Aaron Smith's Life Adventures

I spent a wonderful Christmas with Tristan, better than those of my childhood. We laughed and cried, drank and cajoled, hugged and wept. I had the kind of relationship with my brother that I had always wanted.

He didn’t have any dates during my visit, but he admitted that dating wasn’t easy for him. His relationships with women were so toxic, he told me, that he’d dated a man who kept hitting on him in the gym. The guy was handsome and fit, but he wasn’t attracted to him physically. He admitted that the guy was eye candy. Tristan also told me that he had enjoyed talking to him; they shared many interests. And with a sigh and a shrug of his shoulders, he admitted that the sex was OK. He liked topping the guy. He didn’t like giving a blowjob, and after their second time together, he decided that a relationship with another man was just not for him.

I offered to give him pointers using the bananas he had in the kitchen, but he just laughed and declined. I suggested he find a trans-man who was gay. You’ll have a guy to talk to; there’s no dick for you to suck, and there’s a button to tongue as well as a nice warm wet slit to fuck. The best of everything.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “I’ll think about it.”

Christmas Eve was a bit rough. I kept thinking about Mitch and how we didn’t get to spend last Christmas together. I wondered if New Year’s would be worse, but surprisingly, the memories I had of our time together reminded me of our love. I focused on that feeling, and with my brother next to me, I started a new year of hope and healing.

The semester started with a new sense of purpose for my life. My roommate, Jayden Blend, moved in at the last minute. I wasn’t sure exactly what to make of him. He wasn’t on any of the sports teams, but he talked incessantly about sports with the guys who stopped by to chat with him. Girls seemed to flock to him, but he always made it clear to them that he had a girlfriend at another school so he wouldn’t date any of them. He was a business major, and he didn’t seem to spend much time studying.

I spent most of my time out of class working on projects and other assignments. I still ate alone, but I didn’t feel alone. I must have given off a vibe because I wasn’t asked out or to parties, and I was grateful that I didn’t have to explain why I wasn’t ready to participate in those things.

A few weeks before finals, Jayden began to act differently. I noticed that he made an extra effort to keep his clothes picked up. His bed was always made, and he always seemed on the verge of asking me something and changing his mind at the last minute. One afternoon, as I was studying on my bed, I got the sensation that he was watching me. I’d glance over at him and sensed that he had just looked away. This went on for almost half an hour before I caught him looking right at me.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“I have a question for you. Actually two,” he said.

“OK.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat facing him.

“First, who the fuck is the guy in the picture?” He pointed toward the photo of Mitch that I had in a frame on my desk.

I took a breath. “That’s my husband, Mitch. He was killed shortly after we were married.”

I saw Jayden’s face turn white. “Oh, fuck, man. I’m sorry. I… uh”

“It’s OK.” I paused. “What’s the other question?”

“I wanted to know if you wanted to be roommates again next year.”

I thought for a second. He’d not given me any trouble. We got along. He was clean and only sometimes a little messy. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll put your name down on my packet.”

“Cool,” he replied. “And sorry about…”

“It’s OK. I don’t talk about it because it’s been less than a year. I’ll tell you about him someday.” I went back to my studying. Finals came and went. My brother had been transferred to his company’s office in the south of France, and he asked me to come and visit during the last two months of the summer. He apologized that he wouldn’t have a place for me until then. I planned to head back home. I’d left a message for my father.

My car was packed up and I was about to start the two-hour trip when a received a text message from Doug. “Please stop at the house. I’ll be here all week.”

“What could he want?” I asked myself out loud. I got into the car and began my drive. The entire way, I battled back and forth about whether I should go there first and get things over with. I was also getting anxious about seeing my parents. It had been the previous August that I had seen them. When the city limit sign came into view, I felt sick to my stomach. I drove the car to the Epstein house. I texted Doug from the driveway.

Doug came to the door and waved me to come in. I walked up to him and tried my best to hold back the anger I felt for him and the entire family. I noticed that his teeth were clenched, and I stopped short of going into the house.

“I’m sorry, Aaron. I am truly sorry. Please come in. I have no right to ask for your forgiveness over this.”

I did not want to cry. I held back and forced myself to breathe.

“What I did… what I didn’t do… it was wrong.”

I think it was the look in his eyes. “I believe you. I forgive you. I thought of you as my brother.” His face tensed, and tears filled his eyes. I moved to him and put my arms around him. “I can’t go in,” I said as my eyes moistened and tears began to roll down my cheeks. I wiped them away. “There’s too much Mitch in there. I won’t survive it.” I stepped back.

“There are things I need to tell you.” He pointed to a bench under a tree near the sidewalk that ran toward the front of the house.

I nodded.

We sat.

“First, Stuart wants to know if you’ll call him or text time. He’s also ashamed for not having contacted you after the accident.”

“Is he OK?”

“Yeah, he is. Amelia’s not. The doctors think she may have a traumatic brain injury. She says she doesn’t remember anything about the accident, and she spends most of her day staring straight ahead.”

“And your mother?”

“She was a mess. She was angry and bitter. Until about a month ago. We went through Mitch’s room and found some papers. Mitch told me that he was going to take you to Vegas to ask you to marry him. I didn’t realize that the two of you got married. Mitch had the paper in a notebook where he wrote his thoughts about things. My mother read part of it and says it belongs to you.

“She wants to give it to me?”

“Mitch was keeping it to write down things that happened during your first year of marriage. I think it made her realize how much you two loved one another.”

“I wish she’d realized it at the start.”

“I should have done more to convince her,” said Doug as he looked off into the distance.

“You couldn’t have done anything. She took an instant dislike to me. You wouldn’t have been able to change her mind.”

“I should be going.” I stood up. “Text me when you’re ready to give me the notebook.”

“There’s more,” added Doug. “There’s a life insurance policy.”

“Donate it.”

“I can’t. It’s yours. It’s in your name, and it’s in a trust. Mitch changed the beneficiary when you two got back from Vegas.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Doug reached into his pocket and handed me a card. “Call this guy. Tell him you’re Mitch’s spouse. He’s got some things to go over with you.”

I took the card. “I need to get going.”

“I understand,” nodded Doug. “There are some other things that are yours, Aaron. Everything that Mitch owned now belongs to you.”

“I never wanted anything but him.” I could feel the emotions welling up inside.

“I know that. I do. And for what it’s worth, my mother knows that now, too. She doesn’t hate you. I’m not sure she ever did; she just didn’t like the idea of someone taking Mitch away from her. She knows now that’s not what was happening.”

I looked away and spotted the garage where Mitch first parked that car of his. “I thought he was the gardener’s son,” I said. “Even when…” I wiped tears away that began to fall. “I really need to go. Next time we meet, let’s do it somewhere else.”

“Of course, I understand.”

I got into my car.

“Call the man on the card. He’s the family lawyer, and he can help you navigate the trusts. Mitch had also invested in some properties, and he can help you sell those off if you don’t want to keep them. They’re under a management company and making a profit, so you don’t need to do anything about them. He’ll also help you with taxes, because you’re going to be hit with those, and you’ll need to get him to revise your taxes for last year.”

“Last year?”

“You became a property owner when Mitch died. Some of it moved into the trust, but not all. You’ll probably owe taxes even though you didn’t get any earnings. Stevens will get it sorted for you.”

I drove away and my head began to pound. How could I owe money when I didn’t earn any money? I pulled into Long John Silvers and ordered some fish. I made it two blocks away before I had to pull over. I felt an incredible peace surround me. I had the sense that Mitch was telling me that everything was going to be alright. I picked up the card that Doug had given me and read the information. I flipped the card over, and drawn in ink on the back was the kind of smiley face with funny hair that Mitch would draw next to his name. Had Doug done that? I had a feeling that he hadn’t.

***

Summer vacation that year was a busy one for me. I did get to spend three weeks with my brother near the town of Cannes, so I could take a bus to the beach on days that he work. He rented a car and we drove to Monaco. I saw so many old buildings, things that dated from Roman times, churches from the Middle Ages and Renaissance, and several perfume factories. The French I took in high school and my first year of college helped me read the signs and order food, but I didn’t understand much when people spoke. The French people loved that I came from Texas, and I had several ask me where my cowboy hat was. I told them, “Next to your beret.” They always laughed at that.

Back at home, I spent several days with Mr. Stevens, the lawyer. In the time between our return from Vegas and are departure to Florida, Mitch had taken care of a lot of business things. I found myself entitled to his trust fund, from which I could draw money beginning at the age of thirty-two. I could also borrow money from it to purchase a home. A large log cabin on four hundred acres in the Ozarks of Arkansas was also mine, as well as the bill for the couple who took care of it. Plus, I owned two apartment complexes off of Braeswood Boulevard in Houston. Actually, I owned a company that owned the two apartment complexes. That company hired another company to manage them, but Mr. Stevens warned me that as the owner I should evaluate the places regularly. I called Doug and asked his advice. He told me that it would be a great assignment for Stuart. I made sure that Stuart would get paid for it even though Doug said it should be part of his family duties.

I also had an account set up for my monthly draw from the profits from the apartments. Imagine my surprise when I received my first bank statement with twenty-thousand dollars deposited in it. I had to sit down when the following month, another twenty-thousand had been deposited into the account.

I rarely saw my father while I was at home. My mother, he told me, had moved in with her boss from work, and when I told him how shocked and sorry I was, he told me that she’d been fucking him for years. And those were the words he used. I called my brother and woke him up since I forgot about the time difference and filled him in. He listened and then said, “Just tell Dad that you love him.” I did, and I noticed that my father seemed to relax a bit around me. I told him about Mitch, and he hugged me and told me he was sorry that I had to go through that alone. I had the feeling that my relationship with my father would only get better after that.

***

A few days before I was to leave to go back to school, I sat at the window in my room and remembered the moment I saw Jordan and how he had looked up at me. Previous to that, I’d felt guilty anytime I felt horny, but remembering back made me feel horny, but I wasn’t feeling guilty about it. I began to think about having some anonymous hook-up, but I’d never really done that. I went online and after a while, I began chatting with a guy who said he was also horny, but he couldn’t invite me over because his parents were home. I didn’t want anyone at the house because I didn’t know when my father would return home, so I offered to pick him up and we could talk in person.

He was waiting at the corner of Elm and Pecan and got right into the car.

“I’ve never done this before, so I’m really nervous.” He paused a moment. “Shit, you’re really handsome. Fuck, now I’m more nervous.”

“Take a breath,” I told him. “I’m Aaron.”

“I’m Dave. Dave Maguire. Oh, shit. Was I supposed to say my last name?”

I chuckled. “It’s cool. We should know one another’s full names in case we get along and want to meet again. I’m Aaron Smith.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“So tell me,” I said as I drove away, “when you say you’ve never done this, do you mean that you’ve never met with another guy, never had a date, never had sex.”

“Yeah, all of that.”

“OK. So, now you’ve met with a guy. You’re in my car. What’s the number one thing you want to do?” I was about to suggest that we drive around and talk or walk along the nature trail and make out if the desire struck us.”

“I want to suck your dick,” he said quickly. “I want to taste your cum. I’ve been dreaming about doing that for so long.”

I thought for a moment. Did I want this guy to suck me off? Honestly, I wanted anyone to suck me off. Would I want more? Definitely. Would he be willing to give me more? Unsure. He might be happy with fulfilling his dream and be done. I decided to risk it. “OK. You can blow me.”

“Won’t the steering wheel get in the way?”

“I’m going to pull into a secluded spot and lean the seat back.”

“Oh. Gotcha.”

I shook my head and smiled. He was anxious. Would it be worth it? I parked in a shaded area near the hardware store and the old cotton gin. I leaned the seat back and unzipped my pants. Dave wasted no time. He didn’t want any foreplay. As soon as I pushed my pants and underwear down slightly, he sucked my semi-rigid member into his mouth. His right hand wrapped its thumb and index finger around the base and he moved up and down the shaft as if his life depended on it. For his first time, he was a master at keeping his teeth covered by his lips. His tongue must have been flattened against the floor of his mouth because the only friction I felt was from his lips. He grunted as he went up and down, and as soon as the head of my dick hit the back of his mouth, he reversed direction. I’d get no deep throating from him. His movements were repetitive, just up and down. However, it was enough stimulation. I warned him that I was coming, and he merely grunted an acknowledgment.

My ejaculation wasn’t the most forceful I’d ever had, but it was copious. I grabbed a rag I’d stashed in the side pocket of the car and caught what he didn’t manage to swallow. He sat back in the passenger seat, wiped his mouth, and said, “Thanks, man. I enjoyed that. Bananas don’t come.”

I pinched my lips together to keep from laughing. “Want to hang out at the Rainbow Grill?”

“No. I’m just going to go into the hardware store and text a friend. He opened the car door.

I grabbed my pants and pulled them up.

“Thanks again,” he said as he walked off.

“Fuck,” I said aloud. I knew he wasn’t going to be up for more. Maybe there would be someone at the Rainbow Grill who would want me to go home with him. I wanted to stick my dick in a tight hole.

I’d been to the Rainbow Grill twice, and both times, I’d left alone. The first time, I just wanted to see what it was like. The second time, I was hoping for some fun. This would make the third time. There were a fair number of men in the place. Some were at the bar drinking and chatting; others were playing pool. I scanned the room for possible partners, and not seeing anyone who caught my eye, I headed toward the back. I stepped into the dark hallway. To my left, the restrooms; to the right, a door marked ‘Employees Only.’ That’s the door I took. To the left was a man on a stool. I smiled and nodded at him. He nodded back and I stepped into the entry to the back room.

Again, there were men at a bar and men playing pool. Most of them were shirtless. This room was much larger than the one in front, and while not as crowded as the last time I was here, there were still a good number of men. I walked slowly back, and my heart rate increased. I felt the eyes of a man in his fifties looking my way. His uncombed gray hair was partially covered by a hat that reminded me of 1950s motorcycle cops. Even with a glance, I could see he was covered in tattoos. He was not my type.

I continued my move to the back when I saw a man about my age, again shirtless, and with the shortest short-shorts I’d ever seen. He came up to me and said, “You’re perfect.”

“Thank you,” I said without thinking.

“I’m Stevie, and I’ve got a guy over there who is interested in getting it on with two guys. Want to take a look?”

Did I? I wondered. “Sure, I’ll have a look. Just so you know, I think you’re pretty cute.”

Even in the dim light of the back room, I could see his cheeks flush. He grabbed my hand and lead me toward his partner. I saw a man in a sleeveless T with nice shoulders and a baseball hat. He was facing away from me. He was seated, but his body looked quite good from the backside.

“I found somebody,” said Stevie, and he pulled me in front of the man.

I stood for a moment, mouth open, in unbelief. “Hello, Dad,” I finally said.