Chase was barely eighteen. He'd known he was gay since about the time he realized the real difference between boys and girls. He'd only been acting on his impulses for the last year-and-a-half, and he'd only moved beyond, snuggling and mutual handjobs in the last few months. The first time another boy had put his mouth on his cock Chase had just about come unglued. Once Chase had finished coming he'd pushed his startled partner back on the bed and proceeded to give him head that, though unpractised, curled the boy's toes. Enthusiasm went a long way toward making up for lack of experience.

The main problem with being gay, as far as Chase saw it, was that there weren't enough people around to be gay with. He supposed there were other homosexuals in his neighborhood, but none of them were out of the closet. Even if they had been it was doubtful that they'd have dared approach a boy hovering so close to the legal age of consent. No, when Chase wanted to have a good time he had to make an all day trip to one of the larger cities and hope he'd get lucky. The nearest significantly larger city was Chicago, and that was a two hour bus ride each way. Chase could deal with that, but the problem was that the sex pretty well had to be anonymous, one afternoon stands. Chase enjoyed the hell out of those, but deep down he wanted a boyfriend. He wanted someone he could go steady with, like the girls in his high school. Someone to give him a pin or a 'friendship ring', put a jacket over his shoulders when he got chilly, let him steal french fries from his plate, give him mushy cards or stuffed animals. You just didn't get that with the sex life he had. The closest he'd come was when one of his partners (he'd met him in the restroom of a nicer than usual mall) had bought him a souvenir ashtray at the gift shop next door. Chase didn't smoke, but he had it sitting on his desk at home, full of peppermints. Chase had just about decided that he was going to have to move to a big city if he wanted anything more than what he already had, but something had happened lately that had given him hope. He had a boyfriend. Well, he at least had the start of a boyfriend.

He'd met Giles in one of his more promising cruising grounds--the Alderidge Adult Cinema. The name of the place was misleading. It was a peep show, one of the last remaining in the state according to the newspaper article they had framed up near the change making booth. According to the article the place had been raided a total of twenty-one times--and the article was at least a year old. Apparently the police had stopped bothering them when the parental decency leagues decided to start concentrating on keeping the video stores from renting adult movies, and the corner stores from selling anything stronger than the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.

The way the Cinema operated was this: a customer would browse a selection of empty video boxes to decide what they wanted to see, then bring the box to the counter. They'd buy however many tokens they wanted (each token was worth a dollar, and entitled you to two minutes of video). The clerk would tell them which booth would be showing their chosen masterpiece. Each booth was curtained and contained a television set in the wall and a bench big enough for two. You dropped your tokens in the slot on the wall and the video would start. You watched till your time ran out, then either dropped in another token or zipped up and left.

The first time he'd gone to the Cinema Chase had known that he'd have to provide compelling proof of age to be allowed in. He'd brought his birth certificate, his social security card, his student ID, and his driver's license. All had been examined with a gimlet eye, then the clerk handed them back, took his money, and Chase waltzed off to check out the brightly colored cardboard boxes in the 'Gay and Bi' section. He had a boner before he'd chosen his first selection. The cinema didn't believe in putting 'decency stickers' over the significant bits. Chase thought that if he was easily pleased he could have been satisfied with just perusing the boxes. He saw more cock sucking and anal penetration walking down the aisle than he had during his first year of porn reading. On his third visit to the Cinema a very pleasant older man started chatting with him while he was considering a video called The Stern Teacher. He'd offered to pay for the tokens, if Chase wanted to share a booth. He looked rather nice, so Chase wanted to share.

It was nice. While the teacher on screen pulled down the shorts of a smart ass student and paddled his bare cheeks with a ruler, the man put his hand on Chase's crotch. By the time the teacher had a finger up the boy's ass the man had Chase unzipped and was masturbating him. He had to stop to drop in another token, but then the teacher moved on to fucking the boy across his desk, and Chase had a very nice climax right about the time the boy was begging the teacher to go 'harder, deeper, fuck me raw!' Then Chase's companion had asked almost shyly if Chase would mind returning the favor. Chase had squirmed around, and while the boy on screen took on the coach (who'd walked in on the scene), Chase had given the man a quick, but talented, blow job. All in all it had been a wonderful experience. But it had been a bit spoiled when the man tried to pay him. Chase had gotten huffy, demanding to know what sort of a boy he thought Chase was, and had stormed out of the booth with his fly still at half mast. Later he wished he could have apologized to the man. After all, how could he have known that Chase wasn't in it for profit? He had been pretty easy, after all. After that when he picked someone up he made it clear that no money was going to change hands, from either direction.

Chase was legal but he still looked too young for most gay bars to be comfortable having him around, and he'd heard that parks were hotbeds for undercover vice cops and gay bashers, so he figured that the Cinema was his best bet for a safe good time. He'd gotten there early in the afternoon. After satisfying the clerk that he was legal, he stripped off his plaid flannel shirt, revealing a thin, bright red tank top. He would have preferred pink, but red would pass as straight--pink wouldn't--and he was still in the closet in his neighborhood. He tied the sleeves around his waist so that the shirt hung on his hip. It dangled, flirting when he moved, and allowing glimpses of his round ass in his tight jeans. He totally refused to wear the baggy jeans that had become so popular. A lot of girls were happy about that, and a few men were secretly happy, too.

Now that he'd adjusted his outfit as much as he could, Chase was taking his time strolling the aisles, trying to decide what he wanted to see. The place was pretty deserted, and he couldn't count on anyone joining him for awhile, so he wanted to choose something interesting. He went straight to the small 'Leather Lovers' section. He was finding, more and more, that this was what he really liked--big, tough, dominant daddies. He dithered a little, then picked up a box that had once held an opus called Bound Brat. Tim's been naughty, and his daddy has to discipline him. Since he won't stay in that corner, that means Daddy has to get out the ropes and straps--and toys. The picture on the front showed a young, slender man bound against a wall, hands over his head, and an older, sturdier man holding a dildo as he started to pry the captive's buttocks apart. Looked promising.

"You're a little young to be into anything that kinky, aren't you?"

The voice behind him sounded amused. Chase turned to find a good looking, red haired man in his mid-twenties smiling at him. He smiled in return, making it coy. "Kinky is as kinky does."

"How old are you?"

"Old enough. Even the government says so. Will I have to show you my drivers license for you to keep talking to me?"

He laughed. "That won't be necessary, but you can tell me your name."

Chase offered his hand. "I'm Chase."

They shook. "Pleased to meet you, Chase. I'm Giles."

"Really? You don't look a thing like Anthony Stuart Head."

"Who?"

"Oh, God, he doesn't watch Buffy! I'm not sure I should talk to you if you're that culturally ignorant."

"Oh, the library guy!"

"All right, I'll keep talking to you."

"I'm glad." He took a step toward Chase. "Because I think I'd like to get to know you better." He indicated the box Chase still held. "Maybe over that tape? My treat--" his smile was wicked, "and you won't even have to treat in return, if you don't want to."

Chase deliberately stepped back, put a hand on his hip, and gave his new friend a long, slow once over. Then he smiled. "Oh, I don't know." He handed the box to Giles. "But you can treat for the tokens. Then I can pretend this is a date."

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

Chase had a momentary flicker, wondering if Giles didn't want to be seen with him, but the flicker disappeared when he got a look at Giles' ass as he walked away. Chase pursed his lips, twisting slowly back and forth. Well, it wasn't as if they were likely to see each other again. A minute later Giles returned, jingling tokens in his palm. "I got us a booth in the back in the corner in the dark," he said playfully. "Number Eight."

They walked back to the booth, and Giles swept aside the curtain gallantly, bowing for Chase to enter first. "After you, cutie."

"I love a gentleman," said Chase as he slid into the booth, "as long as he knows when to stop being a gentleman and start being a cad." Giles sat down with him, and pulled the curtain shut across the entrance of the booth. There was a little shelf just in front of the video screen, and Giles stacked his tokens there. Chase did a quick estimation, then said, "Goodness. That looks like about forty dollars worth."

"It is."

"They won't give you refunds, you know."

"I don't care. If we don't use these up, I'll save them for next time..." he reached over and put his hand on the back of Chase's neck, rubbing, "if you'd be interested in meeting me again?"

Chase felt a thrill, but all he said was, "We'll see. We might not get on."

"I doubt that." Giles dropped a token in the slot, and the screen flashed to life. No credits or prelimenaries, just an older man talking sternly to a younger, softer man, scolding him for such transgressions as cutting class, staying out past curfew, and sneaking beer. Chase reflected that the classes he was cutting must be for his senior year in college, and that he didn't need to sneak beer when he could legally buy it himself. But when the elder ordered the 'boy' to strip, Chase decided he could manage suspension of disbelief long enough to come.

When the actor got down to skin, Giles said quietly, "I be you have a better body than he does." He reached over and stroked Chase's cheek. "I know you have better skin. Still pretty smooth, there."

"Most of my classmates can at least get scraggles," Chase sighed. "Not me. Some of the girls grow stronger moustaches than I do."

"That's fine by me. I like it." Giles leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then took Chase's chin in his fingers, turned his head, and kissed him softly on the mouth.

That surprised Chase, and touched him. His anonymous partners never wanted to kiss. They might be willing to suck his cock, but they'd be damned if they were going to let their lips touch his. That was considered 'sissy', but it was the sort of thing that Chase wanted. As he'd told one of his brief partners, deep down inside he was more Sandra Dee than Bettie Page. Chase didn't do it consciously, but his eyes drifted shut as he concentrated on the lips moving against his own.

Giles whispered against his mouth. "Aren't you sweet? Open your mouth, little boy."

Chase did, and gloried in the feel of Giles' tongue sliding into his mouth and stroking over the soft, moist interior. To express his excitement and approval, Chase sucked softly on the wiggling intruder. When Giles pulled away a little, Chase breathed. "Do you know you're the first man ever to kiss me?" Giles sat back abruptly, and Chase said quickly, "Oh, I'm not a virgin. It's just that no one has wanted to kiss."

"Then they're stupid. Kissing is one of the best parts." Giles kissed him again, this time sucking Chase's tongue, then nipping his bottom lip. "And you kiss good for a beginner."

The video had been playing during this exchange, and now they heard, "Ow! It's too tight!" "Shut up or I'll put a gag in, too. When you were goofing off you knew you'd be punished." "Yeah, but I figured you'd ground me. You don't have any right to do this! I'm my own boss!"

"Oh, dear," said Chase. "That isn't a good thing to say to anyone, father or daddy." There was a sharp crack as the older actor brought a belt down across the younger actor's rounded buttocks. "See?"

"Have you ever been spanked like that?"

There was tittilation in Giles' voice, and Chase gave him an amused look. "Goodness no. I have to admit that I've never gotten that far in a relationship, and as for the other reason... Even if my parents believed in corporal punishment they wouldn't have made me strip or strung me up like that. And besides, I'm always a good boy. They wouldn't have any reason. No, the closest we ever got was that time when I was eight, and I tried to play with a strange dog, and it snapped at me. My father found out that it was due to be put down for savaging another kid. He whipped my butt that time, but he was almost crying when he did it. I think it was mostly because he was scared, thinking of what might have happened."

"Did it work?"

"I haven't tried to pet a strange dog since then." Chase reached over and slid a hand over Giles' thigh. "Strange men, though..."

Things progressed. By the time the spanking had ended 'Daddy' was as naked as 'Junior', and both actors were rampantly aroused. Daddy used checking for bruises as an excuse to fondle Junior's ass. By then Giles had Chase's pants open, his hand moving slowly in the gap. By the time Daddy was humping against Junior, slipping his hard cock between the boy's thighs to brush against the underside of the younger man's cock and balls, Chase had returned Giles' favor. The two men kissed and groped, tugging and rubbing at each other's stiff pricks.

Chase bent over, managing to get his head in Giles' lap, and began licking at the man's slick, flushed cockhead. "You're good, you're so good," Giles muttered as Chase took the glans in his mouth and sucked.

From the video Chase heard Junior's frantic voice saying, "No, Daddy! No! Don't stick that thing in my ass! I'll be good."

Chase's head popped up in interest, and Giles said, "Hey!"

"I'm not stopping," Chase assured him, wrapping his hand around the warm, damp column and stroking. "But this sounds interesting. Oh," he sounded disappointed. "He didn't mean his cock."

"That'll probably come next," said Giles, amused. "But I think that dildo is sexy enough." The onscreen actor had liberally greased a realistic looking fake cock, and was in the process of forcing it into the protesting boy's ass. The acting wasn't very good, but the visuals made up for it. "Boy, look at him take that thing!"

Chase hummed, unimpressed. "I guess he has to make a fuss, since he's not supposed to want it, but my goodness, he's acting like the man's trying to shove a log up there. It isn't even all that large."

"Are you kidding? It's big! It's bigger than what I've got between my legs."

"Yes, I know," said Chase, trying to keep the wry tone out of his voice. Giles was handsome, charming, and sexy--but not too well endowed. Still, that wasn't such a big detriment in Chase's eyes. Knowing how to use the equipment was more important than owning the large economy size. "I've got one bigger than that at home."

"You're shitting me," said Giles.

Chase frowned. "Why would I lie about that? I ordered it out of the back of one of my mother's True Confession magazines. It's..." he let go of Giles long enough to measure off a length between his palms, "this long and," he made a circle of his thumb and forefinger, not quite touching, "that big around."

Giles eyes widened. "And you take all of it?"

"Well, most of it. One has to leave a handle, you know, if one doesn't wish to make a very embarrassing trip to the emergency room."

The man on screen was pumping the flesh colored rubber cylinder in and out of the boy's ass. The camera moved in for a close up showing the anus stretched around the intruder, taut and shiny. Giles' breathing got harsher. "I wouldn't mind seeing that."

Chase started masturbating him again, saying casually, "Not on a first or second date, sweetie. I'd have to know you a little better before I'd sodomize myself for your entertainment."

Giles laid another sucking kiss on him. "When? Third date? Fourth? Fifth?"

Chase hesitated. "Are you saying that you want to see me again?"

Giles reached down and cradled Chase's balls, massaging them carefully. "Why don't we get past our first climax together," he used his other hand to draw Chase's head back down to his crotch, "before we discuss that?"

Chase engulfed him and sucked him to a panting, hip jerking climax. He'd rather hoped that the man might return the favor, but it turned out to be a moot point. As soon as Chase sat up, come dripping from his lips, and saw the elder actor in the video twisting the younger actor's nipples while he plunged his thick cock (larger than the dildo) in and out of the stretched asshole with long, hard strokes--he came.

The two actors finished, the older jerking out just in time for the 'money shot', spashing Junior's quivering, reddened buttocks with sperm, and Junior finally moaned about how good it was as he sprayed his own come. Giles pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to Chase. "Thanks," said Chase, "but I carry my own." He pulled out a bandana and used it to wipe himself clean, while Giles did the same with his own kerchief. "If I went out without a clean handkerchief, my mother would never let me hear the end of it."

"You still live with your mother?" Giles lazily hooked an arm around Chase's neck and pulled him close.

"M-hm. In Bosphorus."

Giles frowned. "I thought that was in Turkey?"

Chase giggled. "The original. Actually, I don't even live in Bosphorus--I live near it. We're on a rural route. My Bosphorus is about a hundred miles south of here. The story is that the founders wanted to name the place after a geographical feature. Well, the lake names were taken, and someone had named another little town after the Straits of Mackinak. They wanted to name the place after some other body of water, and someone suggested the Bosphorus. And yes, that's a true story. I couldn't possibly make up something like that. How about you?"

Giles hesitated, then said, "I'm a city boy. I live with my mother, too." "Really? I'd have thought you were a little old for that."

He shrugged. "It makes her feel more secure, and it saves a lot of money. But I'm afraid it means that I'm not going to be able to invite you over to my house."

"For that matter, I can't ask you to my house, either," said Chase. "Mom knows about my preferences, but I can't have sleep overs." He shrugged. "Not with anyone I'd want to sleep with, anyway. She does know that I differentiate between friends and bed partners."

"I'd like to be both," said Giles. "Can you come into the city again soon? I can get us a nice hotel room."

Chase blinked at him. None of his other playmates had ever expressed any more than a nebulous, obviously false interest in meeting him again. He'd known that to them he was nothing more than a passing encounter, and he'd accepted that. But did Giles really want more? Did he truly want to be at least a friend--possibly more? "That would be... nice. But Giles... I should have asked this before, but I didn't think of it. You aren't with anyone, are you? I don't mean casual dating, but you aren't, like, someone's boyfriend, or lover, are you?"

"That would make a difference to you, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would."

"Then I'm happy to assure that I am neither a boyfriend, nor a lover. When can I see you again, Chase?"

Chase smiled almost beatifically. "If my Mom doesn't need me on the farm, next weekend. If she does, then surely the week after that."

"It's a date, then. Now, do you want to watch another video, or go get something to eat, maybe watch a legitimate movie?"

They settled on dinner at a nearby restaurant, then a show. Giles held the door for him when they left the store, and Chase basked in the show of consideration.

It wasn't till later that he'd remember how carefully Giles had answered that question about whether or not he was attached to anyone. As a consequence Chase would go through life being suspicious of people who were too careful about exact wording when answering that sort of question.

One of the first hints she'd had was that Chase had asked that she start letting him answer the phone in the evenings. Usually he'd hand it over to her, or chat casually with whichever of his friends had called. But every now and then he'd glance at her and take the call in the next room. She never tried to eavesdrop, but she could hear him giggling happily. She was glad that the boy seemed to have found someone special, but she was worried, too. She knew that Chase wasn't a virgin, and that he had a bit of experience, but she also knew that he'd never really fixed his affections on anyone. She wished that she could meet the man, check him out. Well, after all--she was a mother. A mother worried about her child's first love.

Chase was making trips to Chicago every weekend now. He'd gone from part time at the local grocery store to full time in order to have enough money to pay bus fare. She knew how much he made--he always turned his check over to her, then accepted what he called his 'mad money'. He'd take only so much, insisting that she keep most of it to help with household expenses. So she knew approximately how much money he had, and she had no idea of how he managed to pay for meals and hotel rooms those times he slept over. Well, deep down she knew that his boyfriend must be paying, but she didn't really like to think about that. It made her feel a little uncomfortable. *Why do they have to sleep in a hotel?* she thought. *Why can't he have my baby over to his own house?*

Chase wasn't home when the phone rang that evening--working a late shift--so she answered when the phone rang. She'd of necessity gotten cautious since her husband died, so she answered the phone, "555-9154."

There was a moment of silence, then a man's voice said, "May I speak to Chase?"

*So this is him.* "He's had to work late. He should be home in an hour or so."

"Thanks, I'll call..."

"Just a moment, please. You... you're his friend in Chicago, aren't you?"

Another hesitation, then. "Yes, I am."

"I'm his mother--Mary."

Pause. "I'm Giles. He talks a lot about you."

"He doesn't say much about you."

"Oh. Well..."

"It's his business. Just in case he hasn't convinced you, I want to let you know that I don't have a problem with this. He's a sensible boy, a good boy."

"Yes, he is." The man's tone was uncomfortable, and she knew that he wanted to hang up. It was normal, she supposed, but it was also mildly suspect. If you cared about someone, didn't you WANT to get to know their family?

"He likes you a lot, Giles. He really cares about you. You've made my boy very happy."

"Well, I'm doing my best. He's a pretty special person."

"Yes, he is. I'll let you go, but I want to say one more thing, and I hope you won't mention this to Chase. He might scold me."

"I won't."

"Good. Giles? Don't hurt my boy." She hung up before either one of them could say anything else.

Chase was tired when he got home. His mother was dishing up his supper before he hung his jacket up in the kitchen. "Hi, Mom." He kissed her cheek as she put the plate on the table. "Oo, meatloaf and potato salad. I feel special."

"You are special. Sit down and get that inside you, hon, while I get your milk." Chase sat down while she went to the refrigerator. She smiled as she heard the quiet murmur of him saying grace. She'd stop reminding him some time ago, but he kept on with it of his own accord. Like she'd told Giles, he was a good boy. As she poured the milk she said, "You may have a phone call in a little while."

"Oh? Mmm, you left a few lumps in the salad. I love that little extra bit of texture. Who was it?"

"You're friend Giles." Chase's fork froze half way to his mouth, and he lowered it slowly, studying her. "He sounds very nice."

Chase looked relieved. "He is, Mom. He has been. He treats me well, takes me nice places. He's never cheap or stingy, with money or affection."

She sat down at the table with him. "I'm glad. Chase, do you suppose there's ever going to come a time when you bring him home to meet me?"

Chase reached out and laid his hand over hers. "It's not that I'm ashamed of you, you know that, don't you, dear?"

She patted him. "Of course, Chase."

"I just... Our home is special, and I'm not sure I'm ready yet to share it with him." He smiled. "Or share you with him. I'd feel a little ashamed of myself if it wasn't for the fact that he hasn't invited me to his house, either."

"Why is that? He doesn't live in a bad neighborhood, does he?"

"No, from what I hear it's quite nice. It's just that he lives with his mother, too, and I get the impression that she isn't as understanding as you are." They chatted while he finished his meal, and the phone rang again just as Mary was carrying the plate to the sink. Chase answered, "Hello, Chase speaking." His voice softened. "Well, hello, you. I understand I missed you earlier. Hang on just a moment while I get on the extension." He laid down the receiver. "Mom? Hang that up for me in a minute, would you?"

"Of course."

He went into the living room, and a moment later she heard him call, "Okay."

She picked up the phone and hung it up, wishing for once that she was the devious sort who'd listen in.

Chase knew that he didn't have to bother to wait for the click that would signal the replacement of the other receiver, but he did anyway. Then he said coyly, "Hello, you. So, you finally talked to my Mom. Well, it had to happen sooner or later. What do you think?"

"She's a nice lady," said Giles. "Chase, how much have you told her about us?"

"I don't give her pornographic blow-by-blow descriptions of our nookie sessions, but she knows that I have a steady fella, and that we're doing more than necking. Giles, you're not worried, are you? We've already established that I'm of age, and Mom never has tried to micro-manage my life for me."

"Sure, sure. I'll admit I'm a little nervous. I'm not out to my mother yet."

"I wondered about that. So that's why you haven't had me over for tea and cookies?"

"That's it. But I have a nice surprise for you."

Chase brightened immediately. He loved surprises, and he was still new to having a boyfriend, so a gift from Giles would be even more exciting. "What? What?"

"My mother is taking a trip out of town this weekend. How would you like to come up and spend Friday and Saturday night with me at my place?" His voice was teasing. "You can cook for me."

Chase fought back a squeal, something he wouldn't bother doing later in life. "Giles! That's perfect! Oh, I've been hoping this would happen. If someone doesn't invite you into their home, you're never really sure that they're with you, if you know what I mean. I have Friday off, so I can take the morning bus and be there by..."

"No, no, babe. Not the morning bus. I need you to take the afternoon one. I'll pick you up at the bus station at about five o'clock. How's that?"

Chase had been hoping to spend the whole day with his lover, but he said agreeably, "Whatever works, lover. Now, if you want me to cook for you, you'd better lay in supplies. I won't be able to haul groceries on the bus, and it will be a little late to go shopping, then cook."

"What do you want to make?"

"Just get whatever you'd like to have and I'll be able to whip something up." He giggled. "The bedroom isn't the only room where my talents shine."

"That's one thing I like about you. And Chase, this time do you think we could... You know."

Chase looked at his nails, smiling, wondering how they'd look with a little pink polish. "Giles, how on earth can I say yes or no if you don't tell me what you want?"

"You're a damn tease."

"You're just realizing that? Seriously, Giles. You're the older, more experienced one here, and you can't just come out and say the words, even over the phone. I've told you before, I'm not going to let you fuck me till you can look me dead in the eye and ask for it in plain Anglo Saxon terms. Frankly I think it's a little silly that we've been having sex all this time and you haven't once gone up my nature trail."

"It isn't like I haven't wanted to."

"I know that, dear, but I established the rules that first date. I'm the cutesie one in this relationship. I can be coy and euphemistic, but I want you to be a nice, blunt, vulgar male. If you can manage that this time, I think we'll both be very happy."

There was a sigh. "I'll try. But even if we don't, um... Would you consider doing--the other?"

Chase rolled his eyes. This had become a bit of an obsession with Giles ever since they'd watched that first video together, and Chase had admitted to occasionally screwing himself with a dildo. Giles wanted a show. Chase was pretty sure that Giles assumed that if Chase had one thing up his ass he'd hardly object to another, and Giles would be able to weasel around the 'ask for it' rule. "You can't even say that."

"Please? I'm giving you puppy dog eyes right now."

Chase felt his resolve soften a little, but he said, "That's my tactic. We'll see. So, Friday around five. Don't be late. People like me hanging around bus terminals tend to attract chicken hawks and vice cops. They think I'm either trolling for tricks, or a runaway. Kisses."

"Bye."

Chase hung up, frowning. *Well, I didn't expect The Lovers' Farewell, but he might have done a little better than that.* He shrugged, and bounced into the kitchen. His mother was washing the last dish, and he swooped up behind her, giving her a bear hug. Though he wasn't much bigger than she, he managed to lift her off her feet.

"Chase! What brought this on?" she laughed.

"I'm a happy, happy boy, Mom! Giles asked me to sleep over--at his place!" Mary went still, but Chase was so excited that he didn't notice it. "I was beginning to think he was never going to take this step, but now I have hope." He hesitated. "Mom, since he's willing to move further in this relationship, would you be willing to meet him? Maybe have him over for dinner?"

She took a breath, and she was smiling when she turned around to face him. "Of course I will, honey." She stroked his cheek, and held her smile, though she was having visions of all the times in his short life that Chase had cried--not because of physical pain, but because he just couldn't fathom some cruelty of the world at large. "He's your friend, isn't he?"

Chase could scarcely contain himself Friday. The only thing that kept him from taking the earlier bus anyway was the fact that he didn't know Giles' address, and Giles had a fairly common last name. If he'd tried to go through all the listings in the Chicago phone book he'd have been at it till the middle of the next week.

When he got to the bus station, Chase took a quick look around. Giles hadn't arrived yet, so Chase took the opportunity to go into the men's room and change clothes. He'd ordered some clothes from a JC Penney's catalogue (he wasn't quite brave enough yet to shop for these sort of garments in public) and he wanted to look special for Giles. A few minutes in a stall and he stepped out, resplendent in red girl cut jeans and a red, yellow, and green patterned Hawaiian shirt. He'd have preferred something more form fitting, but they just hadn't had anything like that as brightly colored. He checked himself in the mirror, carefully finger combing his wheat blond hair till it was JUST right, and wondering what he'd look like with a henna rinse. Looking at his reflection he noticed a middle aged man giving him a dubious look. He felt a momentary twinge, then stiffened his spine. Turning he said archly, "You should take a picture. It lasts longer," then left the room, deliberately putting a flounce in his walk. *If nothing else I gave him something to talk about at the next family reunion.*

Giles was standing near a pillar, peering around. Chase hurried to him, night case bumping at his side. "Here I am!"

Giles blinked. "Yeah, there you most assuredly are. Chase, red?"

"Only because I couldn't find pink jeans. Don't I look nice?" *Compliment me--I did this for you.*

"I'm just not used to seeing you so, er, vibrantly dressed."

"That's because I don't usually dare to wear what I really want. But I thought, I'll be in the city. No one from home is likely to be there. What the hell?" He flipped his hand.

"It just doesn't look like you."

Chase stared at him, then said slowly, "Giles, this is me. The real me. What you've been seeing before was protective coloring. Does it bother you?"

Giles was silent for a second, then smiled. "No, of course not. Let's go." He turned and headed for the exit. Chase frowned, a little non-plussed that he wasn't waiting to escort him, or at least just WALK with him, but he shrugged it off. He'd learned early on that Giles wasn't much on public displays of affection, at least not in 'mainstream' areas. That bothered Chase a little. He thought that a person shouldn't have seperate personas for the different areas of their life, but he was honest enough to admit that he was having to work to rid himself of that. He could be patient with Giles.

They drove out to a nice suburb. Nothing fancy--just a solid, middle class neighborhood. Chase figured that the neighbors probably weren't all that different from his own, except they probably went into the city to dance clubs rather than to the Grange hall.

They pulled into the driveway and Chase started to get out, but Giles caught his arm. "Just a minute, Chase." Giles was peering up and down the street. After a moment he said, "Okay, let's hustle."

Chase frowned as he climbed out of the car. "I don't like feeling like I'm sneaking."

"We're not. It's just that some of the neighbors are gossipy busy bodies, and they'd be sure to tell my mother about any unusual visitors I had."

"And you don't want to have to explain. Fair enough. I guess I qualify as unusual."

They went into the house, and the first thing Giles did was back Chase up against the door and give him a kiss that would have tickled his tonsils, if Chase hadn't had them removed in third grade. When Chase felt Giles fumbling at his belt, he pushed the older man away. "Slow down, Flash. We have all weekend to be frisky. I want a little social foreplay. Why don't you go have a nice, long shower, and I'll see what you got for me in the kitchen."

Giles pressed his crotch against Chase. "I can give you something in the kitchen."

"Horndog. I mean it!" He pushed Giles away again. When Giles seemed ready to press against him again Chase said, "You didn't bring me here only for sex, did you?"

Giles stepped back. "I'm hurt that you'd say that."

"Well, I might be less inclined to make accusations if you'd let me breathe. Go take shower." Chase wrinkled his nose. "I normally wouldn't say anything, but you have a bit of a funk."

"Sorry. I went to the gym before I picked you up." He flexed his arm. "Wanted to look good for you."

Chase clasped his hands and fluttered his eyelashes like a silent movie starlet. "My hero. Go."

"A shower DOES sound good." Giles started toward the back of the house. "Oh, and if the phone rings, just let the answering machine pick it up. It'll probably be my mother."

"But what if it's important?"

"If it's important, she'll call back." Chase had picked up his case and was following Giles. "What are you doing?"

Chase looked at him in surprise. "I'm putting away my things."

"Give me that. I'll do it."

"You don't have to..."

"Chase, just give it to me and go into the kitchen, all right?"

Chase didn't like the tone, or the ultimatum, but he decided to put a positive spin on it. Maybe Giles had arranged the room romantically, and didn't want to spoil the surprise. Or maybe it was his mother's bedroom, and he was going to feel a little guilty about screwing his gay male lover in her bed. Chase knew HE would have felt guilty in that situation.

Giles disappeared, and Chase went into the kitchen, looking around, pleased. It was really very nice. Giles mother must be a nice housekeeper, because Giles himself hadn't shown any evidence of domesticity. Chase didn't mind too much. He'd be perfectly willing to cook and keep house for a man--if he loved him.

The room was nicely decorated, even if there were a few too many cows and geese in evidence for Chase's taste. He found it ironic that his his mother, who actually DID live in the country, wouldn't have any trace of 'country kitchen chic' in her house. Chase started opening cabinets and checking the refrigerator contents, trying to organize a meal plan in his mind.

There was a cut glass bowl laden with beautiful fruit on the counter. There were gleaming red and gold apples, small bunches of purple and green grapes, and right on top a large, perfect banana. It was buttery yellow, without a trace of brown 'ripeness' spot--just like Chase liked them. Chase had seen chocolate syrup, canned whipped cream, and maraschino cherries in the fridge, so he decided that a banana split would be perfect to finish the meal. *And if Giles is very good,* he thought gleefully, *He can have whipped cream topped Chase for dessert.* So the banana had to be saved, but he was hungry. An apple would be a perfect snack.

Chase chose an apple that looked perfect enough to have seduced Snow White, and sank his teeth into it. Or tried to. Instead of the crisp snap and sweet juice he'd been expectin, he was met with something unyeilding and rather nasty tasting. Surprised, he pulled his head back, staring at the fruit. There were several small indentations in the skin, pale peeking through the red. Curious, Chase sniffed the apple. It smelled like a box of Crayons. "Oh, I don't fucking believe it! I tried to eat wax fruit." He put the apple back, carefully turning it to hide the marks, and thought, *She really must be a good housekeeper. There wasn't even any dust on that.*

He could hear the shower running even in the kitchen, and thought, *My. That man must have a fire hose hanging in his shower stall.* He wrinkled his nose. *That's the only thing really hose-like there. But I don't care. Really I don't. As long as he's a good boyfriend, the physical can be worked around. And I should think positive. Maybe it will be a plus when he finally fucks me. At least I won't have to worry about being damaged if he gets vigorous.* Chase had wondered a few times if he was being wise in making Giles wait for 'getting to home plate'. He'd decided, though, that if Giles was willing to wait it would be a promising sign of his ability to form a long term relationship.

After the mix up with the fruit, Chase thought that perhaps he'd wait to start dinner. It would be very cozy and domestic to get Giles to help him in the kitchen. *While I'm waiting, I'll just watch a video.*

He'd seen a nice entertainment center in the living room, so he strolled in and started to peruse the videos that were neatly racked below it, murmuring, "I guess it's too much to hope that he has some porn? Well, not right out in public where his mom could see it, duh." *Hmm. No horror. No raunchy comedies. Sensitive little dramas. Hell, why can't he at least have some chick flicks?* Then he saw one that was obviously not a commercially produced tape. It had a blank face and the label tape read Wedding, '95. *Wedding? Oh, he must've been best man.* Chase smiled. *I'd love to see him in a suit. If I'm lucky maybe he'll even be in a tux.*

Chase turned on the television and popped the tape in, then sat cross-legged on the floor in front of it. The screen flickered to light. It started with people milling around in what looked like a church lobby, then being led in and seated by ushers. Chase was actually enjoying it. He'd ushered at a few weddings in his time, and it had been fun, though he'd always wished that he could wear one of the bridesmaid dresses.

Then everyone was seated. Yes, there was his Giles standing up at the front, patting the shoulder of another nervous looking man, both of them wearing dark suits. Then the wedding march started and the camera was suddenly shooting down the aisle. Four young women in pastel blue dresses, holding bouquets of ivory roses, marched in on the arms of the ushers. Then when they were arranged before the alter a pretty woman with short, dark hair, dressed in a wedding gown that Chase thought was far too simple (if you have a chance to go frou-frou--take it! was his motto) paced slowly and serenely toward the camera.

*Beautiful bride,* thought Chase. *I hope that Giles didn't forget the ring.*

The woman handed her bouquet to one of the bridesmaids, then, smiling... gave her hand to a beaming Giles.

The floor seemd to drop out from under Chase. He watched numbly as a man in church vestments picked up a Bible and began to intone a wedding ceremony. Chase managed to move before they began to recite the vows, stabbing repeatedly at the STOP button. The television screen went over to nothing but static. He stared at the shifting grains, wide-eyed, feeling sucked absolutely hollow. Finally he whispered. "He could be divorced. He got divorced and moved back in with his mother, and he just didn't want to tell me about it. That could be it. It could." He closed his eyes, repeating it like a mantra. "It could. It could. Please, God, it could..."

Chase was in the emotional equivalent of shock. During one of his stabs at the video player his finger hit EJECT and with a muted whirr the tape popped halfway out of the slot. Mechanically he reached forward, extracting it. And still chanting, "It could..." he snapped the flap that guarded the tape and started jerking at it. In seconds he'd unravelled yards and yards of snakey, shiny beige ribbon, till it was as if he were sitting in a pile of the offending thing's very guts.

He only stopped when he realized that the phone was ringing. Dropping the tape he got to his feet and started toward the phone, then hesitated. *He said to let the answering machine pick up.* The phone rang again, a double whirr that grated along Chase's suddenly raw nerves. Chase gritted his teeth, then hurried toward the kitchen, pleading with God, Fate, the Universe, the Powers That Be... whatever. *Let it be his mother, and let her tell me that was the record of the worst mistake of his life, and that he's living with her because the alimony is keeping him broke.*

The answering machine had already started to pick up when before Chase reached it. The electronic version of Giles' voice said, "Hi. You've reached theThompson household. We can't come to the phone right now, so leave a message." *beep*

There was a last, nauseating moment of indescision as Chase stood over the phone, staring down at it. The a woman's voice spoke. "Giles, hello? Hey, it's me." Chase closed his eyes. She didn't sound old. "You were right, I did forget something, I think. I forgot to get my copy of the cash card out of the drawer in the kitchen. At least I think I did. Check for me, would you?"

There was a pause. Chase instinctively opened the counter drawer just under the phone. It was filled with what looked like old bank statements, instruction manuals for appliances, and warranty cards. Sitting on top was a shiny plastic ATM card. He picked it up. It belonged to Mrs. Giles Thompson, Jr. It was the Jr. that finally tore away Chase's last bit of forlorn hope. Giles had told him that he'd been named after his father--Giles Sr.

The woman was speaking again. "Giles, are you there? Come on, you snot. I know that we weren't on the best of terms when I started this trip, but we're supposed to be trying to work things out, aren't we? It's childish of you to try to pretend..." Chase picked up the receiver. "Finally! What sort of petty game are you playing? We agreed..."

"Giles," Chase said with eerie calm, "is in the shower."

There was a moment of silence, then the woman, obviously puzzled said, "Then who is this?"

"I'll tell you, but first please tell me who you are. I think I know, but I have to be irrevokably, beyond a shadow of a fucking doubt sure."

Now there was a hint of huffiness in her voice. "I'm Melissa, his wife! Who are you?"

"I'm his boyfriend."

More silence. Then in a clogged voice she said, "This... I did dial 556-3123, didn't I?"

"I don't know. He never gave me his phone number. He said his mother might answer."

"His mother?" Her voice rose into a near shriek. "Look, you're in my house? 1220 Toledo?"

"Do you have a big bowl of wax fruit sitting right beside you phone in the kitchen?" There was a gasp. "I'm here. I've seen your wedding video. You were a lovely bride."

"I... you... Thanks." The woman's voice was limp.

"He told me he lived with his mother."

Silence, then. "He told me you were just a fling, and I had nothing to worry about."

Chase closed his eyes. "I didn't know about you, but you knew about me?"

"He told me you knew everything, and were fine with it. We've been married for over four years, and I caught him cheating on me just after our second anniversery. I almost left then."

"Why didn't you?" Chase could hear the chill in his own voice.

There was a sigh. "I was weak. I thought that it was just that he was weak, too, but that he really loved me. He talked me into an... an open marriage. But I never wanted to be with anyone else."

"So what that means basically is that he feels he has a license to screw around."

"Yes," she said sadly. Then her voice hardened. "He figures that if he lets me know what he's doing, I can't complain."

"Oh, I have news for you, honey."

"I see that now. When he told me he was seeing someone new, I made him promise. I made him swear on the Bible that he'd keep it seperate from our home. That he'd keep it anonymous and far away. Coming to our house--was that your idea, or his?"

"His."

"Oh, that low down bastard!" There were angry tears in her voice.

"Testify, my sister. Please don't be mad at me. I honestly thought he was single."

"I believe you. He can be pretty devious when he wants to be. Well, I guess this settles one question. I won't be coming back from this little vacation. I'll be going straight to my own mother's house, and I'll be contacting my attorney as soon as I hang up."

"Take his balls financially, with my blessings."

"I will." She paused. "Are you going to be all right? You sound upset."

"Oh, no more than if, say, someone had tried to slit my throat. But I'll be all right."

"Just don't do anything that will land you in jail. But if you do, I'll be your witness that you were acting under intolerable strain."

"And if you need me to give a deposition about what a lying, philandering piece of dog shit he is, just let me know. My home number is 555-2194, and my name is Chase."

"Good luck, Chase. And don't let this asshole sour you on everyone else, okay?" She hung up.

Chase didn't. He simply dropped the receiver on the counter, and the air was filled with the harsh buzz of an open line. But after a moment he picked it up again, held down the button, and dialed. "Hello, Mom? Mom, could you come get me? You can pick me up at the bus station. No, I'm not there, but I will be by the time you get here." He was silent for a moment. "No, actually--I'm not all right. But I'm not hurt, and I'm not in trouble. Just please come pick me up? Thanks, Mom. I love you." He hung up, then called another number. "Yes, I need a taxi to 1220 Toledo. I'll be going to the bus station. Could you make it as quickly as possible, please? Thank you."

He hung up and walked back to the master bedroom. Looking around, he found his nightcase beside the bed, and picked it up. The door to the bathroom opened, and Giles came out. He was dressed, but he was bare foot, and he was toweling his hair. He frowned when he saw Chase. "I thought you were going to be fixing dinner?" Then he smiled slyly. "Of course, if it's just that you couldn't stay away from me, I'll understand."

He strolled over to Chase. The boy watched him with an almost clinical eye. He'd always loved Giles fresh from the shower, his red hair shining like copper, but he was seeing him in a new light now. What Chase had fondly mistaken for confidence now seemed to be arrogance and self-satisfaction. The contentedness was smugness.

Chase was standing very still, but when Giles got close he moved suddenly. He swung his arm up and out, and the overnight case smack Giles smartly in the face, knocking him back a couple of steps. Giles was shocked and stunned by the sudden blow. It never occurred to him that he'd been damned lucky that Chase had brought a soft-sided overnight bag. If he'd had a plastic or leather one, Giles would probably have had a broken nose. As it was it ended up bruised and bloody. He grabbed at his face, yelling, "Hey! What the fuck was that for?"

Chase's voice was calm, low, and cold. "Melissa forgot her cash card. I'll be going now." He headed for the door, but paused just before he stepped out, looking back. "Oh, and she wants you to know that you'll be hearing from her divorce lawyer soon. I hope she guts you." He continued out toward the living room.

Giles groaned, suddenly realizing just how deep the shit he was in was. He had royally fucked up with both his wife AND his boyfriend. The sensible thing would have been to just let Chase go (especially considering the boy's first response), but Giles had never been all that sensible. He'd always been able to talk himself out of any situation, and he saw no reason why his glibness should fail him now. After all, Chase had been easily led...

How woefully one person can underestimate another. "Hold on, babe," Giles wheedled. "Just let me explain. I..."

Chase whirled on him. "Explain? You---are---married! You lied to me." Giles started to say something and Chase pointed at him, finger stabbing the air. "And don't you fucking dare give me that 'I never actually said I wasn't married, I only said I didn't have a lover' crap! You are just so busted, and you aren't going to be able to sweet talk me into forgiving you for this. I told you the first time we were together that I didn't mess with married men, Giles."

"It isn't really a marriage, Chase."

"No?" Chase kicked the tangled pile of tape at him. "It damn sure looked like one. I'm pretty sure the preacher, and the congregation, and the ushers, and the bridesmaids, and the fucking video cameraman thought it was, too. Mellissa seems to think so." He threw up his hand. "Oops! Better put that in the past tense. You told me," he grated, "you lived with your mother. You told her about me. You said I didn't mean anything, and..."

"I was just saying that to keep her happy, Chase. I didn't really mean it."

"And you think another lie is going to persuade me of your good intentions?"

Giles winced, and made patting motions with his hands. "Please! Sound carries."

"And you're worried the neighbors will hear. Tough titty. I can see now that most of the time we were together in public you were worried that I was going to do something to cause a scene. You figured the little faggot boy might be a drama queen, and embarrass you. Well, guess what? I'm not at all embarrassed because I'm the injured party here. Mellissa isn't going to live here anymore, and frankly I don't care if your neighbors start hauling their kids and pets inside when you pass."

Giles saw everything he had--wife, boyfriend, and probably his house and a sizeable chunk of his income for the foreseeable future--slipping away, and he tried to salvage something. "But Chase, if Melissa leaves me, I'll need you. I..."

Chase shrieked. It was a piercing sound of outrage and disbelief. "I don't believe you! Giles, if your enormous nerve translated into physical size in your equipment, you'd be hung like John Holmes. Of all the self-centered, arrogant, me-me-me..." He drew in a deep breath. "And to think that I was going to let you screw me tonight." Before Giles expression could brighten Chase continued, "I was even going to cook for you. I was going to... I was going to..."

Chase went a little crazy.

He bared his teeth, dropping the night case, and stalked into the kitchen. When he returned he was carrying the bowl of wax fruit. He thumped it down on the dining area table, next to the grouping of condiments in tasteful dispensers. Once he'd set it down, he started to unbuckle his belt. "You've been whining and begging for me to put on a show for you." He unzipped his fly and jerked his scarlet jeans far down his thighs, pulling his briefs down at the same time.

Giles gaped. It was a cliche, but Chase was beautiful when he was angry, and he was right royally pissed right now. "I suppose you had a nice toy all picked out for me to use?" said Chase.

"I have a couple," said Giles faintly. "I bought them just for you."

"Oh, how sweet. Presents for me to debauch myself for your pleasure. Well, you can just stick them up your own ass--sideways." Chase had picked up a small cruet that was sitting with the salt and pepper shakers. He poured a small pool of olive oil out into his hand, then he plucked the wax banana off the pile of fake fruit and quickly gave it a few masturbatory strokes. It would have looked very erotic, except for the jerkiness of his motions, and the rage in his expression. "As for what I think of you and anything you ever gave me, or wanted to give me..."

Chase turned and bent slightly at the waist. With one hand he pulled apart his buttocks, and Giles suddenly found it hard to breathe. Chase positioned the banana and pressed strongly. The thick yellow cylinder sank several inches into his body, spreading his anus. Chase pumped it roughly a few times. Then he let go and wiggled his ass, so that the embedded fruit jiggled and waved. "Do you know what that is? I'm conducting a symphony of violins, and they're all playing Hearts and Flowers, because you're so pathetic."

He jerked the banana out and turned. Pulling up his clothes with his free hand, he hurled the banana at his former lover. "Take it! Keep it as a souvineer if you want to. That banana had more honesty, loyalty, integrity, and plain decency than you. And it was better at sex, too!"

Giles shook his head, coming out of his shock a little, and frowned. "Oh, now wait a minute! You can't..." He suddenly found himself being pelted by wax grapes, pears, and apples. Chase managed to peg him square between the eyes with a replica of a Red Delicious. The fruit was hard and heavy--it was worse than catching a baseball with your face. Giles got a clue and turned, running back toward his bedroom.

He just missed being nailed by the glass bowl. As it shattered Chase yelled. "I should have known! Your name in Greek means 'young goat'! You are the most goatish person I've ever run into." A horn blew outside. Chase quickly put his clothes in order, snatched up his nightcase, and hurried out of the house, leaving the door wide open in the vicious hope that a burgler or mugger would come along before Giles could collect himself.

A taxi was waiting for him in the driveway, and he climbed in the backseat. The driver confirmed his destination, then pulled out into the street. They were just driving away when Giles appeared at the doorway. He had a black eye and a puffed, bloody nose, and he was waving frantically. "Chase! Give me a chance. I'll make it up..."

"Someone trying to get your attention," said the driver.

"Who?" said Chase coldly. "I don't see anyone, unless you mean that dog that's barking in the yard."

"Uh-huh," said the driver. He made no more comment. He'd seen his share of all kinds of domestic disputes, and at least the boy didn't seem to have gotten the worst of it.

Chase took a seat on a bench outside the bus station to wait for his mother. It wasn't long. Forget about the speed limits--she must've broken the sound barrier getting to her baby. As she pulled up Chase got up and went to the car. He tossed his bag in the back and climbed into the passenger seat. Before his mother could say anything he said, "I can't talk about it right now, Mom, okay?"

"Okay, sweetie," she said simply. She knew that if she pushed Chase would shut up like a clam sealed with Super Glue. But if she let him work through whatever this was he just might confide in her, and accept whatever help or comfort she could give.

They drove for a while in silence. Chase slumped deep in the seat, arms crossed almost defensively across his chest, chin tucked. Mary kept shooting worried glances at him. The boy who'd gone to Chicago had been about to burst with the joy of life. The one that was coming home seemed... drained. He was pale, and drawn. She turned her eyes back to the road.

"Ow."

It was very soft, but she looked over quickly to see Chase squirming uncomfortably in his seat. "Chase, I'm just going to ask this once, and I'll believe whatever you tell me, but if there's anything wrong and you die because you wouldn't let me help you, I'll never forgive you. Do you need medical attention?"

"I'm all right, Mom," he said faintly. He squirmed again, wincing. "I did something a little stupid, and I didn't realize how uncomfortable it was till just now. I guess the adrenaline is wearing off. It's my own fault for being impulsive, but it's nothing traumatic."

"All right. But if it gets worse, tell me."

"Yes, ma'am."

They didn't speak the rest of the drive. It was getting dark when they got back to their house. Chase got out and walked ahead of her into the house, not bothering to get his bag. He went directly to his room and shut the door. Mary didn't go stand outside his room, but she hovered at the end of the hall, listening. She expected to hear Chase weeping. He wasn't a cry baby, but he'd never had that stupid macho hang up about 'men don't cry--ever'. Finally she went in the kitchen and started fixing a supper that she knew he'd have no appetite for.

The phone rang. She stared at it while it rang several more times. Mary looked up to find Chase standing in the kitchen door, staring at the phone like it was a cobra. She gritted her teeth and stiffened her spine, then went over and picked it up. "Hello?"

It was Giles on the other end. "Mary, I need to talk to Chase."

"Don't call me by my first name."

"Look, I don't know what he's told you, but he got the situation all wrong."

"He hasn't told me anything. He didn't have to. I told you not to hurt my boy, asshole. Don't ever call here again, or I'll file harrassment charges." She banged the receiver down, then pulled the jack out of the wall. Mary looked at Chase. "I will, too, as long you don't really object."

Chase snorted. "As far as I'm concerned they can put him in a cell and wall it up. Thanks, Mom." His expression softened. "You're still running interference for me, aren't you?"

"That's what mothers are for, Chase. I'll do it till I die."

He came over and gave her a brief, fierce hug, then went back to his bedroom. His eyes were still dry.

A little later Mary heard Chase go outside. She knew he needed his privacy, but she was worried, so she followed at a short distance. Chase walked into the clearing beside their house, moving through the deepening dusk. He was carrying a small, open cardboard box. He came to the charred area where they burned their trash. Setting down the box, he quickly gathered some of the brush and small branches they had stacked nearby to help start the fires. When that was done he pulled a slim book out of the box. Mary recognized it as a book of sentimental romantic poetry that Giles had given Chase early in their courtship. Chase ripped the pages out, one by one, crumpled them, and tucked them in the tinder. Then he took a small can of charcoal starter out of the box and gave the pile a long squirt, squeezing the can till it was empty before tossing it aside. He took matches from the box, stepped back a little, lit one, and tossed it on the damp paper.

It flared up strongly and the entire pile was blazing in an instant. Mary was glad that they'd cleared the ground for several yards around the burning place. When the fire was going well, Chase started to take items out of the box and toss them into the blaze. A stuffed cat. An emptly chocolate box. A handful of greeting cards. A CD. Mary felt her throat tighten. He was destroying all evidence of Giles--purging him from his life. It was sad, so sad. But it was probably one of the healthiest things he could have done. He still hadn't cried, and she knew that he needed a catharsis. He needed to let out the rage and pain before it poisoned him and turned him sour on the world.

Finally the box was empty, and Chase threw the box itself into the fire. Then he stood, staring into the flames, arms crossed. The fire started to die down, the night growing chilly. Mary approached him tentatively. She came up behind her son and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Chase? Baby?"

His head drooped, and he started shaking. Then he turned and hugged her, burying his face against her shoulder, and cried. She patted and rubbed his back, holding her sweet boy, silently cursing the man who'd hurt him, and praying to God that some day Chase would find someone worthy of him.