Part Two

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0 height="100%"><tr> <td valign="top" width=200 BGCOLOR="#000000" TEXT="#F7F7FF"> <div> <B><IMG SRC="57fa77d0.jpg" border=0 width="167" height="125" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <div> <A HREF="news_and_events.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="News Events">News & Events</A></div> <div> <A HREF="novels__short_stories.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Writings">Writings</A></div> <div> <A HREF="order_books.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Order Books">Order Books</A></div> <div> <A HREF="blog.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Blog">Blog</A></div> <div> <A HREF="press_room.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Press Room">Press Room</A></div> <div> <A HREF="contact_the_author.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Contact the Author">Contact the Author</A></div> <div> <A HREF="forum__chat.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Forum">Forum</A></div> <div> <A HREF="art_gallery.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Art Gallery">Art Gallery</A></div> <div> <A HREF="resources_and_links.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Resources and Links">Resources and Links</A></div> <bR> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" width="100%" BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Courier New" ><B>Josh Aterovis</B></FONT>     |     <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Josh Aterovis">home</A>     <A HREF="id181.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Eden Revisited">Eden Revisited</A></div> <div> <A HREF="id239.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Part One">Part One</A>   ·   <B>Part Two</B></div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Part Two</B></div> <div> <IMG SRC="3d4ba050.gif" border=0 width="442" height="5" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <bR> <div> <B>Eden Revisited</B></div> <div> Part Two of Two</div> <bR> <div>     For lack of a better option, I told the cab driver to take me home. I was relieved to find that my crippled car was the only one in the driveway. I wasn't up to dealing with Eve at the moment. I let myself inside, wondering how long it would be before she thought to change the locks. I decided to use the opportunity to get the things I wanted before she went that far. </div> <bR> <div>      I found a small box in our storage room and began putting some photographs of the boys in it. I added some personal odds and ends and then retrieved some files from the desk. I stood in the middle of the living room trying to think if there was anything else when suddenly the tears came back. </div> <bR> <div>      <I>Is it worth it?</I> I asked myself. <I>Is it worth losing my family just to be myself? </I>I'd created this situation when I married Eve. I'd known I was gay even then. This was all my fault. Didn't I owe it to my kids to be there for them? I decided that nothing was worth losing my boys. Who cares if I'm unhappy? I'd been unhappy for so long I should be used to it by now. I would wait here for Eve to get home and we'd talk it out. We'd worked through things in the past; this was just a different challenge, albeit a much larger one than we'd ever faced before. </div> <bR> <div>      I quickly took the box out and stashed it in the trunk of my car, just in case Eve wasn't receptive to my overtures. I was sitting in the living room when Eve got home, shortly before the kids were due back from school. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me.</div> <bR> <div>      “What are you doing here?” she snapped.</div> <bR> <div>      “I wanted to talk to you,” I said calmly.</div> <bR> <div>      “I have nothing to say to you. I told you I wanted you out and I never wanted to see you again and that's exactly what I meant.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Please, just give me a minute.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Why should I? I don't want you here when the boys get home.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Eve, we can work though this, I know we can. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll get counseling, I'll go to one of those ex-gay things -- whatever you say…I just can't lose the boys.”</div> <bR> <div>      “There's nothing to work through, Adam. It's over. I don't want you near the boys. Now you can leave quietly right now or I can call the police and have a restraining order placed on you.”</div> <bR> <div>      “What? What the hell are you talking about? You can't have a restraining order placed on me! I haven't done anything! I have a right to see my children.”</div> <bR> <div>      “No. You gave up that right. God you make me sick.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I can't believe this! I never knew you were so homophobic. It's not like you're religious or anything.”</div> <bR> <div>      “This has nothing to do with religion. Now get out!”</div> <bR> <div>      “Eve…”</div> <bR> <div>      “I said get out! If you don't leave now, I'll tell everyone what I found last night.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Haven't you already told everyone? The email to my office was a nice touch. You almost lost me my job.”</div> <bR> <div>      “You think I care? And that's not what I'm talking about. That was nothing.”</div> <bR> <div>      A chill snaked up my spine. “What do you mean?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I went on the computer, Adam,” she snarled.</div> <bR> <div>      “So?” A sickening sense of dread was building in my stomach.</div> <bR> <div>      “I found your pictures.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Pictures?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Oh for God's sake, don't play dumb. I was so sickened when I saw them I almost threw up. I started to delete them and then I realized I could use them as evidence against you if you tried to pull something like this.”</div> <bR> <div>      “My God, Eve. I swear to you, I don't know what you're talking about.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Stop it!” she screamed suddenly. “Stop lying to me! You've been fucking lying to me our entire life together.” She stormed over to the computer and turned it on. I stayed where I was, my mind traveling so fast I could barely keep up. I still didn't know what she was talking about but it didn't bode well for me. I was trying to remember everything that I had saved on the computer and, for the life of me, I couldn't think of anything at all objectionable. I had purchased it for working at home and seldom used it for anything else. Eve seldom used it at all; I hadn't even realized she was proficient at using it. The boys used it for homework and Seth spent the most time on it. </div> <bR> <div>      While I'd been frantically searching its contents in my head, the computer had loaded up and Eve was now busy searching the files. She stood back and gestured angrily towards the screen. I stepped forward hesitantly, not at all sure I wanted to see what she'd found. </div> <bR> <div>      The file search had turned up a list of image files, most of them jpeg files with a few bmp files thrown in for good measure. Most had numbered file names, but some were named things like youngboycock and hugedick. My slight feeling of dread exploded into full-fledged horror. Where had these come from? I knew I hadn't downloaded them; I'd never been a big fan of pornography. I clicked on one and flinched as the image sprang onto the screen. My stomach lurched as I realized that the boys in the picture couldn't have been too much older than my own sons. It wasn't just pornography -- it was child pornography. I closed the file quickly.</div> <bR> <div>      “Eve, I don't know where these came from,” I protested weakly.</div> <bR> <div>      “Oh don't give me that shit,” she spat. “I suppose you're going to suggest I downloaded them.”</div> <bR> <div>      A cold feeling washed over me. “Is that it?” I asked in a hoarse whisper. “Is that how you're going to play this? You downloaded these pictures just to use them as leverage against me, didn't you?”</div> <bR> <div>      Eve stared at me for a moment, fury and disgust marring her once pretty features. “Get out now, before the boys get home. If you leave now, I won't call the police - but only to spare the boys the embarrassment of finding out their father is a pedophile.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I'm not…”</div> <bR> <div>      “Leave! Now!” She reached for the phone.</div> <bR> <div>      “Alright! I'll go. Just…just tell me one thing. What are you going to tell the boys?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I'll tell them whatever I want.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Eve…please.”</div> <bR> <div>      She glared at me for a few seconds, then heaved a monumentally beleaguered sigh. “What do you want me to tell them Adam? That Daddy likes other men better than Mommy?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Tell them…tell them that I love them, but I had to go away. Tell them that sometimes mommies and daddies stop loving each other…”</div> <bR> <div>      “For God's sake, they know what divorce is; this is the 90's! Everybody is divorced. I'm not going to tell them you stopped loving me though. You never loved me.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Eve,” I groaned.</div> <bR> <div>      “I'll tell them we're getting a divorce, and that's all they need to know.”</div> <bR> <div>      “They'll ask questions…”</div> <bR> <div>      “Then I'll deal with it as it comes up. They'll be here any minute. If you're still here when they get home I'll call the police.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Eve, please…can't we…”</div> <bR> <div>      “No. We can't.”</div> <bR> <div>      I threw my hands up in defeat and let myself out of the house, thinking that maybe she'd come around in a couple days once she'd had time to cool off.</div> <bR> <div>      She didn't. In fact, if anything, she became even more unreasonable. She wouldn't let me have any contact with the boys, even though I was still staying right next door with Grant and Lydia. Lydia had returned home that same night, just as Grant had predicted. There was now an uneasy tension between the three of us that hadn't been there before. Grant stayed in their shared bedroom after that first night. Things at work continued to go south as well. The only friendly face in the entire office was Ellen, the gay-friendly secretary. The furtive glances and whispered conversations wore heavily on my already frayed nerves. When my boss started hinting that maybe I'd be happier somewhere else, I didn't hesitate to tender my resignation. Between my job situation, the tension between Grant and Lydia, and not seeing the boys, I was quickly plummeting into the deepest depression I'd ever experienced. </div> <bR> <div>      After one more week, Grant sheepishly asked if I could move out. I knew I'd overstayed my welcome and I quickly made arrangements to move into the only place I could afford -- a dingy, one-room apartment on the other side of town. I packed my few belongings into my car, which sported four brand new tires, and drove to my new abode. </div> <bR> <div>      It was an unbearably depressing place. No amount of scrubbing could make it look clean and it was infested with things I didn't even want to think about. I'd only been staying there a few days when Grant dropped in to check on me. I think he was feeling guilty about kicking me out. The horrified look on his face as he walked through the battered door spoke volumes.</div> <bR> <div>      “How can you live here?” he gasped as he took in the squalor.</div> <bR> <div>      “It's all I can afford,” I said with a shrug.</div> <bR> <div>      “But you had a good job! You've only been out of work for a week.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Eve blocked my access to our joint account. I had a little squirreled away in a separate account that's only in my name, but most of our money was in the joint one. I've already spent most of what I had on replacing the tires and the deposit for this dump. If I don't find a job soon I'll be out on the streets.” The truth was, in my depression, I hadn't even been looking for a job.</div> <bR> <div>      “The streets would probably be better than this place,” Grant said with disgust. “Hey, I'll look into a few things and see if I can't find you somewhere better to stay. And I'll talk to some friends about getting you a job too.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Grant, I appreciate that, but you don't have to go through all that. I'm not your responsibility.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I know, but I still feel at least partly to blame for what happened. Just let me see what I can come up with. Ok?”</div> <bR> <div>      I gave him a nod. It was easier to give in than argue. He left soon after, the apartment not being conducive to extended visits. </div> <bR> <div>      I'd pretty much forgotten about his promises when he showed up at my door a few days later. By this time, I'd made a chameleon-like adaptation to my surroundings. I hadn't showered since I'd seen him last, and it was entirely possible that I hadn't even changed my clothes.</div> <bR> <div>      He didn't say a thing; just grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the grungy bathroom. It was barely big enough for the two of us, but he managed to strip me down and get me in the shower, despite my half-hearted protests. Once I was showered and dressed, he told me that he'd found a place for me to stay, but it came with certain conditions.</div> <bR> <div>      “What kind of conditions,” I asked suspiciously. </div> <bR> <div>      “I have a very wealthy uncle,” he explained. “Well, he's not really my uncle. He was my grandfather's business partner for twenty years. He's an older man and, while he's in great shape for his age, he could use some help around the house.”</div> <bR> <div>      “What are suggesting? That I be his houseboy?”</div> <bR> <div>      Grant couldn't help but laugh at that. “Not a houseboy, more of a handy man. In exchange for helping him out with things he can't do anymore, you can stay with him at his house.” He must have noticed my doubtful expression. “He's a great guy; I really think you'll like him.”</div> <bR> <div>      “What's his name?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Uncle Charlie.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Uh huh, and Uncle Charlie won't mind having a gay houseboy?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Handy man, and no, he won't mind at all. Uncle Charlie is gay.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Look, Grant, I appreciate you trying to help, but I'm not the handiest man around. I barely know which end of the hammer to use.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Well, it really wouldn't be that much of that sort of thing. He can afford to hire someone to do repairs and stuff.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Then what will I be doing exactly? I'm not going to have to sleep with him, am I?”</div> <bR> <div>      “No! Nothing like that. Why don't you come with me to meet Uncle Charlie and he can tell you himself?”</div> <bR> <div>      “You're not going to leave me alone until I do, are you?” </div> <bR> <div>      “Nope.”</div> <bR> <div>      I sighed. “Then let's get it over with.”</div> <bR> <div>      We went in Grant's car since he knew where we were going and I didn't. We headed away from the city and into the countryside. After driving in silence for a while, I asked, “What did you tell him about me?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Not much. I just told him that you were going through a difficult time right now, but you're a really great guy. I didn't go into details.”</div> <bR> <div>      I felt a little relief at that. I didn't like the idea of being a charity case, although I suppose that's what it was anyway. </div> <bR> <div>      It wasn't too long before Grant pulled the car into a circular drive that looped around a beautifully landscaped garden. </div> <bR> <div>      “Here we are,” he said with a smile in voice.</div> <bR> <div>      “You've got to be kidding me,” I said in a low voice as I took in the house.</div> <bR> <div>      “Nope.”</div> <bR> <div>      The house would have been better described as a small mansion. It was three stories of brick, built in the mock-Tudor style that had once been all the fashion with the nouveaux riches. The English-style gardens surrounding it were well maintained and lush. It looked like a page from a magazine about the lifestyles of the rich and famous.</div> <bR> <div>      As I was gaping at the house, the front door swung open to reveal a spry little man in jeans and a deep sapphire silk shirt. Grant vaulted out of the car.</div> <bR> <div>      “Uncle Charlie,” he called heartily.</div> <bR> <div>      “Grant!” Uncle Charlie brightened as he recognized his visitor. I slowly climbed out of the car and we took each other in as Grant made introductions.</div> <bR> <div>      Uncle Charlie wasn't as old as I'd expected from Grant's admittedly vague description. I wouldn't have placed him past his early 60's, and he looked to be in great shape at that. His hair was snow white, but thick and stylishly cut. He was thin, but not unhealthily so. His handshake was firm and I got the impression that he could easily equal me at most any physical task. I couldn't imagine why he needed someone to stay with him -- unless he really didn't and this was nothing more than Grant's meddling. </div> <bR> <div>      “Come on in,” the older man invited us graciously.</div> <bR> <div>      Once seated in an impeccably decorated sitting room with a sweeping view of the rear gardens, Uncle Charlie poured us both glasses of sweetened iced tea, garnished with a sprig of mint. He had a drawling accent and seemed to enjoy playing the role of the perfect Southern gentleman.</div> <bR> <div>      After the niceties were out of the way, he got down to business. “Grant here tells me that you're a little down on your luck and you're in need of a temporary place to stay,” he said. His manner was so genteel that I couldn't even bristle at his words. </div> <bR> <div>      “That would describe it pretty well, sir,” I said politely.</div> <bR> <div>      “Call me Uncle Charlie,” he said quickly. “Everyone does. Sir makes me feel so old.” I nodded. “Well, it just so happens that I could use someone around the house here. Maybe we can work something out that would be mutually beneficial.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Grant had mentioned something along those lines, but I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what I'd be doing.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I'm getting along in years, Adam,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “When you get my age, you start to notice that things you once took for granted are suddenly becoming more and more challenging. In my mind, I'm still a twenty year old, but my body begs to differ. Most of my friends of my generation are in worse shape than I am, the ones who haven't passed away that is. So far, I've been very fortunate, but I can't go on pretending it will last forever. There are already certain things that are just getting to be too much for me. I could use some help with things like shopping and light cooking and cleaning. I have a housekeeper who comes in once a week, but there are day-to-day things that need doing as well.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I don't know, sir - I mean…Uncle Charlie. I'm also looking for a job and if I found one I wouldn't be around all that much.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Oh, I would pay you something of course, aside from the room and board.”</div> <bR> <div>      This seemed too good to be true. There had to be a catch somewhere. Uncle Charlie must have seen the doubt on my face.</div> <bR> <div>      “Okay, Adam, I'll be honest with you. As I said, I'm aging. I had a scare a couple weeks ago. I fell in my bedroom. I still don't know what happened. One minute I was fine, the next I was on the floor. I was fortunate in that I didn't injure myself, but if I had, I probably would have lain there until I died. The housekeep wasn't due in for several days. It would make an old man feel a lot better to know there was someone else in the house. And besides, it gets a bit lonely living here in this big house all alone.”</div> <bR> <div>      I couldn't tell how much of that had been an act for my sake and how much was sincere, but it had its desired effect. I nodded.</div> <bR> <div>      “Maybe we can work something out,” I said slowly.</div> <bR> <div>      Uncle Charlie beamed. </div> <bR> <div>      “Great!” Grant enthused. I'd almost forgotten he was there. “You can move in right away! I can take you back right now and help you pack your stuff.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Splendid idea!” Uncle Charlie agreed. “When you get back, I'll show you your rooms.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Whoa!” I said firmly. Things were moving a bit quickly for me. And had Uncle Charlie said rooms? “We haven't worked out the details yet.”</div> <bR> <div>      “There'll be plenty of time later for that,” Uncle Charlie said as he stood up. Grant jumped to his feet too and I somehow found myself up and being pulled along towards the car while the two men chattered excitedly. Things were clearly out of my hands at this point, so I resigned myself to the inevitable and decided to sit back and enjoy the ride.</div> <bR> <div>      It didn't take long to pack up my meager belongings, especially since I hadn't bothered to unpack most of it in the first place. At one point, my brain caught up with things enough to wonder what the big rush was, but then I decided that it was probably to keep me from changing my mind. Before I'd really had time for things to sink in, I was standing in Uncle Charlie's foyer, box in arms, waiting to be directed to my new room. Or was that rooms?</div> <bR> <div>      Uncle Charlie greeted me like the prodigal son he hadn't seen in years instead of a complete stranger who'd just left here an hour before. He gave me the grand tour of the house, and believe me, it was quite grand. We ended up at the door of what he told me would be my rooms - once again plural. He opened them to reveal a suite of three rooms that were like something out of a fantasy. The first room, the sitting room as he called it, was as tastefully decorated as the rest of the house had been. The furniture was a comfortable mix of antiques and newer pieces. An inviting sofa was positioned in front of an entertainment center, and a couple chairs provided additional seating. Two rooms opened off of the sitting room, a bedroom - complete with queen-sized bed another television - and a bathroom that was larger than the entire apartment I'd just left. The bathtub was big enough to throw a party in and there was a completely separate marble encased shower stall. </div> <bR> <div>      “This place is incredible,” I mumbled in amazement.</div> <bR> <div>      “Originally, it's the guest suite,” Uncle Charlie said, beaming with pleasure at my awed reaction.</div> <bR> <div>      “What if you have guests?” I asked.</div> <bR> <div>      He dismissed my question with a wave of the hand. “I don't have many guests these days. And there are plenty of other rooms if I perchance do get the stray caller.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I just hope I'm worth this.”</div> <bR> <div>      “You already are. Just knowing there's someone else in the house makes it well worth it. Welcome, Adam.”</div> <bR> <div>      I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. I managed to maintain my tattered dignity until Grant and Uncle Charlie finally left me alone, ostensibly to unpack, although I suspect they sensed how near the edge I was. Once alone, I sat on the edge of the bed and wept. I was having trouble keeping up with my life changes. </div> <bR> <div>      We spent the next few weeks getting to know one another. Charlie -- as I quickly came to call him since I found the uncle moniker a bit unwieldy -- was continually surprised at how little I knew about gay culture. He took it upon himself to be my tutor in all things homosexual. We went to clubs and bars, visited all the trendiest restaurants, and shopped until I thought I'd collapse from exhaustion. Throughout all of this, Charlie displayed an amazing stamina. He could easily run circles around me, even if he was several decades my senior. Realizing this, he quickly introduced me to the gym and started me on an exercise routine designed to get me in shape. I had no desire to look like some of the over pumped gym bunnies that frequented the gym, but it was a little embarrassing not being able to keep up with Charlie.  </div> <bR> <div>      The other thing I couldn't help but notice as we went from one gay hot spot to another is that everyone knew Uncle Charlie. He was greeted warmly wherever we went, and as his guest, I was included as well. </div> <bR> <div>      The more I learned about Charlie, the more impressed I became. I would have been awed if not for his easy-going, down-to-earth personality. He was a virtual tour of gay history. Charlie had been living in New York City during the time of the Stonewall Riots. At the time of the riots, he was a young hotshot attorney, deep in the closet but well aware of his true sexuality. The riots touched something in him and he left his job to join the burgeoning gay activist movement. He was a part of the early gay rights alliance known as the Gay Liberation Front.</div> <bR> <div>      In the late 70's, Charlie ended up in Florida, fighting against Anita Bryant's homophobic “Save Our Children” campaign. He took the loss hard and moved to San Francisco; an area he felt would be more accepting. By this time, he had become disenchanted with the Gay Liberation Front and felt that the gay community had become too complacent. He was living in San Francisco when Harvey Milk was murdered and during the ensuing “White Night” Riots following the light sentence of his murderer, Dan White. It was during this time that Charlie settled down and entered into his first and last serious relationship, with an older man named Pietro. </div> <bR> <div>      In the early days of the AIDS epidemic, Charlie and Pietro lost literally dozens of friends. When Pietro began to get sick, they immediately feared the worst. Their fears were confirmed and Charlie was shattered. He figured it was just a matter of time before he'd learn he had it as well. Miraculously, he never contacted the virus. He nursed Pietro until he passed away, and then decided that he needed to get away from the painful memories. He moved back to New York, where he still had some close friends and contacts. As the number of AIDS related deaths continued to skyrocket, he became more and more outraged by how the Reagan and Bush administration failed to address the issue. Once more, Charlie found himself becoming involved in a major political movement. He was very crucial in the early formation of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power, which became known as ACT UP. In '88, ACT UP targeted the FDA headquarters in Rockville, Maryland, staging a "die-in" in the street, complete with tombstones bearing epitaphs like "I died for the sins of the FDA." More than 1,000 people participated in the nine-hour protest and 176 were arrested, although Charlie wasn't one of them. Despite the reasons he was there, he fell in love with the area and returned to Maryland several times over the next few years. </div> <bR> <div>      He attended the Third March on Washington for Gay and Lesbian Rights in '93, where he met Tim McFeeley, the executive director of the Human Rights Campaign Fund, which later changed its name to the Human Rights Campaign. McFeeley invited Charlie to take a position within the HRCF, which Charlie jumped at, thrilled to have an excuse to move to Maryland. He worked with HRC up until a few years ago, when he'd quietly retired after thirty years of activism. </div> <bR> <div>      “I thought I'd earned some rest,” he told me one day while we were at dinner at the newest trendy restaurant in town. “I had no idea I'd be so bored.”</div> <bR> <div>      I laughed. “I know what you mean,” I said in a rare moment of candidness. I was usually very careful about what I said in front of Charlie. I felt so indebted to him for all he'd done for me; I didn't want him to think I was ungrateful. I immediately wished I could take the words back as soon as the left my mouth.</div> <bR> <div>      Charlie looked at me with a surprised expression. “You're bored!” he exclaimed.</div> <bR> <div>      “No, I didn't mean that...” I sputtered, but Charlie waved away my protests. </div> <bR> <div>      “Of course you are! I should have seen it sooner. Why wouldn't you be bored, spending all your time with an old man?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Charlie…!”</div> <bR> <div>      “You need to have some interests outside the house. A job maybe? Or a man?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I don't think I'm ready for a man,” I said quickly.</div> <bR> <div>      “A job then?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I don't know what I'd do.”</div> <bR> <div>      “What were you doing before? Something with computers?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Yes, I was the company webmaster.”</div> <bR> <div>      He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds kinky.”</div> <bR> <div>      I laughed again. “I maintained the company's website.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Ah. You'll have to excuse me; I'm a bit of a computer illiterate. Did you enjoy the work?”</div> <bR> <div>      I had to think about that for a minute. Had I enjoyed the work? To some degree, it had simply been as escape from my suffocating home life. I had to admit, though, that I had enjoyed the work, if not the environment. </div> <bR> <div>      “I enjoyed the work,” I said slowly.</div> <bR> <div>      “But?”</div> <bR> <div>      “But I didn't really enjoy the work environment.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. </div> <bR> <div>      The subject moved on and I forgot all about it until a few days later when it came up again at the breakfast table.</div> <bR> <div>      “I've been thinking about what we talked about the other evening,” he told me as I took a large bite of toast and marmalade. I looked at him blankly as I chewed. “About a job?”</div> <bR> <div>      I nodded as I remembered. “It has slipped my mind, to be honest,” I admitted.</div> <bR> <div>      “Well, it didn't slip mine. I hope you won't be angry at me, but I talked to some friends of mine about web design. I was curious to know more about it and to see if my plan would be feasible.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Plan?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I was thinking that you could open your own web design company.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Me?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Why not? You said you enjoyed the work. My friends said it's a business with fairly low overheard, not too hard to get into, and best of all, you can work from anywhere that has internet access.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I'd still need money to get started.” I argued. “I'd need a computer and software; I'd have to advertise…”</div> <bR> <div>      Charlie was shaking his head     so hard I was afraid he'd make himself dizzy so I stopped mid-sentence. </div> <bR> <div>      “I have money,” he said simply.</div> <bR> <div>      “What? Charlie, you can't…”</div> <bR> <div>      “I can.”</div> <bR> <div>      “You've already done too much!”</div> <bR> <div>      He pursed his lips. “I'll decide when I've done too much. Adam, I want to do this.”</div> <bR> <div>      “But why? You've been so generous.”</div> <bR> <div>      “It's just money and I have plenty of it. I can't take it with me when I go. Sure, I could leave it to charity, but why not do some good with it while I'm still here to enjoy it? I want to give something back. For years, I did that through my activism, but I just don't have the energy for that anymore. Here you are, a young gay man who has just had his whole world turned inside out. I want to do whatever I can to help you get back on your feet and find out who you are.”</div> <bR> <div>      I must have still looked unconvinced, for he sighed. “Maybe it would help if I explained something. Have you wondered where all my money came from?”</div> <bR> <div>      I opened and closed my mouth a few times while I tried to decide how to answer. Truthfully, I had wondered but it seemed impolite to say so. Generally speaking, activists were not the wealthiest individuals. I'd assumed he was independently wealthy somehow, maybe an inheritance or something.</div> <bR> <div>      Charlie spared me the discomfort of coming up with a response. “I inherited it, every last penny,” he said, confirming my theory. “I think I've mentioned Pietro?” I nodded. “He was quite well off, a successful business man and something of a whiz on the stock market. I really had no idea how much he had, it didn't really matter; I was quite used to living on very little. I certainly had no idea he was leaving it all to me.”</div> <bR> <div>      He paused and took a deep breath. “When he died, I was…floored when I learned he'd left me his entire fortune. It scared me. I didn't know what to do with it. I was even angry at him for not talking to me about it. I didn't want anything to do with it because it just reminded me of him. I was fortunate enough to have a friend at the time who convinced me to put it in the bank and leave it alone. After I began to heal, it occurred to me that he just wanted me to be happy. I knew he would have been hurt by the way I'd reacted to his gift. Even later, I realized how much good I could do with that money. I decided to honor his memory with it. I want to use it to help young gay men in need.”</div> <bR> <div>      “But why me? You didn't even know me before Grant dragged me into your life a few weeks ago. There are other gay guys out there who need help as much as I do.”</div> <bR> <div>      “But they weren't brought into my life. I believe everything happens for a reason; you came into my life for a reason. I don't want to argue about this. If it makes you uncomfortable, we'll not speak of it anymore, but at least promise me this. Think about it for a little while before you turn me down. This is truly something I want to do. I've already grown quite fond of you and it would make me happy to be able to assist you like this. If it makes you feel any better, you can even think of me as a venture capitalist. Just don't let your pride stand in the way of accepting my offer.”</div> <bR> <div>      I nodded slowly. “I'll think about it,” I conceded.</div> <bR> <div>      “Thank you,” he said softly. “That's all I ask.”</div> <bR> <div>      And I did think about it. I thought about it almost constantly for the next several days. I really struggled with it, but eventually he wore me down with his gentle insistence and I accepted his offer. You would have thought I'd given him a gift instead. He reacted like a child on Christmas morning, immediately dragging me off to look at computers. He insisted on buying the best of the line. Next came the software; followed by every office accessory he could think of -- including a desk, a plush work chair, a fax machine, and a laser printer. </div> <bR> <div>      He was watching with an indulgent smile as I set up the office in yet another room he'd had stripped for my use. “I'm planning to go down to my beach house this weekend,” he said. I looked up in surprise. I hadn't even known he had a beach house. “You're welcome to come with me.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I wouldn't want to intrude,” I said quickly.</div> <bR> <div>      “It wouldn't be an intrusion. In fact, I'd appreciate your company.”</div> <bR> <div>      There was something he wasn't saying, but I sensed he wanted me to go. After all he'd done for me, I couldn't very well say no. “Then I'd be happy to go. It sounds nice. Where is your beach house?”</div> <bR> <div>      “On the Eastern Shore,” he said, referring to the part of Maryland to the east of the Chesapeake Bay. The entire peninsula was commonly referred to as the Eastern Shore. “In Ocean City.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I thought it was pretty built up,” I said. It had been a long time since I'd been there. When I was young, every summer my father loaded us all into our big station wagon and drove us down to Ocean City. We'd spend a week splashing in the ocean and enjoying the rides at the amusement park, leaving with sunburns and enough boxes of salt-water taffy to weigh down the back end of the car. The taffy would be handed out to friends and neighbors upon our arrival home. My memories of the resort town were warm and fuzzy, but I'd heard that town had grown exponentially over the years. Its beaches and boardwalk were now the most popular tourist attractions in Maryland, bringing in millions of dollars in revenue every year. Supposedly, it became the most densely populated city in the US during the peak summer months.</div> <bR> <div>      “It is,” Charlie answered. “This house is one of the few left. It's pretty far north and I could probably make a fortune selling it to developers, but I love it just the way it is.”</div> <bR> <div>      We drove down that weekend and I found a very different Ocean City from the one in my memories. It was barely recognizable. Every square inch of sand seemed to be covered with either buildings or parking lots. The only way to go was up and up they had gone. High-rises loomed menacingly over the highway that cut through the center of the city. Traffic was horrendous and scantily clad men and women tended to dart across the road unexpectedly, causing even more driving hazards. Finally, we reached Charlie's beach house. It was like arriving at an oasis. The house itself was a charming two-storied affair, cedar shingled with crisp white trim. It sat facing the Atlantic Ocean in a small yard that may have once featured a beautiful garden but it was overgrown and weed-choked now. </div> <bR> <div>      “Well, here it is,” Charlie announced proudly as I pulled into the driveway. “Sadly, the garden needs more work than I can give it these days,” he added with a touch of regret in his voice. </div> <bR> <div>      “It's beautiful,” I said quite truthfully, an idea beginning to form in my head. </div> <bR> <div>      “You really think so?” he asked eagerly. </div> <bR> <div>      “Of course. And what a great view.”</div> <bR> <div>      The inside of the house was just as charming as the outside. The first floor was divided into a living room, a family room, bathroom, and a kitchen/dining room. The second floor held two bedrooms and another bathroom. It was furnished with comfortable beach style pieces, which wasn't quite my style but appealing all the same. We spent a pleasant weekend there before returning home. </div> <bR> <div>      Over the next few months, we returned to the beach house every few weeks. In between our visits, my web design business began to grow, thanks largely to Charlie's contacts. He wouldn't admit it, but I was pretty sure he had called in some favors to get some of these guys to hire me to develop websites for their companies. Either way, the jobs I began to get from people who had seen my sites was gratifying and proved that I could make it on my own. I threw myself into my work in an attempt to cover my pain at missing the boys. My few attempts to see them had ended messily. </div> <bR> <div>      I was so caught up in the new business that I had no time left to date, much to Charlie's constant vexation. He was constantly introducing me to eligible bachelors, but I either wasn't interested or just didn't have time. The other side effect of my growing business was that it was months before I was able to enact the plan I began to come up with on our first trip to the beach house. I was making a fairly decent living at this point, between what Charlie was paying me and my clients. I set the plan in motion and waited impatiently for our next trip down. </div> <bR> <div>      It was two more weeks before we made our next trip down. I was anxious the whole drive down. It didn't take Charlie long to pick up on it. </div> <bR> <div>      “What do you have up your sleeve?” he asked me about an hour into the trip.</div> <bR> <div>      I grinned at how easily he had read me. “You'll just have to wait and see.”</div> <bR> <div>      His reaction as the house came into view was priceless. His mouth dropped open and his eyes lit up as he took in the restored gardens surrounding the house. It had cost quite a bit, but the results were well worth it. The aged, overgrown plants had been removed and replaced with beautifully tasteful specimens specifically chosen to need the least amount of care in this environment. </div> <bR> <div>      “Did you do this?” he finally managed.</div> <bR> <div>      “Yeah. I thought it would be a small way for me to say thank you. What do you think?”</div> <bR> <div>      “It's perfect, Adam,” he said a little shakily. He turned to face me and I noticed a tear in his eye. “Thank you.”</div> <bR> <div>      We slowly walked around the house, admiring the flowers and shrubs the landscaper I'd hired had chosen. I got a lot of pleasure just seeing Charlie's reaction, but it was my first time seeing it as well. </div> <bR> <div>      “You know,” he said as we stood on the porch looking out at the ocean. “If I were a younger man you'd be quite the catch.” I laughed and he shook his head. “Let me rephrase that. You <I>are</I> quite the catch; I'm just too old to appreciate it fully. You deserve to have someone in your life, Adam.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I'm not ready for that yet,” I said, giving my standard answer whenever he brought up the subject. Usually he dropped it at this point. Tonight was different however.</div> <bR> <div>      “Why not?” he challenged.</div> <bR> <div>      “Huh?” That wasn't in the script. “What do you mean why not?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I mean, why not? Why aren't you ready? What's standing in your way?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I…I don't know. I mean, it wasn't that long ago my marriage broke up…”</div> <bR> <div>      “A loveless marriage. You can't tell me you're not over Eve.”</div> <bR> <div>      “The kids…”</div> <bR> <div>      “Don't have anything to do with your love life, or lack thereof. Don't use them as an excuse.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I don't know anyone…”</div> <bR> <div>      “I've introduced you to plenty of men. Surely not all of them were incompatible.”</div> <bR> <div>      I sighed. “You're right. I'm just scared. It's been so long…” </div> <bR> <div>      “You're an attractive man. Not to mention smart, caring and thoughtful. You're going to make someone a great partner. I think it's time for you to get out there and start looking.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Yes, Mother,” I said with a small smile. </div> <bR> <div>      He looked at me from beneath an arched eyebrow. “You should listen to your mother,” he said. “Now get inside before you catch your death of cold. And don't forget to wash your hands before dinner!”</div> <bR> <div>      That was the weekend when I first began to notice the signs. We took our usual walk on the beach, but he was out of breath by the time we reached our usual turning point. We stood silently while he caught his breath, carefully not mentioning his uncharacteristic lack of stamina. At his cheery, “Let's go!” we started back, a bit slower this time. </div> <bR> <div>      After that, I began noticing other signs, things I'd overlooked while completely wrapped up in my new business. He'd begun napping in the afternoon, something he'd never done when I first moved in. He often dozed off while we were relaxing in the evening, watching TV or even once at the dinner table. I took note of the amount of pills he was suddenly taking. I'd never seen him take anything stronger than an aspirin before now. What was going on? Was this simple aging? Had the effects of age just taken longer to catch up with Charlie, but once they had, they struck hard? Or had he just hidden his frailty from me early on? No, I decided, no one was that good of an actor. </div> <bR> <div>      It was the last possibility that shook me the most. Was it possible that Charlie was ill? Wouldn't he tell me if he was? The answer to that was immediate and obvious. No, he wouldn't tell me. He wouldn't want me to worry. I decided to ask him directly. </div> <bR> <div>      One morning I waited for him in the sunny side porch where he loved to take eat breakfast when the weather was warm enough. It was an inviting room, completely enclosed in glass, plants hugging the walls. A small round table was set in the middle of the room, covered with a white tablecloth. I'd placed a steaming teapot in its center, along with a teacup waiting for Charlie. It was a morning ritual that had begun soon after I moved in. </div> <bR> <div>      I was sipping a cup of tea when he came in. He didn't see me at first, his expression was unguarded, a perfect portrait of sadness and loss. His face pale and a little gray, his back bent. He looked old.</div> <bR> <div>      When he noticed me in the corner, his entire demeanor changed dramatically. A huge grin spread across his face, lighting him up and bringing color to his skin, his back straightened. This time however, I wasn't fooled. I now knew what to look for and the old man I'd just seen was still there under the surface.</div> <bR> <div>      “Adam, I didn't see you there,” he said, his voice bright and hearty. He carefully lowered himself into one of the chairs at the table as I stood up and joined him. </div> <bR> <div>      “Charlie, we need to talk,” I said gently.</div> <bR> <div>      His eyes found mine and I could tell that he knew what I wanted to talk about. His eyes pleaded with me to leave it alone, but I had to know. </div> <bR> <div>      I decided the direct approach would be the least painful. “Are you ill?” I asked.</div> <bR> <div>      His eyes snapped shut and he was quiet for so long I began to wonder if he was going to answer me or just wait for me to go away. If the rise and fall of his chest hadn't been so plain, I would have thought he'd passed away. After a long time, his eyes reopened and focused on me. </div> <bR> <div>      “Yes,” he said simply.</div> <bR> <div>      I took a moment to absorb this. He's just confirmed my worst fear. I needed to know more.</div> <bR> <div>      “How…how long have you known?” </div> <bR> <div>      Charlie looked away. “I've known for few months now.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Why didn't you tell me?”</div> <bR> <div>      He turned to look at me once more. “I didn't want you to stay out of pity for a dying old man. I wanted you to be able to leave when you were ready. Things have moved faster than they thought they would. I didn't think…I didn't want you to be here when I began to go downhill.”</div> <bR> <div>      I'd almost stopped hearing him after the word dying. Everything after that I'd only heard as a dim echo, the words penetrating but not registering. He was dying. We sat in a tension-filled silence for several minutes while I worked up the nerve to ask the question that was ricocheting around my brain.</div> <bR> <div>      “What is it?” I finally managed in a barely audible voice.</div> <bR> <div>      “Cancer.” The word dropped like a brick.</div> <bR> <div>      “It's not treatable?”</div> <bR> <div>      Charlie grimaced. “The treatment is worse than the disease. I've seen friends go through it and suffer horribly. And for what? A few measly months? I've lived a full life, Adam. I'm not afraid to die. I just want to go out with dignity. I want to leave here knowing I did what I could to make the world a better place, right up to the end. That's why it was so important to me that you accept my gift.”</div> <bR> <div>      I shook my head, still not understanding. “But how can you just give up? You could fight this…”</div> <bR> <div>      “Adam, weren't you listening? The doctors said that even with treatment I'd only be gaining a couple months at the most. I don't want whatever time I have left to be consumed with torturous treatments that make me sick and weak. And for God's sake, my hair might fall out! I'm a vain man, Adam. Let me die with my hair intact.” </div> <bR> <div>      He said this last with a wry grin on his face. He was trying to make light of the situation but I couldn't bring myself to smile back. In the few short months I'd lived with Charlie, he'd become my closest friend and, really, my only family. And now he was telling me it was just a matter of months before he was gone. </div> <bR> <div>      “How long?” I rasped.</div> <bR> <div>      “Six months at the most.” A pause. “At the rate it's advancing, more likely less.”</div> <bR> <div>      I felt my breath rush out of me in a whoosh. </div> <bR> <div>      “I should have told you sooner.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Do you think?' I snapped, suddenly angry. “You're the only person in my life right now. Didn't you think that I might need some time to deal with this? It never occurred to you that I might want be there for you through this?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Of course it occurred to me,” he replied calmly. “Like I said, I didn't want you to feel obligated to stay when you need to move on with your life.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Move on with my life? Is that what you wanted to do when you found out Pietro had AIDS?”</div> <bR> <div>      “That was a very different situation,” he said stonily, although I could tell my point had been made. “Pietro was my lover.”</div> <bR> <div>      “And you've been like a father to me the last few months. How could you think I'd just walk away from that?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I'm not your responsibility.”</div> <bR> <div>      “And I wasn't yours but you were there for me anyway, a complete stranger. Who's going to take care of you?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I'll hire a nurse.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I'm fully capable…”</div> <bR> <div>      “It's not about being capable. I don't want you to feel as if you owe me this. I want you to go live your life…”</div> <bR> <div>      “Damn it, Charlie!” I shouted suddenly, causing him to jump. “This isn't just your decision. I'm not a child and I'm not a puppet that you can control by pulling my strings.”</div> <bR> <div>      He blinked for a second, then nodded. “You're right, of course. I have been treating you like a child. Perhaps it's because I've come to think of you as the son I never had.”</div> <bR> <div>      His unexpected admission took the wind out of me and I slumped back into my chair. </div> <bR> <div>      “I can stay?” I asked.</div> <bR> <div>      “I was never going to force you to leave. I just wanted you to be able to leave when you needed to without feeling responsible for me.”</div> <bR> <div>      “You'll let me help you?”</div> <bR> <div>      He smiled weakly. “Could I stop you?”</div> <bR> <div>      “No.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Then why fight it?”</div> <bR> <div>      “That means no more keeping things from me.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Agreed.”</div> <bR> <div>      “And you'll tell me when you need me to do something.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Well, unless you're busy with work…” I cut him off with a glare. He sighed. “Agreed.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Shake on it,” I said, holding out my hand. He took it in his and we shook, sealing the deal. </div> <bR> <div>      To his credit, he kept his side of the bargain. He steadily worsened over the next couple months at what seemed to me to be an alarming rate. His doctors were beyond frustrating with their stoic expressions and their noncommittal murmurings. By the time winter arrived, Charlie was just a pale shadow of the man I'd met just a matter of months before. The man I'd met had looked younger than his years, strong and healthy. Now he looked far older than his age, fragile and shrunken. It was hard to wrap my mind around the concept that someone could fade away so quickly. It took all his strength now just to cross the room, even with my assistance. I knew it was just a matter of weeks, maybe even days, before he'd be completely bed ridden. </div> <bR> <div>      I stayed by his side throughout it all. I moved my computer into his room and I would work while he slept, which is how he spent the majority of his day. The medications he was now on for the pain kept him drowsy. When he had to do something important, he'd skip the pain meds in order to be clear-headed, but the pain was obvious in his eyes. I knew his time was rapidly drawing to a close, and so did he, though we never spoke of it. </div> <bR> <div>      One morning towards the end, he refused his pain medication even though he was obviously in a lot of pain, so I knew he had something important in the works. He still made appointments without my assistance, which often meant I didn't know what his plans were until he was ready to reveal them to me. It was a small thing I could do to give him some feeling of independence, even though it often caught me off guard. </div> <bR> <div>      “Who's coming today?” I asked him as I handed him a cup of tea. It was only lukewarm in case he spilled it on himself as he'd done a few weeks before. </div> <bR> <div>      “Randall Dupont,” he said. His voice was the only thing that hadn't faded with the rest of him.</div> <bR> <div>      “Your lawyer?” I asked with some surprise.</div> <bR> <div>      “Yes.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Why is he coming over?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Not that it's any of your business, but I want to make some changes to my will.”</div> <bR> <div>      I stopped what I was doing. I had no idea what the current terms of his will were except that he was leaving the bulk of his estate to various GLBT organizations, but I had a sneaking suspicion as to what he wanted to change it to. </div> <bR> <div>      “I hope you're not thinking about pulling a Pietro,” I said casually.</div> <bR> <div>      “Hmm?” he responded equally casually.</div> <bR> <div>      I sat down and looked his in the eye. “Don't even think of leaving me your estate.”</div> <bR> <div>      He grinned and for a second I saw a flash of the old Charlie. “And if I do? What are you going to do? Kill me?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Be serious, Charlie,” I admonished. “I don't need it. I wouldn't know what to do with it. Do what you planned on doing with it. It'll do a more good in the hands of those organizations than in my bank account. I'm doing fine with my business, which is all thanks to you to begin with. You've given me more than enough.”</div> <bR> <div>      “For your information, Mr. Know-It-All,” he said with an immensely pleased expression, “I wasn't planning on leaving my estate to you.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Oh…I…” I felt my face flush hotly.</div> <bR> <div>      “And if I was, I wouldn't need your permission.” </div> <bR> <div>      “Charlie, I'm sorry…”</div> <bR> <div>      “Ah, get your foot out of your mouth and get to work. Oh, and when Randall gets here, I'd appreciate it if you would give us some privacy.”</div> <bR> <div>      Curiosity inflamed, it would be another month before I'd find out what the changes had been, only after Charlie had passed away. He went easily, in his sleep. He was simply gone one morning when I went in to give him his pain medicine, lying peacefully in the bed as if he would wake at any moment. I knew as soon as I stepped into the room however, that he would not. He was too still, too quiet, too empty. There's an indefinable quality that life brings, the spark that makes us who we are, and it was clearly gone from the shell that remained. </div> <bR> <div>      The funeral service was beautiful. I was surprised at the number of people who came, everyone who was anyone in the gay activist community. Charlie had touched many lives. There was no doubt in the mind of anyone present that Charlie had done what he'd set out to do -- make a difference in the world. </div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> * * *</div> <div>      Not long after the funeral, I moved out of the huge house that I'd shared with Charlie. Randall Dupont, Charlie's lawyer, had told me I was free to stay as long as I needed, but it felt empty without him. The business was doing well enough that I was able to afford a much nicer apartment this time around. </div> <bR> <div>      About a week after the funeral, I received a call from Mr. Dupont asking me to come to his office. I had a feeling it had something to do with Charlie's will, and I was right.</div> <bR> <div>      “Mr. Connelly,” the middle-aged lawyer began after I'd been seated in the soft leather chair facing his ornate desk. I'd always found Mr. Dupont to be a pleasant, if somewhat stuffy fellow. “As I'm sure you recall I visited with Charlie shortly before his death.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Please, call me Adam,” I said. “And yes, I remember. Charlie told me he was changing his will.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Ah, yes. Indeed.” He seemed somewhat flustered that I'd jumped ahead in the script he was following. He paused for a moment and found his place. “The reason that I've asked you here today is because when he changed his will, it was changed to include you.”</div> <bR> <div>      I sighed. Mr. Dupont blinked. It wasn't the reaction he'd expected.</div> <bR> <div>      “I specifically asked him not to,” I explained. </div> <bR> <div>      “Indeed,” Mr. Dupont said, still blinking rapidly. “Perhaps this will explain things better,” he said after a moment, sliding a cream-colored envelope across the desk in my direction. </div> <bR> <div>      I picked up the envelope and stared down at it for a minute before gently ripping it open. The outside gave no hints as to its contents. It was completely blank save for my name written in the uneven scrawl that had become Charlie's handwriting in the last weeks of his life. Inside, I found a single sheet of matching cream stationary. It was a letter from Charlie. I started to read.</div> <bR> <div>      <I>“Dearest Adam,” </I>it began.<I> “Before I say anything else, I want to thank you, though mere words cannot hope to express the depth of my gratitude. You came into my life when I had no reason to expect anything but emptiness and made my final months fuller than I had any right to hope. You are truly the son I never had.</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>     “I know you will make some lucky man a wonderful and fulfilling partner someday, and I firmly believe that you will be reunited with your children. I know you try to keep that part of yourself buried deep within, but I see the pain it causes you not to see your boys. I wish my money could do something to alleviate that pain, but it cannot. In the end, money can rarely, if ever, mend matters of the heart.</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>     “You've made it quite clear, much to my amusement, how you feel about being included in my inheritance, but I hope you'll forgive me for what I am about to do. If you are reading this, then I am already gone and there is nothing you can do about it anyway.”</I> I could almost hear his dry chuckle as I read his words. <I>“I am leaving you the beach house. I believe it meant as much to you as it did to me, and I know you will take good care of it. I am also leaving you a small amount that you can do with as you wish. If nothing else, do what my friend told me to do after Pietro's gift to me and place it in a bank account until you are ready. Perhaps you can save it for the boys. Whatever you decide, I hope that you will accept it with the intention with which it is given to you -- out of love and appreciation.</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>     “Finally, with the end of my life you have run out of excuses to avoid your own. Start living, Adam, and live fully. Life is a gift; do not waste it.</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>     “With great affection, Uncle Charlie”</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>     </I>Tears ran down my cheeks as I read the last words. </div> <bR> <div>      “Ahem,” Mr. Dupont cleared his throat. “In addition to the bequest of the home in Ocean City, you are also to receive what I believe Charlie referred to as a small amount of cash.”</div> <bR> <div>      “So I read,” I said with a sniff. “What exactly did Charlie consider a small amount?”</div> <bR> <div>      Mr. Dupont named a figure that nearly caused me to fall out of my chair.</div> <bR> <div>      “You must be joking,” I gasped.</div> <bR> <div>      “I assure you I'm not,” was his dry response.</div> <bR> <div>      Charlie had outwitted me.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> * * *</div> <div>      I didn't want anything to do with the money, or the house for that matter. I put the money in a saving account and put them both from my mind. I did make an effort to follow his other advice and start living my life. I was still scared, but I forced myself to start going out. I called several of the men Charlie had introduced me to and even went on second dates with a couple of them. None of which produced sparks.</div> <bR> <div>      It was months before I could bring myself to drive down to the beach house. I hadn't been there since Charlie had gotten too sick to make the drive. The house had suffered from my neglect. The gardens were weedy and dust layered the furniture inside. I spent a weekend cleaning, working in the gardens, and generally trying to avoid the ghost of Charlie. He would have wanted the house kept up though, and I made out reasonably well during the day. Once the sun fell below the horizon however, it was another story altogether. Sitting alone in the house was torturous. I managed to get through the first night by going to bed early. The second night, though, I wasn't tired enough for that trick to work. I finally I decided to drive up to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. It's a beach resort town that I'd been to a few times with Charlie. On the surface, it was much like Ocean City, except on a much smaller scale. The difference was Rehoboth Beach was something of a gay Mecca whereas Ocean City tended to be a bit homophobic. There were several gay bars and clubs there, and while they weren't my usual scene, it was a measure of how desperate I was for distraction.</div> <bR> <div>      After parking my car downtown, I walked to the Blue Moon, one of the nicer places I remembered Charlie taking me to. As I walked in, almost every head turned to watch me. I was a new face in a small town where almost everyone knew each other. I felt the eyes following me as I crossed the room to the bar. I ordered a drink and steeled myself to turn around and face the crowd. </div> <bR> <div>      “You here on vacation?” the bartender, a darkly handsome guy in his mid-twenties, asked me as he handed me my rum and coke. </div> <bR> <div>      “Huh?” I responded wittily, surprised at being directly addressed.</div> <bR> <div>      “I don't think I've seen you around before; I know most of the locals. I figured you're vacationing here.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Actually, I have a beach house in Ocean City,” I said and took a sip of my drink. Then, in that mysterious way that good bartenders have of inviting confidences, I found myself telling him more than I'd planned. “I just inherited it. It's the first time I've been there since my friend that used to own it died. I just couldn't stay there alone another night.”</div> <bR> <div>      He paused in wiping down the bar and gave me a close look. “You're not talking about Uncle Charlie, are you?” he asked.</div> <bR> <div>      Hearing his name spoken in this place where I'd gone to escape his memory struck something deep inside me. I threw back the rest of the drink and nodded. “Yeah, it was Charlie.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Wow,” he said. “That place meant the world to him. Everyone here was always trying to get him to sell it and get a place up here, but he wouldn't even consider it. You must have been something really special for him to leave it to you.”</div> <bR> <div>      I shrugged, fighting back a sudden urge to cry. “I was there for him at the end.”</div> <bR> <div>      A sympathetic look crossed the bartender's face. “I'm sorry. I'm being an insensitive schmuck. You've just lost your lover and I'm prattling on about it. Here, have another drink on me.”</div> <bR> <div>      “We weren't lovers!” I said quickly. “He was like a father to me, helped me through some hard times.”</div> <bR> <div>      He smiled. “That sounds like him, alright. Always there to help a fellow queer in need.” He handed me another drink and raised one of his own. “To Uncle Charlie,” he said loudly. I raised my glass and took a large gulp of its contents, mixed considerably stronger this time. </div> <bR> <div>      Someone sat down next to me at the bar but I was staring into my glass and didn't pay attention to him. “You knew Charlie?” he asked me in a soft voice.</div> <bR> <div>      I sighed without looking up. I'd come here to forget and it seemed as if everyone here was conspiring to remind me every few seconds. I was about to just stand up and walk out when I glanced over at the man perched on the stool next to me. He was attractive enough to give me pause. He was tall, even sitting down he looked to be over six foot, and well built. He had wavy dark brown hair and bore a striking resemblance to Tom Selleck, sans mustache. It was his eyes, though, that made me stay where I was. They were filled with pain that I found familiar. I'd seen the same look in the mirror everyday since Charlie died.</div> <bR> <div>      “Yes,” I said. “You knew him too?”</div> <bR> <div>      He nodded. “He was a good friend. I didn't hear about his death until after or I would have been at the funeral.”</div> <bR> <div>      “The service was very nice. There was a big crowd.”</div> <bR> <div>      “You were there?”</div> <bR> <div>      “I helped plan it.”</div> <bR> <div>      His eyes widened. “You must have been close.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I…I took care of him at the end.”</div> <bR> <div>      He frowned. “I didn't even know he was sick.”</div> <bR> <div>      “He didn't want anyone to know. How did you know him?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Oh, I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself. My name is Steve Redden.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Adam Connelly,” I said, accepting his proffered hand and shaking it. He had a firm grip.</div> <bR> <div>      His eyes lit up in recognition. “He mentioned you in one of his letters.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Really?” I was surprised to say the least.</div> <bR> <div>      “Yes, he mentioned that you were living with him and that you'd been `a great blessing to an old man', to use his exact words. He said you'd been an immense help to him.”</div> <bR> <div>      I smiled in spite of myself. “That sounds like something he'd say. He was the one who was an immense help to me. He took me in and took care of me when I was in a very bad place in my life. He even helped me get my business started.”</div> <bR> <div>      “No shit? He did the same thing with me years and years ago. Well, I didn't live with him, but he paid for me to go to college to become an architect. To this day, I don't know how he even knew who I was or that I needed help.”</div> <bR> <div>      “He had contacts,” I said softly.</div> <bR> <div>      “He was a good man.”</div> <bR> <div>      “That he was.” I glanced down at his empty glass. “Can I buy you a drink, Steve?”</div> <bR> <div>      He looked up and smiled at me. “I'd like that, Adam.”</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> * * *</div> <div>      Steve and I talked late into the night. We really seemed to hit it off. At the end of the night, we exchanged numbers and went our separate ways. He stayed on my mind constantly for the next few days, but I was too nervous to call him and I didn't hear a word from him. I had pretty much decided I'd read too much into it when I returned to my apartment to find a message on my answering machine. I'd given him my home number instead of the number at the beach house. I was mortified. I called him back immediately and apologized. He told me he'd like to see me again the next time I came down and I felt my heart flutter. I realized that I hadn't felt like this since I was a kid. It was a nice feeling, but a little scary.</div> <bR> <div>      We planned to see each other again in a few weeks. It would be an official date this time and I was scared out of my skull. In the meantime, we talked on the phone every night. It wasn't long before I realized I was developing serious feelings for this man.</div> <bR> <div>      The night of the big date, I changed my clothes three times before I left the house, and I hadn't brought that many outfits with me to the beach house. We met once again at the Blue Moon and had a drink at the bar before going into the attached restaurant where he'd made reservations. </div> <bR> <div>      We had a wonderful evening. The chemistry was just as evident as our first meeting. I was really enjoying myself until he brought up the subject of families, something that had somehow never come up in all our phone conversations.</div> <bR> <div>      “Do you have much family?” he asked.</div> <bR> <div>      “No, my parents passed away years ago and I was an only child,” I told him. I don't know why I didn't mention my marriage and two kids, but something stopped me.</div> <bR> <div>      “I'm sorry. My parents passed away a few years ago too. I do have a sister though.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Are you close?” </div> <bR> <div>      “Not as close as we used to be. She's never been very supportive of me after I came out. Her husband is even worse. One of those self-righteous Christian types.”</div> <bR> <div>      “That's too bad.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Yeah, and the worst part is, I think he's trying to keep me from seeing her at all. She just had her third child and he's made it pretty clear he doesn't want me to even come for a visit.”</div> <bR> <div>      “That's awful,” I said, thinking once more about my boys and how I wasn't allowed to see them either. “Do you like kids?”</div> <bR> <div>      He shrugged. “As long as they are someone else's.”</div> <bR> <div>      I looked up, my fork stopping in mid-air. “You don't want kids of your own?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Not really. I'm not one of those gay guys who runs around talking about adoption rights and whining about being a family. I like my life the way it is, I don't need additional complications.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Oh,” I said, my heart sinking fast. At least I'd found out now instead of later, I tried to tell myself, but I couldn't stop the intense feeling of disappointment. I hadn't given up on getting my boys back and if Steve was that adamant about not wanting children…</div> <bR> <div>      I grew quiet after that, answering questions as briefly as possible. I'd gone from wanting the evening to last all night to just wanting it to end as soon as possible. I'm sure Steve noticed my withdrawal, but he didn't give any sign. He insisted in paying the bill and then we rose and walked outside. It was an ideal night, clear and warm. </div> <bR> <div>      “Let's walk on the boardwalk,” Steve suggested.</div> <bR> <div>      “No, I should really be going,” I said in an attempt to beg off. </div> <bR> <div>      “It's a beautiful night,” he said persuasively. “It's too early to go home. Come on, walk with me.” When I still paused, he added, “Please?”</div> <bR> <div>      How could I say no to those puppy dog eyes? I sighed and fell into step beside him. We walked in silence down the street and onto the boardwalk. It was the perfect romantic setting. Couples strolled hand in hand down the boardwalk, the beach stretched out waiting for the next day of sun-worshippers to descend, the moon sparkled on the ocean like a million diamonds scattered across its surface.</div> <bR> <div>      “So what did I say wrong?” he asked after a few minutes.</div> <bR> <div>      “Nothing,” I answered too quickly. </div> <bR> <div>      “Come on, Adam. Give me a little credit. Everything was going great and then you suddenly pulled away like I'd slapped you. What was it?”</div> <bR> <div>      I sighed. “I have two kids.”</div> <bR> <div>      His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”</div> <bR> <div>      “Boys. One is thirteen and one is ten, almost eleven.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Wow. Do they live with you?”</div> <bR> <div>      “No, they live with their mother, my ex-wife. She won't even let me see them.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Wow. I don't know what to say.”</div> <bR> <div>      “There's nothing to say. I haven't given up on getting them back, so I guess that means we're over. I wouldn't want it to complicate your life or anything.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Adam, when I said that I didn't know you had kids.”</div> <bR> <div>      “It doesn't change anything.”</div> <bR> <div>      “Yes it does! It changes everything.”</div> <bR> <div>      “How?”</div> <bR> <div>      He stopped, obviously at a loss for words.</div> <bR> <div>      “See?” I said wearily. “It doesn't change anything.” I walked away to stand at the rail at the edge of the boardwalk. I felt Steve walk up behind me. After a moment, I felt his hands on my shoulders. I tensed up immediately.</div> <bR> <div>      “We've only known each other for a few weeks,” he said softly. “We've still got a lot to learn about each other, but I already know that I like you. A lot. You're different from anyone I've ever met. And I mean different in a good way. You're a good man, Adam, and I'd like the chance get to know you better.”</div> <bR> <div>      “What about my kids?”</div> <bR> <div>      He tenderly began to massage my shoulders. “I hope to get to meet them someday.”</div> <bR> <div>      “But you said…”</div> <bR> <div>      “I've never pictured myself with kids. I guess I just grew accustomed to thinking I'd never have kids so it was just easier to say I didn't want them. I've known I was gay since I was very young and I've never found anyone I could see myself settling down with... until now.”</div> <bR> <div>      I felt the tension easing out of my shoulders under his ministrations. “But now?” I said, in a voice that was barely audible.</div> <bR> <div>      “Now I've met you.”</div> <bR> <div>      “We just met. We hardly know each other.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I know enough to know that I'm attracted to you and I want to know you better. That's all I'm asking. I didn't even know you'd been married before a few minutes ago, let alone that you had kids. It doesn't change how I feel about you. It caught me off guard…I wish you'd told me before.”</div> <bR> <div>      “I was afraid it would drive you away.”</div> <bR> <div>      He gently turned my shoulders so I was facing him. “Nothing you can tell me will drive me away unless you say you're not attracted to me and you want me to go away. Is that how it is?”</div> <bR> <div>      I looked into his eyes and could see the sincerity in them. “I don't want you to go away,” I whispered. And I didn't. I wanted him in my life. I wanted to know him inside and out.</div> <bR> <div>      He leaned in and I felt his lips press against mine. For a second, I felt as if I were falling but then I felt his strong arms slide around my body and I felt more grounded than I'd ever felt in my life. We kissed for an eternity or what might only have been moments -- I couldn't tell you now -- before I pulled away.</div> <bR> <div>      “What about the boys?” I asked him, unable to let it go just yet.</div> <bR> <div>      “If they're a part of you, I'm sure I'll love them.”</div> <bR> <div>      I melted back into his arms.</div> <bR> <div>      “So do I get a second chance?” he murmured softly into my hair.</div> <bR> <div>      “Absolutely.”</div> <bR> <div>      His arms tightened around me and I whispered a prayer of thanks to Charlie, wherever he was. In a way, he'd done me one last favor by bringing Steve and me together. I had a feeling this was only the beginning…</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <I><B>FINIS</B></I></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>