Chapter Eight -- In a Grain of Sand

The ride home gave me far too much time to think. 

About Sid and Alan. 

About boinking. 

I started to fret. What will finally happen when we get home? Will I chicken out? Can something that big fit into such as small hole? Even worse-- what if Sid changed his mind? Gravel crunching under the tires of Alan's Olds told me we're home. The moment had arrived. The car back fired; Alan babied the gas, keeping the old heap from stalling. 

"Night Alan, night Lynn," Sid said.

"Night you two," Lynn giggled. 

I nodded and got out Sid's side of the car. Fifty yards seems like ten miles when you're a horny bastard-- I thought we'd never get through that front door. 

"Let's take this to the bedroom," he said, locking the door. Sid's shirt was still half unbuttoned and his the hair on his head stuck out, both heated reminders of what happened in the back seat less than twenty minutes ago. I tried to act calm following him into the bedroom, but I was worthless pretending. I fidgeted. My face grew hot. Sid calmly walked to the bed and sat down, patting his hand on the covers for me to sit next to him. I did. 

I waited while he stared down at his hands in his lap. Now he fidgeted. Finally he said, "I think we need to talk about a few things first." 

Shit. 

I don't know as I want to hear 'the Ballad of Alan and Sid,' but I think Sid needed to tell me. He waited for me-- I don't want to ask. Please don't make me ask, I think. But he sat mute. It was up to me. 

"Alright tell me then, why did you sleep with Alan?" I hadn't meant for my words to come out with such contempt, but they did. Sid flinched, cracking his knuckles. 

"It happened a few years ago. We were here, at my house one night, partying with some friends. They all left, and Alan decided to crash here.  I was drunk," I frowned. "But not that drunk. That's not why-- Alan and I talked about being gay-- what it was like for me to come out, you know, to my friends and family. What it was like going through school, knowing you're different, but not understanding how.  He asked me, you know, how was it different? In particular, you know, how was fucking a man different from fucking a woman. I told him a lot different. He wanted to know exactly how different. He asked questions; he was curious.  Before I knew it, I let him talk me into it-- some grand experiment for Alan. You know Alan, mister 'I gotta experience everything once.'  He just had to know-- had to know what it was like to fuck a guy." Sid stopped for a moment. I didn't like where this was headed. 

I held my breath then slowly let it out. Before I could stop myself I asked, "Well, did you like it?"

"It was okay," Sid said, wiping his sweaty palms against his legs. "The next morning, he wanted to know what it felt like-- to be fucked. So, I fucked him. I did it...  Shit, don't look at me that way." Sid rubbed his temple. "Yeah, he didn't have to spend a lot of time trying to convince me. I wanted to. It was good," he admitted, clearing his throat. "After, we avoided each other. Well, okay,  he avoided me. After a few months, we ran into each other at the bar one night where your band was playing. We drank beer, talked and pretended it never happened. It's been a non-issue ever since-- that is until tonight."

"Were you, are you, in love with him?" 

"No," Sid spat out the words, laughing a little too hard and a little too long. "Alan's my friend. He's been my friend my whole life. We were in the same class in kindergarten. I was there when he fell off the monkey bars and broke his arm.  I used to jump off the other end of the see-saw just to watch him bust his ass. I love him, but I'm not in love with him. I fucked him because I was horny. Shit, and face it-- Alan isn't hard on the eyes." Sid paused. "Yes, I never should have done it, but I did."

"What I don't get is you've had no problem saying no to me.  Makes me think that Alan burned you, and you didn't want to be burned again. I think you care more about him than you're saying. You and Alan are just buddies? I think you wanted more from him--"

"No, you don't have it right at all. Alan is my friend. He always will be my friend-- and just my friend. That's not just the way he wants it-- it's the way I want it. He's not what I want. Not as a lover," Sid reached for my hand. "I know you don't think so, but Alan is an extraordinary person. And yes, he is extraordinarily good looking, but I don't want him. I know who I want, and I've wanted him for along time. Even back then. I've waited," Sid's hand moved onto my thigh. "I waited for you. I want more than friendship from you. More than sex. But I'm not sure if you want the same. That's why I've said no until now."

"What if I said to you, I don't know what I want?-- what would you do then?"

Sid sighed. "You mean will I leave you hanging again? No. I don't have the strength. I want to fuck you so bad right now."

"So fuck me," I said quietly. "Please." His hand moved up to my crotch, brushing my cock. 

"Why don't you take these clothes off, and I'll get what we'll need." 

I took off my shirt as Sid walked across the room to his dresser. He pulled out a drawer and shifted around socks and underwear until he found a few condom packages and a tube of Conceptrol.  

"Sid?" I said. "You know I guess maybe I'm going be woman in this, um, relationship, but I'm not gonna get pregnant. Don't you think that's a bit of overkill?"

"This helps prevent AIDS," he said, shaking up the condoms. "And this," he said, holding up the tube, "protects against AIDS and will make my, um, entry much more comfortable for you." He placed them both on the night table next to the bed. "Now, finish taking off those clothes, and then maybe I'll let you watch me take off mine." Fuck, I hoped I knew what I was doing.

Sid's eyes never wavered from my hands as I unbuttoned my pants. I procrastinated, hesitating at each rivet. I rubbed my cock, tormenting him a bit. 

"Lucky hand," Sid sighed, rubbing his own crotch in return. I stood up, kicking my jeans off. I reached into my boxers and stroked my cock, taunting him more. "You do that very well," Sid said. "You were pretty vocal the other night. But I think when my dick's inside that tight little ass of yours that you'll yell louder."  I moaned and nodded, hoping he'll do just that, then slid my boxers off and lay flat back on the bed, watching.

He gave a show, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, slipping it off. He has a beautiful body. Tanned pecks, firm abs. He works out. I wonder what he saw in my pale thin form. The only work out I got was jumping up and down on stage. He dramatically undid his jeans and stripped them off. He has on bikini briefs-- red ones. His hard cock poked out of the top. I could see its moistened tip. My heart pounded in my chest. He pulled off his briefs, and  his cock popped straight out. 

I gulped. That is going to fit in my ass?!

I knew he was big, but shit. I mean, he's not huge but looking at his dick-- it was thick and hard and well, quite a bit larger than mine. He sensed my anxiety, closing the space between us. 

"Relax," he whispered in my ear. "I won't do anything that you don't want me to. If you tell me to stop, I will. It helps to talk." He laid his hand on my belly and massaged it.  He reached over for the lubricant and put some on his hand.

"So, what do you want me to do, umm, besides try to relax?" I asked.

"Spread you legs a bit," he said. I did what he asked.  He positioned himself on his knees between my white thighs. 

"Now, lift up and bend your knees," Sid helped me move my legs. "There."

"I'm going to use the lube on my index finger and thumb here," he said, gently playing with the outside of my anus. 

"Fuck. Shit, that feels good," I said, squirming around, repressing a yell. Shit, I didn't want him to think I was a helpless weenie beneath him. I mean, I knew he wanted me to cry out, but Hell, not yet. 

"Sometimes this helps to relax, too," he said, grasping my dick. He began to slowly, firmly stroke me while he moved his other finger around my asshole in small circular movements.

"Relax?! Shit!" I panted. 

"Now, I'm going to put my index finger part way inside your ass. You okay?" I nodded, pressure and pain flooded me all at once. Sid recognized the panic in my face. "Push back. I know it may sound gross, but push, like you're trying to push my finger out of you with the muscles in that tight little ass of yours." I tried. He was right. It felt strange but good. "Yeah," he said, "like that." He slowly eased his finger farther into me. I panted and moaned. Along with his slow stroking of my cock, I thought I was going to explode. 

He began easing his finger out then pushing it back in again. Gently in and out, each time a bit farther.

I gasped. Fuck what was that? "Right here," he said, "is the prostrate gland. Some guys really like to have it messaged. Do you like that?" 

"Yes!" I hiccupped. He used more lube and began again. My hands were clawing at the quilt. 

"Now I'm going to use my thumb, too." I couldn't speak, just moaned in response. He knew what he was doing. He'd slow up on my cock, backing off, keeping me on the edge. I pushed back as instructed on his thumb and index finger. He brushed the spot inside me again. I felt like The Agony and the Ecstasy--  Sid was Michelangelo, and he was painting my Sistine Chapel. 

Then he wasn't there any more. His hands were gone. He was reaching over me, picking up a condom off the night table by my head. My stomach did a quadruple back flip as I looked at his dick, calculating how much larger he was than his finger and thumb. 

"Don't worry, I'll stop if you want," he said. "Do you want?"

"No," I said hoarsely. 

"Hmm, I didn't think so," he said,  unrolling the condom onto his cock. "Safe sex is important. Mmm." Sid lined his cock up to my ass. I felt the tip of it brushing my anus. "Do the same as you did with my finger." He continued to stoke my cock with his hand. "Don't hold your breath. Instead, breath in and out slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth, okay?"

I nodded. He began to push himself inside my ass. Fuck it hurt. I kept breathing the way he told me. He jerked my cock off harder and faster now, using it to distract me from the pain. It worked. 

"So," I rasped, "how much more of you is left that needs to fit up my rectum?" 

I felt Sid chuckling. I looked into his eyes then looked down to try to see just how much farther he had to go since he wasn't answering me. I couldn't see.

"Almost there," he finally said, pressing into me farther. I was starting to see bright colored spots in front of my eyes. Fuck. "There. I'm in." Sid didn't move. I heard him panting now almost as hard as I was. 

Then suddenly, a heat spread from my groin to my face as his hips pushed gently into me.

"Look at me," he said, and my eyes meet his. I searched desperately inside their brown-green depths. I touched his face. The desire, the tenderness I saw in his eyes pitched deep inside my chest, my soul. He took  his hand away from my cock, and he pressed the length of his body down on top of me. His stomach against me, sweaty and hot. The intensity of the contact shocked me. I struggled beneath him for a moment-- but my eyes never left his. 

All his weight  on his elbows and forearm, he watched my reaction as his hips slowly undulated. I regained some of my senses. The feeling, so perfect. 

"What are you thinking?" I asked. I thought I knew, but I wanted to hear him say it.

He groaned. "God, when I look in your eyes-- I'm lost. Do you know how hard it is not to ram my cock hard into you right now? I've never lusted after any one as much as I have you." 

"Fuck me," I whimpered. Pulling him in, I impaled his cock in my ass as hard as I could.

He thrusted in and out, white hot pain shot through me. Sid slowed and gradually the pain turned to inconceivable pleasure. I groaned and pushed against him. Sid's arms trembled, his breathing jagged.  My hands tangled in his hair, urging his mouth to mine. 

"Wesley," he murmured, and that was enough. 

"Make me come," I begged. He bucked into me. Suddenly I feared I would remain this quivering mass, stimulated to the edge of some black hole from which I'd never escape. I began pleading with him in nonsensical jabbering to 'fuck me until I die.' He obeyed, slamming into me, sparks and bright auras filled my vision.  I shrieked, just as he promised me he'd make me do. As I came, wet on his stomach, I screamed so loudly I feared his neighbors might call the police. Sid answered my shudders and came inside me. He muffled his cries into my chest as I rocked his head afterward. 

"So," Sid said, gasping. "How was it?"

"It was nice," I squeaked. 

I closed my eyes. Yes, I was most definitely gay.

---------------------------------

I woke up looking at him looking at me.  

"Mmm, good morning," I said. "Sleep well?"

"Wonderful," Sid answered. "How 'bout you Superman? Relaxed?"

"Every inch," I joked. 

"Ready for more?" 

"I want to make one thing perfectly clear," I said.

"What would that be?"

I bit the inside of my mouth. I almost said, 'I love you,' but instead, I said, "Come here, and I'll show you."

-------------------------

I got up afterward and made coffee. We'd spent the most of the morning in bed. Sid was too happy. Not good. It's been my experience in that when something or someone comes along and life gets too good-- that life slaps you back down and fucks you over. Like Mom, Dad and Karen dying, or car hitting a llama, or getting stabbed by a mercenary.  

Sublime happiness made me uncomfortable. Not that I regretted last night. I liked Sid… Yeah, maybe loved him. I know how I felt-- maybe. I just had problems expressing myself.

I knew I was having a serious identity crisis-- details like, was I human? Was the world out to get me? Was it crazy to fall in love now? Deep in the pit of despair, I hung on to a craggy ledge. For what? Hmm, to have sex? The sex was good. Fantastic. More than fantastic.  I got hard just thinking of Sid-- like some Pavlovian dog. And Sid wanted it just as much-- it was like I was a bitch in heat, and Sid's behind me, wanting to hump me all the time. 

No, I'm not ready to let go of the ledge yet.

I called in sick. 

Tabloid headline reads: Unknown homosexual couple boink to death.

We did nothing the whole day. Nothing except take off each others clothes over and over again. I wanted to go practice with the band, but every time I tried to get ready, my clothes didn't want to stay on.

And I learned an amazing secret today. I never realized that Sid has a secret signal.  His nose twitches every time he thinks about fucking.

…Oh look, Wes is leaning over. Twitch. 

...Oh, now, he's licking his lips. Twitch.

...And now Wes is scratching his crotch! Twitch. Twitch.

Rather cute, really. Convenient, too. 

All these years I'd been around him I just thought he had some kind of impediment.

Reality called at 8:15 pm.

"Sid? You remember?" I asked, sprawling out on the living room floor. "The card on the flowers? Um, did you find out what it said?"

"No," said Sid, rolling next to me and nibbling my ear, "but it's not hard. Just go to a translation site on the Internet and type in the code."

"Why don't you?" 

"That means I'll have to get up, and you're so tasty." I gave him sad puppy dog eyes, and it worked. He groaned and got up. "Now where's that card?"

"Need the code? It's in my head," I said, walking over to his PC. 

"Yeah, I know you remember numbers, but you aren't some idiot savant." 

"Just come here and quit arguing," I said, Googling the words 'binary code translator.'

 "This looks like what we need," I said, clicking on the site and typing in the ones and zeros straight out of my brain: 

011101000110111100100000011100110110010101100101001000

000111010001101000011001010010000001110101011011100110

100101110110011001010111001001110011011001010010000001

101001011011100010000001100001001000000110011101110010

011000010110100101101110001000000110111101100110001000

0001110011011000010110111001100100

Then I clicked on 'enter.' The translation popped up in the adjacent box:

 "To see the universe in a grain of sand"

"Holy Shit, how'd you do that?" Sid asked. 

"With my hands," I said, wiggling my fingers in Sid's face. "Okay, so I've always remember numbers, big deal. Forget that.  What's more important is that this is from my favorite poem and my favorite line from that poem-- well almost. In Robert Blake's poem the line states  'see the world in a grain of sand' not universe. Hmm, so why this line? Why this poem? Why Universe?"

"What if this message was meant for you. 'The Universe is a computer' and maybe you're the sand," Sid said.

Good metaphor, but as for the message being for me-- I thought about that one. That would mean I was meant to deliver the roses that day, that would mean, the delivery van really 'did' break down. The card 'fell off' the bud vase on purpose. I guess it's possible. But What's the Frequency, Kenneth? 

"Bacon and eggs," I said. 

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I wanna make bacon and eggs. Get semi dressed,"  I said. "We're going shopping,"

---------------------------

We'd just finished checking out when I saw him.

"Over there," I murmured. 

Sid knew immediately. He followed my eyes to the front of the store, watching him-- my face betrayed me, recalling the twisting knife. Sid turned and said something to a cashier, then started winding around shopping carts, toward the main entrance after the stranger. I grabbed the bag and pushed through the checkout line and out the door after them both. 

Another parking lot. At dusk again. Shit. And there was Sid.

His eyes were fixed on the stranger, who glared at me as I zigzagged through parked cars.  Sid approached him fast. Instead of turning tail, the intense stranger started toward me. I turned and ran.

A first Sid was confused at the change in direction. He adjusted, feet banging over the hood of a car then pushing a shopping cart out of his way. He sprinted to catch up. The man who stabbed me spun around at Sid.

I saw it coming before Sid did. I yelled, "get down." The halide parking lamp above us sparked on the same moment the gun flashed. The man who stabbed me fell against Sid. 

I felt a sting in my arm. I was bleeding. In slow motion, I watched a man I'd never seen before with a pistol step into a black SUV and drive away. 

Then, people gathered.  I ran to Sid, who stood up covered in blood. The pain in my arm was trivial compared to the pain inside my chest. Then relief surged over me-- none of the blood was  Sid's. I clutched my arm, catching my breath. 

I heard sirens.

"He took the bullet for me," Sid said, bending down winded. "But he's still alive." He looked at the blood on my sleeve. "You're shot."

"Yeah, I think I broke most of the eggs too," I said, inspecting the contents of the white plastic shopping bag. "The shot went clear through my arm. I'll be okay in a few minutes-- it's already starting to heal; I can feel it." An odd tingling crept from my shoulder to my arm-- like the springy sensation when my foot or arm falls asleep.

The paramedics arrived before the police. Brave guys. A shooting and they raced helping a man they don't know, not knowing whether or not the shooter was still near by. For all they knew, the shooter could have been us. 

The tall lanky haired medic noticed my wound, but the man lying on the ground in front of him needed him more.  I felt the blood sticking to my shirt and knew by the time the medic got to me he won't find a wound. 

The police came soon enough. Two officers at first. And then two other cars joined them. They questioned the people milling around the lot. We stayed back, trying to avoid them. Then the cashier pointed to us. I had no idea what to say to the police-- the truth? Who would believe that?  They separated Sid and I.  Me, I got a female officer, last name Byron. I decided to give her the condensed version of the truth-- as much as was believable. 'Hey, a man mugged me the other night and now we're being shot at, and I don't know why.'

The paramedic who noticed me earlier came up to check out my arm.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked him. "Do you know his name?"

"Don't know his name. No ID, I think he'll make it," he said, with an odd expression on his face examining my arm. "Is this your shirt?"

"Yes," I said, wondering how I could talk my way out of this fucking mess. "Well, actually it was given to me, without the bullet hole though." Hmm, now that was fucking stupid to say. "Must have gotten blood on it helping that guy over there," I said lamely. 

"And a bullet hole, too?" The paramedic asked and shrugged, raising his eyebrow to Officer Byron. I'm fucked.

The officer pulled the medic out of my earshot.  Sid was still talking to a couple of other officers. Then Byron and walked over to the group, shooing Sid away. Sid scuffled over to me.

"Let's leave," he whispered. We start for the Cutlass when Byron and her partner stop us. 

"Hey, you two aren't going any where. We need to ask you a few more questions. You'll need to come with us to the station." God, I thought they only said that in the movies or on police dramas on TV.

"Guess bacon and eggs will have to wait," I said.

-----------------------------------

After being interviewed, we sat in the lobby on green vinyl chairs with duct tape covering the holes. The yellowed wax on the floor half concealed the cracked tiles-- I'd counted up to 157 cracks when I heard Lynn's voice. I looked up, and there she was along with Alan. Even Alan looked worried. Lynn hugged me and kissed my cheek. I hugged her in return. 

"Let's get you out of here," Lynn said, patting me on the back.

I sat in a daze on the way home. Enough people saw the shooter, so they let us go. They kept harping on motives such as, a drug deal gone wrong or fagots having a lover's quarrel. Sid called Lynn for a ride. He'd get his car later. Sid explained part of what happened on the way home to Sid's house-- I invited them in for scrambled eggs and bacon.

They walked me up the stairs to the house. Lynn put herself to work, putting away the few groceries, and I got out the frying pans. Sid sat down at the counter with Alan. 

"I'd like to know how Lancaster is behind this. Do you have any idea?" asked Alan. 

"Don't know," Sid said. He got up and brought the folder with all the information he'd collected, handing it to Alan. 

"So, this is the stuff you were telling me about?" Alan leafed through the folder. "Wes, ever seen that guy who took the shot at you before?"

"No, never," I said, searching under the cabinet for a bowl.

"Show me where you were shot," Lynn said.  I stood up, the aluminum bowl clanging on the counter.  Sighing,  I pulled off my t-shirt. Lynn inspected the angry red scars that remained there. Alan's attention was drawn from the folder to my arm. "Hard to believe," she murmured. 

"I can't believe this," Alan said. "It's not possible." Hard for me to believe too, I thought, sorting through the silverware drawer for a fork. But it was real. All too real. 

I don't know why I did what I did next. Maybe to prove all of it to Alan. Maybe to prove it to myself. I grabbed a paring knife out of the drawer. I laid my left palm flat on the counter between where Sid and Alan sat. I raised the knife and mechanically stabbed myself through my hand. I felt a crunch.  Fuck. That really hurt. 

Sid yanked it out quick, blood splattered on the counter. I was swearing; tears were in my eyes.

"Are you fucking crazy?"  yelled Sid. Lynn quickly grabbed a dish towel, wrapping it around my hand. "Why'd you do that for? What are you trying to prove?" Sid asked.

"I'm a god," I giggled between curses, then  I felt the familiar spongy tingle in my hand. "Shit, I don't know why I did it, but I'm healing faster each time." I wiped the blood off my hand with the towel and showed them. 

"My God," whispered Lynn. Alan snatched my hand in his, turning it over, fascinated. He looked up at me with the oddest expression. Disbelief. Pity. Awe. All three washed over his face.  Me, I'm captivated by the texture of  Alan's hand in mine.

Sid cleared his throat. Lynn picked her purse off the counter, and Alan stood up. 

"What a rush," Alan said. 

"I'm not hungry anymore," Lynn said. Her mouth set. It was like she suddenly couldn't get far enough away from me. 

"Need a ride to your car?" Alan asked. Sid nodded.

"Well, I'll see you later," I said. Driving a paring knife through your hand probably was unsettling to others. I guessed I'd better stay here. "See you tomorrow at work, Alan. And thanks for coming to pick us up. Sorry I spoiled your appetites."

All three left, and Sid locked the door behind him saying, "I'll be right back."

Personally I think this part of the evening was a success-- this was the most civil exchange Alan and I have ever had in our entire lives. I cleaned up the blood with bleach. I wondered if my body was as resistant to caustic materials and disease as I do it. 

I decided it might not be wise to drink the bleach.

Well, I was hungry. I finished preparing the eggs and bacon. I was anxious for Sid to get back. I didn't like being alone. I hoped he liked his scrambled. Me, I'd rather have fried eggs. I put the meal on our plates when he returned. I wanted to kiss him, but he was preoccupied.  He sat down and ate. He seemed to like the eggs, but picked at the bacon. I liked it crispy. Shit, I forgot to ask him if he liked his bacon crispy or rubbery. Sid didn't talk, just ate, staring into his plate.  

"What was that with Alan earlier?"  he asked. I stared at Sid, perplexed. "You were holding his hand like some teenager in love." 

How to explain? Since I was a kid, I always assumed everyone saw and felt the world the way I did. I never knew until I was about twelve, other people weren't like me. 

"It's like, sometimes the way things feel, they have a memory," I said, struggling for the right words. "Like how I recall numbers exactly or a song after I've heard it only once. I feel it. I remember it. As a texture, as a combination of colors. I don't forget. Same with people. When Alan touched my hand, I felt something from him I never felt from him before. I don't mean something sexual or anything like that. I mean something profound. He understood-- he understood me."

"I'm not sure that makes me feel any better," said Sid. 

"But it should, because-- well, because  I've always had that feeling with you. And last night, shit. Why do you think I fucking screamed?"

And I know I've had more sex in the last twenty-four hours than I've had for the last twenty-four years of my life, but hey, I want to live dangerously. Call me greedy. My mouth found his, and I moaned as his tongue did those torrid, nerve blinding ministrations. Later as my fingers scratched his back, I screamed even louder. The neighbor's dog howled.

But despite having Sid's warm body next to mine, I didn't sleep well at all that night.