good mood.
"I like most everyone." Walter adjusted himself, noticing the concerned look on Jacob's face. "Don't worry. It's been through worse things than having someone lay down on it." And he gave Jacob a little wink. "I'm sure it will be fine in a few minutes."
Jacob perked up, knowing the man was alright. He felt a familiar sensation starting in his own genitals. A heavy, demanding feeling that would not be ignored.
"I have to pee," Jacob said.
"Oh." Walter motioned to a set of doors a little further down from where they were sitting. "I believe you'll find relief behind one of those doors. You'd better hurry, I can see the distress on your face."
Jacob thanked the man and got to his feet. He heard the caller announcing another break, more than likely to allow Abscond time to clean up what was left of the mess made by Big Johnny, and found himself standing in front of a door marked "Saints". He looked over and saw the other door was labeled "Sinners". Such strange designations to separate gender. Jacob thought. He wasn't sure which one meant male so he decided to try the "Saints" first. The knob turned slightly, but wouldn't allow him in. With pressure building, Jacob ran to the other one which opened almost too easily. He looked around seeing the stalls standing like loyal soldiers waiting for the next person to come along and join the battle. Because sometimes taking a shit was a battle. Especially, the shy ones. The little fuckers that held on like their life depended on being forever suspended just inches outside of a straining asscrack. But it wasn't shit that concerned Jacob. He could feel wetness forming at the tip of his penis. Thank god he wasn't wearing any clothing to get in the way.
Jacob threw open the nearest door and slid the tiny metal locking mechanism in place. A false sense of security at best. Anyone could force the stall door open with nothing more than their breath. But none of this concerned Jacob. He sat on the cold, black plastic ring and heard the satisfying sound of urine splashing into the bowl. With a soft moan, he felt a rush of relief fill his body. God there's nothing like the sensation of taking a piss. Jacob thought. He didn't hear someone enter the room moments later. Was unaware anyone had taken the stall next to his until a voice filled with soft compassion came through the metal divider separating them.
"I see you made it in time." Walter's voice, cheerful. "I don't actually have to go myself, but I need to talk to you Jacob. I have to discuss something with you in private even though I normally allow someone the luxury of privacy when attending to the basest of human matters."
"That's ok. I'm just glad I didn't piss all over the place." Jacob allowed the last of the urine to enter the bowl. Then he took a moment to look at the spot right beneath the head to see what damage Abscond might've done with that damn nail of his. Jacob would've checked earlier, while he was at the bingo table, but it didn't seem too polite to be mistaken for playing with yourself with so many others in the room. Now he could make out a little dot of red where flesh and metal met. With a brush of his thumb, Jacob removed all doubt that the top part and bottom part of his penis was still together and functioning properly. A slight tinge of pain shot up the shaft causing him to let out a tiny, “ouch”.
"I hope everything is still going well." Walter's voice was soft but eager. "I just need a moment of your time before the game begins again."
"Go ahead," Jacob responded, not really wanting to hear what the old man was going to tell him. When adults started off conversations like this, the news was almost always bad. And Jacob had had his fill of bad news for today.
"I said I knew your father." Only a moment of hesitation before Walter continued more quickly. "I met him at the "Heaven's Gate" diner. What I didn't tell you was what got me in here. In this church where no one should ever have to come. Playing a game that is for more than just money."
Jacob shifted on the seat, wondering whether to flush. The water would splash on his butt and he might cry out disturbing what Walter had to tell him. He decided to stay put a little longer then go to the older man's stall if things seemed to be taking a while.
Walter paused, taking a deep breath. Oh God, here it comes. Jacob thought.
"Your father was dying Jacob." Walter's voice became softer. Jacob strained to hear through the metal. "A cancer similar to the kind that took my sweet Rachel from me." And now Jacob could hear low sobs coming from the stall next to his.
Jacob slid the metal lock across and left, forgetting to flush. He'd just have to come back and do it later if he remembered. The need to comfort his friend was too strong to ignore. And the older man was his friend. The same way Walter had been friends with his father. Jacob opened the door to find Walter's head lowered to the old man's knees. With gentle fingers, Jacob lifted Walter's face staring momentarily into his watery eyes before placing a fine white tuft of hair down on his bare chest. Jacob could feel tears rolling down his stomach and the occasional hitching of Walter's breath sent waves of warm air along his belly.
"It's ok." Jacob soothed, running his fingers through the fine white hair. "Tell me more when you're ready."
After a few minutes, Walter looked Jacob in the eyes and told him about the terrible day in the shed where he helped his dying friend commit suicide.
WALTER’S SALVATION
"I wish things could've been different." Walter no longer sounded like the butler in an old English film. He sounded very much like a tired, old man. "I remember looking into his eyes one night in the diner. Seeing all the pain he was enduring without getting medication. He told me the doctor gave him about a month to live unless he received some kind of radiation therapy. Your father knew how expensive saving his life would be-if they could even save his life. He knew all the money saved up for your college education, all the savings in case something happened to you or your mother, would be used up leaving your family with nothing. He also knew the insurance policy he had covered suicide."
Walter broke down unable to continue. Jacob worked his fingers deeper into the thin strands of hair. A wonder the old man didn't cry out as each caress became less gentle and harsher. In his mind, Jacob pictured his father sitting in the seat of the driving lawnmower. Saw him holding a piece of paper in one hand and a picture in the other. The paper contained the life insurance policy. The picture his wife and child. A gun stood nearby leaning against the engine compartment. Jacob shuddered gripping Walter's hair tighter. Walter took the pain in silence. It's my penance for killing this boy's father. Walter prayed the boy would pull harder releasing the pain this confession was causing. With fresh tears in his eyes, Walter fought his way through the rest of the story hoping he would not lose his nerve to finish it.
"That day me and your father went to the old shed out back in your yard. Your father brought a shotgun. I don't know where he got it." Jacob knew, the gun belonged to him. His dad bought it for Jacob's 9th birthday. They went hunting a week later. Even then Jacob knew something was wrong. His father barely made it into the woods before losing his breath. Many times they slumped down in one place or the other waiting for his dad to get the energy to move on. Jacob recalled asking what was the matter. He couldn't recall getting a response. "I helped him into the shed. At this time, there wasn't much of him left. The cancer being so aggressive. I often wondered how your mother never knew. But thoughts like those pass quickly when you have more pressing matters at hand. I still wasn't certain I could do it. We talked about it for hours in the diner. Mostly to allow me to get my courage up. Even in his last hours, your father spent most of his time trying to comfort me. I should've been comforting him."
Walter lifted his head to look into Jacob's eyes. Tears rolled down the boy's cheeks. Cheeks that would not see hair for a few more years. A furrow appeared between Jacob's blue eyes. Walter thought the child might be lost somewhere in deep thought. If he was, then it was for the best. This atonement seemed to be taking as much of a toll on Jacob as it did on him.
"No more pain." Walter caressed the drops away onto his own fingers. He placed his other hand on Jacob's side trying to
steady the boy. Jacob was rocking back close to falling over. "I can't continue."
Jacob removed his hand from the old man's head and ran it along the grey whiskers leading to Walter's chin. He then leaned forward and planted a light kiss on the man's lips. Walter watched as Jacob mouthed the words, "Please, I must know."
"He sat on the lawnmower placing the gun in his mouth so I didn't have to do it. I wouldn't have been able to. I leaned down and placed my finger on the trigger. It was cold, Jacob. So cold." Walter's voice trembled with the memory. "I told Michael, ‘no’. Told him I had already lost someone close to me. Told him I'd rather die than let this happen." Walter hesitated and Jacob rubbed his shoulder gently calming him down. So much like his father. Walter thought. That ability to comfort someone when your own situation was so horrible. "He removed the barrel from his mouth long enough to tell me how much he loved me. How much he loved you and your mother. He showed me the picture. Made me promise to never forget how much this meant to him and his family." Walter stopped long enough for Jacob to plant another kiss on his lips. "Then he placed the gun in his mouth and I pulled the trigger." They collapsed in each other's arms. "It was
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