by B. G. Thomas
The house was small; Cauley’s Aunt Karen had left it to him, which was good because with his health, he couldn’t have managed anything bigger. They’d even converted the little dining room in the back of the house into a bedroom and put safety bars in the first-floor bathroom (Kevin had done a lot of the work) so Cauley wouldn’t have to try to manage the stairs on bad days.
Lois answered the door, looking radiant dressed in one of her colorful dresses (that always reminded him of something Stevie Nicks or Cyan Carrington would wear) and ornamented with big pieces of jewelry. She wore lavender African violets in her silver hair. It was a nice touch.
“Oh, Kevin. I’m so glad you’re here. Please come in. Let me take that.” She pointed to the sunflower. “Cauley’s in the living room, watching his TV as usual. I wish you’d try and get him out of the house. He needs some fresh air.”
“You don’t think maybe it’s a little cold?” Kevin asked.
She shrugged. “We could bundle him up good.” Lois looked away, and Kevin could see she was gathering strength to go on—it must have been a bad day. “I mean, we have to be real. He isn’t going to live forever….”
“None of us are,” he replied gently.
She sighed. “Go on now. He’s waiting.”
And as soon as he saw his ex, it was clear that Cauley was indeed having a bad day.
It hadn’t been two weeks since he saw Cauley last, but he looked like he’d aged ten years. Which was bad because he already looked years older than his actual thirty-five. His cheeks were hollow, his skin pale and jaundiced at the same time (if that was even possible), and his blue eyes all but washed of color. He hardly looked like the man who, with a contingent of demonstrators, somehow infiltrated a wedding for an infamous antigay city official at St. Peter’s Church—only the oldest Roman Catholic church in New York State—leapt up in the middle of the service, and started shouting, “We’re here, we’re queer, and we have the right to get married too!” And oh, the chaos that had ensued! Plus getting arrested and needing bail to get out.
And when Kevin had shown up? Cauley had refused to leave without his compatriots.
As well-off as Kevin had become, he still couldn’t bail out seventeen people.
Luckily in the end—finally—he hadn’t needed to. He had, however, had to pay for Cauley’s lawyer to make sure he didn’t spend a long time in jail.
No. He didn’t “have” to, but ex-lovers or not, he couldn’t let Cauley stay there. Especially when he’d only gotten his diagnosis the week before.
Part of why he’d done such an insane thing in the first place. Cauley had been thrilled he’d made the news.
“And not just Fox,” Cauley had exclaimed. “Real networks as well! We did it!”
At least Cauley was dressed—that was good—and sitting on the flower-patterned, burnt orange couch (a sure sign of Cauley’s Aunt Karen’s seventies decorating) watching TV.
He went to Cauley and motioned for him to stay seated when he tried to stand. Kevin bent, hugged him carefully, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. There was a new lesion on his neck, but it was low, and if he buttoned his shirt, he could hide it. Kevin knew Cauley was happy about that.
“I like the goatee thing you’ve got going there,” Kevin said, touching Cauley’s face.
“Ain’t no big thing. I had to do something to fill in my face.” There was a short silence and then he added, “Thanks for coming, Kev.”
“No problem.” He grinned. “Got you something.”
“He sure did,” Lois said, coming into the room and placing the flower in its vase on the coffee table.
“To the side, Mom. That’s right in front of Supernatural!”
Kevin moved it for him, and Cauley watched the television screen. Kevin sat next to him, but he had no idea what was going on.
“I’d do John Winchester in a New York second,” Cauley said, pointing to the older man on the screen and not one of the show’s two young heroes.
Lois put her hands on her hips. “Cauley!” She huffed and walked out of the room, calling, “Lunch in ten minutes,” over her shoulder.
“Isn’t that Jeffrey Dean Morgan?” Kevin asked.
Cauley nodded. “It is. I’m impressed you knew that.”
“Yeah,” Kevin agreed. “He’s hot all right. He gave me sexy shivers in The Watchmen.”
“You always liked the bears, didn’t you?” Cauley asked. “Whatever did you see in me?”
“Silly man,” Kevin said, and when his old lover turned to him with a question in his (washed-out) eyes, Kevin tapped Cauley’s chest with a finger. “Your heart, Cauley. It’s gold.”
Cauley shook his head and looked back at the men on the TV. “Then why couldn’t I keep you?”
But they both knew why, so Kevin didn’t answer.
“I would like to think you liked my sweet little ass a little bit.”
Kevin laughed and assured him that he had.
“’Course there isn’t much back there these days, is there?”
Kevin chose not to answer that one either. After all, what was there to say?
A few minutes later Lois came into the room to let them know lunch was ready. So Kevin helped Cauley stand; he accepted it but refused the hand on his elbow. “I can walk,” he said proudly—almost defiantly.
“Of course you can,” Kevin said.
Lunch was in the kitchen since the dining room was now a bedroom. The quarters were tight but not impossible, and they sat at the old gray laminate table with chrome edges that had been there for fifty years. Lunch was soup (of course), a white bean soup (with plenty of pieces of ham) that Lois reported she had made herself. It was delicious, and even Cauley finished—or nearly did—his bowl.
“Good job,” Lois cried as if he were six years old, and Kevin was afraid Cauley would make a caustic comment, but he didn’t. Thank God. That was good. But a quick look made Kevin think that maybe Cauley was too tired to even scowl these days, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much time Cauley had left. He decided to bring out his surprise.
“Got you something else,” he said.
“Oh?” Cauley asked, mild curiosity on his gaunt face.
So Kevin went to the door and dug the bag out of his deep coat pocket and brought the Dove chocolates back—dark chocolate, Cauley’s favorite.
Cauley grinned like a kid.
Lois only smiled, with no threats that they weren’t good for him, and opened the bag. They all had a few—Cauley chomping noisily on his. And so what? After all, he was eating.
And that was good.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE COUCH and chairs had been pushed back against the walls, the giant rag rug rolled up and pushed under the dining room table. There were candles everywhere, most notably in a circle on the floor. In the middle of the circle sat a small table with a green tablecloth, his athame—a ceremonial blade about eight inches long—a chalice, his wand, a small plate filled with Christmas sugar cookies, and a little statue of a pair of nude wrestlers (Wyatt would explain that later). With greenery arranged outside the circle, it was all really quite lovely in the soft warm glow of the many candles, and Wyatt was pleased. He’d only mentioned that he wished he had some evergreen boughs, and his friends had all showed up bearing a few branches each. They had brought just enough to complete the circle. He didn’t know if they knew it, but the gesture was incredibly magickal. With a k.
Wyatt’s friends were all there, and their presence and the setup made Wyatt so happy he thought he would cry. He was happy. Happier than he’d been in weeks.
He couldn’t resist a little joke.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “You don’t know what this means to me. We’ll be ready to begin as soon as you all take off your clothes.” And then made a move to unbutton his shirt.
There followed a gasp and a few mutterings, and as he looked around the room, he couldn’t help but be amused at the surprise and even shock on his friends’ faces (especially Pe
ni’s). Then, just as Cedar and Scott exchanged a look, shrugged, and started to unbuckle their belts, Wyatt laughed and held up his hands. “Just kidding.”
The others laughed too, and Cedar gave a half shrug and said, “Well, skyclad is the thing in a lot of circles. A lot of us do it naked at Men’s Festival.”
“True,” Wyatt said. “But I warn people so they could choose whether they want to come do something like that. Which is only polite. And most of you aren’t pagan.” He glanced at Peni. “I reserve stuff like that.”
“I’m not even sure what we’re doing here tonight, Wyatt,” Max said.
Wyatt nodded. “Well, I thought I’d explain that.”
So he had them sit down and relax. He had bottles of water—no cocktails tonight, at least not until after. This was a time to be clearheaded.
Wyatt looked at his friends, all here, and a small rush passed through him. The only person who hadn’t come was his boss, Katherine. He’d invited her. But in the end she, more than he, decided that tonight needed to be a Queer evening. And as queer as she felt she was, tonight called for sacred Male-spirit.
Wyatt looked at his friends again and saw them looking back—their faces attentive, their expressions curious. His heart jumped again. This was happening. He felt like crying but fought the urge. For now at least.
This was happening!
Wyatt cleared his throat. “I’ll start by giving everybody a little explanation of what tonight is all about and what we’re going to be doing. So you’ll know what’s going on.”
“I appreciate that,” Sloan said.
Max nodded.
So did Peni. “And I’m really excited.”
Wyatt took a deep drink from his water bottle, suddenly twice as nervous. He cleared his throat again. “Okay. First of all… Yule. It’s also called the Winter Solstice, and it is the longest night of the year and the shortest day. Some call it the ‘dark night of the soul.’ In some traditions, Yule is the time that the Goddess takes on her role as the Great Mother and gives birth to the new Sun King. But I prefer to honor the story of the battle of the Oak King and the Holly King.”
Wyatt’s heart was pounding—and for more than one reason. He loved this story, but there was also the fear that his friends would think what he was saying was silly. But no. They were all listening. He could see it in their eyes. No one was making fun. Not even Scott.
He took a breath. “There are a number of versions of the story of the Holly King and the Oak King, but my favorite goes something like this. There are two times of the year—the Winter Solstice, or Yule, and the Summer Solstice—when these two, these… cosmic rulers, meet in battle. And what they’re fighting for is supremacy of the Wheel of the Year. At Yuletide, it is the Oak King who wins, and his victory ushers in the end of long nights and the lengthening of the days. But then once the Summer Solstice arrives, they do battle again, and the Holly King wins. And the days begin to shorten and the nights to dominate the year.
“Sometimes I’ve even been in rituals where two men act out the fight between the Holly King and the Oak King.”
“Hey!” cried Cedar. “Scott and I can do that!” He turned to Scott and waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna…?”
At Scott’s uncomfortable look, Wyatt broke back in. “No!” He laughed. “Not the kind of thing we want to do inside with candles and breakables.” He pointed to the statue of the wrestling men on the table in the center of the circle. “This sculpture of Hercules and Diomedes will represent the Kings tonight.”
Cedar got a funny expression on his face and Wyatt was sure he was going to say something. A joke? But no. It looked like he had changed his mind. Thank goodness. Wyatt was already nervous enough.
He cleared his throat and continued.
“Okay. So the first thing I’ll do is cast the Circle. It’s simply… well, declaring sacred space for us to do our work.” He nodded. “Some people believe it’s about protection. That when the magick is being worked, it attracts the attention of all kinds of forces, some good and some not so good. For that reason we never step out of the Circle once we begin. Go potty first in other words. And I’ll try to keep it short.”
There was some general chuckling.
“Then I’ll call the four directions, the powers of the Watchtowers of the four compass points. They also represent the four elements. North, fire…. No. I mean, earth. God, I’m nervous!”
“It’s okay,” said Scott. “We’re all here for you.”
Wyatt smiled at his friend. He liked the new Scott.
“Thanks.” He laughed. “Okay. Whew! North—fire. Earth! Earth!”
“It really is okay, Wyatt,” Max said. “Take your time.”
Wyatt nodded. Gulped. “North—earth. East—air. South—fire. And west—water. Traditionally four different people call the directions. But that isn’t necessary tonight. I’ll do it.”
Then, surprising Wyatt once more. “I’ll take a direction if you want,” Cedar said. He grinned. “I don’t mind. I did water at Festival this summer.”
“Wait,” Peni cried. “I’d like to join too. And may I do water?” He smiled happily. “You’ll have to tell me what to do.”
Wyatt’s mouth dropped open. “I—I’d love—”
“Then do you want me to take north?” Cedar asked. “Since I’ve called a direction before? Show people how? That’s the first Watchtower to be called, right? North?”
“I…. Yes. First, that is. North is. And… and you can be too. First, that is. If you really mean it.”
“Sure, I mean it!” Cedar nodded enthusiastically. “I’m already thinking of what to say.”
“I’ll take south then,” Asher said, and Wyatt could only goggle at him.
What?
“South is fire, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
Wyatt nodded.
“Well, my people are pretty fiery, right?”
“Your…,” Wyatt stammered. “Your people?”
Asher shrugged. And was that a blush? It was hard to tell in the warm glow of the candles but it looked like…
“I’m not ready to give up honey-baked ham just yet, but… yeah. Maybe.”
Whoa!
“So we need someone for east,” Cedar said. He turned to his lover. “Scott?”
“I…. Ah….” Scott visibly gulped. “I’m… not sure if I’m quite ready for that.”
“You sure?” Cedar touched Scott’s cheek.
Scott nodded and this time, candlelight or not, Wyatt did see a blush spread out over his face.
“Okay, baby,” Cedar replied and pulled him close.
“Ah….” Sloan cleared his throat. “I suppose I can.”
Wyatt smiled. This was all too unbelievable. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Sloan gave one of his half shrugs. “Your ways have never bothered me before. I even went to that camp with you that day, forever ago. Tell me what to do?”
Another rush spread over Wyatt. Love. It was a nice change. He took a deep breath. “Think of the things that remind you of your element.” He nodded at Sloan. “Like a tornado or a hurricane or even a cool breeze on a hot day. Or the first breath a baby takes.”
Sloan’s eyes widened. “Really? A baby’s breath? So it doesn’t have to be ‘godly’ powerful stuff?”
Wyatt sighed a long happy sigh. “A baby’s first breath is pretty powerful stuff!”
“Wow,” Sloan said and sat down. “I need to think a minute.”
Was this going to be too much for his friends? “You guys really don’t have to do this.”
“I think we do,” Asher said. “Really.”
Unbelievable.
Magick.
It took Wyatt a moment to compose himself. This was all so… so much.
Finally, Wyatt nodded again. “Okay, then.” Next step. “After the four Quarters are called, then the next thing usually done in Ritual is to call on the Lord and the Lady. The two creative forces of natur
e that make everything. But tonight we are going to call on the Queer Ones.”
“Queer Ones?” Peni asked.
“Yes,” Wyatt replied. “That other force that has been around for all recorded history and before. The force that draws members of the same sex together. Gods and animals and myth.”
“Yes!” Peni cried. “I can get that!” Wyatt could see he, almost more than any of the others, was getting quite excited by all of this.
“It’s another reason why Yule is one of my two favorite times of the year. There’s something kind of… what’s the word, Max? Homo-rotic?”
Max smiled and nodded. “Homoerotic.”
“Yeah,” Wyatt agreed. “Something homoerotic about these two big male forces of nature wrestling for dominance.”
“And howdy!” Cedar said with a grin and another eyebrow waggle. He indicated the little sculpture of Hercules and Diomedes. “One of them sure has a nice grip on the base of the other guy’s cock, doesn’t he?” He laughed. “And it looks like it’s giving Mr. Gripper a hard-on too!”
Wyatt couldn’t help but laugh. It did look just like one of them had an erection. He’d always thought so. Surprisingly, he found himself blushing.
“So when you had two guys acting this out, did they do that?” It was Cedar asking, of course.
“What?” Wyatt asked.
“Grip each other’s cocks like that?”
“That would be a rare thing,” Wyatt said. “It’s usually acted out by straight men anyway.”
“But what about when it’s gay men?” Cedar pressed.
“It all depends.” Wyatt looked away.
And in one very… special Circle he and Howard had been in, they had acted out the fight that ended when the Oak King won—the Oak King being Howard, naturally. It would have been ridiculous-looking any other way. It had ended with Howard fucking him over the altar in front of the other attendees. It had been humiliating at first, being taken that way while the others stared. He hadn’t been expecting Howard to take it that far. But then… something happened. Everything had turned sexual after that. The other men in the ritual were masturbating and then having sex as well. It had startled the hell out of him. But rather than allowing himself to be embarrassed, Wyatt had chosen to go with the flow. Or with his hormones anyway. He pushed away the idea that the sex between him and Howard needed to be romantic and private. Switched it off in his mind.