and carry on as though there’s time to do everything. But there isn’t, and when it’s too late to do anything except continue along the path laid down in heedless youth, all that remains is the sour remembrance of squandered opportunities.
Of course most men have some regrets and wonder what would have happened if…
Unfortunately, we have only the one life and every choice we make eliminates an infinity of other choices, so we mustn’t pick at old scabs; that way lies madness. I know now that I over-reacted to the name-calling. Everything would probably have been forgotten over the holidays, but a chilling, nameless dread of my peers left no room for rational decisions. Mum knew I was suffering, but all she could say was, ‘I’m sure you know best, dear.’
I still don’t know what’s best, but I’m certainly not going to tell my self-satisfied nephew I sandpapered my own name off that beautiful cup.
**********
A Healthy Mind in a Healthy Body
Three local businesses were competing to get the new French electrical goods franchise, so after bending the agent’s ear on Thursday afternoon Francis invited him home for dinner, figuring it could only help the fellow make the right decision. Mum was annoyed at having such short notice to prepare a gourmet meal, but after shaking hands with the charming young god who introduced himself as Loic, she was all smiles. We were expecting someone middle-aged, not a slim, perfectly proportioned twenty-four year-old with olive complexion, heavy five-o’clock shadow, black eyes, close-cropped black hair, wearing an elegant cream linen suit.
It was hot and Mum always needs peace to cook, so she suggested we went for a swim. Loic was keen but had no togs. Francis explained that the pool was private and we always skinny dipped, so if he didn’t mind… He didn’t and within a minute there was a heap of clothes on the patio and we were padding bare arsed down the sandy path through the trees to a stream that flows through a deep pool at the bottom of our property. There are loads of birds, the forest is fairly dense and Loic kept raving about how perfect it was. The sight of the pool excited him so much he danced onto a rock like a mythological faun shouting he was in Arcadia with the gods. He grabbed Francis and me and we danced in a circle, holding hands and laughing like crazies. It would have been embarrassing if an Australian had done it, but with his French accent and cute face, not to mention his body, it was poetic and beautiful.
Loic looked even better naked than dressed; lean but attractively muscled with short black hairs on his chest and legs. He's well tanned, all over so he was obviously used to skinny-dipping, and his hair looks like a shiny black skullcap when it’s wet. Francis is thirty-four but looks younger than Loic. No wrinkles or frowns and apart from dead straight blond hair that hangs over his eyes, he’s hairless; hardly has to shave, has no armpit hair to speak of and smooth strong legs. We share the bathroom between our bedrooms so I see him in the shower every day. All it takes is a couple of strokes with a safety razor over his chin, under each armpit, and half dozen strokes over his pubes to render his body so smooth and sleek you'd think he was prepubescent—if you didn’t look into his pale blue eyes that seem to know your secrets.
People often make the mistake of thinking Francis is a pushover, but he’s a savage at heart and takes no crap from anyone. We jog together now and again and take self-defence classes—the sort that teaches you to maim your attacker leaving no one able or willing to seek revenge. A couple of months ago some louts called him baby face and shoved him aside as we were walking back to the car from the gym. He politely suggested they show some respect. They told him to make them. So he did—smashed their kneecaps with the steel-capped shoes he had specially made to look like casual loafers, knuckled them in the side of the head as they went down, then stomped on their fingers and asked if they wanted more.
It’s odd. I’m the tall tough guy with broad shoulders, narrow waist and a mean look—Mum says I'm the classic male type—but my instinct is to placate, or run away if that doesn’t work. In this instance I was useless; just stood there watching while Francis put them out of commission.
I guess I should mention that Francis is my father. He married young and was eighteen when I was born. I’ve never called him Dad or Daddy; he’s always been Francis. When he enrolled me at school he was so sick of people saying he looked far too young to have a kid that he told them he was my brother. Since then everyone, teachers and friends, continue to think he is. As a five year-old I assumed that brother and father were the same thing.
My difficult birth gave Mum a nervous breakdown. The day she brought me home she handed me to Francis and moved into the guest flat at the front of the house so she could shut herself away, prepare her own meals, and wouldn’t have to share the bathroom. Francis looked after me and the house for a couple of years as well as run his business. Mum’s sole contribution to my survival was to express milk into a bottle so Francis could feed me. I slept in his bed till I was two, so he didn’t have to get up to feed me, change nappies or calm my crying. I grew into a neurotic little prick and although my bedroom was only a few metres from his and the doors were kept open, nightmares had me spending more nights in Francis’s bed than my own until I went to high school.
He never made me feel I was a nuisance or complained that he’d fed me, changed my nappies, toilet trained, entertained, looked after me, picked me up when I crashed, took me to school, explained sex, taught me to shave, cleaned up my diarrhoea and vomit and taught me to clean under my foreskin. I was so scared of losing him I became a goody two shoes, always ready to help out, do my chores, be on time… seeking approval I suppose; but mainly because I loved him. I was shy; insanely shy, didn’t talk much, avoided all adults except for Manu, Francis’s accountant and best friend who spends most of his spare time at our place and goes on all our outings with us. It’s always been a toss up, who I prefer—Francis or Manu. Luckily I don’t have to choose.
Manu’s a bit reserved, like me, but Francis is the opposite—I got so used to him wanking every night that I slept through it and assumed it was natural; that all men did it and so would I. A correct assumption and from the age of eleven I often joined in. It probably sounds kinky, but isn’t. We’re mates and share everything.
I used to worry that our family was abnormal, but from what I hear about other families we’re no weirder than most. All the kids in my class are convinced they’re normal and everyone who’s different is either queer or loopy. It seems other families argue and fight most of the time. The kids hate or despise their parents and siblings. Freddy screws his sister. Andrew’s father brings his mates home and forces his wife to sleep with them. Marty’s sister is on the game and works from home.
Lizzie’s mother is usually drunk by lunchtime and has no idea who her daughter’s father is. Albert, who’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, misses school a lot because of ‘accidents’. Broken bones, scars, bruises. Abused by his father according to rumours. Only two kids are living with both parents, all the rest have either single parents or they’re divorced and living with someone else. All the guys reckon they have regular sex and the girls seem to do nothing but gossip, giggle and bitch at each other.
What beats me is that despite their weird personal lives they’re violently intolerant of others.
Four of the guys in my class reckon they go gay bashing on weekends. And they’re all racist, making life hell for the half dozen Aborigine kids. If Francis was in my situation he’d confront them with their prejudices and get himself beaten up—after doing them as much damage as possible; whereas up till now I’ve pretended I like them, have had girlfriends I don’t want, don’t seem to try too hard in class, pretend I’m as tough as I look and do whatever it takes so they leave me alone. But I always feel I’m walking on a tightrope—one false step and I’m dead.
At least there are no arguments in our house. Mum eventually got her act together, sort of, and makes the evening meal that we usually eat together, then Francis and I clean up and she goes back to her flat. She’s like a polite neighbour who comes in and cooks and cleans the place occasionally, but takes no interest in us. She has a good job in an office and a best friend, Judith, who visits regularly. Sometimes Mum goes to stay with her for a few days. Life’s always been predictable and boring but safe, and I worry about ending up in a dead end job, alone, because I’m too introverted to make friends. At least I was until Loic arrived.
From the start I felt completely at ease with Loic, perhaps because he was a foreigner and we always imagine they can’t see through us like our compatriots. I taught him to do honey pots off the rock and we mucked around in the pool till we felt chilly, then lay on a large smooth rock that caught the afternoon sun. Francis had to go back up to the house as he was expecting a phone call and there's no mobile coverage at our place. Loic and I chattered away like old mates for a bit then he leaned over to look at the gold chain round my neck.
His fingers brushed my chest and he told me I was handsome and had a great body. That surprised me because I've always compared myself to Francis and thought my slightly hairy chest and legs, and having to shave every day, made me coarse like Mum’s brother. I should have said I wasn’t as handsome as him or something, but being praised by people I like makes me tongue-tied.
I don’t know if it was his touch or the compliments, but my cock began to spring to attention so I quickly dived into the water before he saw it and thought I was queer.
Dinner was a success, Mum’s an excellent cook, probably because she thinks she isn’t, and afterwards instead of returning to her flat she joined us for coffee on the verandah.
Loic congratulated Mum, praised the house and grounds, and reckoned it was the best afternoon he'd had in a long time.
Francis asked him if he’d decided who was going to get the franchise.
Loic stretched back dreamily. ‘Tomorrow I’ve a video conference with head office and then I’ll review the applications. Tomorrow evening at the earliest, I’d say.’ He yawned attractively. ‘You know, this area’s so interesting I’d love to stay the weekend and explore—if I could find a guide.’
He turned to me with a grin. ‘If you're not busy, Asa, how about spending the weekend with me and you can show me the sights? I’ll let you do the driving.’
Before I could shout, ‘Yes! Anything if I can drive your Porsche Sports!’ Mum asked what he meant when he said I would spend the weekend with him.
Unfazed, Loic said, ‘There are so many things to see and do, Sarah, I thought it’d be most efficient for me to pick Asa up after school tomorrow, we’ll have a meal, take in a show, then sleep at my motel so on Saturday we can set off very early to get in as much sightseeing as possible. On Sunday we’ll do the same and visit what we missed, then on Monday morning I’ll drop him at school in plenty of time for his first class.’ He smiled sweetly.
‘If you pick him up from school he will be in his school uniform.’
‘We’re the same size and I've plenty of clothes, so he can borrow mine.’
‘Even pyjamas?’
‘I don’t wear them.’
‘Neither do I,’ I said with a laugh. ‘I knew we had something in common.’
Silence. Then…
‘Where are you staying?’ Mum’s voice was disarmingly soft.
‘Honeymoon Chalets.’
‘My brother and his wife stayed there last year,’ Mum observed sweetly. ‘The chalets are all identical, I think; a bed sitting room with cooking facilities and a bathroom?’
That’s right.’
‘And one double bed.’
‘That’s right.’ Loic looked at his watch. ‘Heavens, look at the time. My beauty sleep awaits.’
He leaped to his feet, shook Francis’s hand, kissed Mum’s cheek, grabbed my hand and squeezed it with a grin, walked briskly to the front door, then turned and said, still grinning cheekily, ‘I realise my proposition may at first seem presumptuous, but think about it, discuss it with Asa, and ring me when you’ve decided.’
Francis walked him out to his car while Mum and I stood like dummies listening to the Porsche power off up the drive.
‘Cheeky monkey!’ Francis fumed when he returned.
‘But very handsome,’ Mum said with a laugh. ‘Asa thinks so, don’t you?' She gave me one of her irritatingly knowing looks. 'You couldn’t take your eyes off him.’
‘He’s OK. I just like the way he speaks—that cute accent.’
‘Handsome is as handsome does.' Francis muttered. 'He knows I desperately need the franchise and the competition is rat-shit, but despite our hospitality and your magnificent dinner he refused to commit himself. Wouldn’t even answer when I walked out to the car with him just now. Just laughed and said I should get Asa to seriously consider his offer. He’s either a pleasant nutcase or very nasty!’
‘He’s not nasty, he’s a smart young man,’ Mum said softly. 'Twenty-four year-olds don’t get to be international representative for a large company unless they’re very sharp.’
‘Well, he sure gave me the run-around. Why's he stalling?’
Mum laughed. ‘None so blind as those who do not wish to see! He obviously fancies Asa and wants to spend the weekend with him—that’s his condition for signing.’
‘You’re joking.’ He turned to me. ‘Is Sarah right?’
My heart was thundering. Suddenly I realised why he’d touched me down at the pool; he was checking my availability! He must have seen my hard-on. The thought of spending the weekend with him set my pulses pounding, but there was no way I’d tell Mum and Francis that. They’d think I was gay! But surely I wasn’t? I had a girlfriend. At least I had until she dumped me. To avoid their suspicions I shrugged and said I thought Loic was a great guy and Mum had completely misunderstood him—he just wanted to be friendly.
‘Trust me, Asa. He may want to explore the depths of your mind, but he also desires to immerse himself in your body.’
Fortunately, loose shorts hid my erection and I hoped my face hid the fact that I wasn’t put off by the idea.
‘Well, he can whistle in the wind! Francis snapped. ‘There’s no way my son is going to prostitute himself for me!’
‘It’s not like that, Francis!’ I said more calmly than I felt. ‘He doesn't…’
‘What's the franchise worth to the company?' Mum interrupted.
‘We might fold without it.’
‘Then it’s far too important to lose. However, it’s entirely up to Asa to decide whether or not he wants to act as a guide/companion/sex object for Loic. Personally, I can’t see there's any harm in it.’
‘What? The creep obviously wants to get into your son’s pants. And you say there’s no harm!’
‘What harm could that slim young man do to our much tougher and equally manly sixteen year-old son?’
‘What all healthy young gays do—kissing, petting, jerking and sucking each other off, fucking…’
‘I asked what harm, dear, not what actions.’
‘Are you mad, woman? Asa shouldn’t have to have sex with someone just so they'll sign a contract!’
‘If sex was all he wanted he'd have quietly asked Asa back to his hotel for an hour or so after school tomorrow.’ She turned to me. ‘Did Loic make any advances to you down at the pool?’
I could honestly say ‘No’, at the same time wondering why I felt a little disappointed that I hadn’t encouraged him.
‘You see, Francis? Loic has behaved in an exemplary manner. He asked us, the parents, if he could have Asa's company all weekend. And anyway, no one can have sex for an entire three nights and two days. They’ll go swimming, sightseeing, to a restaurant, the movies… And from what I can remember, if Loic’s anything like you the sex won’t take more than a few minutes. I think it would be very good for Asa.
‘Good for him? Woman you’re round the bend!’
Mum turned to me coolly. ‘Asa, you’ve got a girlfriend, haven’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I lied. Sandra had dumped me after the last party.
‘And you’ve kissed her, let her fondle your genitals, wanted her to perform fellatio? Hoped she’d let you have intercourse with her?’
My head nearly exploded. Mothers should not talk about these things with their sons! ‘Mum!’ I howled. ‘You can’t ask me these things! Ever heard of privacy?’
‘Rubbish. This is the twenty-first century, not the nineteenth. Everyone talks about such natural things. Well, have you?’
I had kissed Sandra for what seemed like interminable hours in the back of Arthur’s car after the last party. Then, without invitation, she’d played with my cock and tried to suck me off, but it was pointless as I couldn’t get an erection so I told her to stop slobbering over me. That pissed her off no end. I certainly hadn’t hoped to fuck her! But I could hardly tell Mum that, so I pretended to be annoyed she’d asked.
‘I’ve always thought,’ my mother continued calmly, taking my silence for agreement, ‘that men would be more considerate of their girlfriends if they knew exactly what it is they are asking them to do. Surely, if a man wants a young lady to kiss him, he should know what it’s like to kiss raspy stubble and wake up with a rash around his lips. Then in future he might be more gentle.’
I grunted something indeterminate, wondering where the mad woman was heading.
‘Have you ever played with another man’s penis and had it in your mouth?’ she asked in the same way other people ask if you collect stamps.
‘No!’ I almost shouted.
‘Exactly! So you’ve no idea of the feelings and sensations girls undergo when they are asked to do it.’
‘I never thought of it like that,’ Francis mumbled thoughtfully.
‘Of course not!’ Mum snapped. ‘You're a man.’ She redirected her attention to me and asked with all the finesse of a prosecuting lawyer, ‘Tell me the truth, Asa, have you ever had an erect penis inserted into your anus?’
‘Mum! Stop it! Francis! Tell her to stop. She’s insane!’
But Francis was nodding sagely. ‘Actually, I’m beginning to think your mother’s right. Men can be a bit thoughtless sometimes and it wouldn’t hurt them to experience what they expect their girlfriends and wives to do to and for them for their pleasure.’
‘Francis! I’m not gay!’
‘No one said you were!’ my mother almost growled. ‘And no one here would give a flying fuck if you were. But where’s your sense of adventure? You disappoint me.’
‘I disappoint you? You’re the one who…’
She dismissed me with an irritated wave of the hand. ‘I read the other day that anal intercourse is now the preferred method of avoiding unwanted pregnancy among teenagers. Girls are willing to suffer that to satisfy their boyfriends because then they remain virgins. But it can be somewhat traumatic the first time, so I think it’s only fair that you should experience sodomy yourself before inflicting it on your girlfriend.’
‘I’m not bloody going to inflict anything on Sandra or any other girl! We've split up!’ I shouted.
‘Good, when you introduced her to me I thought she was a common little trollop.’ Mum’s self-satisfied smile made me want to hit her.
‘I never liked her either,’ Francis chimed in.
I was beginning to smell a plot.
‘You may not have had much sexual experience with girls, Asa,’ Mum continued severely, ‘but surely you had sexual experiences with other boys when puberty arrived?’ She turned to Francis.
‘According to the books, all kids experiment. I suppose you did, Francis, despite the odds.’
Francis grinned and nodded. ‘Despite the odds indeed. A couple of us used to jerk off in the sand dunes.’
‘Well, I’ve never had the pleasure!’ I snapped, unwilling to admit I was jealous because there was no one at school I’d want to do it with, although I fantasised regularly over my Maths teacher.
And even if there was I wouldn’t dare suggest it; they’d tell everyone I was queer.
Mum sighed. ‘Oh, Asa, what has made you so insecure? Why are you so worried we’ll think you’re gay? Don’t you realise there’s no such thing? Humans are merely sexual animals and there are as many ways to achieve sexual satisfaction as there are people. Stop pigeonholing yourself and others and liberate your body as well as your intellect! I may not be a great mother, but I know you’re sexually interested in Loic, as you should be—he’s a most attractive young man and obviously attracted to you, so what’s the problem?’
‘I’ve got nothing against him, and he is attractive, it’s just that…’
‘So why not be a devil for once in your life—take a risk; enjoy yourself instead of always doing the usual boring same old thing.’ She sighed in resignation. ‘But it is your life and it would be reprehensible of me to try to force you to act like a young man instead of a middle-aged puritan.’
‘I totally agree,’ Francis said with a grin. ‘The worst thing for Asa to do would be to act against his nature.’ He turned to me. ‘Well done for sticking to your principles, even if they do make you seem like a boring old fart.’
‘Yes,’ Mum said softly. ‘I apologise for arguing so forcefully. You must believe there's no way either of us would want you to spend the weekend with Loic just so he will sign the franchise agreement—we were merely arguing hypothetically, so let’s forget about it.’
‘OK!’ I snarled. ‘You win. I’ll be Loic’s guide for the weekend! Satisfied?’
‘No, no!' Francis said firmly. 'Whatever you do you must want to do for yourself, because you value new experiences. The last thing we want is for you to do anything you don’t honestly want to because you think we want you to. Isn’t that right Sarah?’
‘Absolutely. I’d never forgive myself if that were the case. Just because I advanced strong arguments in favour of young men escaping their pathetic comfort zone to learn about how the other half experience things, doesn’t mean I want to force you to do it. Let’s change the subject.’
My brain refused to unravel the logic, if there was any, in what they were saying. ‘No!’ I sighed. ‘I really want to do it. I agree it will be good experience.’
Francis put on his patient-and-understanding-of-my-stupidity face. ‘Or we can leave a decision till the morning so you can sleep on it.’
That did it. ‘No!’ I shouted. ‘It’s my choice and my responsibility, nothing to do with the fact that we’ll be bankrupt if he doesn’t sign the contract. Ring him now and tell him!’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes!’ I yelled.
I was prevented from pouring a bucket of water over Mum’s self-satisfied smile by the sound of a car powering down the drive.
‘That sounded like Loic.’
We went out, the car door slammed and Loic bounded onto the front porch.
‘Lucky you’re still up,’ he laughed. ‘I was just getting into bed when I realised I may have given the wrong impression regarding the contract and Asa spending the weekend with me. So to make sure there’s no misunderstanding I decided to get this thing signed tonight.’ He held out a yellow envelope. ‘I was just being pedantic; the competition is not up to your standard and I didn’t have to sleep on the decision.’
‘You beaut!’ Francis said, dragging Loic inside.
When all was settled Loic refused a drink, said he was tired, and we walked him to his car.
Francis dug me in the ribs. ‘Go on!’ he whispered. ‘Tell him.’
‘School finishes at half past three, Loic, I’ll be waiting at the front gates at a quarter to four. Is it OK if I tell the guys you’re my cousin?’
Loic’s grin nearly split his face. ‘Excellent, and you can drive; that should impress them.’
I'm off to bed,’ Mum said brusquely as if we’d done something to annoy her. I never get used to her mood changes; one moment she’s chatty and clever, the next cool and dismissive. I used to think I’d done something wrong, but Francis says there’s a mental ‘switch’ in her head that flips on and off and she has no idea it happens. It’s all to do with her upbringing. It still hurts though.
After my shower I went in to Francis’s room. It was a hot night so he was lying on his back on top, hands behind his head. In the dim light he looked so smooth and young I had to remind myself he was my father. I sat on the end of his bed. ‘I’m nervous.’
‘Changed your mind?’
‘No way! I’m looking forward to it, but scared I’ll make a fool of myself in bed.’
Francis patted the bed beside him. It had been a couple of years since I’d got into bed with him and it was an unexpected relief to return to a place where I felt comfortable and safe. As if I was still a kid I snuggled against him with my arm across his chest.
‘Just do what comes naturally.’
‘But suppose doing ‘things’ with Loic feels as disgusting as it did with Sandra? I’ve read that heterosexual guys who’re approached by gays experience uncontrollable urges to exterminate them.’
‘That’s their excuse for gay bashing and murder. It’s never been true, although some judges believed them. You’re not like that.’
‘You mean I’m not heterosexual?’
‘I mean you’re not going to become a psychopath. But Sarah and I think you’re probably mainly gay.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re ambivalent about sex and girls. Heterosexual young men have no doubts, they just do unquestioningly what society projects as usual behaviour.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been thinking I’m probably a bit gay, but what do gays do?’
‘Whatever they enjoy, and not what they don’t. There are no rules. If Loic proposes something you don’t fancy, just say no thanks and do what you like. Easy.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d show me?’ I was half serious—imagining he’d take it for a joke.
‘You want to be careful making suggestions like that, I might succumb to a pathological urge to strangle you.’
‘No, no, I was just…’
‘And Manu would be jealous.’
That shook me? What was he on about? Surely not? ‘Manu? Manu your best friend?’
‘The same.’
‘He’s your lover?’
‘Exclusive for the last fifteen years.’
‘But… how? When? Does Mum know? Why haven’t you ever told me?’
‘Your mother has her own lover—Judith.’
‘Judith? The woman who comes and stays with her… the one she visits?’
‘The same.’
‘You mean Mum’s a lesbian?’
‘Yes.’
‘So that’s why she's a bit down on men… but how did…?’
‘Emanuel, Manu’s real name, Sarah, Judith and I had the misfortune to be born into Exclusive Brethren families and were not allowed to socialise with people outside the sect. Not allowed much of anything in fact, except make money for the church. As the only fundamentalist religious kids at high school, and because we knew each other from church, we did everything and went everywhere together. It was a very convenient way of hiding the fact that Manu and were an item and so were your mother and Judith.
We were not good Brethren kids, kept breaking the rules, especially the ones prohibiting everything to do with sex, and had enjoyed several foursomes before deciding where our true interests lay. You were the result of one such day of lust and laughter. Abortion was, of course, out of the question so pressure from our parents forced the guilty pair to marry. Not knowing who the father was, Manu and I tossed a coin and I won.
‘After the birth we had a meeting, all four of us accepted responsibility for you and that’s how your luxurious lifestyle has been financed. We also rejected entirely the crap pumped into our heads by the church and vowed no child of ours would ever be subjected to the brainwashing and cruelty of religion. Therefore, in secrecy and with the minimum of planning we all moved north.
‘Your maternal grandparents risked eternal damnation, found us and tried to force us home and back into the church. We threatened to tell everyone we were queer, so they re