His eyes welled up with tears as he replied, “You don’t understand, you have great parents and a nice home. You don’t have to deal with the expectations other people have of you.”
I stretched out my hand, resting it gently on his, and he gazed up at me, “Neither do you anymore. I’m here for you now, and the only thing I expect or hope from you is that you will love me the way that I love you.”
NEW BEGINNINGS
He whispered, “Love?”
I turned my face away from him. The tone in his voice cut through my heart like a knife. I withdrew my hand, and he quipped, “Why did you pull away?”
I mumbled, “I just thought…”
My words trailed off; he interrupted me by standing and taking my hand back in his, “Listen, Derrick, we’re young, and I can’t wait to get to know more about you, but I can’t throw around the word love.”
I dropped my head; it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. To my surprise he placed his fingers under my chin to gaze into my eyes; he whispered, “One thing I do know for sure is what I feel for you is unlike anything I have ever felt before, and there is no word I can say that can describe it.”
I couldn’t suppress the smile invading my expression as he moved his face to close to mine, and met my lips with a kiss. He separated from me leaving me wanting more while he crossed the room to get his dinner from the microwave.
I couldn’t stop my mind from fast forwarding to what our life would be twenty years from now. He and I sitting at a dinner table in our own little place, talking about our day; just living. It was everything, and it was nothing at all, but the hope of what could be was all around us, and it felt so good.
After dinner, we made our way upstairs to my room. He waited patiently while I searched my dresser for a pair of PJ’s that matched. I was never an organized person, and if I had known Timothy would have been spending the night, I would have cleaned up my room.
It didn’t seem to bother him though as he sat on my bed; glancing around at all of my knick-knacks and country music posters. He grinned as I handed him the PJ’s, “You like Steve Grand?”
I blushed and replied, “He’s my favorite.”
He smiled, “Mine too.”
We continued to stare deep into one another’s eyes for a moment. I could feel myself being drawn into the spell his eyes were casting on me. He drifted slowly back onto the bed as I climbed on top of him, and our lips met in a kiss. I closed my eyes tightly as our hands desperately searched to make contact with one another’s skin.
Our heart beats accelerated, our breathing grew labored, and our bodies melted together. Our time had come at last to be one, and as I lifted from him to strip my shirt away, he ran his fingers across my skin. The sensation of his touch sending chills down my spine, and I knew he was the one to guide me on my journey from a boy to a man.
We paused momentarily, and I lifted from him so we could continue stripping away the layers of clothing that were separating our skin. He removed his shirt, and I remembered his bandage, I whispered, “Are you sure your okay to do this?”
He placed his hands on the sides of my face and mumbled, “I’ve been waiting my whole life to know the taste of a boy, and I’ll be damned if anything is going to stop me now.”
And I replied with a desperate whimper, “Then take me, teach me how it feels to love another man.”
We spent our first night together making sweet love until we fell asleep in one another's arms. The next morning dad called Timothy’s father to let him know where he was, but his dad was reluctant to talk about it.
Dad quipped, “What the hell Dale? I understand that you may not agree with your boy's lifestyle, but that was no reason for you to beat him up.”
Dale replied, “Dan, this is none of your business.”
Dad retorted, “It is when your boy turns up at my house in the middle of the night bloody and beaten.”
There was a silence between them before Dale replied, “As far as I’m concerned I no longer have a son. Your welcome to bring him by to get his shit out of my house.”
Dad shouted, “You heartless jackass. May God have mercy on your soul for turning him out like that. Well, we will be by sometime this afternoon to get his stuff. I’ll take care of him until he can get on his feet.”
Dale hung up the phone, prompting dad to growl, “Dumbass,” and slam down the phone.
He emerged in the kitchen; Timothy’s eyes were hopeful that dad was able to smooth things out, but when dad took a seat next to us at the table, I knew that wasn’t the case.
He turned to us, resting his hand on Timothy’s back, “I’m sorry son, no luck; your dad was always a stubborn old fool.”
Timothy nodded, but I could tell he was crushed inside. There was a brief silence before dad changed his tone in an attempt to lighten the mood, “On the bright side, it looks like you boys are going to be spending a lot more time together.”
Timothy smiled and turned to my dad, “Can I at least go get my stuff?”
Dad nodded, “Yep, we’ll head over there this afternoon when your Dad’s not home because if I see him, I’ll kick his ass.”
Timothy chuckled, “Awesome, so I’m guessing there is no party?”
Dad sighed, “Wouldn’t count on it bud.”
My mom chimed in from the sink, where she was washing dishes, “Who says, we can’t have a party here at the house, just the four of us?”
Dad thought for a moment before replying, “Hey, that's not such a bad idea; I can grill up some burgers!”
Every once in a while my mom and dad surprised me; they were pretty cool for old people, and the way they were taking Timothy in under their wings made my heart swell with love. He was my boyfriend after all, and it was pretty awesome that he now lived here with me. It was like getting to have an endless sleepover.
Mom grabbed a pen and paper from the cabinet and took a seat next to us, “This is so exciting,” she said blissfully.
Dad added as he stood from the table, “Alright then, it’s settled. We have ourselves a little cookout and party right here.”
He glanced at Timothy and I, “You boys ready to get Tim all moved in?”
Timothy glanced at me with a grin, “I guess we’re roomies then?”
I snuggled up close to him and purred, “It’s going to be awesome.”
Dad turned away, “Alright now, no hanky panky at the table.”
Mom mumbled as she was making her list, “Oh Dan, grow up. We did a lot worse when we were that age.”
Dad sighed, “I’m going to get the truck keys; meet me out there in five minutes boys.”
The drive to Timothy’s house was filled with tension and nervous energy. We were all secretly hoping his dad wouldn’t be home. My dad was prepared for confrontation either way. He was always a calm person, but every once in a while when something got him rowled up, he could be a real dick.
This was one of those times. He really liked Timothy a lot. There wasn’t anything not to admire; he was strong, hard-working, and every boy dreamed of being just like him.
As we pulled up to the house, my dad turned to us, “Now, listen, boys, I need you all to be serious and work hard. We need to get Tim’s stuff loaded up before that asshole Dale gets back.”
I rebutted, “But didn’t he say Timothy could come to get his stuff?”
Dad nodded, “I’ve known Dale my whole life, and the more he stews about things, the angrier he gets.”
Timothy checked his watch, “He shouldn’t be home for a few hours, and to be honest there is not a lot I want. I can get my own stuff that he didn’t pay for.”
He met dad’s gaze, and dad stiffened his upper lip, “Well alright them, you’re a good man Timothy.”
He replied, “Thank you, sir.”
With a deep breath, dad opened the truck door and said, “Let’s do this.”
We made haste to the door, Timothy still had his key, and was just going to leave it on the kitchen counter when he left. W
e stepped inside, and dad whispered, “Do you need anything from down here, son?”
Timothy thought for a moment before replying, “Just the picture of my mom from the curio cabinet in the living room.”
Dad quipped, “On it.”
He started toward the kitchen before pausing to turn back to us, “Uh, which way is that?”
Timothy smirked, “Just down the hallway.”
Dad proceeded down the hallway, and Timothy grabbed my hand to lead me upstairs. When we reached his room, we found it empty, with the exception of a few boxes of clothes sitting in the middle of the floor.
He stood in shock, gazing at the barren place where he once lived. I could see his lips tremble, and a tear slide down his cheek; he whispered, “He erased me.”
Dad followed up behind us with the picture of Timothy’s mom in hand; he paused and whispered, “Woah.”
I turned to dad, trying to hold back the tears welling up in my eyes, and dad said, “That son of a bitch.”
I watched as Timothy collapsed to his knee’s in the floor and cried out, “He erased me.”
I scrambled to comfort him while dad blazed past us, grabbing one of the boxes in the floor. As he passed us he met my gaze, “You got his bud?”
I nodded, but my heart was breaking for Timothy. I could not even begin to imagine the pain he was going through at that moment. He stared at me; his lips quivered as he asked, “How could he just disown me?”
I shook my head searching for the words to console him, but they evaded me. I would never understand how anyone could act like their son was never even born. But, Timothy’s room was the visual representation of what a lot of boy’s go through. I guess we could at least be thankful his stupid dad didn’t burn his stuff.
Timothy continued to cry on my shoulder while dad grabbed the last box of stuff from the middle of the floor. On his way out he spoke softly, “I hate to interrupt boys, but we have got to get out of here before a neighbor sees us.”
Timothy met his gaze and nodded. He stood, taking in a deep breath as he stared reminiscently at his empty room. He closed his eyes, and I took his hand, we turned away and made our way back downstairs.
Dad scurried ahead of us, and we lingered behind in the foyer for a moment as Timothy gazed around the place he once called home. The initial tension surrounding us now dissipated into sadness.
I watched as he ran his fingers across the ornate wood carvings of the stairwell, and slowly walked to the kitchen to place his key on the counter. He was glancing around as if he were trying to capture the house on still frames in his mind.
He sighed and gazed up at me with weary eyes, “There’s no one left; I don’t have anyone left in this world.”
I shot him a defiant glare and joined him across the room; placing my hands on the sides of his face I whispered, “Yes you do.”
With his head down, and a mumbled tone he said, “Who?”
I placed my fingers under his chin positioning his face to view my expression, and I smiled, “You have me.”
With his eyes closed and his lips still pounty he met mine with a kiss. He lingered momentarily as if he were waiting for something to happen. Suddenly I could feel my body being drawn into his, and his soft tongue slipping into my mouth. There were no words that could be said to make this moment, only the silent reassurance that he wasn’t alone.
And if you asked dad, he wouldn’t admit it, but I’m telling you I could feel his eyes watching us from the front door. I would forever be grateful to my parents for bringing me here to Dale, Indiana, and I would never forget the first time I met Timothy; The Outdoorsman’s Son.
EPILOGUE
I’m sure you’re wondering how our story ended. Well, here it is; Timothy never spoke to his dad again. His dad passed away about five years after we met in a car accident, and Timothy and I had to settle the estate.
His dad didn’t have a will, so Timothy inherited the shop and house. He vowed to never return to the place where he and his dad shared a home. He sold the farm and shop to a nice family from out of town and used the money to build our dream house on my parents land.
Mindy never did get to tell everyone Timothy’s secret. He dropped out of school and finished his diploma at a local university. I went with him because we were in the same grade. It was nice to learn in the sheltered environment of adults instead of judgemental kids.
A few years after we graduated Mindy’s parents found out she had been secretly dating one of Timothy’s friend and got pregnant. Her parents sent her away to halfway house. The last I heard was that she was living in a trailer park somewhere down in Kentucky, and the guy who got her pregnant was in jail.
Dad finally fixed the tractor and was able to use the land Grandpa gave us to make a nice living for mom and him. As I’m writing this, I’m watching Dad and Timothy bail hay, and every time I see him; I still see the boy who I fell in love with all those years ago at the shop.
I smile, cause I can hear them coming up on the porch. Mom is out there now reading a book; she spends more time at our house than hers and dads. Timothy doesn’t mind; he calls them Ma and Pa now.
I’m thirty, and he is thirty-one, and on our fifth anniversary, he asked me to marry him. I said yes, and he took me to Myrtle Beach for our honeymoon.
I’ll never forget the way he asked. We took a drive in his pickup to the Denny’s where we had our first date. He ordered us the house cheeseburger and two cokes just like he did the very first time. Just when I thought the meal was over the waitress brought over a huge sundae with two spoons and on top of the cherry sat a ring.
I’m looking at it right now; it’s silver and has two bucks, as in the deer, in the shape of a heart on the band. I was crying too much to finish the sundae, so the waitress packed it to go.
“Hey babe,” a voice came from the front porch.
I shouted in reply, “Yeah?”
“Can you bring Pa and I a couple of beers?”
I smirked and stood from my desk. I made my way to the kitchen. It was the middle of summer, and when I stepped out onto the porch, I saw Timothy standing there, leaning up against the rail looking out across the field with sweat dripping down his abs. He met my gaze and grinned, that confident smile that made him look like a southern king.
But, I didn’t have to give away anything to win the title of his prince. He gave me his heart and built a kingdom for us to dwell in forever.
I handed him the beer, and he met my lips in a kiss. We separated, and he quipped in a sexy low growl, “Thanks babe, still just a good as the very first time.”
I turned to go back inside, and dad shook his head at me, but he was just happy to see me happy. Mom loved when we kissed; she smiled warmly as she flipped the last page of her book and sat it down on her lap.
Dad turned to her and said, “What are you smiling about?”
And she replied, “I always love a good story.”
Timothy took a sip of his beer and called to me, “How’s the book coming along?”
I turned to him and replied, “Just when I think it’s about to end, it takes a turn and begins again.”
We stared deep into each other’s eyes for a moment. I watched as his lips formed a smile and he mumbled, “When’s dinner; I’m starving.”
I shook my head with a smile and quipped, “Coming right up.”
Love has a funny way of creeping up on you. It’s when your not looking for anything in particular that you find everything you ever need.
The End
For more great stories by Daniel Elijah Sanderfer, go to Amazon.com
Also, you can follow him on social media: Facebook, Queer Romance Ink, Twitter, and by email at [email protected]
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Daniel Elijah Sanderfer is a retired Hospitality Manager who currently resides in Southern Indiana with his husband, William. Originally from the Blue Ridge Mountain region of Virginia, he moved to Indiana to be closer to his then fiance.
They have been married for two years and together for fourteen total years. He was always interested in writing even from a young age and was featured in a few poetry collections as a teen. When he is not writing, he is caretaker, as his husband is disabled and requires full-time care.
He enjoys going to antique stores and in the summer weekend long yard sales. He currently writes LGBT fiction with a positive direction as he feels too many love stories experience tragedy. He likes to highlight the stories that survived- the couples who fought to stay together and the families that do accept them.
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