Sixteen

[Note: This story is not light, "one-handed entertainment". If that is what you seek, please consider selecting another story. This is a very well-crafted, complicated story that may be disturbing and painful to some readers who will be uncomfortable with a stark study of relationships. -- NA]

This story depicts same sex relationships that may be offensive to some readers. Please stop right now if it offends you. Please do the same if are not 18 yet.

The story is total fiction. None of the characters are real. Any resemblance with people dead or alive is purely coincidental.

The story or any part of it can be stored, archived and reproduced freely without any limitations, unless it's done for commercial purposes. Neither the story nor any part of it can be used for commercial purposes.

I would like to thank everyone who helped me tremendously by providing their feedback. My special thanks to Mathis B. Rogers whose invaluable comments helped to shape the story into what it is now.

Comments, suggestions, criticism: oki_toshi@hotmail.com. Enjoy!

"Nun zum Peneios frisch hinab! Herr Vetter ist nicht zu verachten. Am Ende haengen wir doch ab Von Kreaturen, die wir machten". Goethe.

Chapter One. Rainy days.

There were very few people on the train to Seattle when Tom boarded it on that grim fall day. Tiny streams of rain were rolling across the train windows, almost horizontally from one end to the other. Tom kept staring out of the window. Woods of different shades of green, stretched as far as the eye could see. They looked a bit sinister in the rain. But they also looked comforting in a strange way.

A girl - probably seventeen or eighteen years old passed him by. His eyes were fixed on her without seeing, as she walked down the passage. She turned around and smiled at him. He smiled back, but he was not really looking. The rain kept falling and except for a sea of different shades of green, he could make out nothing in the landscape outside the window.

Did his wife guess the real purpose of this trip? There was nothing unusual about it, except that he was taking the train. Otherwise he often went to Seattle to meet with his main publisher. There seemed to have been a shade of suspicion in the look she gave him before he left. But it might be his imagination again. After all, he was a writer, wasn't he? Tom smiled to himself. He wasn't much of a writer before Sixteen came out. That novel made him. Did he manage to write anything after it? Books that followed were successful, but what would he be remembered for at the end? Probably Sixteen.

This time he was not going to Seattle to visit his publisher. If Helen did guess, she guessed right. He wanted to see Bill Snyder again. How long ago was it since they had first met? His daughter's twentieth birthday was just two weeks ago. Yes. That's it. Twenty years, almost exactly.

The train stopped with a jolt. Seattle already? Tom stretched and let other people walk past him to the exit. He just didn't want to get up. The feeling of the warm train seemed to permeate his entire being, he hated the idea of having to get up and moving outside into this awful rainy day. But the goal of his visit suddenly surfaced in his brain, and Tom forced himself up. Outside he got a cab and asked the driver to take him to his usual hotel in the centre of the city. At least there he thought he would relax.

It was already quite dark, and Tom just wanted to shower and go to bed. He couldn't think of anything he would rather do at this moment. Just relax in the shower, plop down on the bed and go to sleep. But Tom never slept well at hotels. He knew that. He turned on the bedside light and started to read. Pages were flying by quickly, but he wasn't following the book. His eyes saw the written words, but his mind was wandering somewhere...

He rolled over in bed and looked at the red digits of the clock radio on his night stand. It was only nine thirty. That early? He couldn't be seriously going to go to sleep at this hour. Maybe he should just gather up his courage, get up and make that phone call?! It has been hanging over him like fate itself. Just get it over with. What is the worst thing that could happen? He could always go back to the way things were. "The way things were". For twenty years now he wasn't sure what was that "way". Nah. He'd wait till next day.

Tom stared at the white ceiling above his bed. In the darkness of his room he couldn't really tell what colour it was. But ceilings were usually white, weren't they.

Tom pushed back the covers, turned on the light, and got out of bed. He started pacing the room. Back and forth, back and forth. It was still early, he should just pick up the phone and call. He opened the closet and felt the pockets of his raincoat. There it was. He took the magazine out and stared at the cover again. There was a photo of a man in his thirties on the cover, and the title under it read: "Bill Snyder: The Man and His Art".

He touched his forehead. It felt cold and moist. He was perspiring. Tom couldn't help but smile. After all these years and still the same effect. Even perspiration. No, he wouldn't call today. Too tired to deal with it right now...

Tom was waiting at his dentist's office when his eyes caught the cover of the magazine. There was no need for the title. He would recognise Bill anywhere. The same elongated face, deep blue eyes, like two lakes - wild and beautiful. So sad and seductive. Even on that picture. Of course, now it was a man rather than a boy staring at him from the magazine cover. But the effect he had on Tom was the same as it had been twenty years ago. Tom made sure he was alone and stuck the magazine in a pocket of his raincoat. There was no need for that, his doctor would have gladly given it to him, but he was afraid of questions.

That night he got home before his wife and daughter. He quickly went to the bedroom, took the magazine out, and lay down on the bed. The article spoke about the exhibition of Bill's work that just ended in London. There was an interview and another picture. Tom felt a blob forming in his chest. His entire body was shaking and his head started to spin. Twenty years! For God's sake, he thought he had already forgotten the whole damn thing. And here it was, fresh as ever, after all those years!

In the semidarkness of his hotel room, Tom's memory was serving him the all to familiar pictures of twenty years ago again...

How did it start back then? He would never forget it. He was twenty five then, and a few months into a great marriage. He was coming back to Seattle with his wife. Having just graduated, he got a job with one of the local magazines. It was great to come back after what seemed like almost an eternity. He would see all his old friends again. His family... All through that trip across the country, in their new car (so tiny, but new!), he kept chatting and giggling and making stupid jokes and laughing at them... Helen laughed with him.

"Wow, that trip has sure put you in a good mood. We should do it more often", she would observe sometimes, "I love you being silly like this."

They reached Seattle at the end of August. The events of the first week or two, seemed crushed together into one blurry mass of parties, drinking, talking till wee hours of the morning, and then more parties, more drinking and more talking, so that by the end he and Helen lost track of time. Everyone seemed happy to see Tom, and Helen, thanks to her great looks, and irresistible charm, didn't have any trouble becoming part of what used to be Tom's circle.

But September came and it was time for Tom to go to work. After a couple of months the routine settled in. A new life back home.

It happened on a rainy day in September. The day so similar to this one. He was driving home late one afternoon and stopped for gas. He never usually stopped for gas at that place, but it had a car wash and he decided to treat his car today. He was almost done filling up the gas tank, when he heard his name being called. He turned around. There in front of him stood a middle aged man. He had neatly cut short grey hair, appeared slim under a large baggy raincoat and had a cheerful smile on his face.

"Well, Tom, old buddy. Forgetting your old friends?" he asked in mock indignation.

Tom suddenly felt ill at ease. God, how could he do it! In so many months here, he didn't even call Mr Mitchell once! And yet, they were so close when he was in high school. He had the man to thank for his career, forget career, this man made him for God's sake!

"I am so sorry Mr Mitchell", he started mumbling.

"Oh! Cut it out!" interrupted the older man. "In so many years of teaching, you get used to that sort of thing. And by the way, time has come for you to just call me Rob".

"Ok... Rob... But still, I think I should make it up to you. Come on, ask me something. Anything. After all, I owe you so much of what I am now..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Where would you be today without the ol'man Mitchell?" said Rob interrupting Tom and giving him a slight pat on the shoulder. "But seriously now. You would be glad to know that I could really use your help."

"Oh, oh! What am I getting myself into?!"

"Well, if it's not too much to ask, I would like you to come to school one of these days and speak to the kids in my English class. I mean an aspiring writer, like yourself... The kids will enjoy it", the teacher smiled at Tom.

Nothing seemed to have changed in Mr Mitchell's classroom from the time when he had been a student. The same portraits of Mr Mitchell's favourite writers: Joyce, Beckett, Faulkner, Hemmingway... It was a classroom like any other and at the same time quite a unique one. Mr Mitchell's classroom.

His speech was short, kids seemed to enjoy it. They even asked a few questions. The bell rang. It was the last period and the kids started to gather their stuff quickly anxious to get out. Mr Mitchell was yelling at the top of his lungs reminding everyone about the test tomorrow. A small group of kids crowded around Mr Mitchell's table. They didn't seem to be in a hurry to get home after their last period. Just like the old times. Those spontaneous talks at Mr Mitchell's table were what Tom loved most when he was a student in Mr Mitchell's class. You could talk about anything anyway you wanted. The teacher seemed to intervene very rarely. But this time it was someone else's turn to have fun. Tom sat down at one of the desks and waited for the group to dissipate. In a few minutes all of them were gone. All of them but one, that is.

"Tom", Mr Mitchell called him, "Meet Bill Snyder. Here, Bill, when Tom had been my student he used to be a pain in all the same places you are now!"

Tom got up from his chair and stepped forward towards Bill. They shook hands and Bill smiled at him revealing two perfect rows of pearls. After they broke their handshake, the world as Tom knew it ceased to exist. In its place, filling up all the void was this boy in front of him. This sixteen year old boy. Tom felt slowly drowning in those deep blue eyes... From somewhere that must have been in a different universe, Tom heard a voice:

"So, Tom, can I bother you to give Mr Snyder here a ride home. You are going in the same direction anyway. I am afraid he missed his carpool now, so you'll be doing him and me a favour. Are you all right? Tom?"

Tom turned his head in the direction of the voice and his eyes met those of Mr Mitchell's. He caught a strange glimmer in the old teacher's eyes, but it only lasted a second. Calling all his remaining will power to the task, Tom regained his composure. Or whatever was left of it.

"Yeah, I'd be glad to", he answered quietly, trying as hard as he could to suppress his emotion. He just wanted to jump of joy. "Come on, Bill".

A warm feeling seemed to envelop Tom's entire bodies. These were indeed the sweetest memories of his life. Tom looked at the magazine cover once again. He just couldn't keep his eyes off of it. He rubbed his left shoulder. Bill used to love massaging his shoulders. He would always initiate love making with that massage. Tom would usually be sitting - helpless, unable to move, or even say anything. Just moan. Bill would slowly unbutton his shirt and Tom would think he would die every time the kid's fingers touched his bare skin. Then Bill would start kneading his shoulders like dough, gently at first, then getting stronger and stronger. It always started like that...

Tom felt a stirring in his loins. If he kept his memories going, he could climax almost without touching himself. He laughed at that. Bill used to joke about Tom's manhood growing out of his shoulders, and that they should have a bet about him being able to climax just by rubbing himself there. Tonight it seemed almost possible. He laughed again.

At some point into the massage, it would become just too much for Tom. He would spring up and face Bill. The kid would be undressed by that time. They would jump at each other like a couple of wild animals, locking each other in a bear hug, falling down on the carpet, just rolling there wrestling and growling. And yet their sex wasn't rough. It was loving and tender, in spite of all this wrestling. They climaxed together almost always. Sometimes wrestling alone would be too much for them, and after a short and very passionate "match", at the moment when their bodies seemed to be on the verge of breaking the boundaries separating them from each other, they would cum all over each other, and then just lay there breathing hard, unable to move.

"You know what separates me from you", Bill once asked as he caught his breath, and a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"No, what?"

"A crowbar!"

One thing that especially struck Tom, was that he tremendously enjoyed the afterglow. He remembered his first time. It was in high school. A warm night in the beginning of the summer. They all just had a party at this girl's house, and made a horrible mess. He and a couple of other kids stayed to help clean up. When it was all done, he was sitting on the back porch, looking at the dark moonless sky covered with a multitude of stars. The air was fresh but not cold. Then the girl joined him. She sat down on the stairs next to him and he could feel her body's warmth without touching her. He didn't know what came over him, but pulled her to himself and planted an awkward but firm kiss on her lips. She pulled him up and led him to her bedroom. They undressed quickly, with pieces of their clothing flying all over the room. He was on top of her and the tight warm sensation around his organ was not to be compared with anything in this world. The climax came fast. All too fast. Nothing could describe that feeling, and he was totally exhausted and a little disappointed. And there was another feeling too. At first he couldn't understand what it was and then he suddenly realised. He wanted the girl to disappear. It wasn't right for her to be there with him, just didn't feel right. Her job was done, she had to go. When he opened his eyes the next morning, she was gone. He got dressed slowly and sneaked out of the house without saying good-bye. When he grew older, that feeling stopped coming back, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he still remembered the sensation.

It was different with Bill. Anything they did together was just way too much fun for any gloom, no matter how small, to creep in.

"Hey baby! I did ok, didn't I?" Bill asked with pride in his voice. He was calling Tom a "baby". Jeez, he was talking to a twenty five year old man! Tom was shaking with mirth. He was rolling all over the carpet. Then he rolled on top of Bill and started covering his naked body with kisses. Bill was well built. He was very slim and good to the touch. The tender, silky skin was like that of a child. He didn't have much definition anywhere, but not an ounce of fat either.

"You are the best and always will be", Tom finally said and hopped up to go to the bathroom to clean himself up.

"Yeah, right", Bill answered faking disbelief. "Look, you've got Helen, you are just playing around. What are you doing to me, though, ruining my life?" And he laughed that infectious irresistible adolescent laugh of his.

"He's joking all right, but how much truth is in there?", Tom couldn't help wondering. Was he really ruining the kid's life? If so, it had to stop right now, but he knew only too well that he could never stop it on his own. He came back from the bathroom. Bill was still lying on the carpet. Tom propped himself on the elbow next to him.

"Bill", he said covering the kid's mouth with his hand. "Why don't you just shut the fuck up!"

"Make me!"

"Fine, you asked for it!" and he planted a big wet kiss on Bill's mouth. Bill responded and they explored each other mouths for what seemed like an eternity.

"Any more of your nasty comments?"

"Nah. Like they say. If rape is unavoidable, just relax and enjoy yourself".

"I take it as an invitation, then".

"Whatever".

"Oh, please, don't sound so indifferent. Something tells me you can't wait"

They started spending more and more time together. Bill became a fixture in Tom's household. Helen seemed to like him, and he would very often tag along when they would go on short weekend trips, exploring their spectacular surroundings. When Rachel was born, Helen seemed absorbed by her entirely, and put fewer demands on Tom being around. Or so it seemed to him. He started spending more of his free time with Bill. Quite consciously, Tom was trying very hard to inject Bill with his views, values, thoughts. He wanted the kid to see things a little bit his way. How selfish and immature, he now thought... Bill, on the other hand, seemed to care more about just plain having fun. He liked games, sports, and was always adventurous in everything he did. Both of them were giving equally to the relationship, in different ways, and that was why they were never bored with one another's company.

The blow came, as always, quite unexpectedly. Helen found out. She was too perceptive and knew her husband only too well. She had noticed the look in his eyes when he was watching Bill a while ago and sure enough there were enough clues dropped here and there for her to suspect what was going on. But Helen tried to keep it to herself. Maybe it was her imagination? After all, they were good friends. Until she found the greeting card Bill sent Tom on his birthday. There was no need to send a card like that, and of course Tom had to be careful about it. The best thing was to destroy it, but just like all that came from Bill, he couldn't help it. It meant the world to him and he had to keep it.

He was in the house just finishing dinner when she found it. When he walked into the room he saw her sitting at the table staring at it. She seemed calm at first.

"So, you probably want me to leave now, don't you?", she asked.

"Honey, what are you talking about?", he mumbled helplessly.

"Oh, you know darn well what I am talking about!", she screamed. "He stole you from me a long time ago, that fucking bastard"

"Don't you dare call him that!", Tom yelled back in a sudden flash of anger. He regretted it in the next moment, but the words were out. Helen stared at him for a second, and then on the top of her lungs yelled:

"I will call him what I fucking please!!!", tears were rolling down her cheeks, she fell on the floor. Tom had never seen her like that. He rushed towards her, tried to pick her up. Hold her. She started hitting him and scratching his face. Tom just tried to hold her as tight as he could, whispering "It's ok, it's ok" in her ear and kissing her gently on the back of her head. She was just shaking in his embrace one tight ball of nerves. Then she saw blood on his face, and that seemed to calm her down.

From then on, every night when he would come home from work, she would meet him with a meek, almost apologetic smile.

"I shouldn't be alive", she once said. "Helen!" "Oh, be quiet. You are stuck with me now. And the baby. At least if it weren't for the baby you could go live with him". "Darling", he answered, "I love you. Nothing has changed!" "Nothing has changed", she repeated thoughtfully. "Except that now I am like a thorn in your eye". She got up and went to the kitchen to fix his supper. Something had to be done to end all this. Tom had a good job opportunity in Vancouver, but he never thought of it seriously because of Bill. Now it was precisely the reason to think seriously about it. Games fate plays with us...

Exhausted Tom finally fell asleep. When he awoke, it was already afternoon. He stared at the hotel room ceiling above him for a second not understanding where he was and what he was doing there. Then he saw the magazine lying on the desk near the phone, and his memory came back. He got up, took a long shower, stalling on purpose, avoiding the unavoidable. The phone, the regular hotel phone - a white ugly device with solid buttons and instructions printed all over the dial. No, he couldn't wait any longer. He had to make that call. Maybe Bill won't even be home. Maybe the number he got from the information would turn out to be the wrong one. He dialled with the shaking hand.

"Hello", said the voice on the other end. For a split second Tom couldn't talk. No sound would come out of his throat. "Hi", he finally mastered, he heard himself say it, or it had to be him since there was no one else in the room. His heart was ready to jump out of his mouth with the sounds of this simple word. "Yes? What can I do for you?" "Bill? Is that you?" Tom was slowly regaining his composure. "Yes. Who is this?" "It's me, Tom. Remember?" There was a pause. "It has been a long time, hasn't it? How are you doing, Tom?", he sounded calm. "I am ok. How are you? Looks like you are quite a celebrity now". "Not compared to you, I am not". Now it was Tom's turn to be quiet. "Listen", he finally said, "Why don't we meet for dinner tonight, unless you've made other plans already?" "No, I haven't". "Well great, you got any preferences?" "How about I pick you up at the hotel at about eight?" "Fine. See you then". "Cool. Bye, Tom".

The line went dead. Tom hung up the phone and looked at his watch. It was only twenty after six. He sighed. An hour and forty minutes. He sat down in front of the TV set and tried to channel surf. He couldn't concentrate on anything and turned it off after about half an hour. He tried reading, but his thoughts drifted away from the book. Finally, he just got dressed and decided to go downstairs into the lobby. It was only a quarter to eight.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Tom was standing right by it, so he just turned the handle and opened it. The lights from the hallway were very dim, but even though, they didn't hide the beauty of his visitor. Tom moved aside and the young man stepped in. He was no more than eighteen, Tom thought. His beauty now shined in the bright light of the room in all its sensual glory. He wasn't very tall - about Tom's height and looked young and fragile. Thoughtful brown eyes and long eyelashes, almost like those of a girl, added to the impression he gave of fragility. He wore blue jeans, a polo shirt and a pair of running shoes. Nothing stunning, but he made it seem like the best thing in the world to wear. A model's quality, Tom thought.

"Hello, Mr Webber. Chris Labreau", he said smiling and stretching his hand out for a handshake.

"It's Tom. And nice meeting you, Chris". He kept staring at the boy. He found it hard to keep his eyes away from the kid. It wasn't really his beauty so much, as Tom was starting to realise, but a certain inexplicable charm that just seemed to fill up the entire space around the young man. He didn't know what to say. The right thing would have been just to ask his visitor to what he owed the pleasure and the honour. Before he regained his composure, Chris broke the awkward pause:

"Bill sends his apologies, but he isn't feeling well tonight. So, he asked me to pick you up and bring you to our place. We can all have dinner there." Tom was baffled. Too many puzzles for one short speech. Who was this kid? And then "our" place?.. He wanted to ask Chris, but the boy seemed to be reading his mind.

"Oh", he said, "I am in Bill's class at the Art Institute. Bill rents out part of his house to me. I don't pay the rent, but have to kind of look after the house, you know, help Bill around the studio, things like that. It's not a lot of work and I like it. Besides, being so close to a master like Bill... I am pretty lucky".

"I agree!", said Tom and smiled. "Let's get going". The ride to Bill's house didn't take them that long, since it wasn't a rush hour. Bill owned a beautiful house, almost a mansion on the East Side. The table was set on the patio. It wasn't raining and the evening was brisk but very pleasant.

"Hello, Tom!", Bill greeted him. "Thanks for bringing him, Chris. We are about ready here".

They all sat down at the small table. What was the meaning of this, Tom couldn't help thinking. Obviously Bill was afraid to stay alone with him. He could certainly understand it, but he was hoping they could be alone for the evening. There was so much to catch up on. After dinner they just sat on the porch looking into the night and listening to the silence broken only by the occasional sound of the wind shuffling the tree tops. The tree line started just a few yards away from the porch. Old, tall pine trees. Their dark silhouettes were barely visible in the night.

"So, I see you are doing quite well. All that publicity", Tom said to fill a pause in the conversation.

"Oh, it won't be the first time", Bill answered and laughed a little. Tom blushed at this comment. It was fortunate that Bill couldn't see it in the dark. The only light they had came from inside the house and the candles on the table. Tom could only see Bill's face in the faint red glimmer of the candle flame. Chris pushed his chair back, towards the house, and no light fell onto his face.

"I am sorry, old man", Tom finally said. His desire to hug Bill and squeeze him tight against his chest was almost unbearable. But there was a student here. He had to control himself.

"Ah, it's ok. Don't think about it. Besides, I've got Chris here, and he is a great help. He's flipped out of course, but you know what, at times I envy his passion. I wish I could carry something like that into my paintings".

"Bill!!!", Chris was trying to protest, but Bill stopped him with one gesture. "I have no idea how he does it, but whenever you see his painting, it's forever in your mind. It may seem like it faded or went away. But one day you will suddenly find yourself thinking about it".

They were just sitting there sipping their drinks, listening to the silence of the night.

The next morning Tom was going to return to Vancouver. Chris volunteered to see him off. They were walking together towards Tom's train, Chris carrying Tom's suitcase.

"All right, Chris. Thanks for seeing me off", said Tom taking the suitcase from Chris's hand.

"Oh, please don't mention it, Tom. How many opportunities does a guy like me have to be so close to his favourite author. Oh, I didn't even ask you for an autograph. Damn! The guys are never going to believe I met Tom Webber and had dinner with him". Tom grinned slightly, wrapped his arm around Chris's shoulders and pulled him close.

"That can be easily fixed, I am sure. Look. Those paintings Bill spoke about..." "Oh, yeah... It wasn't terribly nice of him, was it?" Chris said and frowned a little. Like a cloud suddenly passing through his beautiful face. "Au contraire. I would love to see some of those one day". Chris's face lighted up again. "That's not a problem at all! I could bring them over to Vancouver and show you!" "Yeah, why not. Well, time for me to go. Good bye, kid. Thanks for everything!"

Chapter 2. The Mountain.

Again Tom was looking through the train window. There was not too much sun that day, but at least it wasn't raining. The green outside of the train window was so abundant and luscious Tom could almost feel it envelop him. "I am essentially green", he thought. That thought pleased him for some strange reason.

With his mind's eye Tom tried to go over the events of the visit. Bill was afraid to stay alone with him. He couldn't blame him. He moved to Vancouver so abruptly, without even saying good bye, without telling Bill he was moving. He had Helen and his baby to think about, of course, but did the move have to be that abrupt? In his mind, he kept coming back to what Bill said to him once laughingly about playing with his life. Cutting him off like this was brutal.

During the first year of his separation from Bill, Rob Mitchell called him a few times in Vancouver. He said he feared for Bill's life. The kid stopped eating, couldn't sleep. Whatever little he ate, his tortured organism would reject immediately. His behaviour became psychotic, he had to go to the hospital. Mr Mitchell said that all that was happening exceeded a nervous break down in his opinion, and he begged Tom to come back. At least call Bill and talk to him. But Tom didn't do it. He cut a piece of himself off and left it in Seattle. That was it. He belonged to his family now. To his baby. There was no coming back.

A few years later, he started working on Sixteen. He worked days and nights on it, pouring all of himself into the manuscript. The whole house smelled of coffee. All those years of passion were materialising on paper. Helen kept silent all that time. Only once she observed quietly: "He was stealing you away from me then, he is doing it again now. I know you need to do it. Don't worry".

At last the manuscript was ready. Usually Helen edited all his manuscripts before he sent them to the publisher. That was part of their relationship. They were working on it as a team. "You don't have to edit this one, honey", he said trying to put all the tenderness he was capable of into his voice. "It's ok. A book is a book is a book", his wife answered. "I will just look at it as a soulless corrector".

And she did it. On the day when she was finally done, he could barely recognise her beautiful face when she lifted her eyes from the last page. He came up to her, knelt beside the table and put her head on his shoulder. She almost collapsed into his arms, her body shook violently and she vomited a yellow liquid substance on his shoulder.

"I am ok", her voice was barely audible. "Just tired".

Tom shelved the manuscript. Too much pain had already gone into it, how much more did people around him have to suffer? But after that episode, Helen seemed rejuvenated. It was as if she purged herself of all the pain that the events of the past had left. Her yearning for her husband became insatiable. In due course, Kevin was born.

"Why don't you publish Sixteen?", Helen asked him once. "Because I don't want you to get hurt again, darling", he replied softly. "Oh, come on! You barely even mentioned me in the novel. I could never figure out why. There could have been an entire episode in itself!" "Honey", he said with a note of surprise in his voice, "this was supposed to be a pure love story, whatever I would say about you, it would just hurt you". "Well, couldn't you write about me being jealous? See, now everyone who reads it would love Bill and sympathise with him. I am totally out of the picture, don't you see it?" "Oh, come on honey. You know the character in the story isn't real. It's a Bill of my imagination, a perfect Bill. I created him". "I know you did. But without so much love for the real one, you couldn't have done it". "Are you implying I wasn't in love with you? Look I left him for you! What can be more of a proof than that? It's just that there couldn't be a place for you in the novel, except as a jealous, suffering wife".

"Then this is the way I should have appeared. Ugly and hateful".

Tom often wondered about that conversation. The female psychology appeared so incomprehensible. At first the novel hurt Helen almost physically, but then she wanted to be in it, no matter how painful it could be. He gave up trying to understand it.

Nevertheless, he followed his wife's advice. After such a long time he almost lost interest in the novel, but no matter how little he thought of the work now, he wanted to see it in print.

The novel was very well accepted both by the media and the public. Just like Helen predicted, everyone loved the character of Bill Snyder. Then one diligent reporter discovered the real Bill. His picture appeared on the cover of one of the tabloids without his consent. To avoid any further publicity, Bill didn't sue the tabloid. The reporters besieged him. His perspective marriage was off, his good friends became aloof, and even his family seemed somehow to be pushing him away. With time the raucous just died down by itself, but like a hurricane, it passed and took most of Bill's life with it.

Only a few weeks passed since Tom's visit to Seattle and his meeting with Bill. One day, when he came back home from a visit with his publisher, Helen was sitting in the living room, reading. He bent down and kissed her. "Oh, honey", she said returning his kiss, "While you were out, a young man stopped by. He said he was bringing something he promised you in Seattle. It's a painting". "Really? Where is he?" "He had to catch a train back and Kevin volunteered to take him to the station." "When was that?" "Oh, about an hour ago". "That's strange. The station is not that far away, he should have been home by now!" "You sound worried. What do you think could have happened?", Helen asked, now worried herself. "Well, I don't know. It's probably nothing. Where is the painting?" "It's in your study. On the desk".

Tom went into the study and turned on the lights. There it was. In a roll on his desk It was called "The Mountain", and it was not a realistic painting. Close to post-impressionism, Tom thought. What caught the eye right away was a spot painted with many shades of blue. Around it green was thrown in abundance. Bright, passionate, even violent. The mountain was all white, with some shades of pink and grey in it. It was towering over the blue spot - apparently the lake. Tom couldn't move his eyes away from it. Bill was right about the kid's passion. That lake and the mountain. Almost exactly the way he remembered it. His first time with Bill...

The summer day was almost over, they were sweaty and a quiet little lake opened to their tired gaze. It was luring them in. They both knew they couldn't resist it. Bill stripped first. He was just tearing apart all his clothes, the sweaty tank top almost burst as he was trying to peel it off running towards the lake, kicking away his sandals one far away from the other. He dived with a splash. Tom laughed and followed him. They both emerged from the water facing each other, laughing and shaking the water off from their eyes and splashing each other at the same time. Then, on an impulse they moved closer and with a groan locked each other in a bear hug. And then it was clear that neither was going to break it. Tom looked Bill in the face. The boy's face was suddenly very serious. Tom closed his eyes and his lips touched the soft surface of Bill's mouth. He pushed further holding his breath, waiting for the body that was so tense in his embrace to start kicking him, waiting for Bill to run away and the world to come to an end. He knew the line was crossed, and he was amazed, happy and scared that he crossed it. But nothing happened. He felt Bill relax in his arms, and all of a sudden his tongue was touching Bill's teeth. It seemed to last forever...

He looked at the painting again. Did Chris know? Bill had been discussing this with his student? He couldn't believe Bill would reveal anything this sacred to a mere student. Deep in his thoughts, he did not hear his wife approach him from behind. "It's beautiful!", she said. "Yeah", he agreed absentmindedly. "It is beautiful". "So much passion", she paused. "Burn it". He rolled the painting up and stared at her with wild fear and astonishment in his eyes. "What did you say?! Are you out of your mind?!" "I said, burn it! It's HIS painting, I don't want it in our house. Is that too hard for you understand?!" "Helen, it's art, you can't destroy it. Besides he didn't paint it. It was Chris, the young man who brought it". "Nevertheless. HE is everywhere in this painting. I can feel it. He still loves you, and that's what it's all about. I don't want it hanging from our walls reminding me of that love". "Hmm... I am not sure. It's Chris's picture. Perhaps you are right. But maybe love here is that of Chris's". "Are you saying they are having a relationship?" "I don't know. It's possible..." "Well, whatever it is, I want it out of my site", said Helen closing the door on her way out.

Tom lighted up the fireplace. He made himself comfortable in his recliner, stretched the painting in front of himself and looked at it for a long, long time.

Kevin still had not come home.

Chapter 3. The Night of the New Year. Bill decided to stay home for the New Year's night. It was damp and chilly, but he stayed outside on the porch, looking at the old pine trees surrounding the house with the candle light coming from the little table, set for two. Bill was sitting facing the trees. Chris came out of the house carrying a bottle of Champagne in his right hand. They both had thick turtlenecks on, trying to keep away the chill. Chris put the wine on the table, then went around Bill's chair and put his arms around Bill's neck. He bent down and whispered in his ear: "We are ready, Bill. Happy New Year!" "Yeah", Bill sighed. "The New Year's night. New hopes every time. Groundless, of course. Never materialising". "Hey, you are awfully optimistic tonight", said Chris trying to sound cheerful. "Right", replied Bill shaking his head, as if trying to shake something off. "I shouldn't be talking like this. You are so young, and, after all your whole life is in front of you". "Oh, come on! You aren't so old yourself! But you are right. All my life is in front of me". Chris tried pulling Bill closer to himself. "You are my life". "No. I am destroying your life. Do you want to end up like me? Come on, there are so many women around who would die for a chance to be with you". "I hate women". "That is a problem. It won't do at all. I am sorry. It's my fault". "You are doing it again! You know very well how much I owe you. For taking me in and trying to make an artist out of me, even though I don't have much talent". "You've got to be kidding. You are my most talented student. Now let's cut this nonsense. I am starving. Oh and what time is it?" "Actually, it's five to twelve.", Bill answered holding his wristwatch against the candlelight. "I better open this Champagne". They toasted the New Year. For a while only the sounds of the night interrupted their meal.

"Hey Chris", said Bill pouring another glass for each of them. "Tom called last night, I forgot to tell you. He sent his regards. And..." "And?" "Well, he thanked you for the painting". Bill put the bottle down. "What have you been doing in Vancouver anyway?", he asked and his voice sounded rather stern. "You went without even telling me!" "I just wanted to see the family of a man who kept destroying your life over the years", Chris replied, suddenly very quiet. "And took your best painting with you?" "And so? I needed an excuse, didn't I? He asked to see a painting of mine when he was here in October. I promised I'd bring him one, and I did". He started sipping his Champagne slowly. The light from the candles was leaving faint traces of red on his face and reflected in his blonde hair. Bill couldn't take his eyes away from the kid. He was irresistible. "You went to visit Tom... Without telling me. I am just trying to understand. Don't get upset with me now, Chris", Bill was doing his best to be as calm as he could. "I am not upset!", Chris put his glass down and got up. "I just want revenge." "What?! What did you say?! Why on earth?!" Bill couldn't conceal his amazement even if he wanted to. "Because it's fair. Look first he comes and destroys you, then he gets away with it and becomes famous reaping the fruit of your suffering. As if that's not enough, he makes you suffer more. And you are letting him get away with this?" He was now screaming. "Chris, Chris, cool it, will you?", Bill's voice was becoming hoarse. He got up and moved closely in front of Chris. "What the hell are you planning to do?" "Oh, nothing", replied the young man and giggled. A cold, sinister laugh. "First he destroys you, now I will destroy him". "What is on your mind? Come on, tell me!" "Well, at first I thought I'd seduce him. If Helen found out this time, I don't think he would be able to get away with it. But now I have an even better idea". He was smiling again. "You know, his daughter is engaged. That could be a scream! That's not my idea, though. It would take time and effort. I am too lazy, I guess". He returned to his chair. "You know, as luck would have it, there is such an easy target in that family. Delectable too!" He winked at Bill and licked his lips in one long, sensual motion of his tongue. Then he looked at his bewildered teacher and laughed loudly, the sound of his laughter piercing the serenity of the night. "You are really awful! What's with you?! Are you possessed? God I never knew what I...", Bill stopped in the middle of the sentence. "Listen, Chris, I know you are doing it for me, but I don't need it. Stop it, please" "Stop it?! Stop it?! Oh, no. I ain't gonna stop it. No way, man. This guy is gonna get what's coming to him, whether you want it or not!" He pushed himself violently away from the table, almost spilling both glasses over. Then he bent down and hid his face in his knees. "Chris? What's wrong with you tonight?" Bill knelt beside his student and put his hand on the kid's back. Chris's body was shaking. He was sobbing. Then he straightened himself up again. "Sorry", he said. "You still love him, don't you? After all these years, you still love him?" "Come on, kid. Let's go to bed. I can't stand this cold anymore anyway."

Chapter 4. The Ocean.

Tom was sitting in his recliner, his legs stretched towards the fireplace. The fire was gleaming cheerfully, warming up his feet. He was done working and was thinking of getting out of the house for a short ride. Tom loved doing that. Driving took his mind off work. The thoughts seemed to appear and disappear in his head, constantly changing,- just like the view from his windshield. This time, however, it seemed that the recliner was winning. "Damn", thought Tom, "I must be getting really old".

The doorbell rang and he got up to answer it. Standing on the threshold with a rolled canvas under his arm, was Chris. "Aha!", exclaimed Tom surprised but pleased to see the kid, "What a way to start spring! Winter is over and you are here. A sure sign that things are warming up!" Chris stepped into the house. "I brought you another one of my paintings, Tom", he said cheerfully. "Yeah, I noticed. Come on, let's go to my study we'll take a look". Tom unrolled the canvass and held the painting stretching his arms to see it better. The painting was called A Village in Winter and was done differently from Chris's previous painting. A few houses were just barely recognisable as a few black spots, there were naked, gloomy looking trees here and there, but there was a lot of air around, the landscape consisted of many hills around the village itself, and there were people everywhere. Climbing those hills, kids playing in the snow, just groups standing around, some were skating, some skiing.

"Umm", said Tom. "Been looking a lot at Bruegel lately? He will always remain my favourite. You know why? Of all the artists he managed to bring you the Universe as seen from the outside. I don't know how he did it. You look at his art and you start seeing life differently. The mystery of life itself is frozen forever in his paintings. From the minute you see them, you are captivated. Just swept off your feet. Then you start realising that he managed to capture the beauty, the abundance, the essence of life itself. The key to understanding it is simplicity. We tend to overlook it just by running around, doing something that goes against everything we really want, preoccupied with our petty goals. We are the ones that make it complicated. And then comes Bruegel. With his huge crowds of people chaotic and harmonious at the same time. He gives you a chance to look at life from the outside, as it were. Freeze in your tracks, relax and just watch. You see all those people - everyone so small, but at the same time so important, captured in stillness forever but also moving in his imaginary world, you take any one of them away and the whole picture will fall apart, then you can't help thinking that maybe you fit in somewhere in this amazing web called "life", and it's all just the matter of looking at it from the outside, once". "That's beautiful, Tom", Chris said. "But what do you think of this?" He took the painting away from Tom to let him step away and take another look. "Oh, I love this one. Again, like in the other one you gave me, there is so much youthful vigour in this one as well. Only... Well, one thing. I can't help but feel sadness, perhaps even depression coming out of it. I am not sure what it is..." He stood there silent for a moment. "Oh, yes. It's the houses and the trees. I don't know. They don't seem in harmony with the rest, but their theme makes the painting look mysterious. But also a bit scary. It's like something is about to happen that will shatter all this happiness forever. Am I right?" Chris smiled. "I am glad I showed it to you. You can keep it. I want you to hang it up in your study. By the way, where is my other painting?" "The Mountain? Oh, it's in my son's room. He begged me to give it to him, so I did". "Kevin? Where is he?" "Oh, he went to study with a friend of his. My wife went to see a play, and my daughter moved in with her boyfriend a couple of months ago. I am all alone here". "Home alone. Must be fun." Chris rolled up the paining and put it on the table. "It's definitely an opportunity", he smiled and stepped closer to Tom. "You know, Tom, I see why they all loved you. Bill still does. It doesn't surprise me. Anyone would love you". Is he being sincere or did he come to seduce me? Tom wasn't sure. "Anyway, too bad Kev isn't here. Last time I visited, we went to see the Ocean sunset. It was great!" That's what took Kevin so long on that day, Tom thought. His son had never told him. They went to see the sunset. Whose idea was it, he couldn't help wondering? "Well, that sounds like a good idea", Tom said. "I usually like to take a drive or a walk after I am finished working. We could do that if you like. Go to the Ocean". Tom made another step forward. He was standing very close to Chris now. The footrest of his recliner got in the way and Tom lost his balance for a moment. To regain it he had to grab hold of Chris. He was almost holding the boy in his arms now. He could feel the kid's warm breath on his cheek. One slightest move and he would be kissing the boy. But he didn't move. Neither did Chris. "Come on. Let's get the car", said Tom breaking the embrace.

The sun had almost set as they arrived at the beach. The Ocean was boasting all imaginable shades of pink and green. The setting sum seemed to have set it aflame. Tom and Chris walked along the docks, watching the boats. Chris really seemed to enjoy himself, and as the raindrops started to moisten his hair, he would just try shaking the rain off cheerfully and insist on walking more. But fairly soon it had become obvious that it was not a matter of choice. "I wonder sometimes what it would be like if we could live in the Ocean", Chris said when they were in the car. "I heard dolphins were friendly creatures... I could be friends with one. Maybe have a pet dolphin or two..." "You like dolphins, don't you?", Tom asked. "Yes. My dad used to take me see dolphin shows when I was a kid. Then I used to feed them fish. It was fun." "I'll bet. You know how they used to catch them? They would lure them to the shore and then tickle them. When you tickle it under its fins it becomes helpless. Just like a little boy". "That's disgusting!", Chris shivered slightly. "You know, Chris, we don't have to go home now. I know a small motel nearby, we could go there and wait for it to blow over". "Blow over... Why not", Chris smiled.

At the hotel, Tom went to the shower, undressed and turned on the hot water. It felt good to be immersed in heat after the chilly air outside. He stepped out of the shower, towelled himself off, and started filling the bath tub. Then he returned to the room with the towel wrapped around his hips. Chris was standing at the window looking at the rain. "Ok. I am done. I am filling the bath tub up for you", Tom said. Chris turned around: "What for?" "We are going to play dolphin". Chris burst out laughing. Tom loved the sound of this laugh. It brought back memories... "Nah, I am not in the mood for that", said the boy. "Really? We shall see about that! Go take a shower anyway, the bathtub is going to overflow any minute now". Chris disappeared into the bathroom. Tom heard him lock the door. When he reappeared, he was naked except for the towel around his hips. He looked at Tom carefully studying him. "You know, Tom", he said, "I don't know how anyone could resist you. I am not sure what it is. A devilish charm. I understand why Bill still loves you". "Well, charm itself is no good, unless you put it to work!", Tom replied laughingly and moved up to Chris. He made the towel around Chris's hips drop, then dropped his own. He started exploring the kid's body with his mouth. Every inch of it, going slowly down, licking his way towards the fully erect manhood. Then he quickly took Chris's erection into his mouth. Chris seemed to be in heaven, lost, he gave himself totally to the man in front of him and Tom could only hear him moan. "Oh yeah! Yeah! More! Incredible! OH! OH! BILL!" Tom quickly moved back and looked up at Chris. He was still holding Chris's hips. The boy pushed him away and disappeared into the bathroom.

Chapter 5. The Flame. "We should probably get the fire going here, but this may just be the last night we use the fireplace this season", said Bill putting some wood into the fireplace. "Yeah. But I could never tire of watching the flame". "You know, like they say. You never get tired watching three things: fire, water and someone else working". "You are making a joke out of everything, Bill", Chris sounded a little offended. "Oh! Baby did I hurt you?" Bill came up to the kid, and tried to hug him, but Chris avoided his grip. "Hey what's with you lately?", Bill sounded worried and a little angry. "I know. Been to Vancouver again. And again took your best painting with you. All right. What happened. Lay it on the table now!" "Nothing happened". "Could you be more specific, maybe?", Bill asked. Chris wondered if he detected a hint of jealousy under the façade of mockery Bill was putting up. "No, really. We went to a motel, and then I cried out your name. It put him right off. You should have seen the look he gave me", Chris snickered. "He is still in love with you. And you with him. Oh well then..." He cut himself off. "Well what? What did you want to say?" "No, it's nothing important. I just thought that I didn't want to hurt you by all this. Still, he is going to get what he deserves. Too bad you feel the way you do" "Chris, you are simply evil. I forbid you to go to Vancouver again without telling me in advance, at least. God, I don't even want to get into your evil schemes. I hope no one gets hurt!" "And what if one does? If there is anything I hate in this world, it's treachery. That man betrayed you when he left you, he betrayed you when he published the novel. You don't think that was cruel? The man is just the biggest egotistic bastard I know!" Bill came up to the chair on which Chris was sitting, picked him by his shirt and brought the scared kid's face close to his own. Chris could see his teacher's eyes sparkling wild with rage. "Don't you ever call him anything like that again. Ever! Did you hear me?", he yelled. "Loud and clear. Now let me down", Chris said quietly, almost whispering. "All right, listen, Chris. I am sorry, I shouldn't have done that", Bill said clearing his throat. He looked confused, but kept his gaze steady, directed at Chris. "It's just that we shared so much twenty years ago..." "Life has stopped for you twenty years ago, when he left you, hasn't it? Think about it, all this suffering and he never even called you. You ceased to exist. He forgot all about you. Well, now is time to remind him. Things have to be set right and I will be the one who does it. The judge and the executioner". Chris was calm. There were metallic notes in his voice. "Chris, listen to yourself. What's with you?", was all Bill could master. "What's with me?.. Oh, it's nothing. Truth is I am tired. Really, really tired". "Ok. Let's turn in, then". "I don't want to go to sleep yet". "Then what?!" "Let's go play dolphin". "What the hell are you talking about?! Oh, Chris! I am worried about you". "No, you are not. You are worried about him and what I may do to him. I can tell you one thing. You aren't worried enough". Chris got up from his chair and walked towards the door. At the door, he turned around, cast another glance at Bill and said: "If ever you could be worried about me, I would probably not have to go through all this. But no. You just make me mad about yourself and then go keep dreaming about Tom. Fine!.. Whatever!.. But there is no need to lie to me. 'Worried about you!', ha! I read you like a book Bill, because I love you too much. You can't hide from me". And he was gone.

Bill sank into the chair that Chris had left empty. He felt tired and alone all of a sudden.

Over the course of the next few months, Chris had visited Tom in Vancouver a few more times. From what Tom could tell, he became very good friends with Kevin. There was little doubt in Tom's mind that there was more than just friendship there. The boys seemed inseparable. They looked like they belonged together, as if they knew each other for years and years... Chris, who was two years older than Kevin seemed to be a natural leader. Sometimes Tom would notice that there was some kind of a game going on between the two kids. It was as if they were playing brothers, and each one played his role with a passion. He mentioned that to Kevin once.

"I wish he were my brother, dad", Kevin answered dreamily.

Tom didn't push Kevin for an explanation. He wanted matters to take their course and was hoping that the kid would come to him on his own. He realized that there was little chance of that happening without any encouragement on his part. But for now he decided to leave things as they were and wait. After all, the kids didn't see each other as often as they probably wanted, since Chris lived so far away.

The summer came and it was vacation time for Kevin and Chris. Chris would come and spend a few days at a time at Tom's house. The kids would go swimming together very often. Most of the times they would be on their own, since Helen was at work and Tom tried to sneak out and leave the house to them. Besides, he didn't want to be the third with Chris around.

"Ugh! I am beat", Kevin announced dropping on his bed. "All this swimming and diving makes you tired." The boys just came back from the lake and still had their swimsuits on. "I bet it does. Makes you tired, but not all of you. I think some of you is still happy and lively!" He plopped himself next to Kevin and put his arm on Kevin's thigh. Kevin giggled. "You know, Chris", he said suddenly serious, "Why don't you paint a picture of me one of those days". "Kevin, you've got to be kidding. I can't do it realistically and anything else will be a mockery of your beauty!" "Nope. When there's a will there's a way. Besides, don't they teach you anything at school?" "Well, yeah, sure, but it's always naked models that we have to paint". "Bingo! That's exactly what we are going to do. You will paint me naked". Kevin put his right arm on Chris's shoulder. "You are crazy, Kev. That's what I love you for". "Is that a yes?" "Well..." "Chri-is!" Kevin stared at Chris pleading with his eyes. Chris couldn't hold it any longer. He laughed and turned on his back. "Ok, ok, puppy. Nude it is!" "Thanks. You always make me happy". "It doesn't take much, you are easily pleased". "Well, that's because I love you, silly. No, that's not it. You are part of me now. Cut you off and I'll be gone just like that", and he snapped his fingers to illustrate. "You mean the world to me too, kid", said Chris all of a sudden turning very serious, almost somber. "I'd hate to loose you". "Loose me?! Who's talking about loosing? Come on, let me show you my love". "For the third time now? Fuck off, I've got a headache and I am hungry". "Asshole!" "Hmm, now that you mention it, perhaps I'll take one! Mind you, that's not quite what I had in mind when I said I was hungry." Kevin started to giggle and turned over on top of Chris. All the swimming notwithstanding, there was still more than enough energy in both of them.

During that summer vacation, Kevin developed quite noticeably. Not only physically. He started reading a lot. He often talked to his parents about going to Europe. He became interested in history and wanted to see the imprints of millennia passed on the stones, the people, their every day lives. He told Tom that they were saving for a big trip next year and they were already planning their time in the greatest art museums of the Continent. Tom was surprised and happy to see his son develop this way. There was little doubt in his mind who he owed it to.

"You see!" he would often tell Helen, "Finally our kid is turning into something both of us aren't going to be ashamed of!" But his wife didn't seem to share eagerly his optimism. She never said anything and always made Chris feel at home, but Tom had a feeling, that deep inside she was very cautious, perhaps even afraid of the boy. "What's bugging you, honey?" Tom asked her once. "I am not sure", she answered. "You know, maybe we shouldn't encourage Kevin to see Chris so much. I can't get rid of this feeling that I have of him". "Really? And what would that be?" Tom asked. He thought that maybe Helen was afraid Chris was trying to get to him through Kevin. After all, he came to visit him that very first time. Or maybe she guessed about the boys... "Well, he is a nice kid and all that", she answered hesitantly, "but you know what? It's his beauty. Look, how strikingly handsome he is. When he and Kevin walk next to each other on the street everyone turns and stares at them". "Don't you think it's a compliment to Kevin just as much as it is to Chris?" "Yes, sure. Kevin is a handsome kid. But nothing out of the ordinary. Chris on the other hand... I don't know how to say it, but a human being just shouldn't be this beautiful. It's not normal. There is something dark hidden there, dormant for now, but waiting for a chance to wake up and show itself. Besides, did you notice the way he sometimes looks at Kevin?" "No", Tom answered suddenly feeling that he was contracting Helen's anxiety. "It's this long, thoughtful stare. Hard to describe. It reminds me of the time when I was in the hospital and they discovered that the other woman in my room had an incurable cancer. I remember her husband visited her on the day they told them. He sat by her bed for a long, long time staring at her. Just holding her hand. They were both silent. I will remember it forever. That's what Chris reminds me of. It scares me quite a bit, you know!" Tom forced a laugh; "Oh sweetheart. You are worrying yourself sick for nothing. Chris is a normal, healthy kid, like any other. Passionate, yes, but what's wrong with it? You can't ignore the fact that he is a very good influence on Kevin. Let's not interfere because of some vague premonition. Besides, even if we did it wouldn't help. Kevin is old enough to choose his own friends by himself now. He wouldn't stand for us butting in, I am afraid. Come now, darling". He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently.

Chapter 6. The Fall. Labor Day weekend marked the break in the weather that year. It was amazing, how just before the weekend the sky was blue, it was warm and sunny, and just after the sun hid behind clouds and cool breezes turned into cold winds.

On one of those cold October nights, the doorbell rang at Tom's house. Helen opened the door. "Chris! How are you!" Tom and Kevin heard her from the living room. "What a surprise, we haven't expected you till tomorrow. You don't have classes on Friday?" "Helen! Don't try to be too hospitable", Tom yelled from the living room. "Oh! I am sorry, Chris. I didn't mean it. You are always welcome here". "It's ok Mrs. Webber, I understand. I haven't given you any advance notice. I just felt lonely and wanted to see my friend here", he said shaking his head in the direction of Kevin who had just joined them. "This is awesome, Chris! You do get some darn good ideas sometimes, you know that!" "Yeah, that's what Bill tells me all the time", Chris replied and winked at Kevin. Kevin felt ground shrink from under his feet. He did it again! In front of his mother. One day that bastard was going to ruin him with his big mouth. It was surprising that mom hasn't caught on yet. "...when I paint, that is", Chris continued and winked at Kevin once again. "Well, in any case, your timing is perfect. We were just starting supper. Care to join us?", Helen invited. "Family supper? Perfect. What could be better. No such thing at Bill's, that's for sure!" And they all went into the living room.

The next morning Kevin woke up first. He still had school that day. To get out of be, he had to roll over Chris. It was impossible to do it without waking him up first. Chris opened his eyes, stretched and purred. Like a big kitten. "Umm. Good morning, lover!" Chris said turning over to face Kevin. "Sleep well?" "Yeah. Let me get out, I am gonna be late!" "That's no way to greet you loved one in the morning!", Chris retorted in mock indignation. "Kiss me, then you can go". "Oh, all right, I guess there is no other way..." They both giggled, then kissed gently on the lips. "Listen, I'll be back early, don't go anywhere, ok?" "All right", Chris said. His gaze fell on his painting. The Mountain. "You know something, I am glad I gave you that painting. This and The Village are the best I have done. Probably will ever do". "Nonsense!" Kevin replied. "You'll do many more beautiful paintings, better than those. You are going to paint me, remember? So, there you are!" "You are so full of it, Kev", Chris laughed.

Kevin couldn't wait till his last class was over. He ran home, opened the door and rushed straight to his room. He had to just hold Chris in his arms, caress him, be with him. Chris was sitting on his bed staring straight at his painting. "Hey baby, I am back!", Kevin cried out. "Oh well", Chris answered. "You know, Kev, I'd like to know what you really think about this painting. You never told me, you know". "All right. First make love to me, then, I'll tell you". He rushed towards the be and tried to pin Chris on it. But Chris managed to get out and stand up. "No, I need to know. It's important". "All right", Kevin replied from the bed, a little confused. "Well, I think it's beautiful. Passionate, a bit crazy. It's just like you. It is you. And I would never give or sell it to anyone for anything in the world. Satisfied? Now fuck me!" Chris laughed all of sudden. Not the usual laugh Kevin knew so well: the infectious, loving, warm laugh. He detected chilly and sinister notes in this one. Kevin felt something gathering in his chest. Barely noticeable. A premonition. "Buddy, what's wrong?" he asked. His voice trembled. He crossed the room and sat down next to Chris. "Kevin", Chris sat and moved to the floor to face Kevin. Kevin noticed that Chris's bag was also there, on the floor, next to him. "Kevin, do you believe in justice?" "Why do you ask?", a lump in his chest was growing. "Oh, for God's sake, just answer. It's a simple question, isn't it? Or maybe you are like your dad, he would have trouble with this one". "Chris! What the hell are you talking about?", he was fighting tears. Something was definitely very, very wrong. "Oh, you don't know? Figures. Why would you. Such a perfectly happy, innocent, beautiful baby. Did I ever tell you how beautiful you were? I guess I did. Well, I am telling you again now. But that's what makes it so perfect. You see, your father has once destroyed a young, innocent, beautiful life very much like yours. He got away with it. Till now. But now it's over. Payback time". "Chris, I am scared. Please stop it", Kevin whispered. "Don't worry. It'll be over in a minute". Chris unzipped his bag and took something out of it. Kevin couldn't see what it was, until it was pointing at his head. He froze. "Oh, come on Kevin, what are you afraid of?" Chris got up and sat on the bed with Kevin. He moved his hand that wasn't holding the gun towards Kevin's head and started stroking the younger boy's hair. "Relax, kid", he said and there was genuine tenderness in his voice. "I could never hurt you, you know that. The paintings are yours to keep. Sorry. I guess I won't be painting you after all". He then quickly moved the gun and took it into his moth pointing straight up. Suddenly Kevin saw the walls and the ceiling break their structure and starting to come down on him. The entire room seemed to be dancing around and he could feel cold sweat covering all of his body. He thought he heard some kind of a click. Then it was all blank.

The phone rang. Tom let it ring once more before he picked it up. "Yes?" "Hi, Tom. It's Bill. How are you?" "Ok, under the circumstances, I guess. Thanks for calling". "Well, it's your birthday... Happy birthday, pal!" "Thanks baby, you remembered! After all those years". He paused. "Listen. I am sorry. I was such an asshole". "Forget it. What's the use lamenting about it now? Better tell me how Kev is doing?" "Well, his eyesight has returned a few days after, you know... Good thing we took him to a psychiatrist. Nothing was wrong with his eyes, it's just seeing what he saw, or thought he saw blocked out his vision. Apparently happens to kids sometimes. Not as old as he, though..." "That's definitely good news. Is he still with Helen?" "Yes. She took him with her to her parents' house. The boy needs her now. Of course, now that he is gone I realize how I have always loved him. Ironic, isn't it?" "Yes. It truly is. How is Helen?" "She is fine, I hope. We rarely talk. I think she blames me for what happened. I can understand her point of view. I only hope Kevin recovers. At least he started taking short walks outside. A huge step forward, really. Before he would just sit for hours staring at the damn painting, without moving a muscle. It was scary as hell". "Tell me", Tom continued after a pause. "Any news about Chris?" "No. None at all. He disappeared like he was never even there. Not a trace. It's really bizarre. Looking back, though, what wasn't bizarre about this kid? Divine talent, angelic body, demonic passions..." "How about his family?" "They don't have a clue either. I don't know, Tom. It just doesn't make sense. He is an artist. He has to paint. He can't live without it. I hate to think about what could happen to him. And it's all my fault. I could have stopped him". "No Bill. You can't stop a desire. Especially that powerful. Quite often I look at the painting he gave me. When was that? Oh yeah. Almost a year ago now. The more I look at it, the more I realize that we never really understood the storm raging within that boy. So much vigor, passion and light and at the same time despair, desperation, pain. All within this beautiful, fragile body. The fire. It burnt and consumed him and people around him..." They were both silent for a minute. "Ok Tom, I've got to go now. Good bye baby. Come visit me for a few days sometime". "Yeah, Bill, I will. I promise. A few days. Definitely. Take care now, buddy!". The line died. Tom slowly hung up the receiver.

O.T. oki_toshi@hotmail.com