Jamie

Author's note: This story includes explicit sexual content, involving contact between boys below the age of consent. If you find this in any way offensive or distasteful, please read no further, and/or if it is illegal for you to read such material in your jurisdiction due to age or domicile, please read no further. The author does not condone or promote any illegal activity. This story is entirely a product of my imagination, no minors were involved in any way in its compilation, and the characters and actions portrayed are entirely fictitious. The characters in this story may not engage in safe sex, because, being fictitious, they don't need to. You, as a real person, do.


****


"What's the matter?" a nervous, high-pitched little voice, like the resonant sound of a crystal tumbler tapped by a fingernail. "Why are you staring at me?"

The meaning of the words didn't register with me immediately, didn't even register as words initially, just a sweet sound. As I returned to the present from the twenty year ago past I'd been inhabiting in the previous few moments, and refocused on the young face in front of me, the words came together with an almost audible click, and I flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. You just look so much like Jamie....I mean, you reminded me of someone I used to know, years ago. Sorry." I hurriedly turned away, walked a few yards down the street. Poor kid, I thought, standing there on his own at a bus stop with a madman, or so he must've thought. But, oh, how like Jamie he was. A spitting image of the boy who had changed my life.

****

Growing up, I didn't really feel I was different from others of my age. I went to school, played football or cricket, went into town with my friends. My senior school was a boys only grammar, and I didn't have much of a chance to meet girls, not helped by the fact that I was rather on the shy side and didn't make friends of any sort very easily, so I got to the age of 13 or 14 without ever having had a girlfriend, but I was far from being unique amongst my schoolmates on that front. I suppose that sort of age was when I began to wonder about myself, although I was pretty ignorant about love and sex, because when my peers bantered about girls, what they'd done with or to them (or imagined they had, at least!), or wanted to do, I was left feeling rather cold. Girls, what use were they to me, I thought. Then two things happened that crystallised the feelings of 'otherness' that I was beginning to experience.

The first incident wasn't earth-shattering in itself, and didn't have any real consequences, apart from sowing seeds of doubt in my mind. I was in the toilets at the same time as a boy in my form who I wasn't particularly friendly with, but obviously knew fairly well. We were a few places apart at the urinal, when for some reason, I glanced in his direction. I saw straight away that he had, whether by accident or design I've no idea, a full erection. He was evidently rather further on in puberty than me, although we were roughly the same age, because his penis looked huge compared to mine. I was fascinated by what I'd accidentally observed, and kept my head turned his way for much longer than etiquette allowed. To my horror, he 'caught me looking', and having finished relieving himself, turned away from me as though I'd stuck a red hot wire into him, muttering "Do you mind!". I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me, feeling my cheeks burning up with guilt and shame. I was convinced he would go straight to the rest of our classmates, if not a teacher, and tell everyone what had happened, knowing that if he did, my school life would become a complete misery. There was one boy in our year who may or may not have been gay, but was certainly rather on the effeminate side, and who was the focus of all sorts of bullying, if not outright hatred. I crept into our next lesson, expecting the sky to fall on me as I did, but nothing was said - the boy had seemingly decided not to say anything, whether from consideration or embarrassment on his part I don't know. When the rest of the day had passed without incident or any reference to what had happened, I began to relax slightly, although I remained on tenterhooks all week.

That night in my bedroom, I thought back to those moments in the toilet, and what I'd seen there. It didn't take long before I was sporting a serious erection of my own. What did it mean? Was I what the bullied boy was called - 'queer', 'poof', 'fairy'? I'd never thought so before, but I wasn't very interested in girls like most of my friends claimed to be. There was no-one to talk to, no-one to ask - I would've died before speaking to my parents or my friends, and this all happened before the internet had been heard of. All I could do was to lie on my bed and stew in my own doubts and fears, while experimentally touching and squeezing my hard boyhood.

It wasn't that night that I discovered masturbation, but it wasn't very long afterwards when I overheard a couple of boys in the year below me giggling about 'having a wank', and in my bookish way, I spent the next day or two trying to find a dictionary which included a definition of the mysterious word. There turned out to be such a volume in the public library, and after surreptitiously reading the relevant page, and a few others for words arising from the first definition, I had the information I needed. Later that evening, I put what I'd learned into practise, tentatively at first, but after the initial, successful attempt, with increasing enthusiasm, to the point that after a couple of hours and three or four gut-wrenching bursts of pleasure, I ended up rather sore, as well as very tired. I also became more confused than ever, because nothing I'd read gave me any idea of what ought to be in my head while I was developing my new-found skill. It seemed to me that the strongest feelings coincided with thinking about my classmate in the toilet, and what I'd seen. No-one at school had called me any names, or treated me any differently from normal, and yet I was becoming more and more convinced that I was 'queer' - it was almost as though I was bullying myself, rather than waiting for someone else to do it. I was looking forward to the forthcoming long summer holiday with more than usual anticipation, hoping the time away from school would give me time to sort my head out. In the event, it brought the second life defining experience, and from a totally unexpected direction.

****

The school summer holiday was just coming to the end of its first week, when my dad made an announcement at the dinner table.

"Graham, I'm afraid you're going to have to share your bedroom for a few weeks."

I must have looked a bit shocked. "Aww, why Dad?"

"You remember Geoff and Sally? They came to my fortieth birthday do a few years ago." My dad's cousin and his wife. I nodded. "Well, they've been in a car accident. They should both make a full recovery, I'm relieved to say, but they'll both be in hospital for about a month, it seems. As we're the only ones in the family who aren't going away on holiday this summer, they've asked if we can look after their son until they get better, and we've agreed. Jamie will be arriving here tomorrow, one of his dad's friends is bringing him, and as we haven't got a spare room, he'll need to share with you. I'll set the camp bed up in the morning."

"But Dad, he's only a little boy, and I don't even know him properly."

"He's not that little now, he's just turned 11. He'll be going to senior school after the holidays. I'm sorry, Graham, but his parents wouldn't have asked us if there was any choice - they wouldn't send Jamie hundreds of miles from home just for the sake of it. He'll be good company for you this summer, and I expect you to make him welcome."

I was ready to continue fighting my corner, but one look at my dad made it clear that resistance was futile, so, despite my inward groans, I simply said "Yes, Dad." I couldn't believe it, not only was I going to have my holiday ruined, as I saw it, by having to babysit my little cousin, but I wouldn't even be able to enjoy my new nocturnal hobby, with him being in my room - that would just be too embarrassing. Why me, it's so unfair, I thought, like the stereotypical teenager I partly was.

The following morning was taken up with rearranging my bedroom, which was little more than a large single, to accommodate its temporary second occupant. The camp bed was set up opposite my single, leaving a gap of only two or three feet between the two. This was going to be even worse than I expected, I thought miserably - there isn't going to be room to swing a cat. After my dad was satisfied with the new layout of my room, and my mum had made up the camp bed with fresh sheets, pillowcases and a lightweight summer duvet, I was left on my own to contemplate my fate - how many weeks, months, or could it even be years, would pass before I regained my privacy?

I didn't know exactly what time my unwelcome roommate was due to arrive, although I knew my dad had taken a call from his cousin's friend, and had been given an ETA of mid to late afternoon. I hung around in the house like a condemned prisoner, even though it was a super summer day, not wanting the appointed hour to arrive, but unable to able to drag my mind away from its inexorable coming. Predictably, after spending almost the whole day thinking about nothing but Jamie's arrival, I missed the actual moment - I was in my room at the back of the house, and didn't hear the car arrive or the knock at the front door. The first I knew was when my mum shouted up the stairs for me to stop moping in my room and to come and help Jamie with his luggage. I trudged heavily downstairs, turning left at the bottom of the flight towards the sitting room, which was where I heard voices, walked into the room - and stopped in my tracks. Looking straight at me was without doubt the loveliest creature I had seen in my life to that point, and, in terms of instant impact, probably since. My dad was right, he isn't a little boy now, was all I could think of in those first moments - Jamie was tall for 11, only a couple of inches shorter than me at my age of 14, with a build in perfect proportion - not skinny, but lean, and with hints of muscle definition (I later found out he was a keen and very able swimmer) - neatly cut fair, almost blond hair, but, most arresting of all, huge, beautiful pale blue eyes, eyes that were gazing so intently at me that I half expected to be physically pierced by their impact. My heart simply turned over, I'd never felt anything remotely like my emotions at that moment. I didn't even have a name for those emotions, although I know now what it was - love at first sight. You hear about these things happening, but unless you've experienced it yourself, it must seem too unlikely for words, a naïve fantasy. This apparition then lost his serious expression, breaking into a broad smile, a hint of white teeth glimpsed between the pale pink lips, and spoke.

"Hi, Graham, I've been looking forward to seeing you again." A lovely, light, boyish voice, all adding to the impression of perfection I was already feeling inadequate to live up to.

"H...hello, Jamie," I managed to stammer, "it's....nice to see you."

I was rooted to the spot, unable to drag my eyes away from the delightful face in front of me. Jamie's smile grew even broader, as though he knew and approved of the effect he was having on me. It was my mum who broke the spell.

"Come on, Graham, show Jamie to your room, and take one of his bags for him."

"Yes, Mum. This way, Jamie," I said as I led the boy out into the hallway and up the steep flight of stairs.

"In here, Jamie. I'm sorry, but it's a bit on the small side, especially with two beds."

"Don't worry. Everything will be fine." The radiant smile lit up his face again, making my heart feel as though it was going to explode. I was completely tongue-tied, not even able to see how I could begin a conversation with this paragon of boyhood. His penetrating eyes fixed on mine.

"Really, Graham, everything will be alright. I want us to be friends, I hope that's what you want too."

"Yes, of course - I just didn't expect you to be so...." My vocabulary, and my nerve, failed me. If I told him how I felt, in so far as I understood it myself, surely he'd hate me.

"To be so....what?"

I took a deep breath, not knowing until almost the last second which word was going to come out of my mouth.

"So....so....beautiful," I whispered.

There was a moment of complete stillness, then Jamie stepped towards me, put his arms around my neck and tenderly kissed my cheek. My knees almost buckled at the touch of his lips. He drew back, looking into my eyes again, and, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, broke into another happy smile.

"It's going to be alright," Jamie murmured, as if to himself.

****

The next few weeks were a strange mixture of dream and nightmare for me, as Jamie and I spent virtually all our waking hours together. I knew, within a matter of a day or two, that I was head over heels in love with this gorgeous boy, but, despite the kiss he'd blessed me with on that first afternoon, I had no idea how he felt about me. I was still struggling with my sense of not being worthy of his attention, that it was all just a case of his tolerating me to make the time away from his family bearable. Whenever I thought he was unaware of my gaze, I'd watch his face, committing every detail to memory. More than once, he looked my way, and I always turned away in embarrassment - I knew, just knew, that he'd think I was 'queer', and then all would be lost. I was trapped in an agonising 'Catch-22' - I felt I had to tell this boy how much he was coming to mean to me, but if I did, I was convinced I would lose him forever. There didn't seem to be any way out of the impasse - until Jamie himself took a hand.

He'd been speaking to his parents on the telephone, and came up to our room looking obviously upset. Even I, with my teenage heedlessness, could see that.

"What's up, J?"

He was silent for a few moments, as though he was fighting some deep emotional battle.

"It's....it's my mum and dad."

"Jamie - what's happened? They're alright, aren't they?"

He bit his lip. "Yeah, they're fine - they'll be out of hospital next week."

"That's good, isn't it? You'll be able to go home."

Big, silent tears began to run down his cheeks. "I don't want to go home. I want to stay here with you."

I was stunned, struck dumb. Confusion reigned supreme - surely this boy I was so smitten by couldn't feel the same way about me. Could he? The silence between us became almost palpable. I had to say something, but what? This was completely unknown territory for me. His tears continued to fall.

"Jamie..." I began hesitantly, "please don't cry. I really....like you, I hate it that you're crying, it makes me really sad."

Our eyes met, his damp with his tears, mine glittering with tears unshed. Then, impossible to say on whose initiative, we were in each other's arms. I held him close, stroking his back through his tee shirt, as he sniffled against my shoulder. He pushed himself against me, with inevitable consequences - I started to become uncomfortably aroused. He must know, I thought, what am I going to do? I tried to pull away from him, surreptitiously, but he just hugged me all the tighter.

"This is what I want, Graham, don't make me stop, please."

He lifted his face towards mine, and I instinctively closed my eyes as he approached me. The touch of his lips, against my own this time, was the most intense experience of my life, redolent of love and delight. The kiss seemed to go on and on, beyond anything I could've imagined being possible. I was breathing in his very essence, even if I couldn't have expressed myself in that way at that time, and it was an experience I never wanted to end. End it had to, though, and we eventually eased a few inches away from each other. I let out a deep, almost unconscious, sigh.

"Jamie, that was....amazing. I've never felt like that in my life. Oh, Jamie, I think....I think...."

"Say it, Graham, I think I know what you're trying to say."

My voice dropped to a breathless whisper. "I think I....love you."

An unreadable expression passed over Jamie's face, and I instantly misgave. What have I done, I've ruined everything. Seconds later, I went just as quickly from agony to ecstasy, as the wonderful smile I'd been entranced with since the first day he'd arrived lit up his features.

"I love you too. I thought you'd never get around to saying it. You're the nicest person I've ever met. I'm so happy...." A shadow passed across his face. "....except - I've got to go home soon." The tears seemed close again.

"That isn't happening yet, and, anyway, we'll see each other more often, holidays and stuff. I'll tell my mum and dad I want to visit you. I'm old enough to go on the train on my own, even if they won't take me in the car. It'll be fine, you'll see."

I really believed, in that moment, that it would all work out for us. I couldn't have been more wrong.

****

Once we'd crossed that first threshold of intimacy, events took an inexorable course. That night, as we laid in bed, Jamie whispered across to me.

"Graham?"

"Yeah."

"Do you ever....play with your....dick?"

I felt embarrassed about the question, but I didn't see any reason to lie.

"Yeah....sometimes."

"Me too. It feels really nice. Have you....ever done it with anyone else?"

"No. I've only been doing it for a couple of months myself. Have you ever done it with someone else?"

There was a loaded pause. "Promise you won't tell?"

"Promise."

"I've done it with a boy in my street. I had a sleepover at his house, he's got a double bed, and it....just....sort of....happened."

"Did you like it?"

"Not much. He was too rough."

Another, almost glutinous silence fell between us.

"Graham?"

"Yeah."

"Do you....you know....want to....do it together?"

I gasped, the breath hissing over my teeth and tongue. For some seconds, I felt unable to control my voice.

"If....if you want to."

Seconds later, I felt his bare legs touching mine as he slipped into my bed, having shucked off his pyjama bottoms.

"Take your shorts off, Graham."

Impossible to resist such an invitation, I slid my lower garment off without a second thought, kicking it out of the bottom of the bed and onto the floor. He turned onto his side, and scooted up against me. I felt his steely erection pressing into my thigh. I was still too hesitant for him, so he took my hand and guided it onto his penis. His young hand grasped my rigid member, and began stroking gently. I took my lead from him, working his shaft with fingers and thumb, making him gasp as my fingertips slid across his sensitive glans. Neither of us were going to last very long, that was obvious, and indeed that was the case, as my climax more or less coincided with his dry orgasm.

"Wow, Graham, you can make sperms. Was it good?"

"Fantastic! What about you?"

"The best ever. Thank you so much. I'm still hard, let's do it again."

And we did. Several more times that night. To the point of discomfort, if I'm being honest, but you don't think of such things when you're young and in love.

****

The discovery of how good we could make each other feel, and the knowledge that it was going to come to an end all too soon, inevitably made us careless. The same family friend who'd brought Jamie to us was going to be picking him up on the last Friday of the school holidays, so by the Wednesday evening, Jamie and I were grasping, like doomed souls, at every bit of pleasure we could. We spent what seemed like hours, kissing and cuddling and stroking, naked in each other's arms. Each night up to that point, we'd separated at the end of our sessions and he'd returned to his own bed, but we'd worn ourselves out so completely on that fateful occasion that neither of us could even remember falling asleep. And, needless to say, the morning after was the time that my mum decided she needed to come into our room to check why we were so late in getting up.

The duvet had fallen onto the floor, so as soon as the bedroom door was opened, it would have been obvious to a new-born baby what had been going on. Two naked boys in one single bed, no powers of deduction required. I'll never forget, as long as I live, the look of disgust on my mother's face.

"Get dressed, both of you. And then come downstairs."

By the time we got to the foot of the stairs, it was obvious that my dad had been fully appraised of the situation. I flinched inwardly, expecting the storm to break at any moment. But there was nothing. My dad looked straight through me, as though I was a complete stranger. He spoke, but only to my mum.

"I'll ring Geoff shortly. I'll move Jamie's camp bed into our room for tonight. Once he's gone tomorrow, they'll never see each other again."

I was frozen inside, but Jamie picked up on what was being said, and burst into tears. My dad looked at him as though he had a very nasty taste in his mouth.

"Go and pack your bags, Jamie." He headed for the door, and I made as if to follow him.

"Not you. Sit there." Pointing to the couch.

Once Jamie had packed and moved his bags into my parents' room, he came back down. My dad had moved the camp bed at the same time.

"Right, now you can go to your bedroom. I don't want to see you again today."

As I turned to leave the room, Jamie caught my eye. "I love you. Never forget," he mouthed.

"Love you too, " I replied in the same silent fashion.

****

Our family life effectively came to an end that day - it was the beginning of the worst four years of my life. I wasn't allowed to leave my room, apart from using the toilet, until after Jamie had left - my mum had grudgingly brought me a couple of meals on a tray. Looking back, years later, it occurred to me that it would've been better if there had been shouting and mayhem, because that would at least have constituted discussion, communication. As it was, what had happened between Jamie and I and what it meant was never mentioned, because nothing was ever mentioned. I was like the disowned wayward son, but one still trapped in the family home. Hardly surprisingly, I couldn't wait to get out of that situation, so after my A-levels, I looked for a job where I could be as far away from home as possible. I settled on going to college to train as a merchant navy engineering officer - the other side of the world was just about far enough away from my troubles, I thought. My parents had made it clear that they thought the further away I was, the better as well, so my career choice suited everyone.

My emotional life had been put into deep freeze by what had happened. I'd found the true love of my life, I thought, and he'd been taken away from me, so why bother to try again. Illogical, I know, especially given how young we'd both been, but that was the way I saw it. I drifted in and out of more or less casual relationships, even one or two with women, but I could never commit. My nomadic nautical lifestyle wasn't really conducive to settling down with a long term partner, in any case.

After 15 years of criss-crossing the world, however, I felt the need for more stability in my life. I found a managerial job with an engineering company on the outskirts of London. Nearer to my home town, and its unhappy associations, but not on the doorstep by any means. It was several years since I'd even sent my parents a Christmas card - they seemed to have decided I didn't exist, as far as they were concerned. I'd saved enough during my naval career to be able to get a mortgage on a fairly pleasant flat a bus ride from where I worked, and it was nice to have a permanent base again. I settled into my routine - boring, some might have said, but after my desperately unhappy teenage years, and my time away at sea, it suited me just fine.

****

I'd thought of Jamie many, many times over the years, wondering how he was, what he was doing, whether he was happy. Happier than me, I hoped. I love you, never forget, he'd said on that awful day. But he was only 11 then, no doubt just going through a phase. Probably married with a couple of kids now. He'd certainly have been a good catch for any girl, even if he was only half as handsome as he'd been when I knew him.

The bus approached, breaking into my reverie. The boy was still standing at the bus stop, and I seriously thought about letting the bus go by and waiting for the next one, but they only ran every half hour, so I swallowed my embarrassment, and followed him aboard. He went upstairs, so I found myself a seat on the lower deck. No point torturing myself for nothing, I thought.

I was looking out of the window, watching the world go by, when a small voice sounded beside me.

"Excuse me."

It was the boy from the bus stop.

"I was just wondering, do you know my dad? His name is Jamie, and everybody says I really look like him when he was my age."

It couldn't be, I thought, that would just be too much of a coincidence to be credible. But my curiosity was piqued. I asked the obvious questions, what's your surname, do you know how old your dad is, where was he born? Three right answers. I must be dreaming, I thought, things like this just don't happen in real life. I was so choked up, I could hardly speak.

"I think I do know your dad. I haven't seen him since we were children, though. He's my...." 'Heart's desire' was the phrase that sprang to mind, but I knew I couldn't say that, especially as he was obviously married after all. "....cousin, if he's who I think he is. Could you tell him....Graham says hello."

"I'll tell him. He's talked about you," the boy gave me a thoughtful look, "quite a lot."

"Thanks. Well, this is my stop. See you."

I walked home in a daze. Twenty years, and I end up living just round the corner, loosely speaking, from Jamie. Married, grown up Jamie. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

****

I'd had my unsettling encounter with the boy on the bus on a Friday afternoon, so I had plenty of time to mull over the implications through the subsequent weekend. By Monday morning, I'd decided not to make any effort to try and contact Jamie. It would just be a case of opening old wounds, and for what? To be a 'friend of the family'. I thought not. I was completely different, he would be completely different, all that had made our glorious summer so special would be gone. Why, then, was all that was going through my head was 'I love you. Never forget.'

I'd had a busy day at work, and was still wrapped up in various problems I'd had to deal with as I walked towards the bus stop. There were a number of people waiting for the bus, but, in typically reserved British fashion, I studiously avoided eye contact with any of them. Then someone spoke.

"Hello, Graham, it's been a long time."

I turned so quickly I almost wrenched my neck. There was no doubt, none at all. The eyes would've given it away, those beautiful pale blue eyes. He smiled. Not quite the radiance of old, something more melancholic.

"Jamie - oh my God, Jamie, it is you."

"The very same. It's been too long, Graham, much too long. Are you free this evening? I think we've got some catching up to do."

"Of course. Even if I wasn't, I would be, if you know what I mean!"

"Great. I've got my car parked round the corner. Come on, I'll take you home, you can get ready, then we'll drop my car off, pick Danny up, and go out for a meal."

"Danny? Your son, I guess."

"Yes, a chip off the old block, as you noticed!"

"He's nearly as good looking as you were. What about your wife?"

"No wife, never was. I'll tell you the story later."

The catching up process took about six hours, starting in the car, continuing in the pub where we ate, then, after taking Danny home and getting him to bed, carrying on in Jamie's living room. Jamie had had a better experience than me, in that his parents accepted his sexuality, albeit a little reluctantly.

"My mum said she'd always suspected I was gay, right back to when I was 5 or 6. She never did say why, and as it embarrassed her, I've never pressed her on it."

"How....did Danny come along, then. Or shouldn't I ask?"

He grinned wickedly. "Just one of those happy accidents. His mum was the younger sister of one of my uni friends, but she was too young, only 17, just doing her A-levels. She spent her gap year having Danny, but she wasn't really interested in motherhood. I'd almost finished my degree by then, and mum and dad helped a lot, while I did my PGCE."

"You're a teacher, then?"

"Yeah, primary school juniors. Nice age group to teach, willing and able to learn but not yet into the rebellious phase. The best of both worlds, really."

"But now you're on your own - just you and Danny, I mean."

He regarded me levelly. His gaze seemed to be asking me a question, and I thought I knew which question.

"I don't know whether you're thinking what I'm thinking, but I'm going to say it, anyway," I said. "'Never forget'. And I never have. I've had a few flings here and there, but only one person has ever had my heart."

Jamie's bottom lip quivered, as he struggled with his emotions.

"Graham....if you really mean that....it would be a dream come true."

"Of course I mean it, but we'd have to get to know each other all over again. We're certainly not boys any more. Why don't we just take it one step at a time, and see how it goes. Plus you've got Danny to think of. He might not like me, and he needs you more, at his time of life. Don't forget, I know what it's like to have your relationship with your parents break down."

"You're right, of course. But I think neither of us have forgotten. To find a real soulmate is rare enough, but to find a lost soulmate again is fate, don't you think."

"I don't know about fate, but, just now, I'm feeling very, very lucky."

****

We're twelve months on now, and things are still going well. Danny was a bit jealous of me at first, because he didn't have his dad's undivided attention any longer, but he soon got over that, realising that his life would be even better with two people to spoil him. Jamie's parents have been supportive - I think they're happy that he's finally found someone to be with, and someone who's waited for him for all those years, as well. What my parents would think, I've no idea, because I haven't told them. Maybe we'll invite them to our civil partnership ceremony. Maybe not. Either way, we certainly won't allow anything to stand in the way of our happiness. After all, it's been a long and winding road for us to get here.

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Alone

There's nothing here but me and my memories, my desires, my regrets. It's quiet, except for the almost unheard music from downstairs, of which I can distinguish little apart from a syncopated bass beat, irregular like the beating of my ailing heart.

I sit here in this cream painted box, fifteen feet by eight, dead, blank television in the corner, soon to be joined by myself in that deadness and blankness, if the aching in my chest is anything to go by, and yet the discomfort, rather than scattering my thoughts, has the effect of concentrating the mind. All I can think of is love and loss, how much I loved, how much I lost, all those years of life wasted because my dreams and yours didn't quite mesh together. I don't know why it didn't work, you said, something inside just wouldn't let me.

Something. Inside. All that happiness, just thrown away like the dead stems of the flowers from the vase, flowers beautiful while they bloom, but soon fading and dying without nourishment from the roots. So we moved on to other people, other places, but, for me at least, it was never the same. My thoughts, like the moth drawn to the flame, were always drawn to you. How it could have been. My attempts at substitution were doomed to failure, because my heart wasn't in it, the others could never be, would never be you. But then, you're not you either, now. The you I fell in love with is gone forever, swept away in the inexorable current of the passage of time. If I met you again now, the reality of the present would eclipse the lambent beauty of my memory, taking away even that small piece of the vanished past. and then, truly, I would be alone.

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Climactic

Under you, over you, twisting and turning
I'm flowing all round you, touching and tasting
Surrendering to you, seeing and feeling
Blending myself with you, melting and pooling
Sharing my joy with you, gasping and crying
Giving my heart to you, loving and keeping.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Hallowed

Matt hurried homeward, he'd lost track of time while he was in town with his friends, and was nearly an hour late - his mum had told him to be home by 4:00, in time for dinner and to get ready for the evening's fun and games, but it had been later than that when he left the shopping centre, the shops had all closed, being Sunday, and it was rapidly getting dark, the clocks having gone back in the early hours of that morning, 'the first day of winter' as his dad always called it. He reached a point where he had to choose which way to go next - it would take him another 15 minutes to get home if he followed the roadway, but there was a short cut that he'd taken from time to time, through an overgrown, almost derelict garden, over its back wall and across the open ground left by the demolition of the old factory, which would bring him out almost opposite his front door in not much more than five minutes. He hesitated for a second, the darkness under the trees by the garden gate unnerving him slightly - he couldn't remember ever going through that way at night - but his qualms seemed juvenile when he thought about it. He wasn't a little boy any more - he'd be 14 in a few months - and it wasn't even fully dark, more like deep twilight. As long as he didn't break his neck climbing the wall, it would be fine, he thought - although he'd still probably be dead meat when he got home.

The boy slipped between the tall brick gateposts, rusted hinges all that remained of the gates they'd once supported, and walked along the pavement of cracked flagstones. From what he could see in the gathering gloom, the garden had been tidied up since the last time he was there, the grass looking recently mown and the flowerbeds weeded. As Matt took perhaps his tenth step since entering the garden, he started violently as the area around him was suddenly bathed in bright light. He turned, ready to run back the way he'd come, but relaxed when he saw the security light mounted on top of the left hand gatepost. Just set off a sensor, Matt thought, it's like the one on the neighbour's patio that seems to light up with every passing cat. The pool of light around him, he noticed, had illuminated what looked like a new wooden bench, with a metal plaque fixed to its backrest. Matt glanced at the inscription, then looked more closely as its wording registered with him:

In Memoriam

Ronald Brown (Ronnie)

1933 - 1985

Miss you every day

Your J

Unless there was some huge coincidence, Matt thought, this bench was in memory of his grandfather, his mum's father who, he'd been told, had died young after splitting up with his grandma, who had herself only died a couple of years ago, although the boy hadn't seen her often enough to have grown close to her - she lived at the other end of the country, and seemed not to have welcomed too many visits from her daughter and family. Matt realised he knew next to nothing about his grandparents, but he did know his grandma's name had been Rosemary, so who was 'J'? As he stood there pondering his discovery, the security light went out, leaving him almost blind in the near darkness for a few seconds as his eyes adjusted. He was just about to walk away when the light flared into life again, and this time the boy almost jumped out of his skin, because almost within touching distance was a tall figure in a long, dark coat.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked, but without the harshness Matt was expecting, the voice gentle and sounding educated, like a teacher, or even a vicar, the boy thought.

"I...I'm sorry, I didn't know it was private here," Matt stammered.

"It isn't my garden, if that's what you mean," the man said, "it belongs to the local Church of England diocese. We have had some problems with vandals, though, that's why the security light was installed. Didn't you know this used to be a churchyard?"

"No - it's always just been like an overgrown garden as long as I can remember. My house is just over there," - he waved his hand vaguely towards the open ground at the rear - "and...I use it as a short cut sometimes. I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

"It has been rather neglected in recent years, I have to admit. Some local residents decided it was becoming rather an eyesore, and we've got together to do something about it. It hasn't really been properly looked after since Ronnie...since its last caretaker died."

Matt, even at his tender age, recognised the catch in the man's voice as he mentioned 'Ronnie'. He looked at the bench again.

"Was it that Ronnie who looked after the churchyard," the boy asked, "because I think he might be my grandad."

Now it was the turn of the man to look shocked. He gazed into Matt's eyes, and then held his hands up in a kind of rough rectangle, as though trying to frame a particular view of the boy. The security light went out again, and the man shifted his position so it would spring back to life, before resuming his inspection of the teenager in front of him.

"My God, you look so much like him - apart from the hairstyle," the man whispered.

Matt shifted uncomfortably under the man's scrutiny.

"Sorry, I don't mean to embarrass you. It's just that there's a photograph...he was about your age, showing off a trout that won him his first fishing trophy. He was your grandad, I have no doubts about that."

"I don't know anything much about him, he died 12 years before I was born. My mum has said about me taking after him, but I've never seen a picture of him, so I can't say. You must have known him, though, if you know I look like him."

Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, the man thought. He couldn't find a way to speak for a few seconds, leading to an awkward silence. The boy was looking towards him, waiting...for what? An explanation? The man didn't know whether he could bring himself to draw any such thing out of his depths, today of all days, even after a quarter of a century. Deep breath...say something, quick, quick.

"Yes..." Another loaded pause. "Yes, I knew him. More than that. I loved him, and he loved me. He loved me more than anyone in the world, before or since." Matt looked at the man, stunned, disbelieving. "And I loved him more than anyone in my whole life. I still miss him, even now, every single day." The boy's face began to register some understanding.

"So....you're....'J'?"

The man sighed, the sigh coming from some hidden place, deep inside.

"Yes, I'm James. He called me Jamie, though. His Jamie, his special one. That's what I called myself - 'your Jamie'. I was so happy, he was so happy. Both of us were lonely, no-one had ever shown either of us any real love before. Especially not your grandma. She hated him. She hated me. I don't know, from that day to this, why they ever married. Even your mum was an accident, he said, your grandma got drunk one night and it just happened. It was her life's work to make him unhappy, that's how it seemed. When she found out that I was helping him look after the churchyard, she started making comments, going on about him being a child molester. He never did anything like that - ever. I was 14 or 15 anyway, I was bigger than him, I could have easily stopped him doing anything I didn't want. I just loved being with him, he made me feel like the most important person in the world. I wanted him to make love to me, but he always said no, it wasn't right, wasn't what he wanted from me. Only one thing ever happened, and that was...my fault. That day..." James's voice was shaking with emotion. "That day, he bought me a present. Only a small thing, a little silver St. Christopher on a chain. He found out that he'd missed my birthday, it had been a week or so before, I don't know who told him, it certainly wasn't me. It was beautiful, I was so pleased with it. I...I couldn't help it. I put my arms round his neck and kissed him. Kissed him on the cheek. But she saw it. Your grandma. She walked past the churchyard right then. She started shouting at him, calling him horrible things, telling him she was going to call the police. He didn't say a word back, he just stood there and took it. She went off, but she didn't go to the police. Later that night, he found out what she'd done. His garden, his own garden at his house, it was so wonderful, he spent hours and hours working on it, rain or shine. That night - it was Hallowe'en, just like today - a gang turned up at the house wearing masks, kicked the side gate in, and destroyed his garden. Totally trashed everything he'd worked so hard on. Painted 'Trick or treat, paedophile' on his garden shed. Your grandma had got some thug she knew somehow to come round with his mates and do it. She laughed while they were doing it. He didn't say anything, didn't cry - he just went up to his bedroom, they didn't sleep in the same room - wrote a letter to me, went out and posted it, then went back to his room and took all of his heart pills, the whole bottle. They say he was dead within an hour...they killed him, because I kissed him, they..."

James became aware of a sound, a gasping sob. Shaken away from his memories, he focused on Matt, standing in the dark churchyard in front of him, the faint glow filtering in from the street lights outside reflecting from the tears streaming down the boy's cheeks.

"Oh...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I've never really told anyone the whole story, I couldn't help myself, I felt I had to tell you - it just happened, like that kiss."

"They killed him...he died, just because of love, just because of a kiss? That's so awful. Why do people do things like that, I don't understand."

"I'm not sure I understand myself - anyone who's different in any way seems to upset some of these people. It's like 'if you're not with us, you're against us'. That's all I can think of. He said something to me in the letter he wrote the night he died though, that he might have said to you, if he'd lived long enough to meet you. It's something full of love and caring, full of everything Ronnie was. Maybe that's why I was fated to meet you tonight, he wanted me to pass his message on to you. He said 'Whatever you do, be true to yourself, and be true to the ones you love, and you'll never regret your life. I haven't been true to myself, and I haven't been as true as I should have been to you, and this is where it has led me - too many regrets, and nowhere left to go. Follow your heart, and as long as you can do it without hurting others, be yourself and don't hide. Love is the thing that matters, if love is shared, then it can never be wrong.' I haven't come across a better philosophy of life since, so that's what I try to live by. You have to decide what's best for you, but I think your grandad's words are a pretty good basis to start from."

Matt couldn't think of any immediate answer to James's words, but they sounded right to his young ears. He looked again towards the inscription on the bench, and whispered, as if to himself, "Love is the thing that matters, I'll always try and remember, Grandad."

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Grey

Colour drained from the sky
Colour drained from my soul
No more tears to cry
Life has taken its toll

The ones who tore us apart
By way of their bigoted view
Have left a void in my heart
That no-one can fill except you

I know you can never be mine
Though I think of you every day
And so, come rain or come shine
The hue of my life is dull grey

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Submerged

Staring at the sea. Blankness in his mind. Blankness because to think of what had happened was too painful, too raw to contemplate. From heaven to hell, 'without passing Go', without collecting anything except torment and loss. He knew that he was the one to blame, the adult, the one who should have been responsible, should have shown self-control, should have submitted to societal norms. But it had been too much to resist, after all the years of yearning, finding the missing piece in his jigsaw, the perfect match. They had both wanted the same thing, there was no doubt, they had fallen into each other as though nothing else was possible, conceivable, love and desire at first sight made manifest. Love, the most important thing, what so many people search for so diligently and so long, found and consummated without hesitation or qualm. Mutuality without question, the man would never have become involved on any other basis, however insistent the hunger, his self-esteem could never have countenanced anything less. But the contemporary world could not accept their commitment, could not accept the possibility of their love, it was unequivocal 'abuse', the boy a 'victim', unable to think for himself, unable to take control of his own emotions, unable to escape the 'manipulation' of his innocence by a 'predator'. Their affinity was too obvious, however carefully they tried to dissimulate, questions were asked, answers were assumed, authorities alerted. The man knew there was no escape, managed to engineer a last, clandestine, meeting, fleeting minutes, so brief, so brief, so many tears, shed and unshed, but they managed, in those moments, to find a way to express all that they felt inside, to part without guilt or condemnation for each other, but both knowing that the parting was irrevocable, for ever, for ever. Darkness was falling, it was time. The man swallowed a last pill, washed down with his favourite wine, shame to drink from the bottle, but this was no time for niceties, stood unsteadily, teetered across the sand, walked past the water's edge and just kept walking. A last breath of life-giving air, the next inhalation filling his lungs with salty fluid, a moment of instinctive panic, and then darkness.

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Melancholia

Sitting here thinking of time passing, of people passing, of you passing.
Sitting here thinking of rowing boats and mudlarks, of footballs and tennis racquets.
Sitting here thinking of schooldays and holidays, sunny days and rainy days.
Sitting here thinking of smiles and solemnity, of family and friends and you all alone.
Sitting here thinking of the best days, the day you said hello, the day in your translucent tennis shirt.
Sitting here thinking of the days to come, when you're no longer part of my life.

Sitting here thinking of you.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B