Festival Of Lights

Charles led me to his room, which was at the opposite end of the building from mine and on a different floor.  When he opened the door, I expected to see the usual dorm room mess of two guys living in one cramped space.  He didn't have a roommate as it turned out, though.  The guy he had started the semester with had gotten married and moved out, leaving Charles all alone in the room.  Naturally the idea occurred for me to move in with him and leave my smelly, trashy jock roommate behind.  I didn't know if we were ready for that sort of commitment, however.

"You could always move in here, you know," Charles suggested aloud, as he had obviously been thinking along the same lines.  "If you wanted to, I mean.  You don't have to, you know.  I mean you probably won't want to after tonight anyway."  I silenced him with a finger on his lips.

"I was thinking the same thing," I told him.  When I saw the stricken look on his face, I knew that he had connected my words with the end of his, not the beginning.  "I was afraid you wouldn't want me, or that you would think I was trying to rush things."

"Half the guys in the dorm know how miserable you must be sharing with Hog," he told me with a shrug.  "I was going to offer the room no matter how things turned out today.  Like I said, though, you may not want to be anywhere near me after you hear why I didn't want to go back to the festival."

"Why don't you stop worrying about how I will react?" I told him gently.  "Neither of us will know for sure until you've told me about it."

"Well, it started when I was in eighth grade and I realized that I was attracted to boys not girls," Charles started.  "That was also the year that I started working for the neighbors as a yardboy."  My eyes widened as I realized that Charles had been the boy to have the affair with the married man.  His next words confirmed that.  "I never meant for anything to happen, but the guy was so hot looking.  He would skinny dip in their pool while I worked in the flower beds in the backyard.  He knew I was looking.  He finally confronted me and told me that if I didn't want it all over town that I had better do exactly as he said."

"He forced you?" I cried out.  "Why the hell isn't he in jail?"

"He only forced me that first time," Charles confessed as tears formed in his eyes.  "I liked it, Jeremy.  I couldn't help myself.  It felt so good, and there was that element of the naughtiness of it, I suppose.  I was so starved for affection; I gladly latched onto what he offered."

"He wasn't offering though, was he?" I questioned.  "He made you do what he wanted, didn't he?"

"Yes," Charles agreed.  "I didn't see it that way for a long time.  I didn't see that he didn't love me; he possessed me.  I became part of his property.  He started telling me who to see, what to do, even what to wear."

"Didn't your parents....?"  My voice trailed off at the pitiful look on his face.  If his parents had been an active part of his life, he wouldn't have been so starved for affection and attention.  "How long did this go on?"

"The entire four years of high school," he informed me.  "During my senior year, I had finally started to wise up, with a lot of help from Marta, and see him for what he was.  He and I had always been careful, we thought, to keep his wife from finding out about what was going on.  It was a couple of weeks after my eighteenth birthday that she burst into the cabana and caught us.  She went ballistic.  I barely had time to grab my clothes and run when she started throwing things and screaming."

"But I don't understand, if Marta knew what was going on...." I started.

"I swore her to secrecy," Charles told me.  "I kept telling her that I was happy and that he loved me, and we were waiting for my eighteenth birthday before we did anything major."

"Do you mean that you and he were...."

"We had been doing it all, all along," he confirmed.  "I was a horny gay teenager and someone was offering sex, free and easy and all I could want.  Of course I cooperated.  What boy wouldn't?"  Here he turned away from me and I could hear the tears on his face even if he was trying to hide them from me.  "You can leave now if you want.  I understand that you don't want some dirty little boy toy."

"Charles, I grew up in an orphanage," I told him.  "I've never had much of anything that was brand new when I got it.  Everything, including most of my clothes had already been used when I got them.  That didn't make me appreciate them any less.  I was just grateful that I got to enjoy them when I did."  I paused as I pulled his face around to me.  "I don't think of you as dirty, and you won't be a boy toy to me.  I love you.  I'm so very sorry you went through such a terrible experience, although I'm sure there were parts of it that at least felt good.  If anything, this makes me worried that you won't be satisfied with me."

"How could you ever think that?" he gasped.

"I'm still a virgin, Charles," I confessed.  "I know I'm a few years older than you, but I never did anything with anyone, male or female.  Until today, I had never even kissed anyone romantically before.  I was always afraid of letting anyone know that I was gay."

"Why would that make you think I would not like you?" Charles asked, still confused.

"I don't know how to please you and make you feel good," I explained.  "I want to very badly, but I don't know how.  You may get tired of me not doing things right, or...."

"You could never do anything wrong, Jeremy," Charles said shushing me.  "You are so handsome, and loving, and kind, and generous.  Jeremy, you are a perfect angel.  You don't deserve used goods like me."

"Don't you ever put yourself down like that again," I snapped.  "You're the one that's gorgeous, and sweet, and funny, and smart, and if you weren't still at least a little innocent, you wouldn't blush like that," I added with a smile.

"You blush way more than I do," he returned.  "You look so freaking hot when you do, too," he murmured huskily.  "It makes me want you so much.  I want to see just how far down that blush goes."

"You really want me?" I asked him.

"Do you really want me?" he countered.

"More than I've ever wanted anything in my life," I answered honestly.

I trust you can imagine what happened after that.  You'll have to because I'm not going to tell you.  Some things are best kept private.  Suffice it to say that the next morning, I was in the dorm director's office, requesting a transfer of rooms.

"I'm sorry, Jeremy," the middle aged man said quietly.  "I don't think I can approve that."  He saw me about to protest and continued quickly.  "It has nothing to do with you two being gay.  Hell, there's at least twenty gay guys in this dorm, some of them rooming with gay friends, some with straights, and some with their boyfriends."

"What are you...? What do you...? How did you...?"

"Jeremy, you don't supervise a college dorm full of guys for fifteen years without learning a few things along the way," he answered.  "One of the earliest things you learn is how to spot the gay boys.  You and your boyfriend are definitely gay.  You weren't obvious enough to set off the homophobes in the building, but I knew."

"Okay, so maybe we are gay," I admitted.  "You just said that some of the other gay guys in here live with their boyfriends."

"I did, and they do," he agreed.  "I didn't tell them they could, though."  He must have seen my confusion.  "Those boys living with their boyfriends are doing it, they think, behind my back.  They don't believe I know what they're doing.  If they had asked for a transfer, I would have told them the same thing I'm telling you."

"But why?" I pushed.  "If you know it's going on, and you apparently don't have a problem with it, why say no?"

"What happens if I say yes and allow one of those couples to move in together?" he replied.  "I give their old room to someone else.  All of a sudden, something goes wrong and the loving couple split up.  They want separate rooms again.  I've got nowhere for them to go, because I filled their empty space already."

"But Charles and I...."

"Please don't insult my intelligence by spouting off how devoted you are to one another and how you will never break up," he cut me off.  "No one knows how a relationship will pan out in life.  You may not break up at all.  You could live together until you're both on Social Security.  You could also split up next week."  He stopped there and smiled at me.  "My advice to you is to do like all the other gay couples around here.  Stay with your boyfriend, but keep your old room and act like nothing is going on.  Whatever you do, don't let the old geezer that runs this dorm know that you're breaking his precious rules.  I hear he's a real bear."

He laughed and it was only then that I really paid attention to him and his space in the dorm.  He was a heavy set and hairy man with a full beard and mustache.  He also had on an open collared shirt that morning which let me notice for the first time that he wore a rainbow necklace.  There was a poster of a bear on his office wall, and if you looked closely enough, you could see the tiny little pink triangle decal in the corner.

"Get out of here, you little twinkie," he said with a smile.  "Go find that boy of yours and be happy the both of you.  You both deserve it, from what I've seen."

"What do you mean?" I had to ask.

"I don't know your pasts," he answered.   "I don't need to, either.  I do know you both have unhappy ones though.  When you two came here, you both had sad faces; now neither one of you does.  That's a good sign, Jeremy.  You're good for one another.  Keep it that way, ok?"

I thanked him and left to find Charles and Marta in the cafeteria for lunch.  I could tell right away that something was wrong.  Charles looked as if he were going to cry again, and surprisingly, Marta looked about the same.  As soon as she saw me, Marta grabbed Charles by the arm and hooked me with her other as she herded us to the exit.  Once outside I asked what was going on.

"I got an upsetting call from Rick this morning," Marta told me.  "Ida Mae Pierabon was found dead this morning in her house.  There were signs of a struggle.  There's no doubt about it; she was murdered.  They can't find her husband though."

"The Ida Mae from the festival yesterday?" I asked.

"You talked to her?" Charles asked.

"Not exactly," I answered.  "It was more like she yelled at me.  She said that she didn't want you around.  She swore to make you pay for what you did to her."

"That explains it then," Marta said cryptically.  We both looked at her and she explained.  "Rick asked me if I knew where you two had been last night.  I told him that from what I've heard from a few guys in the dorm, you were both occupied last night."

"We weren't that loud," Charles blurted.  "Were we?" he whispered to me.

"Well, it seems I didn't lie to my cousin after all," Marta grinned.  Charles and I both blushed profusely.  "Don't worry, guys.  I don't need to hear the juicy details.  I won't stop you from telling me, but I don't need to hear them."  This of course did nothing to curb our embarrassment.

"What does this mean about that nasty woman?" I asked, getting everyone's attention back on the original conversation.

"They think her husband killed her," Marta told me.  "No one ever thought that he'd go that crazy."

"I should have seen it coming," Charles whispered.  "I knew he was into kinky stuff, painful stuff.  I should have known that someday he would totally crack up."

"No one could have seen something like this," I tried to console him.  "The man is apparently very disturbed."

"Rick is concerned that he may show up here," Marta informed us.

"WHAT?" Charles gasped.  "He's coming after me?"

"Well, he won't get you," I said firmly.  "He will have to go through me to get you."

"Don't say things like that," Charles sobbed.  "He's killed someone now.  He may not stop at one."

"He will have to kill me to hurt you again," I vowed.

"Don't say that," Charles begged.  "He would do it.  If he's already killed her, he won't think twice about hurting you."

"We have to let campus security know about this," Marta said firmly.

"NO!" Charles barked.  "I don't want anyone at the school to know about what's going on.  Wasn't it enough that people back home know about him and what he did to me?"

"The man has killed someone already," I pointed out.  "If he comes here, we will need help to stop him."

"I can't," Charles wept.  "Jeremy, you saw how hard it was for me to tell you about this," he pleaded.  "I can't go through that again, not with strangers."

"I have a friend that's on the security force here," I told him.  "Let me call him.  He'll help, I promise, and I will be right here with you the whole time."

"I'm so afraid," Charles whispered.

"That's understandable," I assured him.  "There's a psycho killer after you.  Anyone would be terrified."

"I'm not afraid of him," Charles explained.  "I'm afraid of what's going to happen when word gets out around the school that I'm gay, and that my ex lover killed his wife and stalked me."

"If word gets out, we'll sue the school for violation of the privacy rule," Marta told him.

"Not to mention slander, defamation of character, and anything else we can think of," I added.  "Now do you want me to call Rod?"

"You have a friend who works security and is named Rod?" Charles asked.  I was pleased, amused and touched by the jealousy in his tone.

"First of all, he's totally straight," I began as I looked around us.  Marta had led us to the rose garden on campus.  It was secluded and usually solitary.  The three of us now were the most people I had ever seen in the garden at any one time.  I leaned over and quickly kissed Charles on the cheek.  "Second, and most important, I love you and only you.  If you really need a third reason, he wouldn't be my type even if he was gay."

"This is your type?" Marta asked pointing at Charles.

"Hey!" Charles pouted.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't care what she meant," I told my boyfriend.  "I love you and you are my type.  You're you."

"That still doesn't tell me what your type is," Charles continued to pout.

"I like cute little blondes who don't know how absolutely mind numbingly sexy they are," I whispered to him.  His blush intensified exponentially.  "I like boys that don't hide their psycho ex lovers from me.  They tell me up front that they have a past so that we can deal with it together and move on.  Speaking of moving, we have non-permission to room together."

"We have what?" he asked me.  I told both of them what the dorm director had told me.  "SWEET!!" he exclaimed happily.

"I guess that means that you do want me to move into your room," I said drily.

"Your powers of observation are astounding, Mr. Holmes," Marta snipped sarcastically.  "Why don't you guys head back to the dorm and start packing?  Jack the Ripper would have to sign in at the desk in order to get to you that way, and I doubt he'd be willing to do that.  His refusal will draw attention to him.  He'll be caught before you know it."

I didn't believe for a second that it would work that way.