Sharing

"I was just giving John what he deserves."

"I would think John could still talk; only your mouth would be busy."

"It was a kiss, though you make a good suggestion."

"Before you go there, look in the freezer. I made a special breakfast for you guys. Just got to put it in the oven for twenty minutes - I left instructions."

"Sean, you seem happy with your family, and I'm glad, but I sure miss you, in all kinds of ways. Your thoughtfulness and caring makes this more of a home than I have ever known."

"Tim, are you crying?"

"Tim had a rough visit with his family last night. We'll tell you about it when you get back."

"That's another thing. It's been great visiting everyone, but I'm coming back early, I miss you guys - and the sex, too."

"You make sure you be nice to those boys" Sean's mother's voice again.

"Oh he is, he is."

"I gotta go its turning into a riot over here. Four brothers and three sisters all under age fifteen, its wild, fun, but wild. See you day after tomorrow."

We sat contentedly, gazing at the Christmas tree and presents beneath. Tim hopped up saying, "ooh, almost forgot" and ran into the spare room, returning a few minutes later with some wrapped packages. I enveloped him in a hug and kissed him again and again.

Just as kissing turned into arousal, church bells rang in the quiet morning. Tim sat bolt upright. "John, would you mind if we went to church this morning?"

I was a little surprised; church had never come up before. "Sure, if you want to." He reminded me of his ride back to the city and wanted to show his gratitude. "Why not, the carols are fun, anyway."

We had time for Sean's prepared breakfast and a quick clean up - of the dishes and ourselves. The presents still beckoned from under the tree. "Want to wait for Sean to come back? It'll be more fun together."

Tim led the way to the nearby church. We were greeted by the young couple who had given Tim the ride and made very welcome. The man escorted us toward the front of the sanctuary and indicated a place in a pew for us to sit. We saw a number of familiar faces from the neighborhood and gay community as we walked down the aisle. Small waves of recognition were exchanged. We were still fussing with our coats when a magic moment occurred. Beside the grey head of an older lady came the angelic face.

"Teddy!" Tim exclaimed. The baby burbled at him. The lady, who held the baby at her shoulder, turned to say good morning.

"I'm the rector's wife and this is my grandson, who you already seem to know." She beamed with contentment.

The service began. I stumbled along following Tim's lead, not having any real church background myself. The carols were familiar and the choir seemed in good voice.

As we went to leave at the close of the service, Tim was embraced by a young couple. The man asked "May I introduce myself, I'm David and this is my wife, Jenny. We met Tim last night, he seems much better now. And you are?" he asked with very questioning eyes.

"This is John. He's my lover. He's why I couldn't stay last night. I had to be with him."

"Welcome, John, and Merry Christmas. Know that you are welcome any time. And Tim, my Dad's offer to help is always open, too."

Tim and I walked back through the frosty morning to our apartment. Tim held me with an arm about my waist as we walked. His face showed an internal struggle. "What's up?"

"That obvious?"

"Yeah."

"I was wondering how many different faces religion has. Last night, I was maligned and rejected by what is ostensibly the same institution that welcomed me today. Somebody's got it wrong, and I can't help feeling it's the haters. What happened to the beautiful embrace that turned it so hateful?"

"Somehow I think it's more about the people, not the religion. It's a shame."

Reporter: You seem to have resolved some of your conflicts, Tim. That's encouraging for the rest of us. But to a point from earlier on in your story, how did the sweaters turn out?

Sean: A couple of weeks later, a box arrived from my mom.

Tim, John and I gathered for the big unveiling. We opened the box and in it were the sweaters. Guys, you have to admit they are beautifully made, and with the best silk yarn. John insisted we call my mom to thank her for the gift.

John: That's right. But what does Sean say first off? "Mom, even I'm not gay enough to wear that color pink."

Sean: My mom has fairly fixed notions as to the tastes of gay men - no color too bright.

Reporter: How pink are they?

John: Tim could you get them out? We keep them carefully under wraps.

Reporter: Tim brought out the sweaters, no doubt impeccably made, but in a shade that would make Pepto Bismal look dull. Yikes.

Chapter Eight: Sean's Disappointment

John: Sean had changed his academic work to focus on the hospitality industry. His love of cooking and part time jobs in catering had brought him to the conclusion that he could do a better job than any of the companies he had worked for. As beneficiaries of his cooking skills, we were sure he was right. The university he and I attended had a limited curriculum in this area. Sean applied to several schools in the area that offered more extensive classes. One by one, Sean received rejection notices. He became depressed and worse yet, he began to order in rather than cook. We were growing desperate to cheer him up.

"What can we do for Sean?"

"He really wants this, to learn enough to start his own business. Why are the schools turning him down?"

"I don't know. He's a fabulous cook and the hardest worker on any catering job and he's excelled in all his other undergrad classes. What are they looking for?

"Do you think he'd do better applying to schools in other cities?"

"He can't leave us."

"But if it's best for Sean, we'd have to help him get in a school that can help him achieve his dreams."

"Yeah, but I need him." Tim was the most emotionally distraught.

It occurred to me that our emotional ties had grown stronger and stronger. We shared our household, our joys, our struggles, our bodies, and all of ourselves. Even when one of us was gone for a short while, the lack was felt by the group. But our individual lives had to be honored, too.

"I never really considered that he or any of us would leave permanently."

"But if it's best for Sean..."

"Yeah, if it's best for him." Tim was clearly feeling low.

I took some time to research other culinary schools that Sean might attend. When he came in late that night from working a catering job, he looked despondent. I mentioned the schools I found to him.

"Yeah, I know about those schools, some are pretty good. But I'd have to move there, away from you guys. I don't know if I can do that."

"What about your dreams? We love you Sean and we don't want you to move away, but it that's how you can get what you want, what you need, then maybe that's what you have to do."

He agreed to apply to the schools. We all waited anxiously for return letters, both hoping and dreading the responses. He got two positive replies. It took all of our encouragement to get Sean to agree to visit the schools, one about two hours away, the other five hours away. Mark had the most flexible schedule and agreed to go with him. Brad was able to borrow a car from his cousins for the visits. Sean was able to schedule them on consecutive days, saving time and travel.

Brad arrived the next morning with the borrowed car, a late model car designed to impress passers-by. On getting into the driver's seat, Mark remarked, "I feel like a pimp." Still they waved goodbyes; our more intimate farewells had been completed in the apartment, and drove out of sight.

They returned late two days later. Mark looked upset. Sean was a strange mix of excited and sad. As I led them to the sitting area by the fireplace, I asked Brad, "How about some drinks." Tim came in and sat next to Sean, taking his hands in his own. Brad produced a round of drinks and sat next to Mark who collapsed against Brad's muscular shoulder.

"How did it go?"

Mark sighed sadly.

Sean looked at each one of us, pausing to kiss Tim's hands. "I hated the one in Providence. Neat town, strange school. Kind of impractical. I think I learned more about food service before I was eight just hanging around my family's place. Number two, however, it scares me."

"Scares you?"

"Yeah, it was too perfect. The placement people and faculty I met were really great. They valued my on the job experience and even pumped me for cooking techniques. They were open to all kinds of approaches to food."

"It's so far away." Mark's emotions showed.

Sean suddenly looked smug. "My biggest problem is paying for it. The don't offer any scholarships. You either pay full boat, or you don't go. And I don't have the dough."

Mark again sighed. "That's so awful."

"What you don't know, cause you wouldn't let me talk with all your trying to talk me into it all the way home. Do you guys have any idea what it's like to have this gorgeous man talk at you for five hours? He's prettier when he shuts up."

"Hey" a somewhat indignant Mark.

"What don't we know? You know you never stay on the subject, Sean." Tim digressed.

"What you don't know is that one of the chef's on the faculty has a restaurant right here, probably five blocks away. He needs an assistant manager and on the basis of our interview has asked me to work for him."

"Hooray?" We weren't sure whether this was the good part or not.

"He's also offered to get the school to allow me to study off-site, providing the chef supervises me. He's readily agreed. The school will accept most of my college credits, since a business major is totally relevant to running a restaurant."

"So that means you went away to look at schools and came back with a job and a program you can do from here?" Tim was first at putting it together. Mark still looked confused.

"You'll get it shortly, dear," Brad soothed Mark.

I hauled Sean up into a hug. "Congratulations. I'm guessing you talked him into it, didn't you?"

"I was desperate. What did I have to lose? And he bought it. I did kind of promise him that Mark could sit at the bar and look pretty."

"Did you promise anything else?" Brad was being territorial.

"Fortunately, he bought on my first offer. Otherwise I was ready to sell you all body and soul, do the dishes, even.

"So how do we celebrate?"

"I'm thinking there's some pent up demand. You guys sent off both bottoms at the same time. That's not good planning." Sean sounded hopeful.

"Yeah, they've both been on my ass since you guy's hit end of the block."

"You weren't complaining."

"Good thing, I'm versatile. If I was half as horny as you guys, there'd have been a war."

"Thanks, John, you've done more than your part." Brad was contrite.

"Don't worry, I'll get mine. Now take off those clothes."

Chapter Nine: John's Business Trip

Reporter: So you've told me about difficulties with family and the kind of tough choices that life presents. That's pretty run of the mill. You're a group of gay men, most people expect promiscuity and cheating. You can't tell me no one's eye - or dick - has roamed.

Tim: Well, there was that business trip you took to Singapore, John.

Reporter: All eyes turned toward John who hung his head.

John: Yeah, there was that trip. I'll blame it on the circumstances and a dream I used to have, but yes, I had an affair outside the group.

Mark: Truth be told, it didn't really bother us much, Lord knows, we weren't waiting around for him to come back, we went at it day and night like usual. I don't think anyone expected him to be celibate. Tim and I even snuck a special present into John's luggage.

John: While I appreciated the thought that nearly kept me out of Singapore. Imagine my embarrassment when the customs official comes up with a package labeled, 'in case you get lonely' stuffed with condoms, lube, and a cock ring. He did let me in, but I had to put up with some very uncomfortable and knowing winks.

Mark: I, for one, never gave any thought to getting any away from home - there's always so much to get right here. But John was away for months. My balls are getting blue just thinking about it, and I got off a couple of times this morning.

John: Thanks, Mark, but I chose to get involved with someone and it didn't come out well, for him or me.

Reporter: With all that build up, you've got to tell it.

John: As Tim mentioned, I had a trip to Singapore. The senior partner at the architectural firm I work at had become very ill suddenly. The junior partner was expecting a child at any moment. That left me, quite a few levels down, since I was the only other one who had worked on the project. We were being called in to evaluate the impact of what was feared were shortcuts in the construction of a major hotel. The engineering firm asked us to consult since we had done the original designs. This was a major project for an important client so I found myself flying to Singapore for "as long as it takes."

It's a beastly flight, even in first class. My firm had set me up in a small hotel near the construction site where we'd be doing most of our work. It was really more like a private home, mansion really, with large suites of rooms in an overly elegant style, comfortable, yet intimidating.

The next morning, at least I guess it was morning I was so jet lagged, I met up with the team of other architects and engineers. It took a while to get used to the local accents, but since everyone spoke English of some form, we were able to get down to work.

The hotel we were building was huge, so it took days and days to go over the original specs and identify all the changes. Early on, one of the engineers, Dan, stood out as having the right expertise to quickly spot issues. Since I knew the original design, he and I started working closely together, twelve or more hours a day.

One evening, we both realized that we hadn't had a break or stopped for lunch - maybe it was my stomach growling. Dan laughed and suggested we stop for the night and get something to eat. Up to that point it had been all work. As we sat down at a table in a local restaurant, I realized all I knew about Dan was his name and that he was one hell of an engineer. I guess I knew he was from the States by his accent, but that was it.

I began our conversation with "Dan, I'm John. Pleased to meet you. Let's be polite this time and find out if there's a human being on the other side of our work table." He laughed and admitted he could be pretty intense. He said his wife would scold him for getting too involved with school projects with his kids and not know when to let up. As he told about his family, his face lit up. It was clear that he loved them, was proud of them, missed them. "Your family sounds wonderful, and I'll bet you're the best father".

For a moment I was hesitant to talk about my own 'family' but then thought 'what the hell', they're my family and I love them, am proud of them, miss them. "I live with four other guys. We're all gay and have made our own family." Dan was a little too quiet, I was afraid I had shocked him. When I asked, "are you alright with me being gay?" He blustered, "of course, of course. It makes no difference to me." I was a little concerned that I had damaged, if not destroyed our working relationship. By then our food and drinks had arrived. Once we had something in our stomachs, any tension between us disappeared, to my great relief.

We talked long into the night about work issues, making surprising progress in a more relaxed setting. Suddenly tired, we said good night and each went to our own hotels to get some rest before things got going again in the morning.

Even after staying up late, Dan and I were the first on site in the morning. We worked in a temporary office set up on a high floor, where construction had been halted, pending the inquiry on construction issues. We had only been there a short while when we became aware of noises from the street below. We thought it odd that no one else had come to the office, but understood when we looked down to the street in front of the building. Normally at this hour, the street was packed with cars struggling across the city. Today it was filled with people. To one side were a row of army or police in riot gear backed up by tanks. On the other side were crowds of people with placards. The police side was very still, but the crowds were shouting in unison.

Dan and I looked at each other with concern. "I guess we're safe up here" he ventured.

I suggested we walk around the perimeter of the building to see if there was a way out. Nope, we were surrounded. At that point the telephone rang. It was the project coordinator. "Damn, I was afraid you eager beavers would be in early" came the response to my telling him Dan and I were there. "There's a big protest against the government, I don't have a clue what it's about, but you're in the middle of it now. Let me call the consulate and some contacts in the government to see if we can get you an escort out of there. These things sometimes go on for days. Let's pray it doesn't go violent. The police can be merciless." He hung up and Dan, who had been listening on an extension, shrugged and said "what the hell".

We got back to work, nowhere we could go anyway. Night had begun to fall when the phone rang again. It was the project coordinator. "I've been busting my butt all day. John, your hotel is just across the square, right?" I confirmed that this was so. "At eight o'clock precisely, a battalion of police will escort you from the lobby level to your hotel. I'm sorry, Dan, you'll have to stay with John, there's no way we can get you out of the area. Because of the protest, there are no more rooms available, either. They are already over capacity giving refuge to many others. The protesters occupy the fifteen blocks around the construction site. I still don't have a clue what this is all about, but I'll be happier knowing you're both at John's hotel. It's one of those old line colonial establishments built when they had to defend themselves routinely. Nice place, too. Remember be in the lobby at eight."

So that was our escape strategy. Let me tell you, we were down in the lobby by seven thirty, hiding behind the reception desk. At eight, we heard someone knock on the glass doors. I admit I was terrified. I think Dan was too. We peeked over the desk like scared rabbits. Outside the door were dozens of police in riot gear: amour, shields, big guns and all. I felt a bit like a damsel in distress - Dan laughed when I told him and said he did too.

The guard surrounded us as we went outside and shuffled us across the square. I could feel how close the protesters were, just feet away behind the police. The protesters knew something was up and surged against the police line. The line held and we made it to the iron gates of the hotel's court yard. The police guard kind of squeezed us between the gates and held the perimeter. We were met by the hotel's formidable security force and rushed into the lobby.

The hotel manager greeted us in the lobby. "We are so glad you gentlemen have arrived. These are difficult times, to be sure. In consideration of the circumstances, we suggest you remain in your rooms. Unfortunately, we cannot offer you a room "the hotel manager addressed Dan, "but we ask your indulgence. Would it be at all possible to share accommodations with your associate?"