Tenderness Ch. 06

I smiled nervously at her and sorted through my notes again. I had to take care of four class periods. Two periods of American literature. Honors English for freshman, and one senior class of World Literature.

The students of my first American literature class trickled in. Bobbing their heads to music coming in from their headphones. Texting, talking giggling. Each of them were confused by the strip of gum, and most of them didn't take it. As if afraid it were some elaborate trick. I had noticed the NO GUM ALLOWED signs all over the hallways as I walked in.

The final bell rang and I stood in front of my class, feeling sweaty and weak. They were all very quiet, very bored.

I had the class textbook in my hand, and I lifted my arms in front of me and theatrically dropped it. The loud CLAP it made on the dull off-white tiles made every student jump. Uneasy giggles spread throughout the room.

"Good morning." I said cheerfully. "Happy to see so many awake faces. If you don't like spearmint, I also have 'Juicy Fruit' up at my desk. My name is Mr. Beck, and I'm going to be your American Literature teacher for the rest of the year.

They murmured softly. They seemed to collectively decide that the gum wasn't a prank, so the soft static of unwrapping became a dull roar, along with the sticky sounds of chewing.

"Countless tests have proved that chewing gum actually makes you more focused. So much so, that the military have their troops chew it during combat and training. So, as long as you keep it in your mouth and not under the desk, I don't see why I should deny you the privilege."

I saw a couple of grins and laughs. I saw two girls lean close, and I could hear one whisper. "--more fun then bitchzilla--" It gave me a small boost of confidence.

I took another deep breath. "I know it must have been pretty easy-going these last few days, with several subs who didn't know the material. Fortunately, I'm getting here just as we start the last book of the semester, so your principal was kind enough to let me choose the final book, as I don't know a whole lot about 'The Great Gatsby'.

I opened up the cardboard box of books on my desk. "Instead, I was happy to realize that Albany high school has one of my favorite high school reads by Robert Cormier."

I passed out copies of 'I am the Cheese'.

"Alright, attendance."

---

I got through the day in this manner. I went through twelve packs of gum, and there was a wad roughly the size of a soccer ball in the waste bin when I left the room for my lunch break. I felt exhausted, three of the classes were right in a row, and now I had half an hour to eat lunch, and two free periods to read up more on the class material and plan my 'I am the Cheese' curriculum.

Rachel, the school principal had told me that the best thing to do would be to stick with the written curriculum, but I hadn't read 'The Great Gatsby' since I was a sophomore in high school, and 'I am the Cheese' was one of my favorite books. If I could pull this off, it would look really good.

The teachers lounge was small, right off of the cafeteria with a wall of glass windows so we could look in. I bought a lunch from the cafeteria, mildly astonished by how good the food looked. In my high school, it had been a rotating wheel of about five or six reconstituted foods, supplemented by some form of potatoes, and maybe some pudding.

Today, they had chicken patties, with actual steamed broccoli and a salad bar. I loaded up my partitioned tray, feeling absurdly like I was in prison. It was almost like an out-of-body experience, because I was in line with a bunch of high-schoolers, and they looked so young! And yet I was the youngest teacher here by ten years.

I sat in the teachers lounge, and it just became more pronounced. I was a little hard to accept that these men and women were my colleagues now. I was so used to being the student, and not the teacher. My time as a TA at the university seemed distant, and different.

I felt a little better when I was back in my room, writing quizzes and rereading 'I am the Cheese'.

---

Here were my seniors. It was easy to tell that they were seniors. They all took themselves so seriously, it was almost cute. All of them had this body language that screamed confidence and easiness. Most of their grades were slipping. They had already applied to their colleges, most had already gotten accepted. To them, this was just an exercise.

I made my same little speech with the gum. They all seemed to think it was pretty funny.

"Shakespeare!" I cried, getting their attention. "Obnoxious bastard, wasn't he? Seems like you can't get through a year of schooling without reading something by this pretentious old fart, can you?"

I had their attention in milliseconds. I nearly cracked up, one girl had a look of shocked properness on her face. She could have been in her sixties.

"The way I see it, you are all nearly adults. I say 'nearly' because you haven't quite gotten into that pattern of thinking yet, but you are. Next year, when you go to your schools, or bum out and take a year off to get 'perspective'--" I made a smoking gesture, drawing a few shocked and delighted giggles. "Whatever you do, they are going to treat you like adults then. So during my four weeks here, I'm not going to treat you like children. You've had eighteen years of that."

"So, you might hear me swear, here and there. You might even catch me talking about sex or drugs. Crazy, right? I learned the most about literature from my Lit professor in College, and he was batshit insane. He swore like a teenage boy, and got us involved in discussions that started with Oscar Wilde, and ended with us talking about how legalizing marijuana would end the current economy crisis. I want this class to be discussion-based, and I want people to be unafraid to speak their opinions. Any questions?"

A girl in the back row with unfortunate skin but a body like a model raised her hand. "Um, can't you get in trouble for this kind of thing?"

"Almost definitely." I said calmly. "But, if any of you tattle on me, not only would that be childish, but you would no longer be able to chew gum, so I trust you."

For the first time, the class broke into howls of laughter.

I felt moderately proud of myself.

--------DANIEL--------

The final crusts of ice on the lakes and the final piles of slush in the supermarket parking lots had finally bid us adieu. Just in time for mid-May, too. It was an amazing warm night, and I was treating my adorable boyfriend to a high-end dinner in downtown Minneapolis. We ate outside, at a table for two. The restaurant was smack in the middle of the theater district, and there were four other gay couples. Aaron was still a little nervous, but he was so excited about his first day as a teacher, that he didn't care.

Ice clicked at the bottom of his glass. I had offered to buy him a drink with dinner, and he had chosen a strawberry mojito, of all things. It was silly, it was cute. It tasted sweet when I kissed his lips across the table. His cheeks blushed to roughly the same color.

Maybe this was a silly thing to notice, but I loved how, official, our relationship was. We went out on dates, we had normal conversations, we held hands. Neither of my former boyfriends had been like this. It had only been a few weeks, but I felt like I had been with Aaron for longer, in a good way.

In an amazing way.

---

I drove him to his apartment. When I stopped at the side of the street, he told me to go to the underground parking lot.

"I... I wanna talk to you about something." He said quietly. He was so serious, but he smiled a little bit near the end. "I have an ulterior motive, is that okay?"

I kissed him on the cheek. "Always baby."

---

His apartment was so small. He kept it very neat, but he was still pretty self-conscious about it compared to my apartment. I watched him change into his pajamas, baggy plaid pants and a loose t-shirt.

He showed me a flyer for a victim's support group. I read it while he leaned on my shoulder, wiping off makeup with a sponge.

"I... I was wondering if you could come with me. I'm kinda scared." I kissed him on the cheek.

"Of course I'm coming with. Someone needs to bring the tissues."

He groaned and hit me with one of his pillows. I wrestled playfully. When he had me pinned on my back with my arms above my head, I leaned forward to peck him on the mouth. "I love you Aaron. I'll come to this thing with you, maybe it will really help."

He grinned, and lowered his body so he was lying on top of me. He rubbed his cheek against the silky material of my nice red shirt.

"I said I had an ulterior motive." He purred, lowering himself more.

I groaned softly as I helped him unbutton my shirt. His soft short hair was tickling me. He licked little circles around my nipples. His hot little tongue was everywhere, driving me legitimately crazy.

"Guess what?" He whispered. His fingers were carefully working under my waistband.

I kissed the top of his head, breathing heavily as his fingertips brushed against the swollen tip of my cock. "What?"

He unbuttoned my slacks, and suddenly his hand could fit in there, and his fingers curled around my shaft. I hissed softly with pleasure as he squeezed.

"I'm not contagious." He said it in a hopeful shy voice. The next thing he knew, I was kissing him hard.

"What a thing to hide!" I whispered. "You cheeky little monkey!"

"Love you!" He giggled, kissing me back, slipping his tongue into my mouth.

---

His mouth was so hot, so wet. I could feel him moaning softly, needfully, mewling around the head. I could feel his fingertips caressing my inner thighs, my testes.

I was slurping on his cock. Propped up on one elbow, and watching him suck my cock. We were in the 69 position on our sides. I didn't want to squish him, and he was too shy to kneel over me. So we were on our sides, and I was reeling with the fantastic sensation of his rough hot little tongue lapping precome from my cock, while tasting his precome on mine. The condom-blowjob I had given him the night before just couldn't compare.

He tasted sweet.

---

I couldn't stay, he had to get up early, but I got to tuck him into his tiny cramped bed. He was so sleepy, so gorgeous. He clung to my neck like a monkey, his head tucked into my chest.

"Love you." He murmured sleepily as I detached him. He was asleep before I could turn off the light.

--------AARON--------

I had no idea what this Survivors thing would be like. If Daniel hadn't been in the car with me, I would have turned around when I reached the address. It was a huge Baptist church that looked like a giant. It was set into one of the local suburbs, three stories high, with a massive and aggressively Caucasian Jesus in all of the stained-glass windows.

"Listen, if it turns out that this is some exercise in bible-thumping, we'll be out in a minute, okay Baby? It didn't say anything about religion in the flyer. Normally if a support group is religious, you can tell right away. They probably just meet here."

He was making sense, but I still hesitated outside of the tall glass doors. I had never seen a church this big. When I was still living with my dad, we had gone to a little brick building with about a hundred in the congregation. This monstrosity looked like it could hold the population of this suburb.

I nearly expected to burst into flames when I stepped inside. My relationship with religion was long, but strained. I hadn't gone to church once since my grandmother died.

The place was deserted. We followed paper signs with arrows on them. We passed a fellowship hall, several offices, and (I swear this is the truth) a small gymnasium. Eventually we got to a room with the SURVIVORS flyer on the door, and a smaller paper sign underneath that said.

WALK-INS WELCOME.

"You okay honey?" Daniel put his hand on my shoulder. He was wearing his creased leather jacket, and a black shirt. I could smell his body wash. I had been reluctant to take a shower this morning. I liked smelling like him.

"Yeah, lets just do this." I whispered. He hugged me briefly in the emptiness of the hall. I buried my face in the warmth of his chest, wishing I never had to let go.

---

It was an empty all-purpose sort of room. White walls and dull nondescript grey carpet. Several chairs had been pulled into a circle, and about fifteen men were milling around the room, drinking coffee and making small talk. Most of them were congregating around a small folding table with a huge thermos of coffee and a tray of home-made cookies.

They saw us come in, but no one seemed particularly interested in making eye contact. A lot of the people here looked exactly how I felt, nervous and wishing they were somewhere else.

A stout man with a round smile-creased face and a full salt-and-pepper beard covering his cheeks and chin and upper lip sat down on one of the chairs and called.

"It's five o' clock."

That was it, and everyone flocked to the chairs, maybe stopping to snag an extra cookie on a napkin.

Me and Daniel each grabbed a chair and joined the circle. Everyone was looking around the circle. Evaluating the others. Everyone looked frightened. Maybe some more then others, but everyone looked apprehensive. Everyone knew that they had to share something. I found myself relaxing slightly. Only slightly.

The round-faced man leaned forward and spoke.

"My name is George. I started this group in 2005, and I see some new faces, there usually are, so I'm going to say a little bit about us."

"In Survivors, it's a very simple message. 'You are not alone.' It is so easy to feel alone. So easy to think that you somehow aren't a man. So easy to think that you have to suffer in silence. If you're new, maybe this will open your eyes, maybe you'll feel better, or maybe you'll think I'm full of bullshit, but either way, I want everyone to feel comfortable here."

"I'll go first."

He told us his story. Unashamed, he told a group of seventeen men about how his father had sodomized and beaten him repeatedly as a child. He told us about how he was so ashamed when he grew up. About how he was afraid to open up to women, how to be intimate.

During his story, I held Daniel's hand. Somehow, I had forgotten that we were in a group of straight men. Somehow it didn't seem to matter.

--------DANIEL--------

This group, this cheesy AA clone of a group... It was eye-opening. It was fascinating, it was frightening, and eye opening. I heard some truly horrible stories. The group started at five, and went on till seven. Each man took six or seven minutes to talk. A few skipped, but everyone sympathized. After each story, we talked, discussed. They were so open. They were so kind. A lot of them were crying. It was as if every one of them had left society at the door, taken off the tough-guy persona that they had to wear in public.

Some of the stories were horrifying. One older timid man talked about how his ex-wife had burned him with cigarettes. He cried, and said that no one took him seriously, because he outweighed her, and because she was a woman. He said that she had broken his arm. And as a group, we supported him. We sympathized, and told him that he was still a man.

Aaron was on the verge of tears for the whole meeting. His eyes were huge and glassy.

One of the men told about when he had run away from his abusive father when he was fourteen. He had been tired of his father beating on him, but when he stayed at a shelter, he had been raped by a wino with foul breath and an ulcer on his cheek.

"He was so small... I probably weighed more then him, but I was so scared."

He had AIDs.

When it got to me, I shook my head. I felt like an impostor. All of these men had been hurt in some way. I was here in their midst, unscarred, unharmed.

Aaron lifted his head and clenched my hand tight in his fist.

"Um. My name is Aaron, and I'm a high school teacher, I'm twenty four."

"Hello Aaron." Everyone parroted dutifully. Even I mouthed the words.

"Um. My mom died when I was ten, heart failure. My dad kicked me out when I was sixteen. He loved me, but when I was sixteen, I... I came out."

I looked around, somewhat defensively, holding tight onto Aaron's hand. I felt like a mouse in a viper pit, but their faces hadn't changed. Maybe it was some kind of rare group-therapy voodoo, but no one was judging him. No one was mad. Maybe if we had met on the street, some of these men would be bigoted and opinionated, but not here.

"My dad... He was pretty religious, but he also hated... He hated what I am for a different reason."

My ears pricked up. This was new. "He hated all of homosexuality because of something that happened when I was twelve years old."

My breath halted in my throat. Maybe it was the hypnotic quality of this room, or maybe he was just finally ready, but my Aaron, my poor bruised Aaron. He going to spill his secrets.

"I had to stay after school for some test or something. I had to make it up. I always walked home because I only lived a block or so away, and to get there I always cut through the playground at this nearby elementary school."

He paused briefly to wipe his eyes. His voice wasn't shaking yet, but it would be soon. I whispered into his ear. "Are you okay with this, Baby?"

He nodded, and held my hand even tighter. "One day, when I was walking home I saw this man at the playground. He was running around with a dog leash in his hand and calling out his dogs name. I can't remember what it was, I think it started with a T."

"He looked really upset. He seemed really old to me at the time, but he was probably just in his thirties. He asked me if I could help him look for his dog, and I said I would."

Aaron wiped his eyes again, and sniffled under his breath. "Trevor. The dog's name was Trevor. He went to this little road near the playground, I think it was someones driveway actually. Like one of those really long ones. And he looked under this car and told me that Trevor was stuck under there. He asked me if I could crawl under and help his dog, because he was too big."

Aaron's voice was shaking. "When I... um. When I got on my hands and knees to look under the car, he opened the door. It was a big red van. He pushed me inside. He was... Um... really strong."

Aaron was crying full out now. I put an arm around his shoulders. "Baby..."

"He k-kept me in the van for a cou-couple of hours." George Heinlein had a box of tissues, and he was passing them around the circle. A couple of the men snatched a sheet from the box as they passed it over to us. I couldn't see any hate or disgust in their eyes. Only compassion. Only sympathy.

Aaron took two tissues from the box and blew his nose with a honk. For a second it was quiet, and then he let out a watery giggle. A couple of others joined in.

"When I got home my dad was... He was furious. Not at me, he loved me. But from that day on, he hated homosexuality even more. He thought that gay men were just indiscriminate, that we'd fuck anything that moves. Even if it was a child or an animal. When I came out at sixteen, he thought I was sick. He thought that... that gay was something that got spread, like a disease, or like vampirism, or something. When I got angry at him and told him that I wasn't sick, he kicked me out of the house, and I lived with my grandma."

He was calming down. The tears still flowed, but his voice was steadying.

"I went to college, Gran helped me pay for it. Still got some loans, but not as bad as I thought they'd be. It was pretty hard to get a job, especially because early on during an interview, a principal found out that I was gay, and he told a lot of nearby schools about me"

"A couple of weeks ago, I was working as a bartender at the Purple Rain. There was a man there who came up to the bar and flirted with me. He got me to go out back with him, and he knocked me unconscious and raped me."