Luke's Secret Art Chapter 2 Written By: Justin Case April 23, 2000
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction created by the author listed above. It contains a tale of gay love, and contains graphic sexual details. If this is illegal for you to read, you know what to do. If you find the material offensive, you may want to read it. I ask, if you do, read it with an open mind. If there are any similarities to actual lives, it is a coincidence. Don't try this at home unless you know what you're doing. Always practice safe sex.
Words from our author: Hey, my peoples, 'sup with you? I am grateful to the many of you who continue to write me your letters of thanks. Oh, and to the many of you who IM me, what would I do without you? I love the company. I am touched by your love for me. I want to tell you how grateful I am to all of you, how so very fortunate I am to have you all in my life.
I've been doing a lot of thinking. We need to love each other. I mean really show our love for all mankind . To be loved, we need to love. I am so very tired of the suppression of our kind because of our sexuality. A person's sexuality is as important as the car he or she drives. The only difference is we choose the kind of car we buy, we don't choose what we are attracted to. Come to think of it, it is like the car. Why do some like Fords and others Chevrolets? The lines, shapes, and color of the vehicle attract certain ones, while others choose different lines, shapes, and colors.
I am troubled by the lack of movement in our cause. I mean it's 2000 and we haven't gotten anywhere. I read last week that Vermont is allowing our kind to make "life commitments," not marriage. They justify their actions by saying we can enjoy the same rights and benefits of heteros. I think people have missed the point somewhere.
God gives man rights, and one of those rights is the ability to love. If I choose to stand before God, my family, and friends, and pledge my love until my death, no man can stop me. They can deny me insurance, tax breaks, and other manmade things. They cannot deny my love; they can call it whatever they like. I call it marriage, the union of two people for life, in the sanctity of God.
I will leave you with these final thoughts on marriage. What is the cost to society for divorces, low income subsidized rents, school meals, and child care of single parent households? How come seventy percent of hetero marriages end in divorce? How come I have to pay for their mistakes? We look to the tobacco companies and the gun companies to reimburse society for the costs incurred, caused by stupid people who make bad choices, from the industries that make the product. Scapegoats, merely scapegoats. Let's start looking to divorcees and making them pay for their responsibilities to society. That will never happen; they'd have to accept blame. People seem to have trouble with that today.
I reached our brownstone, flew up the front stairs, and ran into our comfy home. My mom was sitting in her reading chair, reading another Danielle Steele novel. I never understood why she escaped with Danielle. I mean, wasn't she happy with my dad?
My mom is a beautiful woman. She is five foot five and a half, never forget the half. She has beautiful blue eyes, which she looks at you with through her glasses. She used to wear contacts, but she has a condition called macular degeneration and can't wear contacts any more. She has the cutest little pointed nose and the softest round cheeks you ever saw. My mom has a great smile, she has large gums and is self-conscious about her smile; I love it though. My mom keeps her dark brown hair short, and permed. "I can get out of the house quicker in the morning," she'll quickly point out.
My mother, Elizabeth Anne, Betty for short, never call her Elizabeth, is the best. She's the kind of woman who sacrifices her needs and wants for mine. She makes sure the house runs smoothly. My mom spoils my dad and me rotten. She always has to have perfect order and control, nothing spur of the moment. She works for Mass General Hospital, in 'hospital information systems'- computers. My mom is the Director of the Systems of Mass General.
"Luke, is that you?" My mom said as she looked up from her book. She never read with her glasses and was pretty blind without them.
"Yep, it's me, Mom. I'm only here for a little while. Travis invited me to the movies. Where's Dad?" I said, and asked. Hey, I was kinda in a rush.
"Who, dear, what? Oh, your father is at the office, he had to take a deposition. Something about a Grand Jury thing. What did you say about the movies, honey?" Mom said.
"Oh, I met this really cool kid, Travis, he's an artist too. He liked my "She Waits". He and I are going out tonight. I hope it's OK," I said, and froze with a little fear that my parents had other plans for me.
"That's great, Luke. Do we know his parents? You know the rule," Mom stated with conviction. My dad had a rule: if he or Mom didn't know the parents, I couldn't go unsupervised.
"Well, gee, Mom, sure, you met his mom last year at the Carver Art Show. Don't you remember?" I had to be quick, so I kind of lied.
"Umm, no, I can't really say. I vaguely remember," Mom said. That was her way of saying she didn't have a clue, but wasn't going to be embarrassed by her own poor memory.
"Well, that's OK, Mom. I didn't really remember either. I ran into him at Alston Beats, he works there, he remembered," I said, and that was the truth.
"Oh, he works, he has a job. I seem to remember something. Yes, I do his Mom's on the PTO. Right?" Mom said, trying to convince herself for the inquisition that would come from Dad.
"I don't really know about that, Mom, her name is Mrs. Jensen. You remember," I said and hoped it would work. Mom usually took my side and would defend me to the hilt where my father was concerned.
"Oh yeah, Mrs. Jensen. I remember. Well, you have a good time and be home by midnight," Mom said, as she returned to her book.
"Thanks, Mom. Hey, Mom," I said, with my best smile. My two front teeth were all I could feel.
"Yes, Luke?" she asked.
"I love you, Mom," I said and ran up the stairs to my bedroom.
I hoped Helga had done the laundry. Helga was our maid; she was from Germany. She was a very large woman. Helga had long dark hair that she wore on top of her head under a kerchief. She had the nicest brown eyes, set deep into her forehead, below her dark bushy eyebrows. Helga had a large nose too, just like me. She was a little taller than my mom, but much larger around.
I wanted to look my best for Travis. I stood in front of my closet, staring, hoping the right clothes would jump out at me. I had no idea what to wear. I never went to the movies with someone else, and wanted to look my best. So I decided to wear my sharp button down with sharkskin pants. I wondered if I should take a shower; yep, I smelled my pits, I needed a shower.
I took a quick shower, threw on some cologne, CK One, my favorite, and my threads. Did my hair, spiked it, that always made me look taller. A guy my size had to use whatever he could to get the height advantage. I couldn't believe how nervous I was.
Ring, ring, I heard the phone. Knock-knock on my bedroom door. "Mr. Luke, telephone for you. It's a Mr. Travis," Helga's voice came through my door.
I could feel my heart as it raced. This was it, do or die. He remembered, well I did have my doubts. I crossed my bedroom floor toward the desk under the bay window. I picked up the receiver.
"Hello?" I said into the phone.
"Luke? It's me, Travis. You ready? I was heading over to pick you up. We still on?" Travis said into my ear. Hey, he seemed to be as unsure of me changing the plans as I was of him.
"Are you kidding? I have been on pins and needles. I can't wait," I said to him and meant every word.
"Great, traffic and weather permitting, I should be there in like seventeen minutes," Travis said to me.
"Wow, like specific, huh? I mean, seventeen minutes?" I inquired of him.
"Well, yeah, I know exactly how long it takes me to get there. If I said fifteen, you might think twenty, but when I say seventeen you know I mean it," he said to me. It made perfect sense.
"I'll be downstairs waiting for you. Hey, one thing, you have to come in and meet my mom," I said as calmly as I could; I didn't want to scare him away.
"No problem, that's cool that your mom cares for you," he said nonchalantly.
I was on cloud fucking nine; I had found a friend. Who knows, maybe something would come of it. I wouldn't push it, though; one step at a time. Yes, one little baby step at a time.
I went down to the reading room. My mom was still engrossed in Danielle Steele, sitting in her reading chair. I liked the reading room the best of all. There was a certain calmness I felt whenever I was in it. The room was done in shades of pink. Mom had a decorator do the reading room. "I want this to be the most comfortable place in the house," she said, convincing herself and my dad.
My dad let her have the run of the house, right behind him. Mom could do whatever she wanted as long as Dad said it was all right. Dad was a stern, old fashioned Bostonian lawyer. He ruled his home like a kingdom. He had but one rule; his rule was number one.
"Mrs. Rogers, Mr. Luke, is there anything I can get for you?" Helga said to us as she poked her head into the doors of the reading room.
"No thank you, Helga. Do you have a plate fixed for Mr. Rogers? He'll be hungry when he gets home, I imagine," Mom said as she reached for her glasses on the Queen Anne table next to her chair.
"Yes, ma'am," Helga said as she came into the reading room to pick up the small plate and the dirty glass next to my mom. Mom sometimes had crackers and cheese with a glass of red wine while she read.
"Helga, I'm expecting a friend shortly. Just bring him in when he gets here, please," I said to her as she took the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
I sat there watching my mom read, and waiting for Travis. I looked up to the mantel and noticed my painting was gone. I had done a seascape at sunup and it had hung there for months. I wondered what happened to it.
Ding dong, ding, ding dong. I heard the bell ring. It was Travis. I checked my watch, exactly seventeen minutes after he had hung up. Let's count his attributes again and add to them: thoughtful, sincere, and punctual. He was getting better with each encounter.
"Mr. Luke, Mrs. Rogers, a Mr.Jensen is here and requests your attention," Helga said as she showed Travis into the reading room. She was laying on the formality a little thick, I remembered thinking.
"Well, hello, Mr. Jensen. It is so good to see you again. What has it been, a year now? How's your darling mother?" Mom said as she stood to be greeted the proper way. She extended her hand to my caller.
"It is so good to be in your company once again, Mrs. Rogers. May I kiss your hand?" Travis said as he crossed the room and took my mother's hand to kiss it. Man, gag me with a spoon, this was Boston, Massachusetts, not frigging England, eighteenth century. We'll have to add to his list of character, manners, and extremely good manners.
"Such a gentleman. It is an honor to have you here, Mr. Jensen," my mother said as she took her place back in her chair. "Would you care to have a seat?" she asked.
"Well, I would, ma'am, but we have an eight o'clock reservation for dinner. Perhaps the next time," Travis said to my mom, as he gave me a nod of his head.
"Yeah, well, Mom, we'll see you later," I said as I got up to leave with Travis. I couldn't wait to get out of this plastic place.
We took a yellow cab to Sardi's, a fine Italian restaurant in the center of the city. We laughed the whole way there. I felt so at ease with Travis, we had so much in common.
"Hey, buddy, can I ask you something personal?" Travis said to me as we sat there eating our dinner.
"Sure, you can ask me anything you want. I may even tell you the truth," I quipped as I smiled at him. I could feel my teeth, they took up my whole mouth.
"What's it like, living in royalty?" he said, and laughed.
"Yeah, I know, pretty thick, huh?" I said, and laughed with him. "I don't know what gets into them. If we are left to ourselves, we act pretty normal, but when someone comes over, they all put on the airs," I said, and looked at him to check out his reaction.
"It's cool, I guess. I see it a lot around here. I was in New Hampshire last month with my cousins; people there are real," he said, and smiled at me. He reached his hand across the table and patted mine.
We finished up our meal and headed for the movies. We decided to see "Lethal Weapon"; we both liked action movies and Mel Gibson. We had a great time together. No pressure to act or be a certain way, I was able to be me. I had never had such a relaxing time with anyone before. After the movie we took a cab back to my place.
"Luke, I had a nice time. I hope we can be friends. I really don't have any, and you make me feel so comfortable," Travis said to me as I was going to get out of the taxi.
"Yeah, Travis, I hope you really mean it, 'cause I feel the same way. I don't have any friends except my paints. I had a great time with you too," I said as I got out of the cab.
"Luke, I have tomorrow off. You want to get together, maybe do some skating or something?" Travis said, and he said it like he didn't want me to leave.
"Hey, buddy, I have nothing to do for ten days. I'd love to spend as much time with you as I can," I said to him and closed the door to the cab. I looked through the window and mouthed "Call Me" and waved good-bye. I turned and skipped to my door.
I was floating on air. I have a friend, a real friend. I had never had a friend before. I hoped I could keep him. I mean, we shared similar interests in painting, food, and movies. I really liked Travis, more than liked him. I felt an attraction to him. I couldn't let him know though, I lived in shame of my sexuality. I would just be his friend, I decided as I climbed the stairs to our brownstone.
I couldn't figure my sexuality out. I mean, why was it wrong for me to like other boys? Who decides what is right for me? I mean, whom I like should be up to me and the person I like, but not in this world. I hate Catholicism; it preaches fear and hate as far as I can tell. The real hypocrisy was, all the priests seemed to like little boys, well not all of them, but quite a few. I mean, I was only fifteen and it seemed like sexual preference was a gift from God, not from fellow man. Was I smarter than the rest of the world, or were they just living with facades?
I went to sleep that night, and dreamt pleasant dreams of desert islands. I dreamt of Travis. I was happy to have found him and he seemed happy to have found me. I would live with whatever consequences came our way.
Well, peeps, that's it for now. I hope you're enjoying the story. Like a good wine, it takes time before it's ready. I want to thank the many of you who write me. I want to thank Ed, my editor, for his tireless energy in cleaning up my work. I also want to pass along a big thank you to the guy that got me started a month ago, DJPaul, without whom you wouldn't know me. It was DJ that inspired me to write. I wish him well in his move. Thanks to all of you. Write me at Justin69SK@aol.com if you want.