The moon was still shining brightly when John snapped back. It was as if he'd been in a trance the past hour. The clock on the dashboard couldn't be right, he thought, it said ten-thirty. Damn, it ought to be midnight by now. Alan still lay in his arms, a position they had held for what felt like an eternity.

Alan suddenly drew away and opened the door to get out. Walking around to the front of the car, he clambered onto the hood and sat staring off across the sheet of bright, moonlit grass towards the dark trees in the distance. The sight was eerie and yet John thought it captivating. Alan's hair shown in the moonlight and through the windshield it seemed as if he were floating just out of reach.

John pulled himself out the window and sat on the door, looking at Alan across the roof of the car. "Alan. I want to thank you. It took courage to tell me what you did."

Alan looked back at him for a moment and returned his gaze to the distant trees. "You heard me say that I had a queer relationship with a younger boy. How do you feel about that?"

John thought a moment and then spoke what was on his mind.

"Sad, that's what I feel. Sad best describes your loss, sad that a young boy so full of life had such a tragic ending and sad that you feel there will never be another chance for you to love. I heard you, ok?"

"But…"

"But nothing, Alan. I don't care if you're homosexual. Do you think you're the only one who's ever had those feelings? I think right now you’re about the best friend I've ever had."

Alan turned, his eyes wide, and John had the feeling that their little talk wasn't over just yet.

"You mean that, don't you?" Alan said.

"Mean what?" John asked.

"I thought maybe you'd had some experience with guys before."

"Oh, is that it? What are you a mind reader?"

"Yeah, it's something like that. I know when you're telling the truth."

"Ok, all's fair. I fooled around once. But I was just a kid, it was nothing."

"Until now," Alan said. "Until you discover that the guy you want as a best friend is actually queer."

"That's all right, I can handle it," John replied. "So you do read minds or something to that effect?"

"Sort of, it's hard to explain," Alan said.

"You'll have to explain it eventually."

"I agree. But right now you think I'm beautiful sitting here in the moonlight." Not a question, Alan already knew what John was thinking.

"Yes…," John said, "does that shock you?"

"A little, but you don't think you're queer?"

John felt cornered. "Truthfully, I don't know what I am."

"That's acceptable. I didn't think Buddhists were sexual beings."

"Many still are. The monks don't indulge in feelings of the flesh. Giving up sex is supposed to raise your consciousness to a higher level but I may never succeed to that point myself."

"I don't understand how you could be expected to give up something that is so very human by nature. Sex is sex, humans do it naturally," Alan said.

"For reproductive reasons, yes. Sex between guys is something different. It would be deemed a selfish indulgence. Are you sure you want to talk about this now?" John asked.

"Ok, maybe later then," Alan said, "are you sure you want to hear about the rest of my crazy life?"

"I have to," John said, "I think I just bought the book."

"I hope this doesn't offend you but I think you're a sweet guy, John Bateman."

"No offense taken, my mother tells me that all the time."

"And if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

"It wouldn't kill me but…I'll have to think about it, this has all happened so fast, I need some time with it," John said.

"Times up, "Alan said. He hopped off the hood and walked around to the passenger side of the car. He leaned over and kissed John on the cheek. A sweet and yet brotherly kiss.

"You do things like that just so you can read my thoughts after it happens," John suggested.

"You're a quick study, that's good. Yeah, your defenses are down when I throw you a curve."

"I know what you want," John said.

"You do? How interesting."

"You want to know about my sordid past, don't you?"

Alan laughed and his eyes sparkled in the reflected moonlight. "Eventually I do, but only when you're comfortable enough to tell me."

Alan put his hands on John's face and looked into his eyes. A slow move of his head and their lips met in a real but brief kiss.

Alan stepped back. "Did I shock you?"

"Yes, you succeeded. But I expected it. Have you ever kissed a girl?" John asked.

"Only once and I hated it," Alan said," but that's another part of what I wanted to tell you."

They walked slowly across the grass towards the dugout and sat on the bench behind the chain link fence. "It was my last year at Eastern," Alan began.

I had a brief sexual experience with this one girl and that was only because the situation got way out of hand. It was fortunate for me that I didn't go all the way. She gave two of my buddies the clap. Imagine explaining that to your mother, I was only in ninth grade.

Her name was Shelly and she had a reputation as a big slut from a lot of the guys at Montgomery High. Sweet sixteen and it was said she had been kissed by just about every guy on this side of town.

I was attending a party with a few of my buddies, guys that had older brothers who would buy them beer. You know the situation. I was just sitting there, beer in hand, when Shelly first made the scene. My friend Robby was just about passed out in a chair across from where I was sitting on the couch with my other friend, Brad. Shelly came bouncing down the stairs and stopped to look around. The room was draped all over with crepe paper and had Christmas lights hanging in the corners. She looked over at me, made a bee line for the couch and managed to squeeze in between Brad and myself. It was like sardines on this tiny little couch and after the introducing herself to Brad she turned to me.

"I know who you are," Shelly said. "You're the terror of Eastern Junior High. My little brother goes there."

"What's his name? I'll kill him on Monday," I said.

Brad choked on his beer and started laughing, Shelly just smiled.

"You wouldn't hurt him really, would you?"

"Depends on how I feel," warming to the tough guy role just to keep Brad laughing," what's gonna stop me?"

"I will," Shelly said and her hand slid into my lap.

Brad and Robby whooped for joy and I was trapped. The four of us were the only ones in the basement when Shelly started to unzip my pants. My friends were watching this slut going down on my cock. I was supposed to play king for my court. I had to let her do it. My buddies sat bug-eyed, watching her head bob up and down in my lap. I could see the fabric of their jeans tented with lust. I played hard to get, yawned a little and took another sip of warm beer.

It was a command performance, complete with an audience who thought they knew me pretty well. I felt nothing for her and the beer didn't help me rise to the occasion either. Shelly kept at it a while before I stopped her. There was no way I was going to let her finish what she had started. She smiled and excused herself to go get another beer.

The moment called for a stroke of brilliance. I happened to have one while pulling up my zipper in front of my leering friends. It would be revenge worthy of a master. The bitch had to pay.

"Robby, you alive over there man?" I asked.

"Yeah, what a head job, was it good?" he laughed.

"The best," I lied. "Look, she doesn't know you so let's play a little game on her."

"Cool beans," Brad said, "what's up?"

"Ok, let’s say Robby is deaf and dumb, he can't speak or hear a word. I'm gonna tell her that he's a poor boy who can't get any cause of his handicap. Yeah, that'll work, no…wait. I'm gonna tell her you're a virgin and you need it bad or you're gonna go crazy after what she did to me."

"Oh wow," Robby said," think it'll work?"

"Hey, have I ever let you down?" I said. "Shit, here she comes."

Shelly sat back down next to me and handed over a beer. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and then began to whisper in her ear. She listened and began to stare at Robby across the room. Brad could hear the game and was dying to laugh but I kept knocking him up side the head with my knuckles until the boy shut up. Finally the setup was done and I took Shelly's hand, leading her over to Robby. I made some signs with my hand, as if speaking to the boy and Robby smiled.

"I told him you were a sweet girl, Shelly, and you wanted to be friends with him," I said." Poor kid, he needs a woman like you to end his suffering."

"He is kinda cute, "Shelly said," but how do I talk to him, are you sure he can't hear us?"

"Not a word," I replied. "Look, he's not stupid. He just saw what you did. Why don't you take him upstairs? I'm sure there's a quiet bedroom up there somewhere. Just be careful girl, he's hung like a horse, truly awesome."

"Oh my, the poor dear," she said.

She led Robby away up the stairs. The boy had a smile on his face and a major bulge in his pants. Brad and I just about died laughing after they were gone.

"So you managed to pass her along to your friend," John said, "clever."

"I thought so. It also made me aware that I was vulnerable."

"You never met another queer boy after…?" John hesitated to say the name.

But Alan understood and smiled. "Sure, you might say I met some pretty queer folk my first year at Montgomery."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"I suppose I better," Alan said. "But let me tell you what happened first."

Alan hesitated, a frown on his face.

"Go on," John said.

What had started out as a really bad year for me only seemed to be getting worse.

My friends were all boys from the wrong side of the tracks who looked at me as leader of the pack. It took no effort to realize all I was leading was a bunch of air-headed fools who would turn on me in a minute if they knew I was queer.

There was this one boy named Terry Brown that seemed to always be on the fringe of everything I did. Once or twice I caught him looking at me and I wondered if his interest was more than just as a friend. But even if he had queer feelings I wasn't in a receptive mood. His timing was off. My emotions were still on hold.

I had become aware of the greater world around me and all the shit that was going on. Everything seemed to be focused on Vietnam. People were dying over there and I began to realize this had been going on for some time. Both the newspapers I read for Civics class and the evening news were full of horror stories about the place.

At some deep level it really frightened me. Brad and Robby were the kind who would surely end up in a foxhole and love every minute until their world blew up. I had no illusions about being a soldier, especially when I felt the cause was wrong.

My father and I argued about the outcome. I said we were going to start a world war, I got sent to my room. I was punished for what I thought. That was when I started thinking of my father's generation as the enemy. It's unfair, I know. I shouldn't have lumped together everyone over the age of thirty, but I was angry.

My mother took my side, but not openly. She would clip out little articles from magazines and leave them where I could find them. Stuff about how God hated war and how killing was against the teachings of the Bible. It was her way of supporting my growing anti-war feelings.

My friends began wondering if they would be drafted into the military after high school, everything was becoming more personal. The evening news began giving us the body counts and Bob Dylan's lyrics suddenly began to make sense to me. The times were changing and I didn't want to be left out.

Not that I could make a one man stand against the military, but I was really beginning to see myself as a radical. I needed to purge the anger and frustration I still felt. Something had to come along and kick me in the butt, and then it did.

I was hanging out at the Record Rack down at the mall when this guy came in and put a poster up on the bulletin board. I looked it over and knew this was an opportunity to do something. The war protest was coming to Washington.

The Students for a Democratic Society had yet to become the notorious SDS that we read about in the news. You know how the media quickly associated them with violence and the radical underground. But back then it wasn't true, well, not yet anyway.

I had read some of the stuff published on the West Coast and agreed that a student protest was the next step. If Johnson was planning to use me as cannon fodder in his dirty little war at least he'd know how I felt about it. The poster proclaimed that the SDS was marching on Washington in two weeks. No matter what happened, I was going to be a part of history.

My parents would never drive me downtown and so when the Saturday rally date arrived I had to take the bus. The long ride down to the Washington Monument was eventful. The bus was crowded with college age kids, most of them looking like hippies. I was pretty clean cut by comparison although my hair was growing long again.

I saw slogans hand printed on T-shirts and wished I'd thought about doing something like that. The excitement was growing inside of me. Everyone was going downtown to get radicalized.

There were ten or twenty thousand people on the National Mall that day and I saw plenty of other kids my age. The energy was flowing, along with a little pot smoke. But the drugs weren't my reason for being there. Keeping my ass out of the war seemed much more important.

I spent the day collecting as much literature as I could shove in my backpack. Every kind of group imaginable seemed to be there, the written handouts ran from the peaceful to the absurd and even the violent. Predictably, I ran into Robby and Brad who had come down to get high and ran into a group of students from San Francisco with a large stash of pot. I ditched them fast since it wouldn't do to end up in jail or on the evening news. My parents would kill me.

The cops were really out in force that day too. Many of them were just wandering through the crowds taking pictures of the pot smokers who didn't seem to care. I spoke to hundreds of people from across the country and listened to what they had to say about Johnson and the war. My mind was charged with the excitement.

The crowd came together in one area to hear the speakers on the podium telling us things we all agreed upon. What affected me the most was the camaraderie. So many different people of all ages were around me. I began to realize that my mind was wide open. The thoughts of those around me were clear and it was electrifying.

In the midst of all this chaos, one figure stood out in the middle of the crowd. I pushed my way through the mass of people towards the speaker. The sound system was just horrible so I just kept moving forward. And then I recognized the guy's face from one of the pamphlets. His name was Rennie Davis.

Davis was the national leader of the SDS and an impressive mouthpiece for the movement. He stood talking with a small group of college students about the need for a national student strike at campuses across the country. I remember thinking, wow, an action like that would really piss off the government.

Suddenly he stopped talking, looked right down at me and pointed. I didn't realize how close I was to the front of the crowd and I froze as a sea of faces turned my way.

"See that boy right there? If we don't bring this government to its knees over this issue then kids like him will be the next generation to be fed into the military machine. By then there won't be any campus rallies because whole institutions will be shut down as students are conscripted to fight. We have to be willing to put our bodies on the line to stop all this madness or suffer the consequences this insane government will bring down on us in the next five years."

I thought the man was quite eloquent and applauded his speech. When Davis came down off the stage he began to move off into the crowd. But he stopped long enough to shake my hand, thanking me for coming to the rally.

I looked into those determined eyes and saw that the man really meant every word of what he had said. I was the one who should be thanking the SDS for giving me a cause.

The past two years had been a huge blur of nothingness. My whole world had toppled after Tommy's death and my grades had plummeted. My social life was reduced to a shambles. But standing there in that crowd I felt the beginning of a new craving and the possibility that I could participate in something important. Rennie Davis was right, everyone had to get involved or die trying.

I tried to become embroiled in the anti-war movement but no one seemed interested in talking to a young kid. My letters to the various organizations represented in all the literature went unanswered, except for one. Those guys told me I was too young to get involved with their organization. I was a liability they couldn't accept. But I could hand out flyers and talk to people. I just couldn't participate in the protest marches. It made me wonder why my feelings weren't important to them.

Slowly my anger cooled into rational thought and I decided to wait until I could organize a student group this fall. Then maybe since I would be part of a student organization they would all have to listen. And that's where I was six months ago, John.

"The SDS is a pretty radical group, Alan."

"I know, but I understand the violence is just an expression of their frustration."

John shook his head," Violence is not the answer."

"I didn't say I agreed with it, I just understand. No one in that damn government downtown seems to be listening. We are old enough to go and die for our country but not old enough to vote, that's pure crap."

"Surprisingly, even my father agrees with that," John said.

"Good, but I'm afraid your father is part of the problem too," Alan said.

"He also says that no good soldier ever likes a war. I know you don't like the military but I understand them a little better than you do, Alan."

"I concede that point. They are just a tool of this bad government. But let's not open up that can of worms tonight, ok? I have to tell you about this past summer, it's important to our friendship."

"All right, I'm listening," John said.

"I needed to relax after my botched attempt at joining the anti-war movement. And to me that meant swimming laps in the pool. Swimming has always been the surest way for me to bring my mind and body together. It's like my Buddhist thing, ok?"

John smiled as Alan continued. "Lap after lap the body tires as the mind grows stronger. Without a doubt I always feel better after swimming a mile or two.

So I went back into the water where I felt at home and put the thoughts of war behind me. Face it, a pool full of guys in bathing suits can be a nice distraction. And then I ran into Terry Brown again.

He was going to a private school and I had not seen him for most of the year. The looks he gave me said that he was flirting but he never said anything right out in the open. I know he was wondering about me but I never allowed anything to become even remotely sexual. I saw Terry as a risk because at the time there was there was a big scandal over at his school.

Some of the teachers had been having sex with the students. It was all over the papers for several days. Even though none of the boy's names was ever mentioned, I just knew that Terry was in the middle of it. End of story.

"I'm telling you this, John, because he's a student at Montgomery. Now that we hang out together he'll become aware of it. I just don't know how he'll react."

"Wow, so I'm living in the shadow of one of your old admirers? This is like being in a soap opera. Will we be expected to fight over you?"

"God, I hope not. He's just very confused about his sexuality and that has to be fucking with his head. Letting some teacher suck you off for a good grade is nothing but a cruel joke, especially if the boy is really queer. Terry needs to deal with the emotional trauma in his life. Sex without love has to leave you feeling pretty empty."

"Sex without love is destructive, I agree," John said. "We should only hope he doesn't make trouble.""

"Don't you think our friendship a little odd sometimes? I mean here we are talking about sex and love, is this what guys really talk about?" Alan laughed.

"I asked you before if we'd met in another life, do you remember? I really think we have and that's why this conversation is so comfortable and truthful."

"I just never want you to be uncomfortable with what we talk about. You're very important to me John Bateman. I've never had a friend quite like you, not even Louie."

"Who's Louie?" John asked.

"Oh, I haven't mentioned him, have I? He's my guardian angel, the queer kind. I'll tell you about him but first I want to tell you about a conversation I had that set me back on the pathway to life after Tommy died."

"Really? Please, I want to know. Profound things really interest me," John said.

"Like its getting profoundly late, we'll get in trouble?"

The dashboard clock said it was quarter of twelve. John would turn AWOL at midnight and the Old man would be furious.

"Oh, shit. But I want to hear more," John said.

"How about lunch tomorrow?" Alan suggested.

"It's a deal, you can tell me about that conversation."

The short drive to John's house was animated but they said nothing of importance. That would keep until tomorrow. Alan pulled up in front and they both looked over at the porch light above the door.

"So if the light was off you'd be toast, is that it? Is your father sitting up in the living room waiting for you?" Alan asked.

"Probably, but I'm six minutes early."

"Then sleep well, I'll come get you at eleven."

"Alan, thank you. Thank you for trusting me. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. Here's where I'm supposed to kiss you good night, but we're not like that, are we?" Alan said.

John hesitated but then leaned over and kissed Alan on the cheek before he got out. "Drive carefully going home, good night."

"Good night, yourself," Alan said. Good night, sweetheart, he thought to himself.

Alan pulled slowly away from the curb as John walked to the front door. He looked over his shoulder and watched as the door closed. The porch light went out.

A shudder went through his body, a release of the tension that had been with him all evening. Suddenly he felt tired and yet at the same time very elated. He had just told his best friend that he was queer and John had not flinched.

Tommy. He had not said that name out loud for a long time. The overwhelming sense of sadness wasn't there anymore. "Tommy," Alan said out loud to the empty streets he saw through the windshield. "I will always love you. But I need to love John too."

There were no tears this time, only a sense of freedom, of joy. The burden had been removed from his shoulders. John had made that possible. Fate had brought them together like this. John would call it karma and that seemed to be as good an explanation as any.

After the short drive home, Alan pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine. His hands still gripped the wheel.

John was probably in bed by now, his mind churning with all that they had discussed in the past four hours. Or maybe he was sitting in the lotus position meditating. Yes, that would be more like John.

His mind felt a warm and soothing peace when he thought of John's face and the kiss they had shared. This is what he wanted love to feel like, this is what his life needed, again.

And then tomorrow, tomorrow he would see John and begin the courtship. They needed time to learn about love. Not just sex, although a bit of that would be nice when it happened.

Alan whooped out loud, "I love you John Bateman, can you hear me? I love you." The sound reverberated in the interior of the car and Alan laughed. "Sweet dreams, my prince." He got out of the car and shut the door quietly. The silvery moonlight lit the driveway and Alan stared up at the stars for a moment.

Sometimes it was good to be alive. He walked to the side porch and let himself in at the kitchen door before turning out the porch light.



On to Chapter Six

Back to Chapter Four

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Singer Without a Song is © 2005 - 2006 by Chris James.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.


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