Jason’s Story

The first thing I need to get out of the way here is to warn my parents and my brothers.  You told me to be honest, and that’s what I’m going to be.  Don’t complain later when you read what I have to say <Evil Grin>.  But remember, Ray, Pete, Brian, that I love you all as my blood brothers.  You know what I mean.  You guys are the best. 

Okay.  When I was born, my brother was jealous of the attention I got.  I remember that from the moment I could first comprehend the emotion.  He wasn’t mean to me, maybe a bit surly at times, but he still craved the attention I was getting.  It got much better as years passed, but it was always there.  I can’t help but blame myself.  Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been born.  Maybe Jeff would still be alive.

There’s not much to say about my life up until I was nine.  Everything up until then was unremarkable.  I had the usual bumps and bruises, and a well developed case of hero worship.  Everything Jeff did, I tried to do, too.  I played football with him and his friends, basketball, tag, whatever.  Not all of his buddies liked the idea of a baby tagging along.  Jeff never once complained where I could hear him, though.  When his friends would grouse about the twerp coming along, Jeff would tell them, “Jason goes with us, then I go.  Jason stays, then I stay too.”  It’s a tribute to Jeff they liked him well enough to let me follow them around.  I eventually became a mascot of sorts, and then one of the guys, even though I was nearly three-and-a-half years younger.

Part of what brought me into the group was an incident that occurred just after Jeff’s thirteenth birthday.  He and I had escaped for the day right after breakfast, as was usual in the summer.  We rode our bikes to a park about five miles from home, in an undeveloped part of town.  After locking our bikes to a tree, we went stomping through the underbrush.

One of our favorite games we played was Army.  Jeff would be my lieutenant and I was his sergeant. We would roam throughout the area, shooting at pretend enemy soldiers with stick guns and lob pinecone grenades into foxholes and pillboxes.  Sometimes we assaulted a “river crossing”, staged around a creek deep inside the wooded parcel of land.  Some of the banks were steep and slippery, but we were boys.  Who cares about a little water or mud?  We played there often, both by ourselves and with Jeff’s friends.

This particular day, the gang had accompanied us.  With a total of six, we divided three per side to play Capture the Flag, Patterson style.  The goal, of course, was to capture your opponents flag.  But, if you got hit by a “grenade,” you had to go back to your base before you could throw pinecones again.

Prior to actually starting the game, we took about thirty minutes to gather up ammunition and stockpile it at various places, hoping to give ourselves a ready supply within easy reach, no matter where we found ourselves.  Green pinecones were especially prized.  Unlike the dried-up brown pinecones, the green cones had weight to them, and were rock-hard.  As a result, you could throw them further, and they hurt more when they hit.  Fortunately, they were rare finds, or all of us would have been black and blue all summer long.

The game began.  Our team decided to split up, with Jeff and I together as usual, and our teammate going out on his own.  To make a long story short, Jeff had captured our opponents’ flag, and I was following behind, trying to cover his escape, but failed miserably.  Jeff was running along the bank of the creek when he got pegged in the head with a green cone at close range.  He immediately lost his balance and fell down the bank, hitting his head on some rocks at the bottom.  His attacker bolted for the bikes immediately, leaving me alone with my injured brother.

The rest of the events are a blur.  I’m not too clear on the details, but here is what I could puzzle out.

I raced to the bank to find Jeff unconscious and bleeding from a good-sized gash on the left side of his head near the temple.  I think he had fallen about ten feet or so.  I think I jumped down the bank to reach him.  Seeing a large amount of blood, I started screaming for help.  No one answered my calls.

I was terrified.  I though that if I didn’t do something, my brother was going to die.  Shaking off the paralysis that threatened to overtake me, I recalled some of the first aid lessons Jeff gave me when practicing for his scout badge.  Taking off my shirt, I folded it up, and tied it around his head with the knotted sleeves over the gash.  Next, I tried to drag him a bit downstream where the banks of the creek weren’t so steep, but he was too heavy for me.  Now that I think about it, I was really lucky he didn’t have a neck injury.

Somehow I moved Jeff out of the hot noon sun, and then I tore off like the hounds of hell were on my heels.  I must have run about five hundred yards.  When I reached the road, I jumped out in front of a car.  It finally came to a stop about four feet from me.  I ran to the driver’s window and started screaming at the man behind the wheel.  He calmed me enough to make some sense of what I was trying to say, and once he understood, he told me to wait at the curb for the ambulance.  The driver then sped off to call 9-1-1.  As he drove out of sight, I collapsed into a heap on the sidewalk, crying hard and rocking myself gently.

Hearing sirens in the distance a few minutes later, I stood watching for the ambulance, but it was a Police car that stopped in front of me at my frantic signal.  The lone officer jumped out of his car, retrieved his first aid kit, and followed me to where Jeff lay.  He radioed our position to the ambulance, which parked in a lot about two hundred yards away.  Yes, I had run the wrong direction.

The paramedics did their job.  His wound was bandaged properly after they immobilized him on a backboard.  It appeared Jeff had lost an awful lot of blood, and with them strapping him down to the board, I was scared shitless.  I started crying again.  The cop carried me to the ambulance, where he asked me for my parent’s numbers and our address. 

When the paramedics put Jeff in the ambulance, I felt a sense of relief.  Now that they were closing the doors in preparation for moving to the hospital, I felt a sense of dread, like I had seen Jeff for the last time.  It was good the police officer had gotten the info from me before the ambulance drove off, because I couldn’t have told him anything useful after they had gone.  Anyway, he took me home.

Geez.  So much for a short story.  Well, to make it a little longer, Mom and Dad treated me like a hero, but I didn’t really understand why.  We went to the hospital to be with Jeff, who had woken up on the way in.  He wouldn’t stop thanking me, and later gave me a huge hug, when he was allowed to move again.  From that day on, he treated me as more of a friend instead of a little nuisance of a brother, and the gang did too, after Jeff told them I saved his life.  I don’t know if I saved his life or not; he wasn’t in any real danger, but I was gratified, nonetheless.

We had many conversations about that day.  Jeff seemed to think it was a big deal, my getting him help.  I always tried to rationalize it as being something he would do for me if the situation had been reversed, but he wouldn’t have it.

We were sitting in his room one day shortly after the accident when this particular conversation came up.  We were reading comics, I think.

“I really owe you, Jase.  You saved my life!”

“Naw, you don’t owe me.  You’d’ve done the same for me, Jeff.”

“Maybe, but you did it for me.  You kept your head, bro.  You could have run just like the others, but you didn’t.  You stayed right there and got help for me.”

“So? Like I said...”

“You are a hero, Jase.”  He caught my eye.  “My hero.”

I snorted.  “I’m no hero.  I was so scared.  And I cried like a baby!  Real heroes don’t cry.”

Jeff snorted back.  “Says who?”

“Everybody knows it, Jeff.  And a real hero is someone who fights fires or fights in wars.”

He shook his head. “Those people may be heroes, Jase, but they aren’t the only type of hero out there.  You know what makes you my hero?  You got me help, even though you were scared out of your mind.  You did what you needed to do, and didn’t let it stop you.  That’s what makes you a hero.  Do you think firefighters aren’t scared when they have to go into a burning building, or a war hero isn’t afraid of getting shot and killed?  Of course they are, bro.  But they do the job anyway, just like you did.”  He ruffled my hair and pulled me into a rough embrace.  “And I love you more because of it.”

Fighting my way free of him, I put on a shocked expression.  “You love me?  I thought you hated me!”

He grinned.  “Only in front of my friends.  But you know better, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

His grin fell, and was replaced by a fretful grimace.  “I’m sorry I haven’t said it more often, Jase.  I really do love you.  I hope that you love me too, bro.”  I looked into his brown eyes, and knew he was in earnest.  Jeff was truly concerned about how I felt about him.

I put the comic down, stood up and moved next to him.  I hugged him hard and said, “I love you too, Jeff.”  His smile returned as we lingered in our embrace.  That is one of my favorite memories about Jeff.  He always cared about me, even when, officially, he hated me.  God, I miss him so much.

I’m sorry this is taking so long, Brian.  This is harder than I thought it would be.  I’m going to take a break now.  I thought I had a handle on these emotions, but just writing them down... well, sometimes it’s more than I can take and I have to stop.     I’ll try to get to it later, if I feel up to it.

*     *     *     *     *

It’s been a full week since I wrote last.  Every time I think about writing some more, every time I think of writing about Jeff, I get a queasy feeling, like I’m not... I don’t know.  Like I’m on the verge of losing control, if that makes sense.  The emotions are still with me, waiting to jump me if I have a weak moment.  But, I guess I have to keep writing.  It’s helping you, Brian, so it should help me.

Right?

Jeff and I grew closer as time passed.  We didn’t keep secrets, confiding our hopes and fears to each other.  He told me when he hit puberty, describing everything that was happening to him.  I caught glances now and then that confirmed what he was telling me. 

I watched him grow, over the next four years or so, from a thirteen year old little boy to a seventeen year old boy-man.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back, having seen him go through puberty, it made me more comfortable when I hit thirteen and started my own maturation process.  I didn’t worry if I was normal or not, if that was supposed to grow or this was supposed to sprout hair.  Mom and Dad told me to come to them if I had questions, but I never needed to.  Jeff had answered most of them for me.

Within a year after the accident, most of Jeff’s friends had drifted apart, spending more time at school playing sports or being with girls.  Jeff didn’t go out with girls, though.  He spent most of his time with me.

 Our relationship was about as intimate as you can get without sexual intimacy.  We didn’t bother knocking or hiding from each other.  We had a lot of physical contact between us, be it wrestling, horsing around, or a hug.  We’d play our games and roughhouse like normal kids, occasionally getting yelled at, but mostly staying out of the way.  Rarely, we got the old gang together, but inevitably, someone was missing, having gone on a date or something.  It wasn’t the same.

Spence and Jeff met at school in their freshman year.  Now fifteen, Jeff and I were still close, but we didn’t have a common frame of reference any longer, with him in the throes of puberty and me not even started yet.  He and Spence (his name was Kip Spencer, but he hated Kip, and threatened to kill me if I ever called him by his given name) began spending more and more time together on their own.  They would include me sometimes, but when they started going over to Spence’s place after school every day, Mom and Dad decided it would be better if I were to come home instead of following them.

To make up for the time that I was alone, I started making friends of my own, but it wasn’t really what I wanted.  People my own age were so stupid.  They did dumb things that I had outgrown years ago, or so it seemed.  Being around Jeff had matured me emotionally, so I was a couple of years ahead of my classmates.  Still, it was fun playing all those little kid games again.

My best friend lived just a few blocks away.  We both shared the same interests, like riding our bikes and teasing his sister.  We both liked video games too, but we didn’t play them too much.  Steve’s mom watched the clock when we played, only giving us an hour or so before kicking us out of the house or making us do homework, if we had any.  Outside, we’d set up jumps or race down the street, daring each other to new heights of stupidity.

I remember one Saturday about a year after Spence and Jeff met.   My friends and I had set up this ramp on one side of the street.  It was a simple sheet of one-inch plywood propped up on a sawhorse.  The ramp was about three feet high or so.  The road had a moderate downward slope to it, so one could gather quite a bit of speed.  Well, I took off, pedaled as hard as I could down that hill and hit the ramp, launching myself into the air.  That was the easy part.

When I landed, I lost control of the bike.  My front wheel wobbled and eventually pitched me over the handlebars when I hit the curb, right into a telephone pole.  As I tried to cushion the impact, my left wrist and forearm broke.  The pain was so bad I passed out.  Oh yeah, my head hitting the pole didn’t help matters any, either.

The next thing I remember is waking in the hospital.  My arm was in a cast and my head was pounding.  A bandage covered my right temple area.  Mom was sitting in a chair next to me.  She noticed I was awake, and smiled.

“How do you feel, baby?”

“My head hurts.  And my arm.  What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”  Concern lined her face, and it scared me.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“You’ve broken your left arm and wrist, and you have a concussion, Jason.  But you’ll be fine in time.  What do you remember?”

“I remember jumping off the ramp, but nothing after that.  I guess I lost it, huh?”

“Guess so.”  She smiled again.  “You’ll stay here tonight so the doctors can watch you, then you’ll come home tomorrow, okay?  If you feel like it, you can go back to school on Monday.”

“Oh, man!  I lose the whole weekend?”

“Yes.  You did something extremely unwise, Jason.  You have more sense than to try and jump off a ramp, especially without a helmet.  Your father and I won’t punish you, because we think you’ll learn your lesson from what happened.  But we do want you to promise us that you won’t do something like this again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  I lay there, dejected, trying to avoid her eyes.  She stood and leaned down to hug me, wrapping her arms around me.

“We’re glad you’re okay, Jason.  Your father and brother will be here soon.  Do you feel up to seeing them?”

“Of course.”  How could I not see Jeff?

“Okay then, you try and rest.  I’ll wake you when they get here.”

“I’m not tired, Mom.”  But my protests meant little.  I was asleep soon after.

*     *     *     *     *

I woke to Jeff calling my name.  “Jase? Are you awake?”

“Hi Bro.”  My words came out as a croak.   My throat was so dry.

“God, I’m glad to see you, Jase.”  There were tears forming in his eyes.

“Me too.  Water?”

“Sure. Hold on a sec.”  He looked over to Mom, who nodded.  Jeff poured a small cup half full and then helped me to sit up.  The room spun crazily and my head pounded, but with my eyes closed, I managed to get the water down.  Then, without warning, it came back up again, along with the lunch I had eaten before the accident.  I spewed all over Jeff and onto the floor.

Mom called in the nurse as Jeff held me, unsure what to do.  I started crying, thinking he would be angry with me for puking all over him, but he held my head to his chest and shushed me gently.  “It’s okay, Jase.  You’ll be okay.  I’m here.  I have you.”  The nurse helped Jeff to lay me down again, so my head would stop spinning.  She directed Jeff to the bathroom to clean up, and with Mom’s help, got me cleaned up as well. 

After changing the linens on the bed, the nurse left to find the doctor for something or other.  Dad came in to say good night and that he loved me.  Mom gave me a kiss and said she’d see me first thing in the morning.  After they had left the room, Jeff took my hand, and after a moments pause, kissed me on the forehead.

“I’m sorry, Jase.  I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

“It was an accident.  I was stupid.”

“I should have been there.”

“No.  It was my fault.  You were with Spence, anyway.”  He blushed brightly.

“Well, if I had been there...”

“You would have been the one lying here, not me.  I know you would have been first.  You know it too.  So I’m saving you some pain.  You should be grateful.”  I smiled as best I could considering the seven dwarfs were pounding the inside of my skull with jackhammers.

He smiled, and lost that dour, guilty demeanor.  “You are something else, you know that, Jase?”  He kissed my forehead again and hugged me gently.  “Love you, bro.”

“Love you too.  See you tomorrow?”

“You know it!”  He was still smiling as he walked out.  The nurse came back in and put something in my IV.  I didn’t wake again until late the next morning.

My head didn’t hurt quite as much when I did finally wake up.  Mom was sitting in the bedside chair reading a book, and Jeff was sitting on the unoccupied bed next to mine, watching me.

“Welcome back, sport.  I thought you were going to sleep all day!”

“Hi Mom.  Hey, bro.”  I stretched as best I could, and was rewarded with a sharp shooting pain in my head.  Apparently only six of the dwarves had been told it was quitting time.  I moaned a bit as I lay still again, and in a few seconds the pain subsided.

“Does your head still hurt?”

“Yeah.  My arm, too.”

“Let me get the nurse.  I’ll be back shortly.”

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“I have to pee.”

“Oh.  Jeff, get him that urinal there.  Let me know when I can come back in.”

Mom left, and Jeff dutifully retrieved the plastic container and handed it to me. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Um,”  I raised my head and that dwarf started in again.  Foolishly, I let my head fall back into the pillow, which was also painful.  Another moan escaped.  But I didn’t feel sick.  Small blessings.... “I can't do it on my own.  Can you help me?  I really have to go!”

He smiled.  “No problem.  Can you aim for the bottle, or do you need me to hold it?” 

*     *     *     *     *

When I agreed to write this, I had no idea what it would involve.  Sure, I told Brian and Pete I would write about Jeff and me, but I didn’t think it through.  Now that I am getting ready to write what comes after, tortured demons are coming out of the dark recesses of my mind.  I have never told anyone what I am going to write now.  Maybe it’s time.  I can only hope that my family can understand.

*     *     *     *     *

When I was finished, he told Mom it was okay to come in, and a nurse followed her.  She put something in my IV.

“Is that going to put me to sleep?”

“No, but it might make you dizzy.  Don’t try to get up any more.  Just relax.  You can watch the television if you like.”

“Thanks.”  The nurse left as quickly as she had come in.  “Mom, I’m hungry now.  Is there anything I can eat?”

“Why didn’t you ask the nurse when she was in here?”

“I don’t know.”

She sighed.  “I’ll be right back.”  Out she went to find me something to fill my stomach.

“Thanks, Jeff.  For helping me.”

“That’s why I’m here, bro.  You would have done the same for me.”

“Yeah, but you probably wouldn’t have asked.  You probably would have asked Spence.”

“What makes you say that?”  He wasn’t angry, exactly, but there was a definite edge in his voice.

“I dunno.”  I sat observing my hands in my lap.  “Sometimes, I think you hide things from me.”

“Like what?”

“It’s like you don’t ever want me to be around when you’re with Spence.”

“We hang with you sometimes.”  I quickly raised my eyes to meet his, and ignored the resulting pain with effort.

“Yeah, but you’re over there all the time!  I never see you after school. You don’t help me with my homework anymore like you used to.  We used to do things together, just me and you.  Now you’re either with Spence or he’s with us.”  I stopped as tears came to my eyes.  I didn’t cry, but I couldn’t see really well either.  I sniffled a bit and wiped my eyes dry.  Jeff dropped his gaze as the silence continued.

“I know.  It’s just...  I don’t know.  Spence is....”  He trailed off as my mom came back in, bearing a tray.   Jeff looked up only when she had deposited a bowl of chicken flavored water on the little tray and had wheeled it into place by my bed.  He caught my eye briefly, so I knew that our conversation wasn’t done.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” we chorused.   She gave us that look.  You know.  She didn’t believe us, but she didn’t press us, either.

I ended up staying in the hospital Sunday and Monday as well, checking out Tuesday.  Jeff stayed with me as much as possible, but we didn’t get a chance to continue our conversation.  Mom was with me nearly the whole time.  Jeff didn’t have to help me pee, though.  I could raise my head enough to do the deed myself, and I could sit up by evening.  Jeff asked to sleep over with me, but Mom and Dad said I needed my rest, and tomorrow night was soon enough for whatever Jeff had planned.

I didn’t sleep well that night, either.  I kept wondering what was going on with Jeff.  When I had mentioned Spence to him, a look of panic came over his face, which convinced me that there was something more going on here than met the eye.  They had been thick as thieves for the longest time now.  And no matter how much I denied it to myself, it hurt me that I had been replaced.  Or if I hadn’t been replaced, I certainly  had been pulled off the first string.

I awoke to the nurse removing the IV line from my wrist.  She was none too gentle about it, either.  I glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly eight anyway.  I lay in the bed, listening to the sounds of the hospital, waiting for my doctor to come in and discharge me.  I spent that time thinking about Jeff and Spence.

The doctor came in about nine-thirty and pronounced me ready to be let go, but my mom didn’t get there until ten-thirty to collect me.  I was still slightly dizzy with a minor headache, but I could walk.  They had to wheel me out to the car though.  I  felt like such a baby, being pushed out to the curb where Dad waited in the car.  They took me home and plopped me down in bed, telling me to try and rest.  Yeah, right.  I didn’t have a TV in my room at the time, and it hurt my head to read, so all I could do was lay there and stare at the ceiling, or sleep.  Sleep finally won out.

Jeff woke me up about three hours later, gently calling my name.  I didn’t rouse very easily though.

“Jase.  Jase!  Wake up, bro.”

Another person whispered, “Aww, let him sleep, Jeff.  He looks like he needs it, with that cast and all.”

Jeff sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right, Spence.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?”  I was awake at this point, but was feigning sleep.

“If I don’t do it now, I never will.  Are you sure it’s okay with you.”

“If you’re sure he won’t tell anyone, then I’m sure.”  I decided it was time for me to wake up.

“Tell me what?”  Both Jeff and Spence jumped a foot off the floor.

“Don’t do that!  It’s like the dead coming to life!”  I grinned at Spence as he gasped for breath.  “How are you doing, Jason?"

“Not bad.  A little bit of a headache, still.  My arm hurts.  But other than that, I think I’m okay.”

“Cool.  Can I sign your cast later?”

“You bet!”  Jeff had taken a step backward when I startled him.  He hadn’t moved other than that since I let them know I was awake.  His expression showed fear as well as love.  “Are you okay, Jeff?”  He blinked a few times before his smile was forced back into place.  He made sure my door was closed, then stepped up next to Spence.

“I’m okay.  I just.. I... oh, man.  This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”  As he sat on my bed, I shifted over to give him some room.  Spence pulled up my desk chair and sat next to my bed as well.

I was confused, having no idea what was going on.  “Jeff?” 

He was quiet for the longest time.  He sighed heavily, and then took my hand, something he had never really done before.  “Jase, you know I love you, right?  I would never do anything to hurt you.”  I nodded, and he continued.  “We’ve been brothers now for twelve years.  I have never kept anything from you.  Except for one thing.  I started to tell you a few days ago, but Mom walked in....”  He dropped his gaze again.  I looked over to Spence, who’s concern was as plain as the day is bright.  I watched him put his hand on Jeff’s knee and squeeze.  Jeff glanced at him and covered Spence’s hand with his own, squeezing back.  Comprehension dawned.

“You’re... you’re... I mean, you two....”  I trailed off into silence.  Jeff’s painful grimace was almost more than I could take.  “Why?”

“Why?  Why what?”  He was almost crying.

“Why tell me?  And why now?” 

Jeff sighed again, and then threw me a questioning look.  I don’t know what he was expecting, but me asking those questions wasn’t it.

“You don’t hate me?”

“Why should I hate you?”

“For being.. you know.”

“Answer my questions.”

“Why tell you?  Because you are my brother, like I said.  I’ve never hidden anything from you, except this.  Why now?  Because I owe you an explanation.  I’ve been neglecting you.”

“You never neglect me.  And now I understand why you and Spence have been spending so much time together.”

“Jase, you don’t understand.”

“Of course I do. You and Spence love each other?”

“I love your brother, Jason.  And he loves me.”  Jeff nodded, squeezing Spence’s hand tightly.  “Now the question is, how do you feel, squirt?”

“I don’t understand.”

Spence gave an exasperated sigh.  “How do you feel about your brother?”

“That’s a stupid-assed question.”

“No, Jase,” Jeff said, “I need to know how you feel about what I’ve told you.”

“How should I feel?  Would it make you feel better if I told you I hate you?  Is that what you’re expecting?  Well, tough shit.  I don’t hate you.  How could I, bro?  You think I could hate you for something as stupid as who you love?”

“It’s more than that, Jase.  I love boys.  Not girls.”

“I know.  So?”

He launched himself at me, engulfing me in his arms.  He hugged me tightly to him.  “I love you, Jase.  More than you could ever know.”

*     *     *     *     *

So what is this heinous crime I ask forgiveness for?  It’s this.  I knew Jeff was gay.  I knew it, and I didn’t tell.  I could have saved him!  If I had only told Mom and Dad, I could have saved him.  Oh, Jeff, why didn’t I save you?  WHY?

*     *     *     *     *

It’s been about three weeks since I have opened this file.  It’s been a rough time.  I completely broke down and cried after I finished writing the last scene, and couldn’t stomach continuing.  I’m sorry about that, Brian.

 Brian walked in before I managed to get things back together, but didn’t ask any questions.  He just hugged me like Jeff would have, making me bawl even more.  I’ve been pretty depressed since, and Brian has been keeping a close eye on me.  Good thing I remembered to lock this under a password, otherwise he would have found out why.  I’m going to have to talk to Mom and Dad though, before I make this public.  Or maybe, I’ll just erase the last scene.  I haven’t decided, yet, if I can face them.

  When they signed my cast, Spence had me contort my body so he could get to the portion of the cast that was hard for anyone to see to read, and signed it “S and J Forever”.  Jeff added, “J loves S” below it, and with an evil grin, duplicated it in big letters right in the middle of the cast.  I couldn’t believe it, but it got a huge hug out of Spence, and a lip lock that made me blush.

Jeff and Spence started to include me more now that they didn’t have to hide from me, but I respected their need to have their own time.  Since both of Spence’s parents worked, and my parents had no clue, they made the habit of going over there almost every day after school.  On the weekends, they would take me with them to the movies or wherever else they were going.  Everything was great.

About a month before Jeff’s seventeenth birthday, Spence’s family moved away because his dad was transferred.  It all happened very quickly, within the space of two weeks.  Jeff and Spence did what they could to say good bye, but they never did tell anyone about their year-and-a-half old relationship.

It didn’t take long for Jeff’s depression to ruin his life.  He lost interest in everything.  He would still smile, but I saw the pain behind it.  To Mom and Dad, he became withdrawn and sullen.  Grades dropped, and his other friends disappeared.  He even let his appearance go, which he used to take pride in.

One day about six months later, I came home from school.  Mom dropped me off at the house because she had some errands to run.  I went up to my room as I always did, and heard music in Jeff’s room. It was odd, because he was still supposed to be at school.  Opening his door, I saw him curled up in bed, apparently sleeping. An empty bottle of sleeping pills, and an empty bottle of vodka, sat on his nightstand.  I tried to wake him, but he was already gone.

I found a note under my pillow later that night.  I have never shared it with anyone until now.

Hey Bro,

Don’t blame yourself.  You couldn’t have done anything to prevent what’s happened.  Spence and I, we were perfect together, and without him, my life is so empty.  I’ve tried to go on, but I can’t.

I can’t do this. I don’t want to be this way.  I tried to change, but I still have those thoughts.  I love Spence, but even that is wrong.  All I ever wanted to be was normal. I can’t sleep, I don’t eat.  Nothing is important anymore.  So I’ve decided to end it.

My only regret is leaving you, Jase.  You mean more to me than anything, now.  I know that sounds stupid, knowing what I am about to do, but it’s true.  You’ve been there for me through everything.  I wish I could stay to be here for you, but I can’t.  It hurts too much.

I love you, Jason.  I always will.  Remember that. 

Jeff

Jeff’s funeral was small. Only a few of his so-called friends showed up.  Besides me and my parents, and a few family friends, the funeral home was nearly empty.  I didn’t cry.  Jeff wouldn’t have wanted me to, so I didn’t.  I don’t think that I was even sad.  I was angry.

The one thought that kept going through my mind was what an asshole Jeff was.  He had to do this to himself and leave me all alone.  I had so much to ask him, so much to tell him, and he left me.  What a bastard!

Mom and Dad, in addition to coping with their own grief, now had to deal with a thirteen-year-old son, who screamed at them if they so much as mentioned Jeff.  I told them so many times that I didn’t want to hear his name again, that as far as I was concerned, he was never my brother.  It hurt them to see me hate him so much, but I didn’t care.  I didn’t understand why Jeff had to do it.

I started reading books from the public library about psychology, hoping that somehow I could gain insight into why he did it.  I read books that Mom has packed away in the attic.  I talked to some of the school counselors.  And it still didn’t make sense.  It still doesn’t.

Over the next couple years, I turned my obsession with Jeff’s death into a search for reason, trying to rationalize his actions.  I had realized from my reading and from talking to people that depression plays a huge role in people committing suicide.  Who has ever heard of a happy person killing themselves, anyway.

School started. It was my sophomore year.  We had an assembly about two weeks in to the year, just like always, but this assembly I will remember forever.  After the usual speeches from the principal and counselors, this kid stood up.  That was the first time I saw Jared.  He was a new freshman, but he was speaking, which was unusual.  What he said blew me away.

 [ AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Statistics source: http://www.addictions.net/alcohol.htm ]

“Hello.  I’m a freshman.  I was asked to read something to you, but I have most of it memorized.  This assembly was called to welcome everyone back to school.  Welcome back.  Now, I’m going to talk about something that everyone knows about but no one talks about much, at least not to adults.

“I have a question for you seniors over there.  How many of you have tried alcohol?”  None of them raised their hands, of course.  “I have some bad news for you.  Ninety-three percent of you are liars.  By the end of your senior year, ninety-three out of a hundred highschool seniors have tried alcohol.  Thirty percent of you know someone who gets drunk once a week or more.  Every weekend, thirty to forty percent of us teenagers get drunk or high.  And that’s all of us, not just seniors.

“I know better than to ask how many of you have driven drunk, so I’ll tell you.  Fifty-seven out of one hundred  highschool seniors have driven drunk.  Fifty-seven  percent.  And over seventy-five percent of you have been a passenger with a driver who has been drinking.

“How many of you seniors have younger brothers or sisters?” Still no one raised their hand.  “Doesn’t matter.  Here is a statistic that might scare you. Fifteen percent of fourth and fifth graders say they drink.  That means that your little brother or sister may be getting drunk.  Seventy five percent of seventh and eighth graders say they know a classmate who drinks.

“Forty percent of us have used an illegal drug, outside of alcohol.  That means Meth, Coke, Weed, Acid, and anything else out there.  And it could be your brother or sister.

“Statistics don’t mean much to you, do they.  Don’t deny it.  They didn’t mean much to me either. It couldn’t ever happen to me.  It was always someone else that got into trouble.  I knew about the parties, and the drinking.  But I wasn’t ever involved.  I wasn’t involved until my seventh grade year, that is.

“I started drinking that January.  I was thirteen years old.  My best friend had moved away, and I was depressed. I was invited to have a drink by someone, and I took them up on it.  I was one of those people you know that drink.  Less than three months later, I was one of those people you know that got drunk once a week.  Two months after that, I was getting drunk almost daily.

“My name is Jared Tanner.  I am an alcoholic.”  The kid paused here, letting his words soak into the silent audience.  I could see many students shifting in their seats uncomfortably, and many teachers were doing the same.  This boy had a captive audience, but he seemed unaware.  He was so focused on what he was saying that he was virtually ignoring the crowds in the bleacher seats.

“I stole money to get my booze.  I stole other things I could sell to get my booze.  Getting a buyer wasn’t a problem.  I went through a whole school year drunk.  I thought when I started that I could control it. I could stop drinking anytime I wanted to; that I was stronger than the drink.”  He gave a bitter laugh.  “I wish I could have.”

“One night in July, one of my drinking buddies brought us something new to try.  He had found a stash of Coke.  Now I am one of the forty percent of us that use illegal drugs.

“The four of us decided to get high, and then we decided to go for a joy ride.  We stole a car, and took off down the road.  I don’t know how long we were riding around, but I do know we finished three bottles of vodka before the police got on our tail.

“The kid that was driving took off for the freeway as the cops chased us.  It was a cloverleaf type of on-ramp.  He had us going too fast, and we rolled the car.  Four times.”  Again, silence reigned.

 “Some of you know that my class is missing three people this year.  Troy and Larry were sitting in the front seat of the car we had taken.  They were ejected from the car and died.  John, my other drinking buddy, is now in a coma.  His parents are still deciding whether or not to keep the life support going.  Even if he wakes up, he’ll never walk again.  He broke his neck.  It’s unlikely he’ll be able to feed himself, even if there’s no brain damage.  I tell you this with their permission.”  I could see tears on his cheeks as he continued, but he made no effort to wipe them away.

“And me?  How come I’m here and they’re not?  My parents.  They drilled seatbelts into my head.  It was a natural reflex for me to put one on, and somehow, in my drug-induced, alcohol-induced haze, I put mine on.  That is the only reason I am standing here right now.  Because my reflexes overrode my drugs.  Do I deserve to be here?  I don’t know.

“Statistics.  Who cares?  ‘It’ll never happen to me.  I won’t be a statistic.’  Well, I am a statistic.  Some of you are as well.  I just hope, that by hearing this from me, another student just like you, that you won’t become another statistic like Troy, or Larry, or John.  You knew them. They are dead, or waiting to die, because they drank, and because they did drugs.  One is a direct result of the other.

“My name is Jared Tanner.  I am an alcoholic.  I am a statistic.  You have the choice.  I hope you choose not to become what I am.”  Jared walked off the stage in silence.  Everyone was dumbfounded. No one said a single word.  Not even a whisper broke the stillness, until the principal cleared his throat and dismissed everyone to their classes.

I went home that day and told my parents about the assembly, and how I felt strangely drawn to this kid.  Mom and Dad both encouraged me to befriend him. 

That’s really strange, now that I think about it.  Most parents would be telling their kids to run as fast as they could if Jared had approached them, but mine as much as told me to be a friend to him. 

The next day, I waited in the main hall, hoping to spot Jared as he came to school.  Jared came in about ten minutes before the final bell.  He wore a neutral expression as he walked, seemingly oblivious to the small groups that gathered as he passed, murmuring while watching him.  As he passed me, I fell in step with him.

“Hi, Jared.”

“Hi.  Do I know you?”

“Not yet.  I’m Jason.”  I offered my hand, and he stopped walking long enough to shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Jason.”  He started walking again, and I followed him.  “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Uh, not really.  I just wanted to introduce myself and see I could talk you into lunch today.”

“Why?”

His question took me aback for a moment.  “Huh?”

“Why?  Why do you want to have lunch with me?  I can’t score you any drugs.  I don’t drink anymore, so I can’t get you booze.  What else can I do for you?”

“Hey, man.  I don’t do drugs or drink.  All I wanted was to maybe be your friend, but if you aren’t interested, I’ll leave you alone.”  I turned and started to walk away.

“Jason, wait.” I turned around again  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to chase you off.  It’s just that since the assembly, I’ve only had two types of people talk to me.”

“Those who want drugs and...”

“Those who think I’m lower than shit.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me, Jared.  You’ve had some hard times.  Everyone does.  I just want to be your friend.  So how about lunch?”

He gave me a shy smile.  “Sure.  I’ll meet you in the caf.”

“See you then.”

We separated and went to our classes, and met at lunch.  We talked about what he had gone through.  I asked him what prompted him to start drinking and he said he didn’t want to talk about it, so I let it go.  We talked about music and sports a bit. I found out he was on the diving squad, a sport I had never really had watched.

Our friendship grew as time progressed.  He learned that I wasn’t just out to use him, and that he could trust me, as I learned to trust him.  We confided quite a bit in each other, me telling him about Jeff and him telling me about his friends. 

I went to several meets he had, and for the first time I can remember, I appreciated the beauty of the male form, watching Jared and his teammates dive.  I already had a healthy appreciation for the female of the species, but this was something new for me.  It didn’t disturb me, but it did start me thinking.

One night, about nine months after I first met him, we were over at his house watching a movie in his room while laying on his bed.  I thought that I had noticed Jared getting closer to me as our friendship had grown, but I mistook it for merely a deep friendship, not the crush it was.

Jared turned to me and kissed me.  It wasn’t a full blown, tongue-to-tongue kiss, but I did feel his tongue on my lips.  I was completely and utterly shocked.  I was blindsided.  I really didn’t see it coming, and I should have.  I know that my face showed my confusion.

He pulled away from me, his expression panicked and terrified.   His mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out.  He jumped up and began to go for the door, but I stopped him.

“Jared, don’t.”  He looked at me as if I were the boogey man or something.  “Don’t run.  Come here.”  Warily, he sat back down on the bed again, ready to bolt if things turned ugly.  “I’m not going to hurt you, Jared.  Actually, I’m kind of flattered.”  I let him calm down a bit.  “Jared, my brother was gay.  He... took his own life.  I’m not afraid of it.” I paused for a second.  “Are you gay?”  Rather than answer, he simply nodded.

“It’s okay, buddy.”  I moved to sit beside him and put my arm around his shoulders.  “I’m not going to go anywhere.  But I’m sorry.  I don’t feel that way for you.  I love you as a friend, a very good friend, but nothing more.  Can you accept that?”  He shook his head slightly and smiled a bit.

“Yeah, I can accept that.  I don’t know what came over me, Jason.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  You made me feel good, bro.  I mean, you like me enough to kiss me, right?  Nothing has changed.  You’re gay.  So what.”

“Are you?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.  I was just curious.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then it’s irrelevant, right?  It’s enough to say that I am your friend, and that won’t change.”  I hugged him to me tightly, letting him rest his head on my shoulder.  “But just because I don’t share your feelings doesn’t mean I can’t hold you, or you can’t talk to me.  That’s what friends are for, you know?”

He sat there for a few minutes, and then pulled away. “I’m sorry.  I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Stay like that.  In your arms.”

“Why not?”

“Because.  I get... excited.”

“Oh.  That.  I’m not worried about it, if you aren’t.  I’ve set my limits.  As long as you don’t go over those, there isn’t anything to worry about.”

He smiled and embraced me once more.  “Thank you, Jason.  This means a lot to me.  I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“Never.  I know other gay guys, too.  I’ll introduce you to them if they agree.”

“Cool.  Thanks.”

We sat there and talked for a while.  I told him about Jeff and what we’d gone through with his death, and what prompted it.  He listened to me as I spoke, asking questions and making observations from his perspective.  It was nice to tell him about Jeff.  I didn’t get to talk about it much.  My parents never mentioned him to me after I exploded that time, and I felt like he was being forgotten.  Now, Jared knew him, too.

Ray came into our lives about three months after I met Jared.  He was an annoying little boy, always butting in, interfering in my life.  He was like a puppy you could kick, but he kept coming back for more.

His parents had abused Ray to within an inch of his life.  The ironic part is that when he came out to them, they just told him to pack his stuff and get out.  He never has told me the details of the abuse or what happened when he came out.  I think he has buried those events so deeply that even he can’t recall what occurred.  But he wasn’t afraid of me.  Even when I threatened to pound him into submission one day.  His response sobered me.

“If my dad couldn’t kill me, what makes you think you could beat me?”  From that day on, I tried to treat Ray as a brother, instead of an intruder.  He also made no bones about him being gay.  He announced it to me the first time I saw him.  “Hi. I’m Ray.  I’m gay.”  That was his introduction. 

I didn’t know what to make of him for a while.  It seemed he would go out of his way to show me he was gay.  He’d point at a cute guy and elbow me in the ribs, or make some comment that left little to be inferred.  I think he was trying to see if I would hate him because of his orientation.  One day, I’d had enough of his reminders, and told him so.

“Ray, I know you’re gay.  You tell me, in one way or another, every time I turn around.  I don’t care that you are gay.  I don’t care if you point out every cute boy in the world to me.  I don’t even care if you want to run around naked all day long.  It just doesn’t make a difference to me.  I accept you for who you are; you have nothing to prove to me, okay?  You can lay off.”  He stopped in his tracks and furrowed his brows. 

“Are you sure it doesn’t matter?”

“I’m sure.  It never has.  You just caught me by surprise that first day.”

“Oh.  I though you didn’t like me because I was gay.”

“Ray, my older brother was gay.”

“Really?  Where is he?”

And I told him about Jeff.  He listened without saying much.  When I was done, he told me he was sorry, and that was that.  Ray has always been very respectful of Jeff’s memory.

The time from meeting Ray to meeting Pete went quickly.  I dated a couple of girls, but found their company unbearable.  I mean, who is REALLY interested in who is sleeping with who, which girl is a slut, and which guy sleeps around?  How childish. 

Wait a minute.  I think I just described American society.  Oh, well....

Pete.  Now here was a kid with problems. Ray had problems too, but his were more or less over.  He would never go back to live with the people who had whelped him.  Pete still lived with his mom and her boyfriend.

Ray brought Pete over one Saturday morning to meet the family, and I knew right away something was bothering him.  It was something about the way he moved, the way his eyes couldn't hold anyone’s gaze for long.  Ray introduced him to us.

“This is Pete Jameson.  I met him in the support group.  He is gay, but we are just friends.  We have the same hobbies and it’s a natural fit.  Besides, he’s cute, ain’t he?”   Ray grinned and punched Pete lightly.  Pete made the rounds, shaking hands with dad, who embarrassed Pete further by telling him he was cute.  I was next in line.

I took his hand, and I could feel him shaking a bit.  I looked into his eyes, trying to see what was hidden, but all I could glean pain in his eyes.  I shook his hand.  “Nice to meet you Pete.  I look forward to getting to know you better.”  And I did.  This kid intrigued me. 

I could see he was moving somewhat gingerly as he picked up Joanne to hug her.  When Pete put her down, she captured his legs and stayed there until Dad drug her off of him.

Mom pulled Pete off into the kitchen to make her introduction.  They talked for some time, and then Pete came out, a slightly confused expression showing.  Ray grabbed Pete and took him upstairs to his room, talking along the way.  I went back to my room. 

Pete became a regular fixture at our house.  He was very careful to give the appearance that everything was okay with him, but I saw through his façade.  I saw nearly every limp, twinge, and grimace he made until he won free of his mom.  I saw the bruises he tried so carefully to hide, and the emotional pain he tried to bury.

Pete quickly wormed his way into my heart.  I just got the impression that he didn’t want me to be close to him, and rather than crowd him, I let him be for the most part.  Not that I was unfriendly, I just didn’t interact with him much.

I really talked to him for the first time the morning after he found out his grandparents had died.  He had just left the house after blasting us for treating him like an invalid or something.  I followed him a short time later.  He was at the bottom of the street looking out over the city, staring at the mountains.  He didn’t acknowledge me as I approached, so I just started talking to him.

“When Jeff killed himself, I had a really hard time understanding why he did it.  I still don’t really, but I know how I felt losing my brother like that.  I wanted to be like him in every way.  He was my hero.”  I sat on the guardrail, and watched Pete for a moment.  He continued to stare out into the valley.

“Jeff isn’t my hero anymore, though.  He is an inspiration, but not a hero.  He taught me that one has to live their own life as who they are, not who they’re expected to be.  He also taught me that to gain anything in life, including love and acceptance, one must be willing to risk it all.  Without that risk, life just is.   It passes by you instead of being lived.  Jeff inspires me to be more than he was, to avoid his mistakes.

“I have a new hero.  Someone with strength, courage, ambition, drive, someone that knows who they really are, and doesn’t pretend to be otherwise.  I really admire this person because, in spite of all the tragedies in his life, he has continued on, not letting those tragedies sidetrack him from his goals.”  Pete finally looked at me.  I could see the wheels turning in his mind, wondering who I was talking about.

 “But even though my hero has all of those qualities, he isn’t alone in his journey.  All heroes I can think of have someone in the background to support them, heal them when they hurt, be a friend when needed.  Sometimes the hero loses faith in himself.  The sidekick is always there to raise his spirits back up and convince him that he can handle whatever is thrown his way.  So everyone, even a hero, needs a friend to help him, and be there in time of need.”  Pete's gaze pierced me.  He has the most intense eyes of just about anyone else I know.

I continued.  “My hero has many friends, any one of which would gladly put their life on the line for him.  Those friends care so much that they don’t want to hurt him, even by accident, when he is down.  Do you want to know who he is, this hero?”

“Sounds like a cool guy.  I’d like to meet him.”

“You already have.  You’ve known him for quite a while actually.”

“Really?  Who is he?”

“He’s you, Pete.  You are my hero.”  Pete's jaw dropped, and then he began to chuckle mirthlessly.

“I’m no hero.  I just do what I have to.”

“That is exactly what I mean.  You do what is necessary even though it may hurt you.”

“Yeah, right.  I take the cowards way out.”

“Bullshit.  I can tell that you and Ray, or even you and Jared, could be a couple, and you probably would have been happy with either of them as your boyfriend.  But you held on to Brian, even though his absence causes you heartache.  You stay loyal to him even though you ache for release.  That is something most people in the world can’t do.  You are honest, and follow through on  your commitments.  God, Pete, what is there not to admire?

“Even though all this shit has happened to you, you have kept pushing forward.  Your dad, your mom, Brian, your grandparents,  all of this stuff you have had to endure hasn’t taken your spirit away.  You have a strength that I can’t even begin to comprehend, much less hope for.  Do you realize that kind of strength is so rare that most people crumble to dust under the adversity you have faced?  Do you?”

“No, but I still say I just do what I have to.  Everybody does.”

I shook my head emphatically.  “Your wrong there.  If everybody did what they had to, you wouldn’t be here now, you’d be home in Brian’s arms.”  Tears formed in Pete's eyes.  He turned his face away from me.  “If they did, we wouldn’t hear about all of those deadbeat dads or child abuse.  A parent sacrifices for the child, not the other way around.  What your mom did to you would have destroyed me.” 

Pete was quiet for a long moment, then said, “I still don’t think I am unusual.”

“Then don’t.  Maybe that is another reason you mean so much to me.  To all of us.  But the rest of the world will see you as you are, not as you think you are.”

He stood there staring at me.  It was all I could do to meet his gaze.  Like I said, his eyes are intense.  I could tell what he was thinking though; heroes are famous people, carrying blazing six-guns and wearing a uniform.

“Heroes aren’t always the people you see on TV or read about in the paper.  They are in the right place at the right time just once or twice in their lives.  The real heroes are those who live their lives to the fullest.  They care about people, and they love.  They are the men and women that go to work every day, make their money, then go home to their family.  They are the people who ‘just do what they have to do’ regardless of the consequences.  You are a hero, at least in my eyes.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay.  You don’t have to say anything.  But in that house up there, you have people that love you, that want to make you a brother or a son.  Do you really think we would have taken you in if we didn’t want you to be a part of our life?  Pete, I don’t know how to put it any simpler.  Let’s go back, okay?”  I stood up, brushed off my butt, and offered him my hand.

He didn’t take it immediately, but instead looked around at the mountains and the trees, like he was trying to imprint the image in his mind.

He took my hand at last and shook my hand solemnly.  I pulled him into an embrace, and held him tightly. When I released him, I looked into his eyes and said the only thing that I could think of.  “Welcome home, brother.”  He broke down and cried a bit. 

From that point on, we became as close as any two brothers could be.  He would talk to me about Brian, about his parents, and anything else that held his attention.  I never told Mom and Dad that he was confiding in me.  I didn’t think it was necessary.  They had their talks with him as well.  And you know I would have told them if I ever thought there was something to worry about.

About a year later, we boys took a trip down through Oregon with my dad.  We had a great time.  We drove down I-5 through the Oregon interior, not stopping until we made it to a state campground somewhere between Grants Pass and Medford.  After setting up our tents, we broke out the Football, playing some weird game with three sides.  I couldn’t believe my dad.  He got right in the middle of things, jumping around like us teenagers.  We even invited a couple of other kids to join in.  By that time, Dad was pretty tired and went off to fix dinner, while Ray, Jared, Pete, a few other kids, and I played a rough touch football game.  I knew Jared and my brothers were getting a kick out of it because I could see them copping cheap feels as the opportunity presented itself.

Dad called us for dinner just as we had decided to call it a game.  We said our goodbyes and retreated to our camp.  Dinner was safe, because we had hot dogs and burgers.  If Dad gets any more creative than that, one should probably find another source of food (gotcha Dad).  As we ate, we talked about the game.  Dad sat back and listened, a slight smile on his face.  I looked at him until my gaze caught his attention, and then asked a question with my expression.  His smile widened as he shook his head, and mouthed, “Nothing.”  I made a mental note to ask him what he was thinking about later.

Jared, Pete and Ray had settled into an easy friendship.  They weren’t shy about anything, talking about whatever came up.  I did notice that their conversation was somewhat restrained by Dad’s presence, so I decided to see if I could have some fun with them.

“Hey Ray, did you get a good feel of that blonde guy you were always handling?”  Soda came out Ray’s nose as the rest of us lost it, laughing so hard we couldn’t talk, much to Ray’s consternation.

“Yeah, actually.  He didn’t get hard though.”  I couldn’t believe what he’d just said, and in front of Dad.

But Dad, it seems, is full of surprises.  “I guess you just didn’t rub him the right way, then.”  My jaw hit the ground and bounced.  Pete and Jared, still trying to recover from the soda incident, fell back into hysterics.

“I tried, but it’s kinda hard to do when you’re running full speed, you know.”  Ray was back in form, and now it was Dad’s turn to lose it again.  The banter continued.  Pete and Jared had their moments to blush, too.  I made sure of that.  But for most of the conversation, I sat back and listened to my brothers.

Yes, I consider Jared a brother.

As they talked, I realized how lucky I am to know them, and to have them as part of the family.  They had filled a void in my life left from when Jeff left me.  They had not replaced him, but had instead filled his place in a different way.

Dad was watching me as I thought, and I gave him the same response he gave me, much to his chagrin.  He and I did talk later though, and he told me he had been thinking roughly the same things I had been.  We communed with Jeff for a bit as the other boys got ready for bed, and then we turned in ourselves.

The next day dawned hot.  The Rogue River Valley isn’t exactly cool in the summer anyway, but that night it hadn’t cooled much below ninety degrees.  Fortunately, we went rafting that day.  We rented a two-man and a four-man raft from a little shop, along with life-vests and the rest of the gear.  We made arrangements to be dropped off and picked up down the river when we were done, as well.

They dropped us off at the Sixth Street Bridge in Grants Pass, and we hit the water at about ten o’clock.  We would be going all the way down to the wild section of the Rogue River.  It turned out to be about a fifteen mile trip, I think.  It was hard to tell because the water speed varied.

The first couple of miles took us through populated areas.  The houses on either side all had docks in the water, although only about a quarter of them had boats tied up.  Even though we weren’t really out of town yet, the wildlife was breathtaking.  We saw tortoises, otters, eagles, lizards, deer, and beaver... more than I had seen in a long time.

About thirty minutes into the trip, I heard a roar coming from behind us.  Looking back, I saw this forty-foot jet boat loaded with passengers bearing down on us.  We were in the center of the river, and there didn’t seem to be enough room on either side for that big boat to go by.  We split apart, one raft going to the left and one to the right, trying to leave the middle for the speeding craft.

I tell you what.  The pilots of those jet boats know how to handle them.  This guy went right down the middle of us, missing us by just a couple feet.  Just as he had passed us, he swung his tail toward our raft (I was with Jared at the time) and gunned the engine.  The resulting rooster tail swamped us.  The raft was literally full to the rim with water.

As the jet boat made its way downstream, I became aware of laughter coming from the other raft.  Dad and Ray were rolling over there. I suddenly noticed I didn’t see Pete, and then I saw an arm hook onto the side of their raft.  Pete, apparently, had been laughing so hard he fell off the back of the raft.  I didn’t really see what was so funny though.

After pulling out of the water and dumping our raft, we continued down the river.  The rest of the day was great.  There were some pretty good rapids, too.  There was one scary part though.  Pete and Jared were in the two-man as they led through a riffle called Hog’s Creek.  They aimed wrong and went right over a rock, dropping about two feet.  Jared, who was sitting on the back of the raft, go thrown forward into Pete, hitting him in the back of the head with his oar handle, and knocking him off the raft and into the water.  It wasn’t until we caught up to him that we saw Pete was still smiling, unharmed.

When we finally made it to the bottom of the river, it was nearly four o’clock.  I was tired.  People think that the water will carry you.  Well, it will as long as there is no wind.  One thing about the Rogue Valley is that the wind blows up the river every afternoon.  So instead of floating down the river, we had to paddle to make it.  Not that we didn’t have fun, but three hours of paddling can take a toll.

We returned to our campsite outside of Grants Pass, and found that we had enough energy to play some more football.  We found another four kids, who happened to be brothers, to join in, but the game turned ugly.  One of the older boys took it upon himself to turn our touch game into a tackle game.  He was about six foot and weighed one-seventy easy.  Ray caught a pass from Jared and the guy just drove him into the ground.

Dad, I know you made me promise not to tell, but it’s too good to hold back.

I was on him in an instant, pulling him off  Ray and giving him hell.  The kids’ father came over and started getting in my face, calling my brothers and me all sorts of names.  You know which ones.  So I started yelling back at him.  Dad decided it was time to see what all the excitement was about.  By that time, Ray was up, and we boys were squaring off with this guy and his four sons.

“What seems to be the trouble?”  Dad started off in a reasonable tone.

“Your little girls can’t handle playing with real boys.”

“Fuck you!”

“Ray!  Look, there’s no reason to be unpleasant, here.  Let’s just part ways and that’ll be then end of it.”

“Now I know why.  Tell me, are you a pussy too?”

“Boys, go back to camp.  We’re done here.” He turned and started to walk away, motioning us to do the same.

“Oh, I see.  A fag.  Too scared to face me.”

Dad stopped in his tracks, and eyed each of us in turn.  I don’t know about the others, but I gave him a small nod.  I’m not a violent person, but certain people only understand one thing.  If I can avoid a fight, I will.

Dad turned around slowly to face his tormentor.  “Sir, you will retract that statement.”

“And don’t you talk pretty.  Fuck you, faggot.”

Dad has surprised me on occasion.  That d