When Monday finally arrived, Alan was totally exhausted. He called in sick at the office and drove nervously to the address Officer Wilson had given him. He was fifteen minutes early. He was taken to a room by a gruff looking desk sergeant where four other men were already seated. Alan nodded to them as he went in and sat down. Another man arrived shortly after he did. He thought it might be the man who had driven into the park just as Alan was leaving on the day of his arrest, but he wasn’t sure. All the men seemed to reflect his mood: fear and dejection.
After a while, one by one, the men were taken into another room where they were fingerprinted and a Polaroid photo was taken. Then they were loaded into a station wagon. Alan sat in the back seat facing the rear window. He was handcuffed to another man. If he hadn’t been so humiliated and frightened by the experience, he would have taken more notice of his handsome partner in crime. They didn’t speak to one another, however.
They were driven to the courthouse and marched into the courtroom where the cuffs were removed. They sat in the jury box. One by one they were called before the judge. Alan, it seemed, would be the last to be called. That relieved him somewhat. Now he could observe the process and get some idea of how he would respond when it was his turn to stand before the court. As each man’s charges were read, the judge questioned them as to the nature of the behaviors which had led to their arrest. He then asked them for a plea. In the first four cases it was obvious to Alan there was just cause. The first two men were caught performing oral sex on each other on one of the picnic tables adjacent to the park’s parking lot. The third had propositioned the arresting officer in the bathroom. The guy who Alan thought had driven in as he left the park had cruised the cop and when the officer had followed him into the woods, the guy had taken out his cock and had masturbated in front of him. In each case the men were sentenced to a fine and a short jail term.
Alan watched the court stenographer, a young, thin girl with wispy hair, as she made a record of the proceedings. He wondered what she thought as defendant after defendant described the actions for which he had been arrested. She gave no clue as to her reaction to the lurid details.
Defendant number five’s turn came and again the judge listened to the man’s testimony.
When the man pleaded guilty, the judge said, “I don’t believe I should let you do that.”
Alan sat up and paid closer attention.
The man said, “Please, Your Honor, I’m a married man. I just want this to be over. If I plead not guilty and go to trial, my wife and family will find out. I can’t let that happen.”
The judge relented and the guy received a fine of three hundred dollars plus nine months probation.
Alan thought about this. Was there a chance for him?
Alan was called to stand before the court. The judge asked him what had transpired, so Alan told his story.
“Detective Wilson, is what the defendant is telling the court accurate?”
“Yes, pretty much, your Honor.”
“And Mr. Daniels never solicited you for sex?”
“No.”
“Never exposed himself?”
“No, your Honor.”
“He never touched you?”
“No.”
“So, as far as you know, he was eating his lunch and followed you into the woods?”
“Well, Your Honor, I invited him to take a walk with me and he did. So, he clearly intended to solicit sex from me.”
“Is that true, Mr. Daniels? Did Officer Wilson invite you to walk with him and were you intending to have sex with him?”
Alan thought quickly. He knew if the cop had been a guy looking for sex, Alan would have done something. But he also realized there might be a way out of this. So he lied. “No, sir. I just changed my mind about going back to work and decided to take a walk in the woods as Officer Wilson suggested.”
Alan looked at the policeman for the first time since standing before the judge. He couldn’t read the expression on the cop’s face, but had the feeling there was something behind the man’s admission that he had invited Alan to walk with him.
“I see. Well, according to the definition of open and gross, lewd and lascivious behavior, I can’t see where Mr. Daniels has done anything wrong. I see that you have never been arrested before,” the judge said, addressing Alan once more. “In fact you have never even had a parking ticket.” Under his breath the judge added, “Which is more than I can say for myself.” Addressing the stenographer, he whispered, “Sandy, that last comment is off the record.”
The girl nodded without looking up from her machine.
“Officer Wilson, since you had no way of knowing what Mr. Daniels had in mind when he went into the woods with you, and, based on your own testimony, the invitation came from you, I have no choice but to dismiss the charges.” The judge rapped his gavel. “Case dismissed! And Officer Wilson? May I suggest that in the future you not try to manufacture charges and let the real sexual criminals reveal themselves by actually initiating and engaging in behaviors that fit the statutes of the law. Your invitation to have Mr. Daniels walk with you makes this a clear case of entrapment. Mr. Daniels would be within his rights to sue for false arrest.”
“Yes, your Honor,” Officer Wilson said with a touch of something in his voice that Alan couldn’t quite understand.
He turned and looked at Alan, a slight smile playing on his lips. It almost seemed as if the man was satisfied with the judge’s verdict.
“Mr. Daniels?”
“Yes, your Honor?” Alan replied, not daring to believe his good fortune.
“You are free to go. But I suggest that in the future you might choose a more suitable spot in which to spend your lunch hour.”
“Yes, I will. Thank you,” Alan said, relief sweeping through him.
Alan turned to leave. As he passed Officer Wilson, their eyes met. A look passed between them that to Alan seemed to say, ‘I’ll get you next time.’
As far as Alan was concerned there wouldn’t be a next time. He’d dodged a bullet. What he would do in the future regarding his newly admitted attraction to men, he didn’t know. But one thing was for sure, there would be no more graffiti in his life.
He left the courthouse, took a taxi back to his car and left.
* * * *
Alan slowly drove home. He was in no hurry to face his parents. Yes, things had gone well in court, miraculously in fact. He had gotten off without any fine or jail time and, best of all, there would be no record of the incident to threaten his job. But he knew he would have to give an account to his folks and he wasn’t feeling up to that. However, he breathed a sigh of relief as he drove down Garden Parkway away from the processing center. The ordeal was over. He passed the street that Tom’s apartment was on. Alan was tempted to pay Tom a visit. He felt he needed someone to talk to about what had happened, someone who would understand, but changed his mind when he remembered how they had parted. Passing the entrance to Delph Park, he looked away and reaffirmed his determination never to go there again. He wasn’t sure what he would do about his sexual needs, but right now the celibate life of a monk seemed more to his liking.
Alan pulled into the driveway at home. There was a car parked there he didn’t recognize. Warily he got out of his Mustang.
When Alan came into the kitchen his heart sank. His mother was sitting at the table with the pastor of the church she occasionally attended. He and his dad had gone with her once and had concluded the place was worse than a loony bin: lots of shouting ‘Hallelujah!’ ‘Praise the Lord!’ and people falling down on their knees, weeping.
What’s he doing here? Alan thought, although he had a pretty strong suspicion it had something to do with him.
“Alan, dear,” his mother said, rising from her seat, “you remember Reverend Blakely?”
The reverend also rose, came around the table and extended a hand to Alan.
Alan took the proffered hand without saying a word. There was an awkward silence.
“Um…” Alan’s mother stammered. “I thought you might like to talk with the reverend about your little problem.”
Alan stared at her. Then he looked at the reverend, who was regarding him with a sympathetic expression, the kind portrayed in movies when a man of the cloth is visiting the bereaved or the terminally ill.
“I don’t have a problem,” Alan said, feeling he had been ambushed.
“Now, son,” Reverend Blakely intoned solemnly. “Denial…well, denial only makes it harder to expel the demons. Gives them reason to believe they are welcome.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry. The exorcism is usually quite uneventful…unless the demon resists that is. If you just repent of your sins and truly desire to be set free, they usually depart without making a fuss. However, if you deny there is a problem or have a desire to cling to this…perversion…well, it can get pretty messy. If you’ll sit here, your mother and I will lay hands on you. You can renounce Satan and all his ways and I will command the vile creature that dwells within you to depar—”
“There isn’t any vile creature in me. I’m not possessed!” Alan exclaimed loudly, feeling as trapped by this charade as much as when he was arrested in the park.
“Sister Martha,” the minister said gravely. “This is going to be more difficult than I thought. The demon has clearly bewitched him so that he cannot see his sin.”
Alan’s mother gave a little gasp of horror.
At this point Alan’s father opened the door from the driveway.
“George?” Martha said in surprise. “I didn’t expect you home this early.” She looked nervously at the pastor.
“What the hell is going on here?” he asked, giving the pastor a wary look.
“Ah, Mr. Daniels,” Pastor Blakely intoned. “Your good wife has invited me here to see to the spiritual needs of your son who has fallen into the trap of homo—”
“Cut the gibberish, Reverend. Just tell me what’s going on?”
“An exorcism,” Alan said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
“A what?” his dad exclaimed, turning and looking at his wife.
“An exorcism,” Pastor Blakely said. “You see, your son is possessed of an unclean—”
“George, dear,” Martha began. “I called the pastor and explained what had happened to Alan and he rushed right over…”
“Nothing happened to me, Ma. The charges were dismissed. The judge called it a case of entrapment.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” she cried, clasping her hands together.
“Praise Jesus!” exclaimed Reverend Blakely.
“That’s great, son,” Alan’s father said, turning to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I guess there’s no need for an exorcism,” Alan’s mother went on. “He’s not…well…Alan’s not possessed after all. The charges were dropped. So it was all a mistake. I’m sorry to have troubled you, Pastor Blakely.”
Alan felt pity for his mother. She was having such trouble facing the fact that he was homosexual, grasping at any straw that would make it all go away.
“Oh, Sister Martha,” the reverend said solemnly, “The mere fact that no legal charges were brought against your son does not alter the reality that his soul is in dire need of deliverance. A higher court is in charge here,” he said, raising his hands and looking up at the ceiling.
“Oh, dear,” Alan’s mother said, relief vanishing and sadness once more creeping into her voice.
“So, if you’ll be seated, son, we can begin…” the pastor started.
“He’s not your son, he’s mine, and there’ll be no religious hocus-pocus mumbo-jumbo here today,” Alan’s dad said authoritatively. “I respect you for what you believe, Pastor Blakely, but I don’t think my son is possessed. He is what he is because, for whatever reason, God made him that way and I suspect God doesn’t make mistakes. So if you’ll excuse us, we have some family matters to discuss.”
The pastor looked taken aback. He mumbled something about praying for the entire family, that they may see the light, said goodbye to Alan’s mother and left.
“Now, Alan, Martha, we’re going to go into the family room, sit down and Alan can tell us what happened at court,” George said.
Alan smiled. He felt a love for his dad that he hadn’t in years. He knew his father didn’t fully understand, but his acceptance of this turn of events made Alan happy. As for his mother, well, he would do his best to help her.
Alan followed his parents into the family room and sat on the couch. Dusty, who had evidently been hiding out somewhere while the minister was in the house, appeared and jumped on Alan’s lap. The family complete, Alan began his story.
* * * *
Once again Tom was sitting atop his table adjacent to the parking lot at Delph Park. This time he wasn’t looking to make contact with just anyone, he was waiting for one person in particular—Alan, hoping he’d have just one more chance to make things right between them.
In the message Tom had left in the john he’d said he would be waiting at home, but he’d found he couldn’t do that. He was too anxious. What if Alan read the note and still decided not to come to the apartment? Tom had made up his mind to wait in the park so he could intercept Alan and increase his chances of being able to talk with him. So, every night for the past three nights he had come to Delph to take up his vigil.
While there, he pondered whether or not the guy Matt had talked about Sunday afternoon was Alan. Tom wondered, if it was Alan, had Matt truly let him off by not pushing for a conviction? Or, if he had been found guilty, was he now, even as Tom sat here in the park, in jail? Tom shook his head to free himself of that image.
Several times in the hours he’d sat waiting, he had been approached by men with offers of sex. Some of the men were definitely ones he would have agreed to hook up with; they were hot. But not now, he had turned down every one. How had he come to this place in his life? Why had he decided to forego his resolution to avoid emotional entanglements and keep relationships on a casual, even anonymous level, and take a chance on getting hurt again?
Tom contemplated these questions as he continued to sit with his elbows on his knees looking down at an ant struggling to carry the remnants of a potato chip down the leg of the picnic table. The chip was probably fifty times bigger and heavier than he or—as Tom remembered from some class he had taken—she was. All worker ants were female the teacher had told the class proudly as if that made a difference in humankind as well. As he watched the tiny creature struggling with its load, he felt as if he could relate to its burden. The hurt he had experienced when Connor had betrayed him and flaunted it to his friends had been crushing. The very thought of having to undergo that humiliation again was almost more than he could take. Yet here Tom was, turning away hot prospects to put himself in a position of having to face those same consequences if Alan spurned him. The struggle between his fear of repeating that experience and his need to see Alan again seemed to him as daunting as the load the tiny insect was carrying. Yet he remained rooted to his tabletop, hoping with the sound of every car that entered the park it was Alan.
Tom was just about to give up and leave for the night, concluding Alan wasn’t going to show up, when a large town car pulled up and stopped by the table. Tom recognized it. It belonged to John, the man he had met a couple weeks back. It seemed like an eternity ago. John got out of the car and walked straight up to Tom, who rose from his perch.
“Hey there,” the man said. “Just the guy I was hopin’ would be here. You been waitin’ for me?” he asked, smiling broadly. “I got somethin’ here that’s been missin’ you pretty bad.” John fondled his protruding crotch.
Tom sighed. He thought of his fling with Officer Matt. He knew that if he went with John now it would turn out the same way. He might enjoy the sex but when it was over he’d still have questions. He needed to clear his head of Alan before he could move on, and to do that he had to see him.
“Sorry, man,” Tom said. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Looks to me more like you were leavin’ cuz the someone you were waitin’ for didn’t show up,” John replied, still rubbing his basket which had visibly increased in size.
“You’re right, he didn’t show up…today. But he will. And I’m gonna wait as long as it takes.” Tom said firmly, not sure whom he was trying to convince. He gave John’s bulge a squeeze as he walked past him and up the drive out of the park.
“You don’t know what you’re missin’,” John called after him.
Tom waved over his shoulder without looking back. Yes, I do, he thought. I’m missin’ somethin’ I don’t think you would understand, my friend. Something that, if I get the chance, I’m gonna try to find again.
* * * *
The Friday after his court appearance Alan sat in his red Mustang in the parking lot outside his office building after work. He was in a quandary. As the memory of what he had experienced with his arrest faded, his need to explore his new-found sexuality began to assert itself once more. He contemplated going back to Delph Park. But although the passage of time had taken the edge off the ordeal, he wasn’t going to chance falling into that trap again. Besides, he wasn’t sure Delph held the answer to what he needed. The men who came to the park were in search of sex. Alan, from his very first experience with Tom, realized he wanted more than that. He wanted the physical act to have emotional meaning behind it, something that took it beyond the realm of mere physical pleasure. He had sensed that extra dimension was there when he was with Tom and had sensed Tom had felt it too. Then…? Alan couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong. But in that brief time, when both he and Tom were transcending sex for the sake of sex and entering that realm of emotional fulfillment, he’d realized this was his goal: to find someone with whom he could share a life where the sex was an enhancement of the relationship, and not the basis of the relationship itself.
But where did a man go to find such a thing? Heterosexual men found mates at work, church or school. But in a world where one’s homosexual identity was carefully guarded and hidden, how would he find someone who was looking for something more than just sex? Surely not the park? Everyone there seemed interested in only one thing, getting off as anonymously as possible. Alan thought of the other places Tom had mentioned: the mall, rest stops. Probably they were not dissimilar to Delph. Where then?
As he continued to sit there, he recalled being in the staff room and overhearing the conversation between Trent and Bob from the week before his date with Tom. They had been talking about the bars they had been to. It reminded him of The Flame, the bar where Tom had taken him. Alan thought, Would a bar be any different than the park, or a rest stop? But he didn’t know where else to go. As he considered this, he remembered the two older men he had seen there, the two that had said they had been together for ten years. Maybe the bar wouldn’t turn out to be much different than the other places men cruised for sex, but at least there he had witnessed an example of what he hoped his future would be. Alan decided he would give it a try.
* * * *
Tom sat on his bed, looking down at the phone book in his lap. Fuck! Thirty-eight Daniels in this city and only one with the initial A for a first name. Oh, well, I’ll give it a try. He reached for his phone, dialed the number and waited impatiently. What would he say anyway, if on the off chance this was Alan? His thoughts were interrupted when a female voice said, “Hello?”
Tom hesitated; his first impulse was to hang up. Then he remembered Alan had told him he lived with his parents. This could be his mother. “Uh, hello, is Alan there?” He held his breath.
“Yes, just a minute. Who’s calling please?” She asked skeptically.
“My name’s Tom, Tom Clarkson.”
“Okay…hang on, I’ll get him.”
Tom could hear the woman calling Alan’s name. He felt a flush of joy. Then the question of what to say came back to him. He’d been a jerk. He’d kicked Alan out of the apartment without any explanation. He would have to apologize for that. He hoped Alan would understand when he explained what had made him act that way.
A small, childlike voice came through the receiver. “Hello? This is Allen,” it said tentatively.
Shit! It’s a kid. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Tom said gently. “I must have the wrong Alan.”
“S’okay,” the kid’s voice said. “G’bye.”
“Bye,” Tom said and put the phone down.
Tom looked back at the page of phone numbers. Only thirty-seven more to go, he mused and started dialing.
Fifteen minutes and eleven unsuccessful calls later, he shook his head. This is crazy, he thought as he moved his finger to the next Daniels on the page: George A. He started dialing. Halfway through the number he stopped. I’ll never find him this way. He hung up the phone, put it back on the bed stand, tossed the phonebook on the floor and flopped back on the bed. “Alan, where the fuck are you?” he asked aloud to the ceiling.
* * * *
Alan walked into The Flame. Since it was late Friday afternoon, the place was nearly empty. A couple of men sat at the bar, a few of the booths were occupied and the dance floor was deserted. It was a sharp contrast to the night Tom had brought him here. Alan stood for a moment, not sure what to do, not sure he wanted to stay.
“Hey,” came a deep voice. “Can I help you?”
Alan turned to see Keith, the waiter who had served Tom and him. He was walking Alan’s way, smiling his killer smile.
“Uh…yeah…I guess. I just stopped in for dinner,” Alan said.
“I remember you,” Keith said, his smile deepening. “You were here a couple of weeks ago. Where’s your friend? He meeting you?”
“Um…no he’s not,” Alan answered regretfully.
“Too bad,” Keith said in a way that made Alan think he wasn’t sorry at all. “Take any seat. I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”
“Thanks,” Alan replied as he watched the handsome young man turn and walk back toward the bar.
Alan found a seat. In that jiffy Keith had mentioned he was back with water and a menu. “Can I get you anything from the bar?”
“A beer’d be fine,” Alan said. “Anything you have on draft.”
Keith nodded and started to leave, then turned back. “Ah…I’m about to go on break. Would you mind if I joined you for dinner?”
Surprised, yet somehow pleased, Alan replied, “I’d like that.”
“Do you know what you’d like? I’ll get it for you when I get mine and save some time.”
Alan quickly scanned the menu. “Ah…what are you having?”
“Burger, fries, coleslaw, not too fancy but—”
“That sounds fine,” Alan said.
Keith nodded. “You got it. Be right back.”
After the guy left, Alan looked around the room and took a deep breath. He felt more relaxed and at ease than he had since Tom had asked him to leave after their date. He wondered where this would go.
In about ten minutes Keith returned, carrying a tray with the hamburgers and beers. He placed the food and drinks on the table and slid into the booth opposite Alan.
“So,” Keith said, picking up a fry, “tell me about yourself. What’s your story? You can start by telling me your name.” He laughed.
Alan smiled and began his tale.
* * * *
Tom got up and went to the bathroom. He decided to take a shower, get dressed and go out to eat. Actually that was about his only choice, as he hadn’t shopped for food recently and had nothing much in the refrigerator. As he lathered up in the shower, he considered where he might go. There were plenty of fast food restaurants close by. But he needed more than food. He was restless. He needed something to take his mind off the way he was feeling. He needed to be with other people. Not for sex, just to have someone to talk to. He thought of The Flame, but rejected the idea. He’d been there with Alan. He didn’t want those memories to come creeping in. But in the end he couldn’t think of a better place. Maybe some of his friends would be there. Yes, despite his reservations he’d go to The Flame. Damn, wish I had a car. I hate the fuckin’ bus, he thought. He’d worked extra lately. He had the money. He’d treat himself to a cab.
Finished with his shower, he walked back into the other room and opened his closet door. For some reason he wanted to dress up. He couldn’t have told anyone why; he just felt the need to wear something nicer than a tee and jeans. He pulled out a long-sleeve blue silk shirt and khaki slacks. He laid the clothing on the bed, went to the dresser and pulled out black socks and tan bikini briefs. These he put on and then went back to the bed and donned the shirt and pants. Taking his one and only pair of black leather shoes out the closet he put them on and went into the john again. He meticulously combed his hair and adjusted the collar of his shirt, leaving the top two buttons open. Stepping back, he surveyed his reflection in the mirror.
Why are you doing this? You’re acting like you’re going out on a big date or lookin’ to trap yourself a man.
Tom shrugged. He couldn’t figure out his motivation, so just accepted it. Picking up the phone, Tom called for a cab, then went out in front of his apartment to wait.
* * * *
“That’s quite a story,” Keith was saying as he and Alan finished their meal. “This Tom guy must have left quite an impression on you.”
Alan blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that. I didn’t even give you a chance to talk much.”
Keith chuckled. “No sweat. You’ve had quite a ride this past couple weeks and you needed to talk to someone. I’m glad I could be there for you.”
“Well, thanks. I did need to tell someone I guess. I didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation though.”
“Like I said, not a problem. Maybe I’ll have a chance to tell you my story sometime?” Keith said, ending the sentence as a question.
“I’d like that,” Alan said.
“Look, I gotta get back to work. I’m off at eleven, so if you’d like to hang around…maybe we could do something after?”
“Okay,” Alan said, smiling.
“Great.”
Keith got up and cleared the dishes away. “I’ll get you another beer and you can relax and enjoy the scenery for a bit,” he said, nodding toward the groups of men that were now coming into the restaurant for an evening of fun.
Keith left. Alan took a deep breath. Keith was really nice. And he was a good-looking man, with a body to match. It’ll be good to get to know someone else. But even as the thought was forming, it was tinged with sadness. He’d really liked Tom. Alan watched two men walk by his booth holding hands. He sighed, still not understanding what had happened that night two weeks earlier. But that’s over. He didn’t answer my note and I don’t know how to get in touch with him. Alan decided to let it go. He turned his attention to the other patrons.
* * * *
Tom came into the restaurant. What am I doin’ here? he asked himself, his date with Alan coming back into his mind as he looked around the room. Damn it, Alan, you come into my life and turn it upside-down and then disappear. Fuck! This was a mistake.
He was about to leave when a waiter came up to him.
“Hey. You’re Tom, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am,” Tom replied. “How do you know my name?”
The waiter smiled and nodded toward the booths. Tom looked in the direction the man indicated and saw Alan. His heart skipped a beat. He blinked and stood there open-mouthed. Then Tom returned his gaze to the waiter.
The man smiled again. “Alan and I had dinner together.”
Tom looked at Alan again then back to the waiter, feeling alarmed.
It must have shown on Tom’s face because the man said, “Hey, there’s nothing to worry about. All he could talk about was this guy, Tom. I waited on you guys the other night, so when you came in I recog—”
“He told you about us?” Tom interrupted, amazed at this turn of events.
“Yes, he sure did.” the waiter smiled. “I think he’d really like to see you again.” The man’s smile turned a little sad.
“I don’t know,” Tom said.
“I do,” said the man. “I know for a fact he’d be really happy if you went over there.”
Tom took a deep breath and started toward the booth. Then he stopped. “You got a napkin or something to write on and a pencil?”
“Sure,” the waiter replied and walked to the bar.
Tom followed him and was soon given the requested items. Tom thought of the message Alan had left in the john at Delph and wrote on the napkin. Yes, I’d like to try again. How about right now? T
Tom handed the napkin to the waiter. “Would you take this over to him?”
“Sure,” he said, reading the message and then looking quizzically at Tom.
“He’ll understand,” Tom said, smiling. To himself he added, I hope.
The waiter walked to the booth. Tom waited nervously as the man gave the napkin to Alan. He watched as Alan read the note and said something to the waiter, who then turned and pointed at Tom. Tom smiled and waved tentatively. He stood anxiously as the two men talked for a few seconds. The waiter held up a hand and shook his head. Tom thought he could make out him saying, “It’s okay, I understand.” Then he saw the waiter give Alan the pencil and watched as Alan wrote something on the napkin.
The waiter brought the napkin back to Tom, a huge grin on his face.
Tom read what Alan had written and began to smile just as broadly as the waiter. He thanked the man and headed for Alan’s booth. Alan stood before he got there.
Tom took Alan in his arms. “Look, about the other night…I was a complete jerk.”
“You were,” Alan said, smiling into Tom’s eyes.
“I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I…”
Alan didn’t wait for Tom to finish, “I forgive you,” he said, and kissed him.
Tom joyously kissed him back, the napkin with their last bit of graffiti still clutched in his hand.
THE END
* * * *
ABOUT TERRY O’REILLY
Terry O’Reilly is a retired school teacher living a quiet life in the Midwest with his three dogs and his horse. He began writing several years ago at the urging of a friend and fellow author. He has books available through several publishers, including Amber Allure Press, Aspen Mountain Press, eXcessica Publishing, and JMS Books LLC. Writing has become an important part of his life, allowing him to explore his own thoughts, needs, and feelings, as well as learn about other cultures and eras as he researches his stories.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
Founded in 2010, JMS Books LLC is owned and operated by author J.M. Snyder. We publish a variety of genres, including gay erotic romance, fantasy, young adult, poetry, and nonfiction. Short stories and novellas are available as e-books and compiled into single-author print anthologies, while any story over 30k in length is available in both print and e-book formats. Visit us at jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!