Before you read this story, there are a few things you should consider:
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It contains graphic descriptions of sex between men. In some cases, these depictions may get kinky, and include borderline S&M.
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It is set in the early 1960s, an era before the Civil Rights Act of 1964 when segregation and discrimination were the norm. African Americans were referred to as Negroes or Coloreds, although the "N" word was offensive then as it is now. I have retained the language of the era because it reminds me how far we have come on race relations.
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Be aware that the effects of inflation have been profound. A good rule of thumb is to consider that $1 in 1962 is probably similar to $10 in 2008. So just add a zero at the end of any number.
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Some authors are good enough to create a mood through their words. I need help, so I'll be posted recommended musical selections throughout the story.
CHAPTER 37
Musical Recommendation:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZk2uMrQBSQ "If I Had a Hammer" by Trini Lopez
April 17, 1963
The past few days had been a whirlwind. At first, I thought that it would be tough just getting all the logistical details of the service worked out. And they had been challenging. But apparently political wheels and public relations had turned and it was announced that the President and the First Lady would attend the ceremony, honoring the sacrifice of the second son of a prominent Ohio family in defense of his country.
That had thrown a whole new loop into my plans, because now I found myself working with the White House event planning staff. Did they want to go anywhere else in Claremont? Did they want to make an appearance at the new, integrated high school?
I learned a lot about the Administration and its goals. They wanted nothing to do with civil rights issues. The South was on Fire, with marches in Birmingham and the arrest of Dr. King there for "parading without a permit." I'd seen the news reports, the stories of the Freedom Riders beaten senseless for trying to integrate the bus lines, the debacle in Albany Georgia where a pregnant black woman was beaten until she had a miscarriage, and the violence in Alabama, culminating in this latest crisis. The Administration really didn't want this to be an issue, but it was being forced on them. The last thing they wanted was to call attention to successful Northern desegregation and aim it like an arrow at the White Democratic South.
But it wasn't my goal, at least for this week, to fight that battle. It was decided that the First Couple would come in just for the ceremony, and that the President would make a brief address at the service. That was yesterday. Today, the plans had changed again. Dr. King had issued his "Letter From a Birmingham Jail," and that threatened to further ignite the situation in Alabama. The President had opted to stay in the Capitol, but the First Lady was coming anyway, and she had agreed to say a few words instead. I was still thrilled. She was such a classy lady. It was an honor for our entire family.
But timetables had to be reworked, and the ceremony had to be adjusted, and the papers had to be informed, and the guest list had to be reviewed, and it just went on and on. I had to arrange a delegation to meet the First Lady at the Airport. They were landing at Claremont's small, local field, so it wasn't far to go. There was only one person that I could choose for that: My mother. She loved the First Lady, had met her before, and had the social skills to handle the situation without incident. I told my mother and she was thrilled. It would probably be the highlight of her life.
That had also given me the opportunity to pawn off the after-ceremony party onto my parents. The White House wasn't sure if Mrs. Kennedy would be able to attend, but the Secret Service preferred my parent's house to Tonto's, so just in case she had time we planned to have the reception in the Heights.
Jeff had stayed here with me the entire time and was a tower of strength. Tonto had almost adopted him. I was so proud of her. She had pulled herself completely together, and had focused all her efforts on taking care of Janice. Of all the people involved, Janice was doing the worst. The arrival of her children had only seemed to depress her more, and she had been on heavy sedatives most of the time. Tonto had drafted her Negro maid as governess for the kids, so they were being well cared for, but it was hard on them with their mother out of commission. That's where Jeff had really come into his own. He'd spent every waking free minute he had playing with them, joking with them, or otherwise keeping them busy. Even more important, he was pulling Stefan into the loop, and that self-interested little slut was actually showing some signs of being a good, loving uncle. I was so proud of both of them. So proud, in fact, that I'd let Stefan come in and fool around with me and Jeff a couple of times. Either I was a fool, or so secure in my relationship with Jeff that I didn't let it bother me.
But this afternoon I'd reserved for myself. All of the shit that had cursed Tonto and her family had caused me to analyze my own, and it wasn't a pretty picture. My father and I were barely speaking. My mother and I were, but beneath the civilized veneer lay some snakes that had to be killed. I found that these rocks of my foundation were crumbling, and it was my own survival that was at stake here. So I'd blocked out some time and resolved to at least start to solve these problems. I had three major errands to run.
My first stop was at Crampton Construction. The building was in chaos as the new structure neared completion and the preparation for moving began. I walked in, stopping to say hi to Jeanette, and then headed up to my father's office.
"Hello," I said to his secretary. "I need to see my father for a few minutes. It's urgent, but it won't take long."
His secretary was a fearsome older lady named Mabel. I'd known her for years, but that didn't modify her cold, formal demeanor. "He's in a very important meeting."
"How long will he be?" I asked.
"I don't know," she responded.
"I'll wait," I said, sitting in the chair outside his door. I'd brought a good book to read, so I pulled that out. "Do let him know I'm here, won't you?"
"Certainly," she said, and went into the inner sanctum. I wondered how long he'd make me wait. I knew he was mad at me, so this would be a chance for him to play power games.
No more than a few minutes passed before Mabel came out. "Your father can see you now," she said, holding the door open for me.
My father was sitting behind his massive desk, studying plans of some sort. He looked up at me coldly when I walked in. "I wasn't expecting you to be here today," he said.
"I know. I hope you don't mind me just dropping in. I won't take much of your time Dad. I just had a few things I needed to say to you."
He sighed with exasperation and leaned back in his chair, girding himself for another tirade. "Go ahead."
"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for being so rude to you, and for treating you so badly." I paused, and his eyebrows moved up in surprise.
"After I told you that I was gay, and you rejected me, it hurt me really bad Dad. You probably don't realize how much I love you, and how important you've been in my life. I remember when I was in that coma after I wrecked the Pontiac. You were the one I wanted to see when I woke up. And you were there for me. Do you know how happy that made me?" I saw him swallow, but didn't give him a chance to say anything.
"I am who I am Dad, and I'm not going to change. I'm trying to accept that you don't love me anymore, and it's very hard, but I'm not going to let that get in the way of treating you with the respect that you deserve. I decided that I'd like to move back home this evening, if it's OK with you." He nodded.
"You don't have to worry about me disrupting your household, or being unpleasant. I've watched Tonto try to deal with the grief of losing her last son, and I realized that family is too important to risk. So I'm going to do my best to make sure that, even if our relationship can't be intimate like it was before, it can at least be pleasant." He just stared at me, dumbfounded.
"I do love you Dad. I just wanted you to know that. Thanks for seeing me." And then, before I broke down and cried in front of him, I basically fled from his office. I held my head high like a Crampton is supposed to do, and headed out to my car, looking as impassive as I could. I got into my car and drove away, and then, and only then, I let the tears flow for a few minutes. One down, I smiled to myself ruefully, two to go.
The next stop was at the mill. This was a tougher nut to crack, because tracking down Bill Hendrickson wasn't easy. He wandered the mill during the day because he really was a good boss. Plus his staff didn't know me, so they didn't give me the same entrees that I got at Crampton. But I had my book, and I could stand to wait.
After about half an hour Bill came lumbering back into his office. The mill offices were in a building attached to but separate from the actual plant, as if to definitively segregate the white collar and blue collar workers.
"Well look who's here!" he said in that booming good ol' boy voice. "JP, good to see you." He shook my hand and guided me into his office. "I'm sorry to hear about Billy. The Schluters sure have had their share of tragedy."
"Thanks. They sure have. I guess all of this trauma has made me evaluate the relationships in my life, and that's why I want to talk to you."
"I'm all ears," he said congenially.
"I have to admit that ever since I found out you were my real father, I've been curious about you, wondering what you were really like underneath that friendly, boisterous exterior you present. I got a glimpse when we talked at your house, and it intrigued me. I've always respected you, but I don't know the real you."
"That's understandable. I sense there's a 'but' coming in here somewhere?" This guy was sharp.
"There is," I continued. "Before we try to start up a relationship, I need to tell you something about myself. I'm a homosexual."
He looked at me obliquely. "So no grandkids?"
"Probably not," I answered simply. We just stared at each other, and I guess he expected me to blink first, to say something, but that just showed how little he knew about me.
"Were you expecting me to have a problem with that?" he asked me.
"Do you?" I countered.
"Not really. I mean, it's not the best news in the world, but I can deal with it. You're not the first, uh, gay guy in this town."
"My father hasn't handled it very well." I said somberly.
"Well, he's watched you grow up, nurtured you, and when you sprung it on him, he probably felt like he let you down."
"What do you mean, he let me down?"
"Why do you think you're gay?" he asked me. "He's probably blaming himself, thinking that he did something wrong and that's why you ended up this way. And see, I didn't raise you, I wasn't really a part of your life, so I don't carry that burden."
"Some have argued that it's genetic," I said.
"Well, in that case I'll just blame it on your mother's genes and not worry about it," he said with a chuckle.
"Thanks, uh, Bill. Is that what I should call you?" Emily Post didn't have a chapter to cover this.
"That's fine JP. You're welcome. I'll see you at the memorial service. I'm going to be in Chicago next month. I'll give you a call and maybe we can do dinner or something." He stood up, ending our conversation.
I shook his hand. "I'd like that."
I left the mill in much better spirits. Bill had given me a whole new perspective on what my father was dealing with. I began to understand him a little better.
The last meeting would be the worst. I drove up Skyline, past the familiar landmarks, down the sweeping drive, and up to the house that I'd always called home, at least before I moved to Chicago.
Vella greeted me warmly. "You moving back in here JP?" she asked.
"I'm planning on it. Is my mother here?"
"She's in your father's study, making plans for the reception." I headed to the cavernous, Old World room that served as a family office at home.
"JP," my mother said, and got up and greeted me with the standard demi-hug and kiss on the cheek. "What a pleasant surprise. Are you moving back in?"
"I planned to mother, but first there are a few things you and I need to work through." She looked at me, and I could sense her internal calculations, trying to figure out what I might throw out at her.
"But of course JP. I didn't know that we had any issues."
"We do. Were you ever planning to tell me who my real father is?" If I had punched her in the gut and kicked in her face, it wouldn't have had as much force as that. I could see her mind working, wanting to deny it but knowing that wouldn't work.
"Who told you? Bill?"
"No. My grandfather did."
"He would do that. The old cretin hated me," she said with venom.
"Well, you cheated on his son and brought someone, not of his blood, into his family. You risked a major scandal that might have jeopardized his status in the community. I'd say he had good reason."
"JP, do not judge me too harshly. I was young and stupid. Your father was working all the time and I ended up at a social event with Bill. I drank too much and he offered to drive me home. On the way, we stopped and got, uh, intimate. It was a one-time thing."
"I'm not sure that makes me feel any better mother. I'm the product of some drunken fling?"
"Well, I guess so. But that doesn't mean I didn't love you."
"I know you love me mother. I've never questioned that. But do you love Dad?"
"Of course I love your father. It was a one-time thing. We've been happily married ever since then."
"Are you sure about that mother? I was hoping that we could come out in the open with these things, air them between us, and then move on. I want our relationship to be as strong as it once was, but I can't do that if you're not going to be honest with me."
"There was only one other. An affair that was passionate, both physically and emotionally satisfying. It was wrong because of our age differences, and because he was your friend, and because I am married. But I found him irresistible, so masculine, so young, so fit, and so energetic. I could not stop myself, I could not resist. It was a crime of weakness." A tear ran down her face.
"And when he died JP, it ripped me up, just like it ripped you up. But like you, I couldn't fully expose my grief. It was one of the hardest things I've been through. And then to find out that we'd both been, well, intimate with him. That was beyond strange. But I have to tell you, and you won't believe me but I'll say it anyway, that my brief relationship with Andre has done wonders for my relationship with your father."
"You're right. I don't believe you. It sounds like a cop-out, a way to not feel guilty about it."
"I do feel guilty about it. I bear that burden every day. But it re-kindled my drives as a woman, and I was able to transmit that to your father, and it had the same effect on him. Andre jump-started my sex life with your father."
I didn't want to think about her having sex with my father so I changed the subject. "Mother, why didn't you tell me about Bill? Were you ever going to?"
"I honestly don't know JP. Now that you know, it seems like I should have told you, but before, I was worried that it would rip the fabric of our family apart."
"You know," I said, "when I first found out I hated you, condemned you, called you all kinds of names. But we both had our secrets, and now you know mine and I know yours. Let's move on. I've spent too much emotional currency agonizing over it, and no matter how hard I tried to hate you, it just didn't work. I still love you. You still inspire me."
Then something extraordinary happened. My mother hugged me. Not the half-hugs that she usually gives, with the Continental kiss on the cheek, but a real hug, one that Vella would be proud of.
"There is one secret you haven't told me JP," she said, "but I figured it out anyway."
"Jeff?" I asked.
"But of course. He is a wonderful man. Do you love him?"
"More than anything mother."
"And does he love you?"
"Yes, he does." It was so refreshing to be able to say that without any doubts.
"Good."
I went back to Tonto's where Jeff was waiting for me. "Let's go out to dinner," I told him. "I have some things to tell you."
We went to a local pizza place that I liked. It was different than the places in Chicago, which made it special. As we sat there wolfing down slices of pizza, I told him about two of my three stops. He didn't know about Bill Hendrickson yet, but I'd tell him eventually.
"JP, you did the right thing. So are you going back home tonight?"
"I was thinking we could," I said with a smile.
"Sounds good to me."
I went back to Tonto's and had an extended meeting with her. First of all, I had to go over all the arrangements that had changed, and tell her about all the decisions I'd made. Tonto didn't micro-manage me, but I still felt the need to keep her totally in the loop. It was her son, after all. Then I told her about my visit to my father.
"JP that was a bold move. And the right thing to do. You just re-claimed the moral high ground. That must have taken some balls, though. I'm very proud of you."
"Actually Tonto, it was easy. I just spoke from my heart." She eyed me curiously and I realized that was something I'd never done in the past.
"Love has been good for you," she said. "It is worth the pain, worth the risk. Never be afraid to love."
"I've experienced both of those emotions, and I have to agree with you. Although when the pain hits, it's hard to buy into that concept."
"So I suppose you're going back home now?" she asked. Nothing got past her.
"Yeah. I think that's best if I want to give my dad a chance. Will you be OK?"
"Make sure you're around a lot. And please try to get Jeff to come over. He's been amazing with the kids. I don't know how they'll handle it if he just vanished."
"I don't think I'd be able to stop him if I tried." Jeff had grown really attached to Billy's kids in a very short period of time.
It was about 9pm by the time Jeff and I left and drove up to the Heights. When we got there, he went over to Abe and Vella's, while I strode into the lion's den.
My parents were in the living room watching television, or pretending to. They both had books out as well. My mother saw me first.
"JP, welcome home!" she said. "How is Tonto today?"
"She's doing remarkably well," I said. "I went through all the arrangements for the service with her, and she seems to think it's set up how she wants it. You ready to charm the First Lady when she comes to town?"
"I am. It is a dream come true. Thanks for making sure I have the honor of being the welcoming committee."
"Bah," I said. "You're the only person in Claremont with enough class and style to make her feel comfortable."
"Why thank you," said my mother.
"Well, I'm going to go get settled. Good night!" I said cheerfully.
"JP," my father said, stopping me.
"Yeah Dad?" I said, putting on my happy face.
"I'm glad you're home." He looked at me, and it seemed to me that he had aged. I don't know when the last time I'd looked at him with compassion, but since that time, he seemed older.
"Thanks Dad. I'm glad to be home." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he just couldn't. I walked over to his chair and knelt down next to him and took his hand.
"Hey Dad, just so you know, you were a great father, the very best! I'm not gay because of anything you did." This seemed to upset him. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to tell you that." He just nodded. Were those tears in his eyes? Hard to tell.
My mother smiled at me as I sauntered off to my room. About 15 minutes after I got to my room I heard the door slide open and there was Jeff, tall, blond, and with looks that most men would die for. I was in such a good mood. I felt so liberated, having taken care of all these skeletons, that I was unhinged. That night, I wore him out. I made him fuck me everywhere, every way we could think of, and then I returned the favor.
We ended up in bed, exhausted. "Damn, you wore me out," he said.
"Are you complaining?" I asked.
"Fuck no!" I laughed.
"So you've been with me, and you've been with Stefan, who's better?" I asked jauntily.
"Stefan," he said. He laughed at my expression, which must have dropped from happy to sad pretty fast. "You, of course, dumb ass. He knows his stuff, he's got lots of experience, but there's no feeling in it. It's almost like a robot."
"He may be a robot," I smirked, "but you're a sex machine." And then I was on him again. I was worried that I would wear him out. He still had to get up early for school. But he met my passion with his own. When we were finished, though, he fell asleep almost immediately.
I sat up and just gazed at his face as he slept. He could be a Greek or Roman statue. He was kind, easy going, and passionate. It's hard to believe that he's still in high school. He is so mature for his age. Then I got paranoid, and began to wonder if, as he got older, and more mature, he'd still love me. Would he still want to spend his life with me? Or would I be too whacked out for him to handle?
He stirred in his sleep and instinctively pulled me back to him. I felt his warmth, the connection between us, and the love he projected to me even when he was sleeping, and I knew that he was the one.
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