear me. I unlocked the door, and he came in, shaking snow all over the floor like a dog.
He looked at me and said, “You have snow on your nose.” And he wiped it off.
My heart almost stopped. Oh, my God, he touched me.
“Let’s head upstairs.” He reached for the light switch. There was a boom and a zapping sound. I cringed so hard, I almost leaped into his arms. “Hmm, power’s out,” he said. “Oh, well!” Damn, he was always pleasant! I was scared. “I know a shortcut.”
“Why, what’s wrong with the stairs?”
“Don’t you want to take the secret passage?”
“I didn’t think that was real.”
“It is. This was a safe house on the underground railroad during the 1800s.” With that, he moved across the hall, merely a shadow as he came away from the windows. “This wall, right here…ah! Got it. You first.” He bowed, and it was as if I could hear a smirk in his voice, but that couldn’t be because I trusted him implicitly, right?
My heart was pounding (it hadn’t stopped after all, or at least, not yet), and I slipped past him into an entirely dark, tight space. “I have a flashlight back in my room,” I whispered.
“Sissy!” he laughed. “I’ll go first then.” With that, he edged by me, his face brushing mine…by accident?
I almost licked him just to see what he tasted like but caught myself in time. Just because I was crazy with love and hunger didn’t mean he’d appreciate it. Odds were greater than nine out of ten, here at a good Christian college, that he was straight and would hate me. I knew he wouldn’t kill me because he’d already saved my life once.
“Hold on tight to me,” he said.
I shivered and did what I was told. Well, sort of. My hand went up under his jacket and grabbed his belt. My other hand rested on his ass. Even through the thick denim, I could feel the taut muscles moving. I think I whimpered.
Please turn and take me right here, I thought. My eyes closed, and my breathing was hyper reactive, sort of like my dick at the moment. My own jeans were too tight to be comfortable, and it wanted to be free! Was I going to live through this? What if he found out and left me locked in here somewhere?
We stumbled on in the darkness, until he said, “Wait!”
“What! What!” I squealed, fear causing my hands to clench. We were so close now that I could feel my front pressing up against his back. Yes, dick and all.
“Nothing,” he said calmly. “I just thought I heard—something. Um, you don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”
“Yes!” I said. “I mean, no.” I tried to step back from him, but at the same time, I was afraid to lose him. A moment later, there was a loud squeak and some light filtered in, enough to show me we were about to exit a narrow door and enter a large room.
“Yes!” Tory hissed happily, disengaging my hand from his belt. He stepped into the room and pointed. “Now we climb that spiral staircase, and we’re in the clinic! Are you coming?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. Neither yes nor no seemed to fit. Maybe or soon might be closer to the truth.
Oh, God, this was awful. Awesome, but terrible! I wanted to jump him. I wanted to be straight. I wanted to watch his ass while we went up the spiral staircase. Well, I did get to do that, anyway. And then we came out into the small clinic. I just stood back and let Tory grope around. He pulled up a blind on a window, and I could see his shadow and profile as he moved around, opening doors and cupboards, just admiring.
“What’s the matter with Angela?” I thought to ask, just to keep some form of contact with Tory.
He stopped and stared at me. “She’s pregnant, son, and David’s the father. He’s in my dorm, and I’ve seen them. Pass me the eye bleach, okay?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Ah, here’s something. This may be it. Oh, there’s two. I’ll take them both. My jacket has two inside pockets.” I watched as he put the containers inside his jacket and zipped it back up again.
As we left the clinic, Tory said, “Hey, if this snow keeps up, we can go sledding later today! That’ll be fun! Angela won’t want to, she’s all about the hair and make-up thing. I don’t know if David will come or not. He’s pretty pussy-whipped, if you know what I mean.” He turned and started to usher me back down the stairs.
“I don’t like this,” I whispered.
“Never mind. I’ll sing. It’s almost Christmas! You know this one, I bet!” And he started in: “A lady of danger, ten bucks buys her bed, she offered to please us, I looked on with dread, the tens in my wallet, screamed out go for it, but David acceded and went in for a bit. Ha-ha, he should have just asked for a blow job!”
By the time I’d sorted the parody out in my head, my eyes had gone so wide, I could almost see perfectly, like a cat would, in the darkness. We reached the lower floor and were making our way back down the secret passage.
Behind me, I heard Tory laugh. “Would this be a great title for a book? The Hidden Passage or something like that? The Back Door, In or Out?”
I don’t know what kind of noise I made, but he changed the subject.
“Never mind Christmas. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and we have no food. I think the Baptists have a free dinner for the homeless, and they may even have a bus service.”
“Do we have to dress for dinner?” I meant dress like homeless people.
“Would you rather undress?” Tory asked, stopping and looking at me closely.
And then we were out, and out the door, and trudging back home through the snow.
* * * *
I was looking forward to getting inside. The wind was howling, and I craved warmth and quiet. However, quiet was not to be. David and Angela were fighting. Loudly. Luckily, they had shut themselves into the other part of our duplex dorm, leaving Tory and me in the other. My clothes and pajamas were in with them.
Tory knocked, said, “I brought you your medicine!”
Angela shouted back, “Go fuck yourself!”
Tory turned to me. “Me? Well, then, let’s see what we have. I, for one, could use a little something soothing to the tummy.”
He set the bottles on the nightstand and then went over to the two dressers and rummaged through them. I thought about stopping him, but my teeth were chattering. Tory tossed me some long johns and a pair of bikini briefs.
“Take your pick!” he said with delight. This man was incredible. I was a shivering wreck, and he was glowing with fun and enthusiasm.
Well, there we were, changing out of our wet clothes, redressing in some stranger’s underwear. We had two bottles of what was not stomach soothing medicine, not that we knew, but we were hungry and had only someone’s stash of chocolate candy to eat. So we drank. It tasted good. Later, I figured out that Mr. Joy and Fun and Games had experience with that sort of non-medicine, but little innocent, naïve moi? Not a clue. I was completely fucked up after only three water glasses of it. I vaguely remember Tory putting me to bed. I don’t know if I puked or not.
I do remember, unfortunately, telling him, “I love you. I want to have your babies!” and he laughed.
I dreamed of secret passageways and hidden back alleyways. I also dreamed I told him I wanted him to suck my dick, in Latin, dressed as Julius Caesar. One can hope that did not really happen. You ever wake up not knowing? I’ve heard of sleep paralysis, but not this. Anyway, in the morning, I had a massive headache, the door was still locked to the next room, and Tory was up and dressed, holding two cafeteria trays.
“Get up, lazybones! Dress warm! We can slide down the hill and across the lake into town and then it’s not a long walk to the Baptist Church. If we offer to help serve, we’ll be assured of free food and probably a chance to bring home the leftovers!”
Oh, God, I prayed in an unusually religious mood, please give me the strength to endure my blessings.
It was after ten when we set off, after knocking on the closed door and asking if they wanted to go with us.
Angela called out “Fuck off!” Some kindergarten teacher she’d make.
We had no sunglasses, so Tory made me wear a pair of underpants on my head, with the leg holes squinched down over my eyes.
“So you don’t go snow blind,” he insisted. He ushered me out the door into a glaring, brilliant, winter wonderland. As he directed me over the woods and through the hills, or the other way around, whatever, he sang. “‘Advent’s coming, this I know, for the ground is full of snow, then comes Christmas and what I want, is to get in your underpants!’ I made that up, isn’t it great?”
We came to the top of a hill and looked down to the park below. It looked a mile away. Across the river towered the hospital, and over the other way, a church bell tower spiked into the clear blue sky. The sun cast millions of diamonds on the ground like a teenage girl’s wet dream of glitter. I wondered if we would shoot across the ice or break through and die if we missed the footpath across the lake. My head was hoping for the worst. I looked at Tory with fear.
“Turkey,” he said, “Gravy, stuffing! Pie, cornbread, more pie!” With that, he set down my tray, pushed me onto it, and shoved me off down the hill like an eight-year-old being sent off by his bullying and possibly homicidal older brother.
The first hundred feet were fun—I was flying! After that, it was pure terror. Bumps whizzed past, bunny rabbits and squirrels ran for their lives, blue water and ice loomed up on either side. I was almost decapitated flying under one of the pedestrian bridges, but finally, I came to the far shore, where my tray stopped a lot faster than I did. I went flying then, right into a very festive and picker-filled holly bush. And there I stuck with my ass in the air, looking back over the way I had come, watching Tory slide gracefully and serenely across the smoothest parts of the snow and ice, ending up beside me with nary a thump, laughing and happy.
Just for a minute, I hated him enough to hope he was straight. He yanked me out of the bushes and wiped the snow off my face with his bare hand, looking concerned. I instantly forgave him. In fact, I forgave him for everything he had ever done in his life to anyone, and extended it into the future. I never knew that love could make you hot all over, as well as making the knees become weak, and raising the urge to humiliate oneself just to touch or even inhale the other’s breath.
Then he ruined it, saying, “You’re okay! Buckle up and let’s ride, pardner!”
I followed him towards the church like a puppy.
Half an hour later, we were peeling potatoes side by side in the church basement. Christmas carols were playing over the loudspeaker. It crackled and spat, and so did I. I mean, yeah, we were being helpful, and we’d get to eat, but I was sweating buckets and hungry. Next to me, Mr. Happyhappyjoyjoy was singing along to the music, albeit not the original words. Tory was chosen to play Santa for the homeless children. He was skinny for a Santa, and obviously the white beard and hair were fake, but his good cheer and rose-colored cheeks made him totally believable. I felt blessed to be able to watch him. I felt blessed, period. I had so much, and these kids had so little. It made me resolve to be a better person and find more ways to help others. Santa winked at me, and it warmed my heart.
Then we served, and after that, we ate. During dessert, the preacher got up. I expected Baptist lectures or whatever they did, but he started out by just talking about Thanksgiving.
“Did you know,” he stated, “that Thanksgiving is based on a religious holiday? Of course, it’s just a federal holiday to most of us, but it has an interesting history, almost as religious as Advent. I hope some of you will be back on Sunday to help us prepare for Advent. Did you know that this coming Sunday is called Stir-Up Sunday? I know, you all think that’s weird or based on the phrase from the prayer books that starts with, ‘Stir up we beseech thee.’ I won’t bore you with the whole thing! Not until Sunday anyway! And after service on Sunday, we will make pudding.”
I had to glance at Tory, but he was smiling and looking completely angelic.
“It’s when the British used to make their Christmas puddings.”
Then came the religious rhetoric I had expected. We both excused ourselves and went downstairs to wash dishes.
We took tons of leftovers home. One of the other volunteers gave us a ride. When we got back, David and Angela were in our common area, talking and very happ
y to see the food we brought. There was still half a bottle of medicine left, and we all four shared in it.
Angela said, “I’m most thankful this year for this wonderful food.”
“What, not for me?” David joked.
Angela raised one eyebrow haughtily, and we laughed.
Sunday, we broke into the cafeteria and made puddings. The staff and students started trickling back later that afternoon. It had certainly been a very interesting weekend, and I hated to see my usual roommates return because it also meant that Tory had to go back to his own dorm, too. Nobody could ever take away my memories, anyhow, so I had that.
Chapter 3
The following Sunday was the first time we were all back in the campus chapel. It was, of course, Advent Sunday. What I’d been focusing on, besides Tory, was learning more Latin terms I couldn’t share like inpudicus, for homosexual, which actually stemmed from the Greek. Then I started finding images of old Greek statuary. Let’s just say that was extremely interesting, to me, if not to anyone else on my entire campus.
There remained only three more Sundays here before we left for Christmas vacation. I worried about whether or not I’d be welcome at home for that, and if not, where would I go? I could stay here, even though they did not keep any dorms open for the two-week-long vacation. Maybe there was a hostel in town, or maybe the University there had rooms open. I didn’t know. I had studying to do, however, and couldn’t worry about it right now. But still, I’d never been homeless before, and it was always on my mind.
Pastor was talking. I was doing all this thinking in church, in my favorite back pew where I could feel the fresh air leaking in from around the door.
“What is Advent?” he asked, thumping his lectern. I had to yawn so bad, it almost killed me to do it with my mouth closed. “Now, all we think about is Advent Calendars, right? And opening little doors and finding the candy inside. But this custom started in Germany when…”
The Advent of Hope Page 2