Paradise

You’re Not My Son

Brody got off the school bus, and a wad of paper flew past his head as he headed up the dirt drive to his home. It was a mobile home that sat among the trees, with rusting panels and a skirting pulling away, and it was the fifth place his parents had lived in. Although not the worst, it was far from the best. “L-l-loser” someone shouted from the bus, then laughter as it pulled away.  It was so routine, the taunts from some of the other students, he didn’t flinch or look around, instead continuing his steady walk to the place he called home.

“How was school?” his mom asked as Brody came in, dropping his backpack down on the floor.

“Okay” Brody replied, going into the small kitchen where his mom was making some sort of soup or stew. He reached into the refrigerator, pulling out a soda, and headed to his room, picking up his backpack as he went. “I’ve got some homework to do.”

“Dinner will be ready about six, when your dad gets home.”

“Got it; I’ll try to be finished by then” Brody replied, letting the sarcastic tone say more than he knew he should.

At his desk, he pulled out his textbooks, debating on what to do first, eventually settling on the easiest subject for him, English. Contrary to his classmate’s assumptions, he had decent grades, the best in English and history, his favorite subjects. He struggled with the higher math and science. He could hear his mother moving around in the kitchen and her radio playing some old electronic music from the eighties or nineties. It reverberated down the narrow hall and through the thin walls.  Opening his notebook, he wondered which author of the current chapter of study to choose for his paper. He looked through his notes, and one name kept catching his eye.  The one that was gay. It was risky, for the teacher sometimes made them read their papers aloud, but he couldn’t let it go. Pencil in hand, the library book he checked out this morning opened to a tagged page, he began.

It was a catharsis, the writing papers in English, and none more so than this one. He was able to hint at the fact of the writer’s sexuality, as he avoided doing regarding his own for the last four years. He wrote one paragraph, then another, then another, letting himself live through the writer. It calmed him. Allowed him to relax within his skin. He poured out his own frustrations, when describing hardship the writer had endured during one point in his life, and he cried when bringing his paper to a close, detailing the writer’s death.

Brody sat for a few minutes, just staring at the pages laying on his desk, wondering if he should rewrite it, tone it down for his high school teacher. Leaning forward, and in his neat cursive writing he signed his name at the top, folded the paper in half, and tucked it safely into the library book. He put the book in his backpack and pulled over his history textbook and began to read, making notes as he went along.  By five thirty he was closing his math textbook. He looked at the science textbook still laying out, knowing it would be after dinner and once his parents settled down for the evening before he could get to it. Pushing back from his desk, he kicked the door to his room close. He stood then fell across his bed and lay listening, making sure his mother was still in the kitchen. He could hear the occasional sound of a metal spoon in a boiler or the oven door closing a bit too hard. Rolling over, he reached under the mattress of his bed on the side against the wall and slipped out the two magazines hidden there.

Brody had found them in the bathroom at the truck stop out on highway 31. He had ridden his bike around the community and after a couple of hours, the need to piss building, he had stopped at the rundown truck stop. After pissing he went into a stall just to read the graffiti scribbled on them. His eyes fell to the more explicit, the ones for blow jobs and looking for men. He saw the dates of a few of the offers, one only two days prior. Leaning over to read something written so small it was hard to discern, he noticed the magazines tucked behind the tank of the toilet. His hands shook as he realized what they were. Male porn magazines. Gay male porn magazines, with hard cocks and video reviews showing scenes of fucking. They were old, the haircuts and clothing (when they had clothes on) dated them, but there was nothing dated about the sex. He felt his cock stir as he quickly thumbed through one magazine then the other. Then he rolled them up and slipped them down his cargo shorts at the back, pulled his shirt tail over them and eased out of the toilet. He was so scared at being caught, he bumped into the display rack at the end of one aisle and nearly ran into a man coming in. But he made it to his bike hidden behind the kerosene tank on the back side of the building, and rode away as fast as he could go.

Brody lay on his stomach flipping the pages slowly till he came to one of his favorites. A guy that had black hair and a natural tanned skin tone and the darkest brown eyes and a nice cock that angled out straight with a flared head. He imaged putting it in his mouth as he ground his hips down increasing the pressure on his growing erection. He imaged the guy, who called himself Teagan, moving over him, kissing his back and neck and putting that cock against his ass, and his own flexed hard in his jeans. He closed his eyes trying to imagine what it would be like. The feel of another guy, the two of them naked so every touch could be felt. He wondered what it would feel like for that cock to touch him, to press down between his ass cheeks. He reached back, slipping his hand down his jeans, below his briefs till he was touching himself. He toyed with his hole, then pushed a finger inside it imaging it was Teagan penetrating him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Harley, his father, yelled as he shoved the door open.

Brody struggled to push the magazine off the bed and get his other hand free. He squirmed around, scared to death at what his father may have seen. “Nothing…I wasn’t doing anything…honest…I was…”

“Shut it. I saw what you were looking at” Harley yelled, bringing his mother to the door too. Harley stormed around the room and squeezed down behind the bed retrieving the two magazines. “What the fuck is this? You a faggot now? You want boys to stick their dicks in your ass?” Harley yelled, grabbing Brody by the arm jerking him up from the bed. “Answer me, boy? You a goddamn faggot?”

“No” Brody uttered in a low pained voice, unconvincing even to himself.

“Get your ass out of here” Harley yelled, and Brody thought he meant just his room, but when Harley dragged him down the narrow hall, banging him against the wall, then through the living room where Harley grabbed the door handle and threw the door open, he knew it was much more serious. “Get your faggot ass out of my house. Goddamn, you disgust me. You ain’t no son of mine.”

“Harley?!” Brody’s mother exclaimed, but she stood back and didn’t try to stop him.

“Get the fuck out of my house” Harley yelled as he shoved Brody out the door. Brody didn’t have his balance and he fell down the steps and into the yard. Harley stepped back in the house and Brody could hear him still yelling. There were accusations, and the naming in the most disgusting terms, while going back to his room. Then Harley was back at the door throwing some of his things out. His backpack landed at his feet. Shirts, pants, socks, his only other pair of shoes, and underwear came out by the handful. Then Harley took out his wallet and threw a twenty and two fives at him. “Get your fucking shit and get out of here.”

The door was pulled closed and Brody could hear his mother trying to calm his father, pleading with him not to do this. But the door didn’t reopen. Neither his father nor his mother came to tell him not to go. Tears streaming down his cheeks and struggling to breathe normally, he stood and gathered up his things, stuffing everything into the backpack. He tucked the money in his front pocket and walked out to the road where he stood for a long time wondering which direction to go. He could go left, heading east and eventually end up at his Aunt’s house or his grandparent’s, but the accusations came to him. Over and over and the chance he’d hear it again made him turn to the right and start walking.

Father’s Disappointment

Preston sat in the uncomfortable armchair remembering how his father had chosen them for this reason. Across the large desk in front of him, sitting in a comfortable high back chair, his father was looking at him like he was some client asking for another loan. Someone to be quashed like a bug. He didn’t like being in this room, for every time he had been in it was to receive a lecture from Thomas Brady Caldwell, his father. He didn’t know what he liked the least? The room or his father’s demands. Not able to look him in the face, he let his eyes scan the wall behind him. The bookshelves filled with first editions of books he doubted his father had ever read and either side of the desk, French doors opened out on the terrace that overlooked the pool and lower lawn. It was a demonstration of his father’s wealth. Brody had heard lecture after lecture on how it had been hard earned wealth, but Brody knew it was more about his father’s viciousness with some clients. His willingness to destroy anyone who he thought had slighted him in some way. Brody had grown to hate his own father and fantasized about running off. But he had plans, and to accomplish them, he had to endure his father’s bullshit for a few more years. Just long enough to finish high school and get through college then he would give his father the middle finger and go his own way.

Shifting in the chair while waiting on his father to finally speak, he wondered what this lecture would be about. Maybe he had heard about the pool party at Cheryl’s house last weekend where everyone got so wasted, they had passed out around the pool. Or maybe he found out about the latest speeding ticket. Or maybe his English teacher had called about his last paper, the one where he described in vivid detail Marx’s criticism of capitalism. The latter would surely earn him a long grounding.

“Preston…I know about that boy. Connor Williams? I know you see him on weekends and some days after school.”

“What? No…”

“Don’t take me for a fool. I know, and quite frankly, I don’t care about your dalliances. But know this, for the sake of the family, you will marry, have an heir and keep up appropriate appearances.”

Preston slid down in the chair, not surprised his own father had him trailed to see what he had been doing. It did surprise him at his response to Connor. Would he find the irony in it, if he told him Connor broke up with him two weeks ago, refusing to see him, ignoring his text messages and never returning his calls? He doubted it. But the ultimatum to get married hit a nerve. It was all about appearances with the bastard and he had no intention of being a part of the charade.

“What if I refuse. It’s my life and I should…”

“Your life!” Thomas interrupted him, barking with laughter, then he leaned forward, suddenly serious, “you wouldn’t have a life if it weren’t for me and I can take it anytime I want. Do not defy me.”

Preston didn’t reply, instead he sat mute, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an argument. He watched his father lean back, relax in the large chair and smile.

“Now Preston, I know the Hamilton’s daughter fancies you and we can arrange for you two to officially meet. Maybe we’ll have them over for dinner next Saturday night. I’ve been meaning to corner that father of hers anyway about the development he is proposing on the Koenig property.”

Preston knew it wasn’t the time to argue, so he nodded his head, then looked at his father with the same artificial smile. “Okay, if that is what you want. Can I be excused now?”

“Yes, yes, yes, go sulk about it, but you’ll see. It is for the best. Now get out of here.”

After a night of plotting, strategizing on what to do and in what order, Preston woke early the next morning and pretended to leave for school. But he drove down to Hillcrest and had breakfast, waiting for his father to leave for work. Parked behind the diner, he watched out the window for the Mercedes to pass. It was perfect timing for as he signed his credit receipt the big black Mercedes cruised by the diner.

Back at his home, he knew he had to act fast. He called the bank and made an appointment for that morning. He called the attorney that represented his mother’s family in financial matters, a man who hated his father, and he told him what he needed.  He pulled up a map of the country and zoomed in to different areas, till he had everything mapped out. He pulled up a flight website and bought one ticket to Miami, one to London, one to Paris and one to New York. Then he pulled up the train website and bought two tickets to El Paso, Texas with his bank account his father didn’t know about. Not yet, anyway. There was a transfer in New Orleans and San Antonio, and the total travel time was ridiculous, but it would give him time to work some details of his plan after he got to El Paso.  

Preston pulled down two duffel bags and in one he put all the clothes that would fit, everything casual wear for where he was headed, he would not need a suit or jacket or a tie. In the other he put his favorite books, his personal documents from the safe in his closet, suddenly glad his father had insisted he be responsible for his own birth certificate, passports and other documents. He took out his personal portfolio and thumbed through it knowing it was more than enough before shoving it in with the other documents. He slid open the drawer in his closet that held his watches, cuff links, tie pins, and wallets and he put the watches and jewelry in the bag. He took three wallets out and went to his desk. He pulled out an old driver’s license and gym membership cards and slid them into each wallet. Then he took out his credit cards and slipped one in each wallet. They were his real diversion. The means to keep his father guessing.

Going down the servant’s stair at the back of the house, Preston made his way to his car. It was the one thing he fought with himself on abandoning, for the freedom it seemed to offer him. But he knew he had to abandon it for how easily it could be tracked down. He rubbed his hand along the fender, feeling the curvature, and wondered what would happen to it. His father had been furious when he bought it, but eventually relented, calling it a toy he would grow tired of. But he never did. He threw the two bags in the back on the parcel shelf and climbed in. The old inline six fired up and rumbled to life. Then he eased out of the parking court and around the house, down to the main road.

Preston drove to the bus station in town, and standing outside a bus heading north, dropped one wallet. He moved to another bus, this one heading to Chicago, and he dropped another wallet, hoping at least one got used by someone desperate enough to try it.  Then he drove to the airport and while circling around the long term lot, dropped the other two wallets, knowing there was a good chance one or both could end up back in town, but if he was lucky, they would end up somewhere he had bought tickets. He drove to the exit and when the man in the booth looked at him with curiosity, he knew how it looked driving in and back out. 

“I forgot my presentation and have to go back for it” Preston lied.

He drove to the bank and transferred money to accounts set up that morning and withdrew enough cash to last him till he got settled somewhere. Then he drove to Magnolia Hills to the high school located there. He called from the parking lot, hoping this time for an answer.

“What do you want?” Connor answered, his tone gruff.

“I need to see you. Just for a minute. I’m in the visitor parking lot. Can you please come out?”

The phone was silent for far too long, but Connor eventually replied, “fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Connor came out dressed in his usual jeans and black t-shirt. Preston waited, leaned against the side of his car watching him cross the parking lot. He felt short of breath, realizing how much he missed him. Connor strolled up and pushed his blonde hair out of his face.

“What is it, Preston? The bell will ring soon.”

“I’m leaving. My father isn’t giving me any choice and…will you come with me?”

“What? No! No, Preston. We’re not together, not anymore. Jesus.”

Connor looked up into the vivid blue sky, took a deep breath then looked back at Preston.

“You’re not serious, are you? About leaving?”

“Yes. I have to go.”

“What did Thomas Brady Caldwell do this time?”

“The same shit; trying to tell me how I’m going to live. How I’m going to keep up appearances for the sake of the family and get married and have an heir and…please Connor, come with me.”

“Preston, I don’t want to come with you. I’m sorry your father is a world class asshole and tries to dictate every aspect of your life, but…I don’t love you.” Connor rubbed his eyes in frustration, at how Preston’s problems affected everyone around him. “Preston, I think you should go home and tough it out. Stick to your plan to get through college then defy the bastard.”

“I can’t. Not any longer.”

“Well, be careful, for you know he’ll search for you with every means at his disposal. And take care of yourself. I’ve got to go” said Connor, squeezing Preston’s shoulder before heading back to the school.

Preston watched him stroll away, not looking back once, and he knew for the first time it was really over between them.  Climbing into his car, he knew he had to get going. He drove through town, grabbing lunch though a fast food drive-thru and kept driving until he got to his destination.

When Worlds Collide

Brody had walked as fast as he could from the old neighborhood, afraid someone he knew would see him. He couldn’t bare the thought of someone taking pity on him. He kept up his fast pace till he was coming into town. He went over the bridge that span the ten lanes of interstate that wove through town and kept walking. He passed the main museum in town and kept walking until he found himself outside the train station. He was hungry and tired, and with the sun coming up, felt like he needed to find a place to get out of the way. The station looked like the perfect place to blend in and not be noticed.

Brody found a small garden area with benches and he sat under a small tree for the sun was coming up he knew it would quickly warm up. He watched people arrive and depart the station, a train pulled away and some time later, another arrived. He counted the cars and took notice of their differences and wondered what the insides were like. He gave thought to it, these train cars taking people to other places and he imagined getting aboard one himself. He thought about the places he would want to go. Miami and its nearby beaches on the Atlantic, or Los Angeles with Hollywood, or Dallas, or Seattle. He realized he really didn’t care where the train could carry him, if only he could afford to get on one and leave this place.

The sun rose over the horizon of buildings and trees and the small garden grew hot. Brody sweated as he shifted closer to the tree to stay in the shade. His stomach growled with hunger and a part of him knew he needed to eat. But another part felt nauseous and he feared whatever he tried to eat now would only come back up.

Meanwhile, on the east side of town, Preston pulled into the parking lot of the world market, one that would stay busy all day and his car wouldn’t be noticed, beyond its rarity, till late that night when the market closed. He had made his stop by the attorneys, meeting with his maternal grandfather, the man who would ultimately give him the help he needed in escaping his father. His grandfather hated his father as much as he did, if not more. He pulled his two duffel bags from behind the seats and locked the car. He had an uber driver on the way, only two minutes out they claimed, and he made his way to the sidewalk in front of the building. He walked past a garbage and dropped his keys into it, knowing he’d not need them again. As he got to the end of the walk a Ford Focus pulled up, with the passenger window lowering as it pulled to a stop.

“You looking for a ride?”

“Yes” Preston replied, tossing his duffel bags in the back seat and climbed in front next to the driver. He looked college age and a bit ruffled with his t-shirt wrinkled and hair messed up.

“You need to get to the Amtrak Station?”

“Yep. Do you know where it’s located?”

The driver pointed to his GPS, “I’ll let it guide me.”

“You a student?”

“Yeah, at Tech. You?”

“Nah, I’m afraid not.”

As the driver cut across the city, Preston was almost sorry he had initiated any type of conversation, for the driver began to talk. Of the job market, of poverty and how it was going to get worse, then he transitioned to some science research on the universe, asking Preston if he believed we were part of one universe or many universes.

“I have no idea” Preston responded when he realized the driver was actually waiting for a reply before continuing with his rambling.

They crossed over the interstate and made an immediate left turn, barely avoiding on-coming traffic. The driver pulled down to the front of the building where Preston tipped him and climbed out. Duffel bags in hand he made his way inside to check on the status of the train to New Orleans. He knew he was early but wanted off the streets. He didn't want to be seen by anyone he knew, and it was best to wait here at the station, knowing it would be late before he was missed. He hoped his decoys would buy him more time. The information board showed the train to be on time, arriving in a couple of hours. Swinging by a vending machine for a drink, he ambled back outside to a small garden area. There were two couples sitting off to the side and near the center of a grass area, a woman was watching her child play. As he moved out into the space, he noticed another bench occupied by a guy and wondered if he was the woman’s husband. As he drew near, he realized there was no way, for the guy was young, appeared younger than himself, and was poorly dressed, with one sad looking backpack at his feet. But there was something else, something that caught his eye. There was a sadness in the guy’s face that he could feel empathy toward. He felt it too. A look that said the whole world was against you.  

“Excuse me, but is anyone sitting here?” Preston pointed at the opposite end of the bench.

“No.”

Preston sat his duffel bags to his side and leaned back allowing him to look over at the guy who was leaned forward with elbows resting on each knee. The lean body, the shaggy hair that needed cutting and the long neck leading up to a nice line of jaw caught his attention. Where was this guy going? What is his story?

“Where are you heading?” Preston asked.

“Huh?” the guy asked.

“Where are you heading? You’re catching the train, right?”

“Oh, no, I’m not going anywhere.”

Preston suddenly realized the situation, or part of it anyway. It was the first time he ever came face to face with someone on the street, homeless, but then there was something about the guy that seemed off. Like this wasn’t a position in life he had been before.

“I’m Preston. What’s your name?”

“Preston?” the guy responded, looking around like he didn’t believe it was his name.

“Yeah, that’s my name. What is your name?”

“Brody.”

“So, Brody, why are you hanging out at the train station?”

Brody kept staring at the ground, shaking his head.

“Brody?”

It was too much. First getting thrown out, then walking all night until he ended up sitting outside the train station with no idea what he was going to do. And now some rich trust fund boy was wanting to know why he was here. He saw the expensive bags and the clothes that probably cost more than he had ever spent on clothes, and on one wrist a watch he had no idea of its value, but knew it was a lot. He stared at the ground wondering, why was he here? His father is an asshole and bigot? He has thirty dollars and the clothes that will fit in his backpack and…

“I got thrown out” Brody exclaimed, rounding on Preston, his expression a mixture of anger and fear and frustration.

“Whoa. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry” Brody replied in a low defeated tone.

Preston didn’t know what to say. But he couldn’t let it go.

“Why did you get thrown out?” Preston asked in a soft tone, hoping Brody would see he wasn’t trying to demean him.

Brody took a deep breath, then looked up staring across the garden. “Fuck it. I’m gay and my asshole father found out.”

“Shit…seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. I’ve heard of it happening but never…”

“I’m sure you haven’t.”

“Hey, wait…okay I get it. Your father finds out you’re gay and he throws you out and by the look of things, you have nowhere to go or any means of supporting yourself. I come from a wealthy family where my father knows I’m gay and just wants me to keep it hidden, marry a good girl, give him an heir and don’t do anything to tarnish his image.”

Brody turns to Preston trying to figure out if he is joking.

“Yeah, I’m gay too. The difference is you got kicked out and I’m running away. That doesn’t sound right. Only twelve-year old kids run away. But I have the means to support myself, if only I can get far enough away and stay off the grid to where my dear father can’t find me.”

Brody tried to imagine it. This ability to leave and live on his own. It was so alien. He shook his head in frustration at the unfairness of life.

“What?”

“It’s just…nothing.”

Preston looked at Brody, the shabby clothes and how he would be invisible to everyone around him. No one would take note of the guy left homeless. They wouldn’t want to see it. He looked at his own clothes, everything new, perfectly pressed and their differences kept being put in his face. Then he thought of his plan and one aspect he had yet to figure out. How to get past the security cameras and onto the train. He knew within a few days his father would have every avenue of escape checked out, including this train station.

“Hey Brody, what if I need your help and in return, I help you get on your feet?”

“What?!”

“What if you do something to help me, and in return I help you. I’m bartering here, Brody.”

“What would I have to do?”

“The one thing I had not figured out was how to get on this train without the security cameras getting a good shot of me. You can help me, if you’re willing to get on the train too and leave.”

“Leave?”

“Yes. What is keeping you here?”

“Nothing” Brody replied, exhaling hard.

Preston stayed silent and let Brody think of his proposition. This opportunity to just leave. He watched Brody sit up, face scrunch up series. It was almost like he could see the gears turning, working out what options he had left to him. His head nodded up and down a few times, slowly, barely perceptible.

Brody turned to Preston, “I’d need a ticket?”

Preston reached into an outside pocket of one bag and slid out two tickets. “I’ve got them. I tried to get my ex back but that was a no go.”

“So, what do I have to do?”

“Simple. You give me one of your shirts to put on so I can ditch this rich boy look and help me scuff up my bags, so they don’t look new and expensive,” said Preston reaching into the bag again pulling out some color markers.

“Okay.”

On the Run

Brody went first, with Preston leaning on his shoulder, pretending they were together. He carried one of Preston’s bags, marked up with graffiti and scuffed and dirtied. Preston, dressed in one of his shirts, one of the worst, had his backpack on and carried the other bag. Pulled low on his head, Preston had an old ballcap on that he had had stuffed down in his backpack. They looked like two poor guys leaving the city.

Preston tilted his head away from each camera he saw, stayed close to Brody, right up against his back, while they made their way across the room to check in. The train was due to arrive in a few minutes and Preston wanted to be on the platform waiting for it. He talked loudly of being too poor to fly, of needing to get to New Orleans for a job on an oil rig, and the absurdity made Brody laugh, adding to the ruse.

Sitting on a bench, they stared up the track watching for the train. Preston watched how others were acting, looking for anyone who seemed to be acting abnormal, appeared to be looking for someone instead of waiting for a train. He looked over at Brody, whose knee was moving up and down nervously.

“Relax. Even if my father catches us, it’s not like we’re going to jail or anything. We’ll be on the train soon.”

“Are you really going to help me? You’re not going to ditch me in…”

“What? No. I’m not going to ditch you somewhere. Look…don’t ask me why, but I trust you to help me and I want to help you in return. Okay?”

Brody nodded his head, then looked around at the sound of the train approaching.

They boarded the train, and Brody assumed they would be in passenger car, so he was surprised to find them going down a narrow corridor of small rooms. A door was open on one and he saw a small room with bunk beds on one wall and a chair on the other side with what looked like a closet in the corner.

“We’re in one of these?” Brody asked after coming up close to Preston so he could whisper.

“Yes” Preston mocked whispered back, then added, “I didn’t want to be sitting out in the open, visible to a lot of other people, if you get my drift.”

“Oh.”

“This is us” said Preston entering one of the rooms. “I’m getting the bottom bunk for its larger.”

“Okay; where do we put the bags? In that closet?”

“That’s not a closet. It’s a bathroom. Just slid the bags under the bed.”

Bags tucked away and the train finally out of the station, they relaxed, Preston laying on the bottom bunk and Brody in the chair. Brody pulled out his money to make sure one more time he had it, opening the folded bills to see the twenty and two fives.

“Hey, can I get something to eat on the train?”

“Yeah, sure. When was the last time you had something?”

“Yesterday at lunch.”

“Shit. I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry. There’s a dining car we can get something. I’m hungry too, but before we go, why don’t you get cleaned up. You look beat after being out all night. I’ll get you some clean clothes from my things.”

Brody stood, watching Preston slid a bag out and unzip it. The clothes were neatly placed in it and Preston was holding out a blue shirt and jeans. Brody took the garments, running a hand over the shirt, then he noticed Preston was holding out something else.

“Boxers…unless you like to go commando.”

“Huh…no…thanks.”

Brody held the garments and opened the door to the bathroom and stood frozen in place.

“What is it?” Preston asked as he came up behind him. “It’s tiny isn’t it. Not as bad as those on airplanes, but,” starting to laugh, “it is small.”

“Where do you put your clothes; everything will get wet?”

“Just leave them out here.”

“Huh? I can’t do…”

“Why? Oh please, just toss them in the chair and go in there and shower” said Preston as he went back to the lower bunk.

Brody laid the clean garments down in the chair and eased into the bathroom. He stripped in the small space, eased the door open a little and tossed the dirty garments on the floor. Using the handheld shower, he rinsed off, then soaped up. By the time he had scrubbed the soap over his skin and rinsed, he felt better. The night’s horror had diminished, no longer weighing on him to the point he couldn’t breathe. It was like the worst of his anxieties were rinsed off with the dirt and grime.  Using the towel to dry off, he looked at himself in the mirrors that were on two of the four walls. He saw himself differently this time. He was running away from the only place he had ever known, and the people who were family, friends, and classmates who had tormented him. Through the door was a boy he didn’t know, named Preston. Who names their kid Preston? And he came from money, able to flee without any apparent fear of failure. And there was the issue that they shared. Both were gay, and he didn’t know how to handle it. For those two hours they waited at the station for the train, he had not considered it, except in how it gave understanding to each’s predicament. Looking at his reflection, the lean teen boy he didn’t think of himself as being a man, not yet, he saw the way his body had changed over the last five years or so. The thick hair under each arm, the patch in the middle of his chest and the trail of hair from his navel down to the pubic hair over his cock. He trailed fingers down his chest, over his stomach following the trail of hair down to the pubic hair where he combed them through it, afraid to touch himself, knowing he’d respond to it. But he looked at his flaccid cock, the way it hung over its sac. He tried not to think it, but he couldn’t stop himself. What would Preston think of him? He looked at the door, knowing he had been in the bathroom far too long, and it was time to get dressed. He was starving and Preston was waiting.

Easing the door open, towel wrapped around his waist, Brody walked over to the chair feeling Preston’s eyes on him. He turned his back to him, trying to act nonchalant, as he pulled the towel from his waist and put on the clothes. He didn’t turn around until he was buttoning the shirt. He saw Preston watching him and felt his face flush warm.

“That’s better. You feel better?” Preston asked, sitting up. Brody realized he had changed back into his own shirt.

“Yes. Thanks for the clothes. Are you going to shower or…”

“OH, hell no, we’re going to that diner car to eat something. Let’s go.”

Seated at a table, Preston watched Brody eat. There was something about it that made him realize there was a desperation there. Something he couldn’t understand, not the way he was seeing it. He wanted to ask questions to understand this person. This desperate guy he had drawn into his fleeing from his father. To agree to leave with a stranger spoke to a desperation he could not fathom. When Brody reached for his money, he held out his hand to stop him.

“This is my doing, remember? I got this.”

“Okay…thanks Preston.”

The appreciation for such a simple thing caught Preston, made him freeze for a moment, thinking how no one had ever thanked him for lunch. His friends had always joked how he could pay since he had more money than any them, always this expectation he should pay. Brody leaned back and looked out the window at the unfamiliar landscape passing by, and Preston watched him for as long as he dared.

“Do you know where we are?” asked Brody.

“Somewhere in Alabama. There’s a stop soon. You ready to head back to the room?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Preston handed the waiter the check and a few bills as they made their way out. He followed Brody through each car, down aisles of passenger cars then the narrow corridor of their car. He followed him into the room, passed as Brody sat down, going to the bottom bunk to lay down. The train slowed. They could feel it, the rhythm of its run on the rails changing.

“We must be approaching the first stop” said Preston as he slid one of his bags out and searched for the novel he had been reading. He felt Brody’s eyes watching him and he fought with the urge to stare back. He found the book, zipped up his bag, sliding it back under the bed and rolled to his side. He flipped it open to the place he had stopped a couple of days prior and had to reread the last paragraph to pick up the story.

“What are you reading?” Brody asked.

“It’s a story of two guys who have the memory of their relationship taken from them, and now they are crossing paths again and they sense something between them but don’t know what it is.”

“Will you read it aloud?”

“Sure” Preston replied. He found his place and began, at first almost too low for Brody to hear, but as he read, the story beginning to unfold once again, he read louder, emphasizing the dialogue, giving it life with his delivery. Brody relaxed in the chair, with legs stretched out in front of him as Preston turned a page then stopped. “You know, I really should start at the beginning.”

“It’s okay, I just like…well, it helps pass the time.”

“But you can’t appreciate this part without knowing the story in the first two parts of the book. You really need to hear the story from the beginning.”

“If you don’t mind starting over.”

“Not at all. And we’re going to have a lot of time on our hands, so let’s get started, shall we?”

The window grew dark and the train slowed for another stop, the third since leaving that afternoon. Preston lay on his bed, the book on his chest, having stopped earlier to take a break. Brody was above him, softly snoring, the fatigue of being up all night finally causing him to crash. When the train stopped, Preston woke. He sat up and oriented himself to his surroundings; the small room on a train heading west. A quick glance at his watch and he saw it was eight forty. He was hungry and needed to stretch his legs. Standing up, he reached out to wake Brody, but stopped when he saw how Brody was still sound asleep. Instead he left a note on the chair he would be in the dining car and to come join him if he woke up. Then he slipped on his shoes and eased out.

Moving down the narrow corridor, then into the next passenger car, he wondered where his credit cards had ended up. He hoped to destinations far and wide. He wondered if his family had begun to wonder about his whereabouts or anyone had noticed his car had been in the lot all day at that market. It wasn’t everyday a sixty-seven Jaguar sat unattended in a public lot, especially one as busy at that one. He wanted to be through New Orleans with its transfer, then he would relax.

The dining car was busy, and he sat at the small bar. He was tempted to test his luck and order a drink but the foolish nature of it, to get caught for that reason, stopped him from trying. He ordered food and watched the others in the car in the midst of their own meals, talking and gesturing toward the window. The waiter set his plate down just as Brody walked up.

“You got your food.”

“Yep, but come on, grab a seat” Preston replied, holding up his hand to flag down the waiter. “This is pretty good; you should try it.”

“Looks expensive” Brody mumbled as he took a seat.

“It’s on me remember. Geez, my friends back home would take advantage all the time, and you, a person I just met and is actually helping me, worries about the cost” said Preston shaking his head. “He’ll have the same” he added to the waiter when close enough to hear.

“All I had to do was get you on the train, so what else can I do?”

“Get me through the train stations in New Orleans and San Antonio.”

“Huh?”

“We have to switch trains in those two stations.”

“Oh…I didn’t realize.”

“It’ll be some exposure that is still too close to home.”

Preston pushed his empty plate back for the bartender to remove and looked over at Brody just beginning his meal. He didn’t like sitting at the bar. He couldn’t casually watch Brody, something he was just admitting to himself. In the room, Brody coming out in just a towel, there were sexual thoughts of what it might be like to mess around with him. To run hands up the hairy legs, just close enough to feel the hairs tickle his palms. To come up behind him and press against the round ass while reaching around and raking fingers through the hair in the center of Brody’s chest. He had imagined running his hand downward till he felt the hairs at the navel, then following them down to what Brody had kept hidden from his sight.

“When will we arrive in New Orleans?” Brody asked, bringing Preston back to the present.

“OH, we’ll pull into the station around two.”

“In the morning?”

“Yep. When does the next train leave?”

“I think it is nine.”

“So, we need to kill nearly seven hours in New Orleans during the middle of the night?”

“Yep. Leave it to me. I’ll figure something out” Preston replied, although he already had a plan. He had a room at a nearby hotel, one he got help arranging that very morning. By the time his father found he had stayed there, if he did, he’d be long gone.

When the train started moving again, they were back in the room, Brody lying on the upper bunk. Preston stood up and pulled his shirt off.

“What are you doing?” asked Brody.

“Taking a shower. I feel grubby.”

“Oh…okay.”

Preston tossed the shirt on the chair, then took off his jeans and finally his briefs, leaving him naked in the small room. He told himself there wasn’t room in the bathroom, denying the real reason. He wanted to see Brody’s reaction. And he wasn’t disappointed as Brody would look, then cut his eyes away quickly. He stifled a smile as he went into the bathroom.

And Preston had gotten to Brody. Never had another guy’s exposure rattled him so. The locker room in P.E. had been bad enough, but in this small room, he had felt trapped. And he was embarrassed at how much he felt desire toward Preston. This rich guy who was so far above his own place in society that in normal times there would have been no interaction between them. He knew once they reached their destination, whatever Preston had in mind, their differences would separate them.

But Brody couldn’t erase what he had just seen. The lean body with its perfect skin. A chest beginning to show definition, a stomach flat and smooth and…

He tried not to think of it. But he’d seen it. Preston’s cock and how it hung flaccid over its sac. The way it was darker than the rest of him and how the skin wrinkled up next to the arrow shaped head. He wondered how big it would get when erect. He wondered if it would curve upward or stick out straight. The comparisons were hard to avoid, the guys in those magazines and Preston.

Brody felt his cock, an aroused state that made it stir and grow larger in the confines of his jeans. He slid his hand down the front, easily underneath the slightly too large waist, and touched himself. He felt himself growing erect and he toyed with his cock until it was painfully trapped in his jeans. He lay on his back, hand down the front of his jeans making himself feel the pleasure of touch, the manipulation that made his cock grow rock hard.

“What are you doing?”

Brody jerked up, saw Preston staring at him smiling mischievously, and he rolled over facing the wall. He felt his face flush, grow hot from embarrassment. “Nothing.”

Preston laughed and came up to the bunk, towel draped over one shoulder, still naked, and patted Brody on the shoulder. “Relax. We all do it, right?”

“Don’t…no…” Brody mumbled, not looking around.

“Sorry I didn’t take longer” said Preston as he watched Brody scoot over closer to the wall breaking their contact.

The room was silent except for the sound of the cars running along the rails. The window was dark for long stretches, only to be broken by a light in someone’s yard or the streetlights of some small town the train sped through while it slept. Brody was in the top bunk not making a sound. Preston lay below him wide awake wondering about Brody and the life he had lived. Then he thought of the physical nature of him. The lean body, the curve of ass, the shaggy hair that needed cutting. The shyness that he wondered if it was an innate characteristic or was a result of Brody’s lot in life. Why had Brody helped him? Been so willing to just leave? He knew his own reasons; but those of Brody? They seemed so much more desperate, and it sadden him to think of it. He found himself feeling an empathy he had never felt before, one that seemed so much more.

“Brody?”

Light spilled in through the window as they passed through a small town and for a few seconds Preston saw the underside of the bunk above.

“Brody? I know you’re awake.”

“What is it, Preston?”

“You okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Do you like me? I mean, you barely know me, right? But do you find me attractive?”

There was movement above, Brody shifting on the bed, but there was no answer.

“Brody?”

“I heard you.”

“Well?”

“Yes, Preston, you’re attractive, with your nice body and perfect haircut and…”

Preston heard the tone, an accusatory tone he started to reply with rebut, but he thought about the situation and saw it for what it was: Brody feeling inadequate compared to him.

“Do you want to know what I think about you?”

“No…not really. I know…”

“You don’t know. I realize there is a lot about you I don’t know. Details of your life that take time to discover. But I know you have been alone, trapped in this societal classification. Poor and gay. And you consider them strikes against you that can’t be overcome. I saw how that almost played out for you. But…”

Preston hesitated, unsure how far to go. He sat up and touched the bottom of the upper bunk, imagining Brody could feel it.

“But Brody…you are attractive, and you give of yourself. You helped me, a perfect stranger with a request that most would consider crazy. And you…”

“Stop.”

The suddenness of Brody’s cry surprised Preston and he sat still, waiting.

“Preston…why are you telling me this? What does it matter? Once we get to where we’re going, we’ll each go our own way, and…and…”

“No Brody, you stop,” interrupted Preston as he climbed to his feet. He stood by the bunk beds looking at the dark silhouette laying on the upper one. The train passed a farm with security lights around it and for a split-second Preston could see Brody was laying on his back staring back at him. “I don’t see you that way.”

Preston reached out and touched Brody on the chest, he laid his hand down on it feeling the racing heartbeat. A hand grabbed his wrist and tried to push it away, but he resisted till Brody gave in.

“Can’t you just let go of all these bad thoughts?”

“You don’t know what it was like.”

“No, I don’t. But right now, it doesn’t matter,” Preston replied as he began to move his hand over Brody’s chest. “Come down here with me. Please?”

Brody lay still for so long Preston thought he would reject him, but slowly, hesitantly, Brody began to move. He shifted around on the bed, hung his feet over the side and jumped down with Preston’s help. He stood within Preston’s embrace, hands holding him on each side, and they looked at each other’s silhouette.

Preston wore only his boxers and feeling Brody still dressed was too much. He began to undo the buttons, feeling his way down the shirt working each one loose. When the shirt fell open, he slid it from Brody’s shoulders who did nothing to stop him. When his fingers traced the trail of hair from the navel down to the jeans Brody inhaled deeply. When his fingers worked the jeans open Brody shivered against the back of his hands. “Relax” Preston whispered and he saw Brody’s silhouette change. Some rigidness it had possessed seemed to slowly seep away.

Preston eased down on his knees dragging jeans and boxers with him. He pulled them down to the ankles and got Brody to lift each foot so he could remove them. He ran his hands up the hairy legs, lightly, letting the hairs tickle his palms. It was better than he imagined. The ticklish sensation and Brody’s sudden heavy breathing. He rose on his knees, bringing his hands up to Brody’s hips and he reached around taking each ass cheek pulling Brody forward as he pressed his nose into the pubic hair above the growing cock. He exhaled hot breath against Brody’s skin, then kissed the base of his cock. Hands came to his shoulders and he felt the fingers dig into the flesh. It was a different desperation, one he hoped to exploit.

“Preston!” Brody exclaimed as Preston moved his lips along the growing erection until he could take the head in his mouth. “OOhhh,” Brody cried out as Preston took his cock all the way.

So many times, in the past, Brody tried to imagine what it would be like. How it would feel for another guy to take him, to show him pleasure. He shuddered at the reality of it. Clinging to the broad muscular shoulders, he steadied himself as his cock was engulfed in a hot slick heat. He grew rock hard and heard Preston choke when trying to take all of him again. He shivered at the feel of tongue. The way it swirled around the head of his sensitive cock. “Fuck,” he uttered.

Preston held Brody’s ass firmly in hand as he worked his cock. He pushed forward as far as he could, then pulled back till that flared head was on the tip of his tongue, then he tortured Brody with his manipulations. Far too quickly, Brody began to jerk, to try to push with his hips and Preston held the rock-hard cock by its base while manipulating the head, pushing Brody to cum. Brody cried out, tightened his grip on Preston’s shoulders and came. He shook with every ejaculation as Preston let it fill his mouth before swallowing. And when finally spent, Preston still toying with his cock, he begged him to stop while pushing away.

Preston sat on his heels and looked up at the dark silhouette. The train came into a town and light spilled into the room and he saw Brody looking at him in awe, smiling broadly. He stood and hugged him, rocking slightly with the rhythms of the train. Then he felt Brody shaking and hot tears land on his shoulder.

“Shhh; it’s okay. Everything will be fine. You’ll see” Preston whispered as he guided Brody to his bed and eased him down on his back.  He snuggled up next to him and let Brody settle down, then they lay quiet, letting the sound of the train take over.

After a few minutes, Preston felt a hand move over his back, then the other one slip between them. He felt it hesitate then moved to take him. He was partially erect when the fingers toyed with the head then encircled the shaft. He grew rock hard quickly at the manipulation.

“Brody?”

“Shh…let me?”

“Okay.”

Brody got Preston to roll over and soon he was down on the floor on his knees. Leaned over the bed, Brody kissed Preston on the stomach, then down to the base of his cock, asking himself if he could do it. Do it to where it gave Preston pleasure. He felt how Preston grew rock hard, cock hovering over his stomach bobbing up and down, and he moved his mouth to the head and let it slip between his lips. At first he moved tentatively, lacking confidence, but when Preston ran a hand through his hair, gently, fingers combing through it, and he heard the soft words of encouragement, words of praise, he let his desires govern him, moved with the need for pleasure; his and more importantly to him, Preston’s.

Preston couldn’t hold out as Brody took him in his mouth. The way Brody did it, the simple pleasure derived from it, pushed him over the edge. He clutched the bed tightly and shook with release filling Brody’s mouth with his cum. He felt the swallowing sensation as Brody took it, everything he had till he was spent.

Then Preston wanted more.

“Get on the bed” Preston told Brody as he shifted over, pulling at his arms. Brody would soon lean the ways of pleasuring Preston. How his first release was just a trigger for more. A release that entailed more than merely coming the first time. It was the thing that drove him to want more. To want to go to the next level. To feel a guy penetrate him.

“Do me…do me, Brody…PLEASE” Preston begged as he took Brody’s cock and brought him to renewed arousal, cock hard as rock. He guided Brody over him putting his legs on each shoulder. Then he guided Brody to move to him, to press against his tightness. He relaxed to it as he pulled at Brody’s hips. “Put it in me” he pleaded as Brody pushed forward.

Preston shuddered as Brody sank into his hole. Then he laid back and felt the slow, tentative movement of cock inside him. Inward all the way, then outward, each move tugging at his tightness. He clutched at the bed and threw his head back as he felt Brody increase his pace, no longer any hesitation. Hips smacked against his ass as his legs were pushed down. He let Brody manipulate him, fold him till knees were at his sides and he felt the full penetration, every one, as Brody fucked him. There was no holding back, no more hesitation, and he pleaded for Brody to fuck him harder. Their rhythm seemed to fall in with the train. Fast. A steady pace as Brody’s hips smacked against Preston’s ass, harder and harder and harder, until Preston begged him to do it, to pump it in him.

Brody cried out, far too loud for the small room, and shook with release. He buried his face in the crook of Preston’s neck and moaned while filling Preston’s depths with his load. Then he collapsed, heaving for breath. Preston brought his legs down and held the hot body. “Thanks” he whispered, then kissed the side of Brody’s face.

Brody leaned up and looked at the shadowed face. He wondered what Preston thought, how he felt about what they had done. Was it just sex, a fuck because he was horny? He wondered if this was just another way Preston was using him.

“Brody, what are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

“But…” Preston stammered, then he took Brody’s face in each hand and held him in place as he leaned up and kissed him.

Preston stirred awake as light poured in through the window. The train had pulled into New Orleans and the lights of the city were able to penetrate the small room. Next to him, against the wall, lay Brody, still sound asleep. Preston leaned over and looked at him, smiling at the peaceful expression. He snuggled up against Brody’s back putting an arm around him. He pushed his full length against the naked body feeling his own nudity and the stirrings of arousal from the contact. ‘Who are you?’ he wondered as he clung to him, imagining Brody an angel, some mythic figure come to his rescue. He imagined him Paean, come to heal his heart. Or his griffin, come to protect him from evil.

Brody stirred awake and looked over his shoulder at the smiling Preston.

“You’re awake,” said Preston.

“Yeah,” Brody replied, smiling, unable to hold back.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

“What? No…what…”

“Relax, it was gibberish. I tried to make it out, but you just wouldn’t speak clearly” Preston replied chuckling. “We need to get up and dressed. We’re in New Orleans.”

“We are?!”

“Yep.”

The hotel had been only a few blocks away. Preston stayed close to Brody, especially in the station, hoping any security footage would have Brody blocking any clear shot of him. As they approached the old historical hotel, Brody slowed.

“We’re staying there?” Brody asked.

“Yep.”

“But it’s so…”

“Pretentious. The word you’re looking for is pretentious. My grandfather is not an asshole like my father, but he doesn’t shy away from the finer things. In fact, despite what my father says, I bet he’s worth a hell of a lot more than dear old father. Come on, let’s get checked in. We only have a few hours to hang out then it is back to the station.”

In the hotel lobby where only the two staff behind the counter were visible, the rest of the lobby empty, Preston led Brody inside and up to the counter.

“Can we help you?”

“Yes, you should have a reservation made by Anderson-Edwards. The name for the room is Charles Caldwell.”

“Yes, we were told of your late arrival. I trust you found your way here without incident?”

“Oh, yes, just a boring train ride. Have you ever taken the train? This was my first. I just wanted to see what it was like. Boring, let me tell you.”

“No, I never have” the staffer replied, smiling in the way of someone trying to appease a customer. “I’ll need your driver’s license and credit card…just in case you have additional expenses while staying here. The room is paid for, of course.”

“Here you go, Jeffrey” Preston replied, noting the staffer’s name.

“You’ll be in 1215, the top floor.”

The elevator doors closed, and it began to rise.

“Charles?” Brody asked.

“My first name, and I know, why don’t I use it instead of Preston?”

“Yes?”

“Preston is a name from mom’s side of the family and my father hates it, so…”

“So, you started using it to piss him off?”

“Very good” Preston replied as the doors slid open. “Come on, let’s get in the room.”

Preston opened the door and led Brody through the foyer into the large room. A dining area separated from the living area by a baby grand piano. Brody dropped the bag he was carrying and stumbled into the middle of the room where he leaned against the piano.

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

Preston laughed, loudly, and moved to Brody. “That is the first defiant thing you’ve said. I like it. But no, I’m not kidding you. This is the Presidential Suite for it is nothing but the best for the old Anderson-Edwards Attorneys at Law. Nothing but the best” said Preston as he slid a hand over the piano. “Besides, if my father finds out about this, and it being so pretentious, he no doubt will, it’ll piss him off big time. Come on, grab that bag and let’s go to the bedroom. I want to show you something.”

Brody followed Preston through a door into the bedroom. There was a king size bed and a lounge chair by a window that overlooked the sleeping city. “This way” said Preston leading Brody through another door where a freestanding tub sat. “I think we owe ourselves a nice leisurely bath after all the shit we’ve been through, don’t you think?” said Preston in a sarcastic tone.

“I think you’re right” replied Brody, playing along.

“Get naked” said Preston as he turned on the water and looked through small bottles on the vanity. “Yes, they actually have some.” As the tub began to fill and Brody was removing his clothes, Preston poured the liquid in the water falling from the faucet causing suds to form.

Brody was naked by the time Preston stood to remove his own clothes. He moved up to Preston, brushing hands away from his shirt. “Let me” he whispered, blushing at his forwardness. Preston smiled, and stared at him as he worked each button free. As the shirt fell open, Brody realized how much everything had changed with Preston and he, and in such a short time. He slipped the shirt from Preston’s shoulders while feeling lips touch his neck, slide upward to his ear tugging on it slightly. He shivered while fumbling to get Preston’s jeans undone.

Jeans and boxers pulled down Preston lifted each foot letting Brody pull them free. Brody stood, looked back at the tub then to Preston. “It’s not too hot is it?”

“Let’s find out.”

Preston eased own in the tub first, moaning at the pleasurable feel of the hot water and the suds that surrounded him. “Get in” he stated as he shifted to one end. Brody stepped into the tub and eased down opposite.

“Jesus, it’s hot.”

“Ease in; you’ll get used to it.”

Suds cascaded over the side of the tub as Brody settled down, his feet either side of Preston. He felt hands move up each leg, over the knees and down each thigh.

“What are you doing?” Brody asked, stifling a laugh.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m taking advantage of you” Preston replied, his expression full of mischief.

Brody found himself sliding down, shortening the reach for Preston and he felt those hands move around his cock. They toyed with it, then one stroked him while the other tugged on his sac. He began to grow hard, to fill that hand that held him.

“You like?” Preston asked.

“Isn’t it obvious,” Brody replied, trying to control his breathing. Preston chuckled as he stroked Brody to full hardness. Cock angled up hard, he moved up and over Brody, into his arms.

“I want you” Preston whispered as he lowered himself down on Brody. He eased down till Brody was inside him and he kept moving downward till he had all of it, every inch in his hole. Then he moved up, down, up, down, over and over and over, till in a steady rhythm. Water sloshed out onto the floor and suds cascaded down his body as he moved on Brody.

Brody kissed Preston’s soapy chest, sucked on one nipple as he felt the tug on his cock, Preston’s tight opening moving up and down the length of it.  He slid down till his head rested on the edge of the tub and watched Preston. The primitive rhythm of his movements, movements that aroused him so he didn’t know how long he could hold out.

“There’s not enough room in this tub” Preston exclaimed as he suddenly stood and stepped out, getting Brody to follow. Water and suds went everywhere as Preston pulled Brody down between his legs as he fell back on the floor. Brody pushed into his depths and began to fuck, to drive inward all the way. “Fuck me…fuck me harder” Preston pleaded, and Brody hammered cock into his hole. Their bodies smacked together, as Preston slid over the tile floor.

Brody had never felt so alive. His imaginings were never like this. The way he exerted himself, the pleasure of it pushing him to go faster. He felt his entire body tighten as he felt the surge of release. “Fuck…I’m coming” he cried out as he jammed his cock into Preston’s depths filling him with his load.

They climbed back into the tub and settled down in the cooling water. Brody rubbed Preston’s side with his foot until Preston took it and brought it to his chest. Brody watched wide eyed as Preston sucked on his toes then kissed the bottom of his foot. It aroused and tickled him, and he squirmed, begging Preston to stop.

“Ticklish?”

“Yes” Brody replied, his voice strained as if out of breath.

“Let’s rinse off in the shower” said Preston, after the water has lost a lot of its heat. With suds cascading down their bodies, he led Brody to the next room where the shower was located. Water running warm he guided Brody underneath it. He held him from behind, pressing his hardness against the round ass cheeks while hugging their bodies together. He kissed the back of his neck, pushed his nose up through the wet hair as his hands roamed over the chest, stomach and down until one hand held Brody’s growing erection. “You’re already hard again” he whispered.

“Y-e-a-h” Brody uttered as he put his hands on the wall leaning into it. “Put it in me. I want to try…”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Preston rubbed his fingers down between Brody’s ass cheeks. He rubbed the tight opening as he kissed the back of his neck and along one shoulder. He kept him aroused, slowly stroking his cock and when he felt Brody push back, just a little, he breached the tight opening and sank one finger into him. A cry then a deep moan echoed in the small shower and he felt Brody push back on his finger. He slipped another finger into Brody, then another, working the tight opening till it loosened around his fingers.

“Preston…do it…fuck me” Brody uttered as he held his head down letting the shower cascade around it.

Preston moved up behind him, pushed his cock down till it aligned with the tight opening and he pushed slowly through it, feeling the squeeze on his cock head, then inch after inch of the shaft. He pushed slowly forward till his hips pressed against round ass cheeks, and he shivered with the pleasurable sensation.

Brody pushed against the tile wall and shuddered with the penetration. He felt the fullness of it. The way Preston had entered him, slowly, inch by inch, making him aware of every inch within his hole. A hand still toyed with his cock and he wanted to beg him to stop. It was almost too much, all the sensations Preston was giving him. He began to work his hips, to pull forward feeling Preston tug at his tight opening, then push back filling his hole again. As he worked his hips, he moved a little faster, until hands grabbed his waist holding him in place and Preston began to fuck him. He cried out again and begged Preston to go faster. He was lost to the feel of every plunge into his depths. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else registered. Only his aroused state and Preston fucking him. He felt lips on his neck again, then along his shoulder. He heard Preston moans, mixed with his own.

“I’m close” Preston exclaimed, and he fucked faster, harder, hips smacking against ass.

Brody took his own cock in hand and began to stroke in rhythm to their fuck. A hard, fast pace that made him jerk forward, pushing cock through his fist. The hands on his waist tightened and Preston bit his shoulder. He felt the jerking, shaking body against his back, the way hips jammed against his ass and cock flexed larger in his hole. Preston cried out again and pushed roughly against his ass. “Fuck” Preston exclaimed, and Brody shuddered with his own release, spraying the wall with cum.

They lounged on the bed, naked, fingers tracing the curves and shapes of the other’s body. They talked very little, and nothing of importance. The problems of the last few days, and of their lives, were left outside. Preston had opened the curtains and as the day began, the darkness receding, they turned to watch.

“What time is it?” Brody asked.

“About seven…no, a little after.”

“What time should we be back at the station?”

“We should get a move on now. By the time we get dressed, packed back up and down to the station it’ll be close to eight and we need to check in.”

It was the same routine, Preston stayed close to Brody, who led them across the lobby, through the check in process and out to the landing where they found their train sitting. Preston led Brody to the appropriate car and down the narrow corridor to their private room, which was the same as before.

“How long is the ride to El Paso?” Brody asked.

“Almost thirty hours, and we have one more transfer to make; San Antonio.”

“Great. How long is the layover there?”

“It’s less than three hours.”

Brody pushed the bag he carried under the lower bunk next to his backpack and the other bag. He reached for the top bunk to pull up on it.

“What are you doing?” Preston asked.

“I’m going to lay down for a few minutes.”

“Don’t get up there, get in the lower bunk” Preston replied, smiling.

The train sat for nearly an hour before pulling out. They cut across New Orleans and headed west. As Brody slept, Preston watched the Louisiana countryside and small towns pass by the window. They made a stop in Schriever and once moving again, he pulled out one of his bags. He searched through the bottom of it till he found what he was looking for: a cell phone.

“I thought you ditched your phone?” Brody asked from the bed, lying still with just his eyes open.

“I did. This is one my grandfather gave me when we met. It’s in their company name and will be very difficult for my father to find.”

“Who are you calling?”

“My grandfather. Hey, its me” Preston replied, then spoke into the phone, listening to the response. “Really, so they found the car last night. What about my…I see” Preston replied, laughing. “You think they have any idea I’m on a train?” Preston listened to the reply, smiling more broadly. “Thanks, and I’ll call when we get to the end of our train ride.”

“What?” Brody asked as soon as Preston ended the call.

Preston looked at Brody, smiling, then laughing. He sat back and propped his feet on the lower bunk. “It seems they found my car last night and called in the authorities. A search was done on my credit cards. One was used in Washington, D.C. in two locations, one was used in some town in Kentucky and one was used in…” Preston laughed even harder before continuing, “Paris, France. The fourth card turned up at the airport lost and found so that one got picked up by a good Samaritan, which leads them to think I’m in Paris. They came to my grandfather, having seen he was my last call of the day, who told them I had moved my accounts offshore for he had been told by me I wanted to do some investments and not have my father involved. So now the Paris story makes even more sense and dear ole father is hiring private detectives and contacting local authorities in Paris.”

“No shit. They think you flew to Paris? But what about a plane ticket, and don’t they know who boards and who doesn’t?”

“I bought four plane tickets and one was to Paris, so the leads keep aligning on that location. As to finding out I didn’t board the flight, that will be discovered but it’ll take a bit more time. Meanwhile we’re heading west.”

Brody caught how Preston had said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ and he hoped it meant something.

“And now that you’re awake, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Me, too.”

The train traveled west, passing open countryside, farms, small towns, and in the small cities it made a stop. Lafayette, then Lake Charles before finally passing into Texas. Preston and Brody lounged around their room, had sex then napped. Eventually the novel was taken out and Brody lay next to Preston listening to him read. Preston read of the main characters confusion, this sense of not belonging no matter where he found himself. Page after page, till the first section came to its conclusion. The main character gained a memory taken from him, one that explained so much. One that explained his relationship with the other boy.

Brody listened, never interrupting, for he like the way Preston read. The emphases placed on certain parts or expressing the way a character should speak. The story unfolded before him. The settings of a long-ago period, the old house in the marshland. The city and its foul condition.  The miles passed, light came in at different angles then faded into darkness as Preston read each page.

The train pulled into San Antonio after stops in Beaumont and Houston, and they gathered their bags for one more transfer. The sky was dark, but the station was brightly lit. They moved along the canopy then into the pink stucco building. Preston stayed close to Brody, working their way into the waiting room. Brody got them a drink from the vending machine as Preston slouched down on a bench.

“We’ve got nearly three hours to kill here?” Brody asked, sounding worried about staying in the room for so long.

“Relax. We’re not the only ones” Preston replied nodding his head toward a guy at the end of the next bench and a couple near the front.

“What do you think is going on back home?”

“By now my father is driving the FBI or the local police insane. And his phone bill will be enormous from international calls,” replied Preston, chuckling at the thought of it all.

“Surely by now, they know you’re not in Paris.”

“Maybe…maybe not.”

Brody looked down at their bags then over to Preston.

“What?” Preston asked.

“You want to read some more?”

Preston smiled, seeing how caught up in the story Brody had become.

Four hours later, the train pulled out of the station heading west, and Brody and Preston were holed up in their room, feeling anxious about the last section of their train ride. Brody was sitting in the chair and Preston was laying on his side on the lower bunk. As sunlight began to pour into the window, Brody’s eyes turned to it, watching the scenery pass.

Preston would say later he didn’t know why he did it. He had told himself it wasn’t necessary until they arrived in El Paso, but he pulled out one of his bags and fished out the cellphone that gave him his last connection to home. As he waited for it to come on, he saw Brody was watching him.

“I just want to see if my grandfather has any news.”

Brody nodded, then watched Preston as he watched his phone. It finished the operating process for coming on and immediately Preston saw a message awaiting him. He tapped it.

Get off the train asap; call when in MX.

“FUCK…FUCK, FUCK, FUCK…”

“What? What is it?” Brody asked, quickly panicking.

“We’ve got to get off this train. What was the next stop? Rio something, wasn’t it?”

“Del Rio.”

“It was about a four-hour travel time, right?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, till then let’s try to relax but be ready to get off this train when we get there, and we need to be as discrete as possible.”

“Okay,” Brody replied, suddenly scared.

Preston paced the small room, then laid restlessly on the lower bunk. Brody stayed in the chair, knees bouncing up and down till the muscles in his leg ached. After an hour, Preston pulled out the book.

“I’m going to try to read; get our mind off of it.”

“Good idea.”

Preston opened to his marked page and began to read. At first his voice faltered, and he stumbled over simple words, but eventually he found the thread of the story again and fell into a smooth flow of delivery. Brody listened as the story continued to unfold, the search by one of the boys for the other. He felt the desperation of it, the fear it was futile in the city. When the boys found each other, Brody nearly jumped from his seat and Preston chuckled. It was the first time they had been able to forget the text message.

The train began to slow, and Brody ran into the bathroom while Preston got everything ready to disembark the train. When Brody came out, Preston went in. Brody stood at the window and watched the emergence of civilization, the increase in houses, then businesses. More side streets appeared, and the train slowed some more.

“Okay, it’s after eleven, so I think we should ease off the train, find a place nearby to eat lunch, then high tail it to the border.”

“How far do you think it’ll be from the station?”

“Can’t be far. Del Rio is not a large city and it is right on the border.”

The train slowed, then stopped and outside the window all they saw was a dirt lot and a few low buildings off in the distance.

“The station has to be on the other side. Let’s go” said Preston as he led them out and down the corridor toward the back of the car.

Only a few people were getting off the train or boarding it. Preston fell in behind Brody, close, like they were being buddies, one hanging on the other. He directed Brody to ease around the station and not go inside. They came to the street side and found themselves near an intersection. Across the street they saw a couple of small restaurants and Preston pointed to the one he thought best.

Plates finished and the waitress refilling their glasses, Preston pulled out his wallet letting her know to bring the bill. When she returned, he glanced at the amount and began to pull the bills from his wallet.

“Can you tell me how to get to the border crossing and how far it is?” Preston asked the waitress.

“Oh, it’s not far at all. About a mile away. Just go over to 277, turn right and stay on it, even when it turns onto another street and you’ll come to border crossing. You boys going over to party?”

“Yep. Jason has never been, and I’ve only been to Tijuana, so we’re going to goof off for a couple of days.”

“Well, you boys have fun, and thanks” the waitress replied as she took the money and bill from the table.

They watched her walk back to the kitchen and when the door stopped swinging, Preston picked up the backpack and one of the bags. “Let’s go.”

Ciudad Acuna seemed more densely built, and Preston led as they made their way to the edge of the downtown, cutting past business after business, crossing one street after the next.

“Where are we going?” Brody asked.

“We need wheels. I’m looking for a used car dealership I should be able to work out some cash deal.”

“Then what?” Brody asked, stopping on the sidewalk.

Preston stopped and realized keeping everything a secret was making Brody think the worst. He pulled him under the shade of a small tree and sat the bag down.

“Do you want to come with me all the way to the end? I’ve not asked before…because I didn’t know what you’d say.”

“You’ll let me come with you?” Brody asked, and the tone made it obvious he thought otherwise.

“Of course. I…” Preston laughed nervously while looking away, unable to face Brody until he composed himself, built up the nerve to say what he’d been thinking for some time. “I like you. I know we come from different backgrounds and in normal circumstances, we’d probably never cross paths. But the last two days have not been normal and…you’ve been there for me, helped me when no one in his right mind would dare and…I want you to come with me.  Okay?”

Brody was flushed red in the face and he had to look away for the longest time. “I’d like that” he whispered.

“The plan, so you know, and I know this is going to sound crazy, is to get to La Ticla.”

“Where?”

“La Ticla. It’s a small village on the western coast. It’s known for its surfing and well…it seems my grandfather spent a summer there before going to college. It is not well known, and my father has no idea about it.”

“So, we need a car?”

“Yep. And don’t expect some nice luxury ride either,” Preston replied looking serious, but slowly he smiled, then laughed, making Brody follow suit. “Come on, let’s find some wheels. I’m tired of walking.”

It was the hottest part of the day, the clear sky letting the sun bake the ground. On a nondescript street at the edge of town sat a small hotel, two stories in height with a cracked and alligatored parking lot on one side and an empty lot all grown up on the other. Parked in one space was an old truck, the bed a different color from the cab and the front bumper missing. The doors squeaked open and Brody and Preston climbed out, dragging their bags behind them. They went in the side door of the hotel and down the corridor to the room Preston had rented for the night. They were going to sleep till about ten that night, then hit the road heading south.

“Might as well make yourself comfortable,” said Preston as he eased down on in a hard-plastic chair. “I’m going to call grandfather and see what’s going on.” He brought up the number and hit accept and listened for the call to go through. It rang only once when it was picked up.

“Hey, its me…yes, yes, we’re in Ciudad Acuna and will head out tonight.”

Preston listened while Brody watched his expression, wondering what was being said.

“We got an old truck. The body looks like shit, but it has a newer motor in it and the tires look good.”

Preston listened then nodding his head, he tried to speak, then listened further.

“I see. But he’s not sure?”

Preston listened, for a much shorter time.

“Okay. Grandfather…thanks for everything. I know…yes…I will. Love you; bye.”

Preston looked sad when he ended the call, then he smiled at Brody.

“Well…what did he say?”

“Dad is following every lead, no matter how flimsy he thinks it is, so therefore there will be someone waiting in El Paso to see who gets off the train. And they assume I’m with someone. They got an imagine of us in New Orleans. They’re having trouble identifying you, and not sure about me since they didn’t get a good image.”

“So, they’re still not sure where you are at?”

“He still thinks I’m in France somewhere.”

“Shit…that is a relief.”

“No kidding. Now let’s get a shower and grab some sleep” said Preston as he stood, heading for the bathroom. He stopped and looked back at Brody still sitting on the bed. “Hey, come on. I want some company,” he added, smiling mischievously.

They undressed while watching each other. The reveal of now familiar bodies. Brody with his lean build and the patch of hair in the center of his chest and the trail from navel to crotch. And a mole on his left hip and the way his collar bone was visible. And the arched thin eyebrows hidden from view by his long shaggy hair. Then there was Preston with his body beginning to show definition, the muscular shape of biceps and pecs and the abdominals revealing themselves. And there was the smooth skin, nearly hairless and the scare on the left shoulder that caught Brody’s eye every time.

Preston turned the shower on, and they stood by the tub, touching one another. Fingers caressing chests, running along necks and across shoulders.

“How did you get this scare?” Brody asked as he ran his finger over it.

“A nasty spill on a bicycle when I was fourteen. I broke my collarbone and had to have surgery to set it back straight.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Like a mother. I don’t know what all the hospital gave me for pain, but I can tell you, it only dulled it.”

Brody leaned forward and kissed the scare. Gently, lips barely touching the skin.

“The water’s warm” said Preston as he took Brody by the hand and led him into the tub under the spray of water.

Brody moved under water and let it hit in the face. He turned, letting it wash over his head. He felt the soapy hands touch him, glide over his chest, over the shoulders and up the neck. One hand cupped the back of it and pulled him forward and Preston’s lips touched his own. They kissed, passionately, hugging their bodies together. Then Preston eased down on knees, kissing down Brody’s chest, stomach and along one hip down to the side of expanding cock. Then he touched it. Moved along its growing length, encircled the head and let it slide into the warm wet recesses of his mouth.

Brody held Preston’s shoulders, struggling to stay balanced as Preston sucked him, worked his cock till it ached with its hardness. He opened his eyes and watched as his cock came into view then disappeared between those lips. Over and over till he was pushing with his hips, almost choking Preston. He watched Preston pull back and stand, taking his chin in hand and kissing him again. “For all the bad that has happened, you’ve made it worth it” whispered Preston and he turned to the wall and leaned over, arms braced against the tile. “I want you inside me” he added, looking over that shoulder with the scare. Brody moved to him and was soon squeezing through the tight opening and sinking into the depths of Preston’s hole.

Preston closed his eyes, focusing all his senses on the penetration of his body, the feel of Brody pushed up against his ass. He felt the tug at his opening as Brody pulled outward, slowly, gently, so slow he sensed every inch pulling through it. He felt how Brody slipped out once, leaving him feeling empty, almost ready to tell him to put it back in, when Brody breached his tight opening again, sinking inward all the way. He cried out, while pushing back, wanting to feel the fullness of Brody all the way inside him.

Hands came to Preston’s waist and held him while cock piston in his hole faster and faster. Brody was grunting with every push inward, and Preston reached back to feel the flexing thighs as they worked cock into his depths. “Fuck me…fuck me…” Preston exclaimed, and he took his own erection in hand, stroking in rhythm to Brody’s fuck. Faster and faster, till his hand was a blur, he increased his own arousal till he was banging his head against the wall and begging Brody to fuck him harder.

Brody cried out, shoved inward so hard he pushed Preston against the wall. He nipped the back of Preston’s neck, ground his hips against Preston’s ass, and came. He jerked and shook with each ejaculation, pumping wad after wad into Preston’s depths. Finally spent, he kissed the back of Preston’s neck, moved his lips along the shoulder then eased from the slick hole. He eased Preston around and went to his knees, where he took the hard, leaking cock. He let it slide over his tongue and tasted the essence of Preston’s sex. The odd sweetness of it, and he pushed forward taking every inch he could handle.

Brody knew Preston was pushed to the edge. He saw how his cock bobbed up and down while drooling, before he put his mouth on it. He felt it flex in his mouth, then fingers dig into his shoulders. Preston was so close. Brody sucked it, toyed with the head till Preston shuddered and begged him to stop. He ran his hands up each leg and cupped each ass cheek. He pushed his mouth forward as he worked the fingers of one hand down between those ass cheeks and he rubbed the leaking hole. He slipped one, then two fingers in it, pumping them in and out as he worked his mouth along the hard cock. Preston shuddered and cried out, then pushed into his mouth and filled it with cum.

“Jesus…let me go…please, you demon” cried Preston, his tone desperate and jovial.

Brody and Preston lay on the bed, naked, not completely dried off. Water droplets were along Preston’s shoulders and on Brody’s lower back. They ran fingers through them, caressed the other’s clean skin before finally snuggling together and drifting off to sleep, oblivious to the noises of the city outside their room.

Brody felt something move through his hair, then move down his face. He jerked awake and sat up seeing Preston looking at him amused.  

“Sorry, I was just…”

“It’s okay. What time is it?”

“About nine thirty. It’s pretty quiet out there, so you want to go ahead and get on the road? We can make Guadalajara around noon tomorrow if we push through the rest of the night and morning.”

“Guadalajara? We’re going there first?”

“There is a package waiting for us at a hotel. We’ll get there in time to get it, have lunch and knock around a little before heading on to La Ticla.”

“Well, let’s go.”

Preston pulled out clean clothes for the two of them and they got dressed. Their dirty clothes shoved into a bag, they eased out of the room and to the truck. Preston put the bag with his important documents behind the seat out of sight and the other bag and backpack on the bench seat between them. The truck fired up and settled to a smooth idle while they lowered their windows.

“We’ll stop somewhere for a map and food, then hit the road.”

Thirty minutes later they were driving south. The cooler night air swirled around the cab of the truck while Preston drove, and Brody leaned on the windowsill watching the unfamiliar landscape passing by. They rode in silence leaving only the squeaks and rattles of the truck and the sound of wind blowing in. In Monclova they stopped on the edge of the city for gas. While Brody pumped the gas, Preston rummaged around inside the cab.

Preston pushed the seat back in place and stood by the truck with the cell phone. He pulled the back off and slipped the SIM card out.

“What are you doing?” Brody asked.

“I’m going to get rid of this phone. Grandfather said sooner or later it could be traced.”

“But we won’t have a way to contact your grandfather?” Brody’s tone anxious with the realization they would be completely cut off for some time.

“I can get ahold of him when we need him. But this phone has to go.” Preston walked across the parking lot to where a young guy sat on the edge of the sidewalk, his bicycle laying to his side.

“Hola, te gustaria un telefono celular? Es Gratis.”

“Si.”

“Saque la tarjeta SIM, por lo que necesita una nueva.”

“Si, gracias.”

Preston handed the man the phone and walked back to the truck where Brody stood, leaning against the front, watching what had transpired.

“That is one way to get rid of it.”

“I started to leave the SIM card in it but thought better of it. You want to drive a while?”

“Sure.”

 Brody drove south, passing another town then out into a wide valley between rugged mountains. Once out on open road, following 57 South, he looked over at Preston who was doing as he had, staring out into the darkness, the silhouette of mountains against a starry sky.

 “You speak Spanish.” It was a statement of fact, but Brody’s tone was questioning, wondering what else he didn’t know about Preston.

“And French and a bit of German, but I really suck at it.”

“I had Spanish in high school, and can read it okay but to hear someone speaking it? I can’t make the interpretation fast enough.”

“High school is too late to learn it. I was in a foreign language immersion school in elementary and middle school. Spanish, then French.”

“I see…” Brody replied, letting his voice trail off.

Brody drove through the night, down to Saltillo, cutting around the west side of the small city, picking up 54 that would take them southwest to Guadalajara. When the sky began to lighten to their left, bringing a new day, Brody pulled into a gas station of a town he fell to notice its name. Preston had been asleep and stirred awake when the truck bounced across the gravel lot up to the pumps.

“I’ve got to hit the bathroom,” said Brody as he climbed out of the truck and quickly crossed the parking lot to the small store.

As Brody crossed the lot, Preston watched him, the way he moved. The way his ass moved in the jeans, visible despite them being a bit too large. Seeing Brody pass some locals who were coming out of the store, he realized they needed new clothes. Garments that would blend in and were the appropriate weight for the warmer climate. In Guadalajara, after picking up the package they would grab lunch then hit a clothing store.

Brody came out and stood next to Preston who was filling the truck. They leaned against the fender of the truck bed and watched traffic pass by. Preston pushed off the fender and stepped around Brody.

“I’m going to hit the bathroom too. We need to grab some breakfast before getting back on the road.”

Brody nodded his head up the road, and Preston saw a small restaurant with its parking lot nearly full. “How about that place. It’s busy and close.”

“Sounds good to me.”

An hour later, with Preston behind the wheel, they were back on the road. The terrain changed, more mountainous, and not as arid. They cut through small towns and villages, by-passed the cities, driving till 54 was snaking through the mountains. The day grew hot, the sun beating down on the old truck. Brody watched in fascination at the landscape and the towns with their own architectural style, everything so different from back home.

“We’ll be La Ticla tonight?” Brody asked.

“Yep.”

It was after noon when Guadalajara finally came into view. There were modern skyscrapers and spires of old cathedrals surrounded my miles and miles of business districts and residential neighborhoods. Brody sat up, looking at the city with surprise.

“Fuck, its huge.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Do you know where to go?”

“I think so” Preston replied, winking at Brody.

It took nearly an hour to arrive at their destination, a modern sleek hotel near the center of the city. Preston pulled the old truck in the front circular drive, not worried about their appearance. He parked next to a line of BMW and Mercedes sedans, and sports cars of various makes.  Brody slid down in the seat, feeling those old fears of inadequacy. Preston climbed out, shut the door and leaned back through the open window.

“Relax Brody. I’ll be right back, then we’ll go get lunch.”

After what seemed an eternity but was only ten minutes, Preston came strolling back, a large envelope in hand. He climbed into the truck and slid it down behind their bags on the seat.

“How about we grab Mexican for lunch?” said Preston smiling broadly at Brody.

“Very funny, but that does sound good.”

Preston had found a small restaurant with an outdoor patio protected by a trellis. Vines grew over it, adding more protection from the hot sun. Brody was surprised at the diversity of the food, the dishes he had never seen before and Preston ordered for them, fluently speaking Spanish to the waiter. Once finished, walking back to the truck parked on a side street, Preston took Brody by the hand and sped up slightly.

“Come on, there is something else we need to do, but first we need local currency.”

Brody waited on the sidewalk while Preston was inside a bank that sat on the corner. When Preston emerged, he was counting out pesos, which he handed over a handful to Brody.

“What’s this?” Brody asked.

“Money. And try to remember we’re a little less than a dollar for every twenty pesos. Come on, we’re going back to that clothing store we passed.”

“I see this is money, but…hey, wait up.”

It was a small clothing store, the front open to the sidewalk. Hanging on a fixture on the sidewalk were shirts that could have been in any store back in the states, but inside along one wall was beach wear, shirts and pants in light fabrics of linen. Different tones of white and pastel colors and a few brightly colored patterns.

“This is what we need. Something light weight and suitable for living on the coast” Preston uttered as he flipped through one display, then another.

Brody found himself looking at the prices, sums far too expensive to him. “This is too much” he whispered, not wanting the salesperson hovering nearby to hear.

“Brody…don’t look at the price if you’re going to fret over them. Okay?” Preston replied, turning to Brody letting him know he was serious.

“Okay.”

“You’re a medium shirt, right?”

“Yes; I can wear a small, but medium is better.”

“And your pant size?” 

“30 waist and 34 leg length but I can wear a 32. 34 is so hard to find in my size.”

“I’m a 31 and 34 on leg length. Same on shirt size so we can just load up on those” Preston replied starting to pull down shirts in medium sizes. “Here, hold these.”

Within minutes, Preston had the sales counter covered in shirts, pants, underwear and swim trunks. As the salesperson rang up each garment he wanted to know where they could get shoes, mainly sandals.

“Podria decirme donde se encuentra una zapateria? Uno que vende sandalias y zapatos adecuados para la playa.”

“Hay una zapateria en la calle. Cerca de dos cuadras al otro lado. Hay un toldo azul en el frente. No te lo puedes perder.”

“Gracias” Preston replied as he handed over a stack of pesos.

“Brody; take this bag and I’ll carry these two. One more stop and we’ll hit the road.”

“Where are we going now?”

“Shoe store. She said there is one up the street. Look for a blue awning on the other side.”

Brody fell in beside Preston realizing that once on a mission, with his full attention on completing it, Preston was not to be deterred.

After a few wrong turns, and what seemed the longest drive, they finally left the city, heading south. They passed through towns, curved around mountains and cut across plains as they drove south. After an hour they turned to the west and had the sun in their faces and a large mountain to the north. The drove with the traffic, the old truck running smoothly despite the rattles and squeaks. On the outskirts of Colima, they fueled up again and hit the bathroom.

Brody could feel some excitement coming from Preston, the way he was sitting more upright, at times both hands on the wheel. They were even driving a little faster, not getting passed nearly as often. The highway ran along plains then valleys between the mountains. It wasn’t long and they were making turns, bypassing another city, Tecoman.

“We’re getting close to the coast,” said Preston over the sound of the truck and wind.

“Really?”

“It’ll be a while before we see it, for we’re going to be running south almost parallel to it until we get down to San Juan of something or other. I forget the name.”

In San Juan de Alima, the coast came into view but there were too many buildings between them and the ocean, blocking their view. The highway curved inland then back toward the coast. Preston slowed and pulled off at an overlook. The Pacific Ocean lay out in front of them, the sun reflecting brightly off its surface.

Preston climbed out, followed by Brody. They walked down to the edge of the trees and looked out over the beach with the waves crashing on it. To their west, the sun was low in the sky reflecting off the water.

“This is nice” Brody whispered as the wind picked up blowing his hair back from his face.

“And it is home too.”

“I can’t wrap my head around that.”

“Neither can I, not really. But it is exciting isn’t it. I had dreaded this trip, assuming I would be alone.”

“And I thought I’d be…well, never mind.”

Preston looked over at Brody, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m really glad you’re here. Now, let’s get those last few miles behind us.”

“We’re that close?”

“I think we’ll be there in less than thirty minutes.”

They drove through a small town and kept heading south, the highway running straight through the landscape for a long way before it snaked back near the coast and around the changing terrain. They crossed a river and came into a small village.

“We want to turn here” said Preston as he turned right. 

Brody noticed the street sign. A La Ticla and knew by the name the place they sought had to be close. The road cut through the woods and along the river till it curved hard south with the small village of La Ticla on their right.

“Look for Naciones Unidas.”

“What?” Brody replied, not understanding the Spanish words.

“Never mind, there it is up ahead” said Preston as he slowed then turned right.  He eased along the street, going through a couple of intersections till he came to a small house with a tall fence enclosing the side yard. “This is it.”

“This is…what?”

“Home. In that envelope is the deed to this house, along with the keys” Preston replied as he pulled into the dirt drive that led to the front door. “Let’s get everything inside.”

Brody hadn’t replied to the house being Preston’s. Processing everything was too much. He’d lost track of time and couldn’t even remember what day of the week it was, or how long they’ve been on the run. Two days or three? He climbed out of the truck and pulled his backpack out, slinging it over a shoulder. As he reached for the other duffel bag, Preston dug out the key and pulled out their shopping bags.

“I’ll come back for the other duffel bag. Let’s get this inside” said Preston.

As Brody followed Preston, he looked at the house with its red stucco walls and exposed stone foundation. Brick infilled an old window opening and framed the front door. The front door looked heavy with its solid wood construction, but it swung open easily when Preston unlocked it.

Entering the dark interior, which was cooler than outside, Brody followed Preston into the small living area. There was a seating area and a small dining table that didn’t open to the front yard, for it was the window that was bricked up. But it did open to the fenced-in side yard with French doors and a large window at the dining area. Through a doorway at back, a small kitchen with ceramic tile countertops and quarry tile flooring. Beyond that another small sitting room that opened onto the back and side yards.

“I’m going back for the other duffel bag” said Preston after setting everything down. “Go ahead and look around.”

The front door swung partially closed behind Preston as Brody went through a doorway off the living and dining area. To his left a small bedroom, barely large enough for the single bed and a side table. Looking through the door he saw the room was long enough for a chair and wardrobe on the far wall. The wardrobe was brightly painted with symbols and patterns on each door. Turning, he went to the next door discovering it was the bathroom. It was two small rooms, the first a sink, with a small table next to it, and a tub along the outside wall with a large window overlooking a small fenced in garden. The next room was the toilet and a shower, and there was a door to the small garden, and through its window he saw an outdoor shower at a stucco wall the fence tied into. A trellis with a vine growing over it added shading to the shower area. Brody backtracked to the small hall and found the next room was a larger bedroom that faced the rear yard. The old French doors were shielded by a small porch. The queen bed was flanked by tables of different styles and colors. Nothing matched, and the use of color was bold.

“How does it look?” Preston called out from the hall.

“Perfect” Brody whispered as he ran his hand over the bed. “Did you grandfather get the furnishings?”

“Yes. He hired someone up in Colima to come down and do it. He told me it was going to be nothing but traditional furnishings appropriate for the house and he had laughed when he said it. We were to live as the others do and enjoy the simplicity of La Ticla. Looking around, I see what he meant. There’s no phone or television in the place.”

“What would we watch if there had been a TV?”

“Good point. What do you say we change in more appropriate attire and go explore this place?”

“You think we can find something to eat here?”

“Are you kidding? There are several places, and we’ll eventually eat in all of them.”

They went to the living room and retrieved all their bags. Brody had his backpack and two shopping bags of clothing and shoes Preston had purchased for him. Preston had his duffel bag of clothing and his shopping bags. In the hall, Brody turned left heading to the small front bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Preston asked.

“I assumed I would be in this room and you…”

“No, no, no, you’re with me, remember? Come on, that will be our guest room.”

“Guest?”

“You never know, now follow me.”

They changed clothes, putting on shorts and light linen shirts. Brody in all white and Preston in light green shorts with a sand beige shirt.

“Next time we’re in a store with hats, we need to pick up one or two for each of us,” said Preston as he slipped his feet in his beach sandals. “Oh, here’s a key for you.”

Brody held the key in the palm of his hand, just looking at it, considering what it symbolized. The fact he really was a part of Preston’s life, in this far away place.

“It’s just a key, Brody” Preston joked, trying to make Brody stop dwelling on it. He didn’t want him questioning every little thing, worried about doing the wrong thing or thinking something wasn’t his to use. But he knew the key was more than a key to a door, and he smiled as Brody put it in his pocket. “Come on, let’s go.”

They strolled down the lane, passing other houses, a shelter that was an open air restaurant, a small church, and on the next block, another restaurant where all of its seating was outside under the trees or a blue canopy.

“Smells good” Brody stated as they walked past.

“Yes, it does. It’s making my stomach growl. Maybe it’ll be the place for our first night out.”

The next block was longer, and as they neared the end the sound of the ocean became louder and louder. There was a series of thatched roofed huts along the edge of the trees facing the beach, places for rent to the few tourists who came. There was another shed structure, exposed wood framing with metal roofing panels that was another restaurant. There were several parties having dinner and it was obvious it was a mixture of local residences and the tourists there to surf in the ocean. Voices mingled till it was a pleasant white noise and the air felt good, the warm breeze coming off the ocean making their shirts billow around them. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the ground, and lights began to come on, pushing away the encroaching darkness.

“Let’s eat here” said Brody, drawn to the small crowd of people.

“Okay. There’s a table free over there.”

It was late by the time they finished eating, and each finished their second beer, the first for Brody, but not Preston. They listened to someone playing his guitar and heard some of the local residences sing along with him. For the first time in days, the two of them could relax. They were so far away that it seemed nothing could find them now. When the musician took a break, having another beer, the small crowd fell into conversation. There was laughter, conversations with large hand gestures by someone trying to make a point, and at their table Brody and Preston just listened to it all. As some of the other patrons began to leave, Preston reached over and took Brody by the hand guiding him to stand.

“Let’s go walk on the beach.”

Hand in hand, carrying sandals with their other hands, they strolled out onto the beach. They moved down to the shoreline and let the water lap over their feet. It wasn’t long and they were away from the lights of the huts and the beach seemed to glow in the silvery light of the moon and stars. The water looked black and the trees and few structures visible were dark silhouettes, with only a few lights visible in the distance.

“What are you thinking?” Preston asked.

“I…don’t know. It’s too much to think about.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

They continued down the beach for a few more minutes and Preston stopped and pulled Brody in front of him. He kissed him. He held the lean body in his arms and kissed him for the longest time, unconcerned about being seen.

When Preston pulled back, the two of them standing so close their faces were dark silhouettes. “I don’t know if I could have done this alone. Meeting you, giving you help…at first it gave me purpose, but after…no, even before our first time, I felt this was going to be different.”

“Preston, I don’t know what to say. I still think…”

“No, don’t go there” Preston interrupted, then kissed Brody again. He pulled back, took Brody by the hand and pulled him to head back down the beach. “Let’s get back home.”

Preston came from the back bedroom and set a small radio on the dining table and tuned it to a station playing traditional songs, most using only a guitar. The music permeated the house, filled each room with its simple melodies. Brody came from the kitchen and followed Preston, into the hall and to the back bedroom, the one they would share.

They stood by the bed and removed each other’s clothes. First the shirts, then the shorts and boxers till both were naked, their bodies softly illuminated by the candles burning on the side tables and on the floor near the French doors. Preston guided Brody to the bed and moved over him. They moved against each other, hands caressing skin, stroking its surface, while lips pressed together, then along necks and chins and around ears. The moans became louder, an urgency to each one. Brody reached between them and took Preston in hand. He held the growing cock, let it fill his hand then stroked it with his fingers till Preston was undulating and moving over him. They grew hot, their skin on the verge of sweating, and it made them feel feverish, flushed with desire.

Brody pushed Preston to raise up and he rolled over on his stomach, moving his hips, pushing his ass up, over and over, wanting Preston to take him. He felt lips on the back of his neck then sliding along one shoulder. He felt thick cock nestle between his ass cheeks and he reached back to part them, allowing it to slip down between them where it could rub over his opening. He wanted to be penetrated, to feel Preston inside him. He wanted them connected, cock buried inside his hole, locking them together. Looking over his shoulder he begged Preston to do it.

“Preston…please.”

Preston eased into Brody, inch after inch squeezed through the tightness until he was all the way inside of him. Brody griped the edge of the bed and pushed up, while Preston ground hips against ass. They moved together, bodies undulating, flesh against flesh. Preston slid over Brody till they were in a steady rhythm. Preston pulled outward then pushed back in while Brody pushed upward. There were cries and muffled groans. Preston put his arm around Brody’s neck hugging him, as he nipped at his ear, tongued it and whispered softly against it.

“Fuck…you feel so good…”

Preston pulled out and Brody rolled up. Preston held Brody’s legs against his chest and moved over him, cock sinking back into his hole. He folded him in half and pinned him to the bed. He wanted to cover him completely, to feel like he was shielding him while at the same time giving him the pleasure he craved. Arms hugged him as he moved his hips, driving into the depths of Brody’s hole. There was nothing else. The room blurred around him, the only sounds he heard were the cries and moans below him. He focused only on Brody as he slowly piston his cock within Brody’s depths.

Brody had discovered a lot about himself. And he learned to reveal himself, to expose the most intimate parts of himself to Preston, physically and well as mentally. He urged Preston to fuck him harder as he felt him blanket his body, covering him completely. He felt secure, safe, even with his exposure. The bed began to squeak and rock gently and he threw his head back and submitted to Preston’s fuck.

How long had Preston been on top, he didn’t know. It seemed such a short time, but then it seemed like forever. He worked his hips faster, thrust into the depths of Brody’s hole till his cock ached for release. Each push inward increased in sensitivity. He shuddered from the stimulation, then his whole body tightened.

“Brody…take me…” Preston cried out as he pushed inward all the way and came.

Preston collapsed on top of Brody and as they settled down, they realized how heated they had become. Their bodies were slick with sweat and glowed red in the candlelight. Brody kissed Preston, passionately, still aroused.

“Let’s use the shower” Brody whispered, and Preston knew he meant the outdoor one in the small garden area.

Brody picked up one of the larger candles, took Preston by the hand and pulled him from the bedroom, down the short hall and into the bathroom. As Preston suspected, Brody pulled him through the exterior door to the outdoor shower. The night was still warm, a gentle breeze and with only the light from the open door and the one candle, everything had a warm glow about it. Preston turned on the shower as Brody set the candle a safe distance away on a rock that was part of the small garden.

“Brody, the water’s warm” Preston whispered, and Brody moved underneath the shower letting water cascade over his head and down his lean body. Preston moved up behind him and pulled their bodies together. He ran his hands down Brody’s chest and stomach, and down till he was toying with him. Their bodies were warm against each other as they rubbed smoothly together. It aroused them both, their cocks quickly getting hard again.

Brody reached back and took Preston in hand while leaning forward, offering himself to Preston’s pleasure. “Do me again,” Brody whispered as he guided Preston to his opening.

Preston eased into Brody, slowly, gently, and he still felt the shuddering body in his arms as he sank inch after inch inside him. He pushed inward till over halfway inside him, and he pulled back, slowly, feeling the tight tug on his cock. He kept it up, this slow fuck. Gently, he piston his cock inside Brody till he felt the push back.

“Fuck me” Brody exclaimed, his voice a little louder, and Preston wrapped one arm around his neck and one around his narrow waist and began to fuck. He pushed forward harder and harder, till their bodies were smacking together. The sound echoing in the small garden, mixed with Brody’s pleas, begging for Preston to fuck him even harder.

Preston took Brody’s cock stroking it roughly, hand slamming down to the base, as he hammered cock in his hole. He wanted him fully aroused. Brody thrust forward roughly, then pushed back hard, pushing cock through Preston’s hand then taking every inch of his cock. Then Brody cried out, his entire body shuddering, as his cock flexed in Preston’s hand and ejaculated, shooting wad after wad across the pavers.

Preston felt the spasm of Brody’s hole, the way he shook and shuddered in his arms, and he felt Brody’s cock flex with each ejaculation. It made him feel his own imminent release. His own body growing rigid, unable to keep a steady rhythm. He thrust forward roughly, rocking Brody in his arm and filled him with his load.

Brody turned to Preston and pulled him under the shower, letting the water cascaded down their bodies as they kissed. They slowly bathed the other, soapy hands caressing smooth skin, following every curve. They giggled like little boys and toyed with each other until the shower ran cold.

Back inside, they dried each other then Preston took Brody by the hand and led him back to their bed. Candles blown out, French doors left open to let the cooler night air blow in, they laid across the bed, naked, snuggled close together. During the night positions changed. Preston snuggled up against Brody, then Brody was snuggled up against him. They moved peacefully in their sleep until early morning light spilled in through the open doors and brought light to the whole room.

Brody stirred awake and found himself looking up at the ceiling of exposed roof structure and decking. He let his eyes roam over the it. The ceiling beams and rafters that created a rhythm across the ceiling. He laid his arm out to the side expecting to feel Preston but only felt the bed. He turned to see the cover pulled back and the pillow pushed to the side. Then he smelled freshly brewed coffee.

Brody climbed out of bed and slipped on a pair of shorts, white linen and so thin he didn’t realize someone could see through them. He followed the smell of the coffee till he was standing in the doorway of the living area where Preston was sitting at the table. On one side were documents laid out, and on the other, closer to him, Brody’s backpack with some of the contents laid out. Preston was reading the dustjacket of the book he had checked out of the library back home. The one on the nineteenth century author who was gay.

“What are you doing?” Brody asked.

“I was going through everything to see what we should take to a bank and put in a safety deposit box. I thought you might have something important but…your father didn’t give you much, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“This book…it looks good. You think we can keep it?” Preston asked with a sarcastic tone.

“It’ll be difficult to return, and I don’t think anyone will make the effort to find it.”

“I guess not” Preston laughed, as he flipped through it. “Hey, is this an assignment?”

“Yes, but don’t read it. It might not be very good and…”

“Oh, please” Preston interrupted, as he unfolded the paper and began to read. “This is good.”

“Seriously?” Brody asked, his tone suddenly timid.

Preston read the first page and began the second. Brody moved to the table and sat opposite waiting for Preston to finish. The second page was laid down, then the third. Preston read the paper all the way to the end, six pages in total. “This is good. It’s a shame your teacher will never get to read it.”

“Well, it’s not due until…what day is it?”

“I have no idea” Preston replied, laughing, causing Brody to do the same.

“Well, I can’t be mailing anything back there anyway.”

Preston grew serious, looked across the table at Brody as he folded the paper back together and slipped it into the book. “Is there someone you want to write?  Your mother, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, write her. I’m going to make a run for envelopes, stationary, and pens and whatever else I think of. So, write her and put her address on it.”

“But the the return address will…”

“Don’t put that on it. I’m going to write my grandfather and bring him up to date. I’ll do the same of putting it in an envelope and then we’ll put both in a larger one and address it to Mr. Edwards at my grandfather’s firm.”

“And the return address?”

“I’ll make up some bullshit address and then mail it from Acapulco.”

“Acapulco?”

“Yes. It is to the south of us some nine or ten hours away. I thought we could go down and check it out in a few days after we get settled in. Spend a couple of days playing tourist and find a bank to keep these documents.”

“Okay. Have you had breakfast?”

“No, I was waiting on you to get up. You want to go have breakfast at one of the places nearby?”

“Sure.”

“Well, go put on some clothes and make sure you have underwear on, for I can see everything through those” Preston replied, laughing.

Brody left the room, but Preston couldn’t stop thinking of him. The lean body shirtless, and those shorts with fabric was so thin he could see the vague image of cock. It aroused him how Brody was loosening up, that initial shyness that was there when they first met slowly eroding away. He knew much of it had to do with having a stable home, a place he could be himself. Preston thought of the masculine aspect of Brody, what he felt like within an embrace, against his body, flesh rubbing against flesh. He stood, heading to their bedroom, shedding clothes as he went.

He came to the door and found Brody naked, looking in the wardrobe, a pair of shorts and boxers laid out on the bed. As he approached him, cock responded to his imaginings, and the image before him, Brody looked around the door of the wardrobe.

“What are you doing?” Brody asked, smiling.

“I’m coming for sex. Breakfast can wait.”

It was playful, and rough, and full of the passion that existed between them. Preston threw Brody onto the bed and pounced on him. Soon he was on knees, Brody’s legs against his chest, sinking his cock into Brody’s tight hole.

“Fuck…fuck me, ya nasty bastard” Brody taunted Preston, both giggling and laughing, even as they were serious about their sex.

Preston pumped his cock inside Brody till he was so hard he didn’t think he could hold back. He moved over Brody, folding him over and fucked harder. The bed squeaked and rocked, and the sound of bodies smacking together filled the room. He fucked until he couldn’t hold back, and shoved inward all the way, shuddering with release.

As soon as Preston stopped shuddering, Brody was moving, pushing him over on his back.

“My turn” Brody exclaimed, making them laugh, as he lifted each leg, held them to his chest and pushed against Preston’s tightness. He pressed against it, rubbed his leaking cock around it, then pushed against it again.

“Fuck, Brody…stop teasing me.”

Brody pushed through the tight opening and penetrated Preston with inch after inch. He eased inward till nearly all the way in. Then he began to fuck.

There was no holding back for there was an urgency about it. This need to get off, to pleasure each other for the sake pleasure itself. Brody stayed on his knees, holding Preston’s legs up while fucking with all his might. He moved with determination. His torso looked like he had been working out, every muscle visible. The skin shined in the reflected light of the room and beads of sweat trickled down his face and along his sides. He was flush with his desires, this arousal that couldn’t last much longer.

The feel of Preston’s legs rubbing against his chest, the smell of their sweating bodies and the grunts and moans that echoed around the room was too much. He couldn’t hold back. He tightened his hold on the legs and jammed his cock into the depths of Preston’s hole, filling it with his cum.

Spent, Brody fell next to Preston where they lay breathing heavily.

“Fuck…now I’m really starving” Preston joked.

Brody rolled off the bed and held out his hand to help Preston up. “Let’s shower and go eat.” He led Preston to the outdoor shower where they bathed each other, kissed and giggled while scrubbing the sweat from their skin.

“Will we ever use the indoor shower?” Preston asked in a joking tone.

“No” Brody replied as he moved up behind Preston and hugged him.

Sitting under the canopy of the restaurant, the breeze off the ocean blowing over them, they sat side by side, each with notebook paper from Brody’s backpack. Brody was writing to his mother while Preston wrote to his grandfather. Even after their food arrived, they continued to write, taking one slow bite then another between sentences that explained things the best either of them could.

For Brody, it had been difficult. He had looked at the blank page for a long time, wondering where to start. More troubling to him, was the question of would she care to hear from him. He knew he was exaggerating the situation, for he knew she was probably worried beyond words. He had had time to think back on their lives and he realized she probably felt trapped as much as he had in some ways. There was the idea she would leave his father, the notion not at all troubling to him. It’d be some final judgment of his father if she did so.

“I’m done. Let’s finish and take these back to the house” said Preston, folding his letter.

“I’m almost done” Brody uttered as he continued to write till at the bottom of the page, where Preston saw him hover over the page wondering how to sign it. The pen came down and hesitated again. Then I miss you, Brody was written across the page.

For the next two weeks, the boys explored the village, walked along the beach for miles to the south and explored the river upstream for some distance past the small village of El Duin at the main highway. They walked all the streets of their new home, each narrow lane, stopping at times for Preston to converse with the people. One morning, they strolled up to El Duin and walked its streets, once again it was Preston who brought out the friendly smiles and animated conversation with his fluent Spanish. Some afternoons the got into the old truck and drove to a nearby town or village, those to the south that sat on the coast, trying new restaurants and exploring the few shops and parks with local artwork.

They packed up on Thursday morning and made the drive to Acapulco where they stayed for two nights. The city was packed with tourist and at first the boys were fascinated by the sites of it all. They fell in among them, shopping and going to the beach. Preston bought new cell phones, suitable only for calls within Mexico, which was all he wanted. He just wanted Brody and he to have a way to call each other if there arose a need. Plus, it would make traveling in the country easier.

On the third day they woke ready to go back. The crowded streets, the constant noise of the city was too much. They longed for their little village and its quiet nights where a guitar was sometimes the loudest thing you could hear. They went shopping buying the supplies on their list and found a post office to mail the envelope to Edwards-Anderson. Brody asked how long it’d take to arrive and Preston shrugged his shoulders, not knowing. They crammed most of their bags in the cab of the truck between them or behind the seat, putting a hammock, a small wooden bench and a couple side tables in the bed. Then they drove out of the city heading north, back to what they now considered home.

Two Months Later

Brody was laying in the hammock studying Spanish, determined not to be illiterate in his own home. He let the breeze rock him slowly as he repeated phrases, went back to the descriptions of syntax structures, and sounded out words and phrases. The house was quiet, not even their radio was on. Preston was down at one of the restaurants, where he talked the owner into letting him help, in return for lessons on how to cook certain dishes.

Brody looked at his watch, one Preston had given him, and saw it was nearing noon. He closed the book, setting it on the small table nearby and rolled out of the hammock. Inside he pulled on a shirt and slipped his feet in sandals and went around the house closing the doors, leaving only the windows open to let in the breeze. He grabbed up his wallet and reached for the front door when a knock rapped against it. He froze, wondering who could be calling on him. It could be Leticia next door, whom they had gotten off to a rocky start for she could hear them at the outdoor shower. But after a while it became a joke, one that spread through the local population of the village, until Preston and he were constantly picked on for being carrones ruidosos. He swung the door open expecting it to be Leticia or one of the other neighbors but standing in front of him was an older man, American in every way, from the clothes he wore to the pale white skin of someone from a more northern climate.

Brody froze, a fear he had not felt in a long time, and it rose up violently, but the man smiled at him.

“You must be Brody. I’m sorry I’ve startled you, but you boys are hard to make contact. I’m Chester Anderson, Preston’s grandfather.”

“OH…oh, Mr. Anderson, come in, come in. What brings you all the way down here?”

“Why to see Preston, of course. And to meet you. It seems there is much to be discovered since I last spoke with Preston. Is he here?” Mr. Anderson replied, looking around the room wondering where Preston might be.

“Preston is at one of the restaurants…kind of working.”

“Working?”

“He wanted to know how to prepare certain dishes, so he helps them in return for cooking lessons.”

Mr. Anderson laughed, loudly, shaking his head. “That boy was always the more enterprising of the family. It’s a shame he’s not…well, let’s not get into that. So, have you had lunch?”

“I was about to go down for lunch with Preston. You need to freshen up or anything before we go?”

“That would be nice.”

Preston carried plates of food to one of the tables where three guys from California were waiting. He saw the looks, the questioning of why an American would be down here working in a restaurant, but few asked, and those that did got vague answers that seemed to satisfy them. He went back to where Maria was preparing four more plates when he saw Brody approaching, walking side by side with an older man wearing a white wide brim hat. He stood frozen, not sure he believed what he was seeing.

“Que pasa, Preston?” Maria asked.

“Creo que ese es mi abuelo,” he replied as he began to walk toward them. He was sure it was his grandfather.

Moving through the tables Preston moved quickly to meet Brody and his grandfather. They came together at the edge of the sitting area and Preston moved up to his grandfather and stood frozen, not believing his eyes.

“Hey, Preston, it is so good to see after far too long.”

“Grandfather…when did you get here?”

“I just arrived. So, what’s for lunch. Brody and I are starving” Mr. Anderson replied, winking at Brody.

“Come, let’s sit over there” said Preston leading them to a table off to the side.

Brody saw the other locals watching them, some smiling, some curious about Mr. Anderson. They didn’t know the story, not half of it, and he knew many were still curious. Preston moved to the table and gestured for his grandfather take a seat, then Brody and he sat opposite.

“Brody tells me you’ve settled in nicely.”

“Yes, sir. It has been better than we could imagine.”

“We don’t even miss television” Brody interjected.

Mr. Anderson laughed, then leaned in, “Well, you’re not missing much if you ask me.”

“Grandfather, today’s special is tacos al pastor.”

“That is…?”

“Pork” Brody explained, and nodded toward Preston, “grab three for each of us.”

“And a beer?” Preston asked, looking at his grandfather.

“Well, of course” Mr. Anderson replied.

Preston came back with six beers followed by Maria who carried three plates. They ate while catching up, Mr. Anderson telling of flying to Acapulco, telling everyone he was going on vacation. He reviewed what had happened since they left, especially after the arrival of their letters. How Preston’s father had given up on his search or claimed to have done so. How his mother had come to him several times, wanting news, knowing he had helped no matter how often he protested he had not. He still didn’t trust his daughter not to let something slip. Turning to Brody, he grew even more serious, putting a hand on Brody’s hand.

“It took some time to find your mother. She had left your father sometime after he threw you out. We found her in Savannah, living out on the edge of town. She wants to hear from you again” said Mr. Anderson reaching into his pocket pulling out a small envelope. “She sent this for me to give to you.”

Brody’s hand shook as the took the envelope and he stared at it, wondering if he should open it now or later. He flipped it over a few times, knowing Preston and Mr. Anderson was watching him. Preston’s hand came to rest on his, stopping him from shaking and fidgeting.

“Wait till we get home” Preston whispered, and Brody nodded without looking up. Turning to his grandfather, Preston asked “How long are you going to stay?”

“I’ve got reservations for a week.”

“Back in Acapulco? Why not stay here?”

“I didn’t want to impose and…”

“But you’re not” Brody exclaimed, “we’d love for you stay with us.” Brody felt something toward the person who had helped Preston, and in turn, helped him. During their walk from the house, he had talked with him, finding him to be pleasant, and understanding, not once making a derogatory comment. Instead, it was nothing but praise for being with Preston. He wanted him to stay with them just so he could get to know him better. But he wondered about their accommodations, the house without air conditioning that grew hot in the afternoons running them out to the rear yard, or down to the beach or for a long walk. Would it be acceptable to someone use to living in a luxury he could not imagine, not even back in the states? He looked from Preston then to Mr. Anderson, “that is if you can stand not having air conditioning.”

Mr. Anderson laughed, then leaned forward, “It wouldn’t be the first time, my boy.”

Back at the house, Mr. Anderson’s bags were put in the front guest room after a long argument. They tried to get him to take the other room with the larger bed. Preston and Mr. Anderson sat at the dining table as Brody got them something to drink from the kitchen. Mr. Anderson pulled out two large envelopes and laid them on the table. Brody came back, set their drinks down and started to leave the room when Preston reached out grabbing his wrist.

“Don’t leave…your part of my life. Stay.”

Brody eased down in the chair next to Preston and saw Mr. Anderson smiling at him.

Picking up one envelope, “Preston this is letters from back home. It seems no matter how much I protest otherwise, everyone is sure we’re in contact.” It made them laugh the truth of it. Preston pulled out the contents finding more envelopes than he anticipated.

“I don’t understand. Who…all these letters…I don’t…”

“Preston, just read them later. There are letters from your grandmothers, your mother, and several of your friends from school, who seemed really worried something bad has happened to you. And there is one from that boy Connor. Just know there are those who are concerned. And Preston…” making sure he had Preston’s attention, “write them back. Don’t be afraid to communicate with them. Just mail them to the firm and we’ll take care of getting them to each one. Your father doesn’t have to know, nor do we have to give him an opportunity to screw with your life anymore. Okay?”

“Okay” Preston replied, smiling back, sadly, for he did miss everyone from back home. Brody’s hand came down on his leg and squeezed lightly and he put his hand over it, returning the gesture.

“Now this is the important envelope. It has some documentation you need to put in a safe place. You have somewhere you can keep documents?”

“Yes, sir. Back in Acapulco. We have a safety deposit box in one of the banks.”

“Very good. Why don’t you boys plan on coming back to Acapulco with me for a few days. We can spend the last of my vacation in that crazy place, and…well, I’m thinking you need something better than that truck I saw sitting out there.”

“Hey, don’t knock that truck. It runs like a top” Preston replied making Mr. Anderson laugh, nodding his head.

“Very well, the truck stays but what about something a bit more comfortable for traveling around. I know you, Preston. You’ll want to travel some. See the sites of this interesting country. Am I right?”

“Maybe.”

“Listen to you…maybe. Anyway, you boys come back with me and let’s get you something else to drive other than just that old truck. Brody, it can be yours, and we’ll let Preston have that old truck” Mr. Anderson joked. After they settled down, he looked at his grandson, the changes to his look since leaving. Hair longer, needing a barber, and the clothes. The way he wore his shirt unbuttoned most of the way, and it appeared at least one size too big. He realized Preston looked relaxed, no longer the kid who always seemed anxious, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. “Preston?”

“Yes, sir?”

“The money enough?”

Preston laughed, then replied, “We’ve not touched the principle since arriving here. Unless something drastic happens, we may never touch it.”

“Good…good. What about you…and Brody. You’re not just putting up appearances for my sake, are you?”

“Grandfather, we’re good. Better than good” Preston replied, and Mr. Anderson saw the truth of it, the way the two boys sat together, how Preston never said “I” but always “we”. He felt things would be okay with them and let the regrets he had been clinging to go.

“Now if you boys don’t mind, I’m a bit weary from all the traveling and would like a nap before the evening’s plans.”

“Well, don’t get your hopes up for some big entertainment.”

“I’m looking forward to just spending time with you boys” Mr. Anderson replied, as he eased up from the table. He went into the front guest room and the boys heard the door close.

As soon as Mr. Anderson was out of the room Preston grabbed up the letters and fanned them out in front of him. He looked for his mother’s, the first one he wanted to read. Glancing up, he saw Brody had pulled a small envelope from his pocket and sat staring at it as it lay in front of him.

“You have to read it.”

Brody just nodded.

“Well, go on, open it.”

As Brody opened the letter, Preston found the one from his mother and tore it open. They sat quiet, each reading letters from their mothers. Preston smiled, reading the blunt tone of this mother’s letter, the rebuke of what his father had done and how she hoped he was doing well. Across the table, Brody was silently crying. He held the letter in trembling hands as he read one paragraph after the next.

“You okay?” Preston asked.

“Yeah…she’s sorry and…wishes I’d come back but tells me to do what I want…to pursue my own happiness for I…deserve it.”

“You do.”

“She wants me to write her again.”

“And you will.”

Brody went to the kitchen and pulled a beer out of the refrigerator.

That night found the boys listening to Mr. Anderson, sitting among some of the surfers staying at the beach, telling stories about his stay back in the mid-sixties and what it had been like with the war in Vietnam gearing up. He described wild times, stories that Preston had never heard before that elicited laughter or comments in disbelief. There was the smell of food cooking, then plates piled high as beers were passed around, Mr. Anderson paying for everything creating a festive atmosphere among the locals and the surfers. As the night wore on, and the crowd thinned, Mr. Anderson excused himself and had the boys follow him down to the beach. They walked along the edge of the shore, water lapping around their bare feet. They walked in silence for a long time, three abreast, with their only illumination the moon that was soon to be full.

“I forgot what this place was like. Damn, I don’t think it has changed a bit, not really” Mr. Anderson stated, his tone flat, almost a whisper.

“It is nice. The neighbors are friendly and it’s so…” said Preston.

“Free?”

“Yeah, free.”

“How long do you boys plan on staying here?”

“We haven’t talked about it. Right now, I don’t feel any desire to leave.”

“I can understand that. You live cheaply and simply and without the pressure to be something you’re not.”

“But you think we should return?”

“What?! No, I’m not here to drag you back” Mr. Anderson replied, and he chuckled softly to himself before adding, “hell, its tempting to see what it’d cost to build me a little place here. You think your grandmother would move here?”

“HA! That’ll never happen” replied Preston, causing them to laugh.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.

They walked for over a mile down the beach before turning around. It was late, the beach quiet when they returned. A couple of the surfers were sitting outside still drinking, offering them a beer as they passed. Back at the house, Mr. Anderson retired to the front room and the boys retired to their room, closing the door for the first time. They opened the French doors and window and crawled naked into bed, snuggling against each other.

Mr. Anderson stayed for two more nights, each day the same routine of walking around the village and hanging out at the beach. In the evenings, they ate rich spicy foods while hanging out with those that lived in the village and the visitors come to surf. Mr. Anderson made each night feel festive, encouraging the telling of stories.

The next morning, they loaded up in his rental, Preston behind the wheel, and Brody in the back seat, and headed to Acapulco. The boys would stay two nights, staying up late going to restaurants and bars, and walking the crowded beaches or busy streets in town. On the morning they were to leave, Mr. Anderson back to the states and they back home, they gathered in the lobby of the hotel, bags sitting on the floor.

“I had it delivered this morning. The papers are taken care of and all you need to do is sign a few documents and mail to the appropriate agency.”

“What delivered?” Brody asked, causing Preston to look over at him grinning.

“Our ride back home.”

“OH.”

“It’ll be more reliable than that old truck and will give you a back up in case something happens to it” Mr. Anderson interjected, then he hugged Preston, a full embrace, whispering his ear, “take care of yourself and write to let us know how you’re doing.”

“Okay; thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome” Mr. Anderson replied pulling away, then he surprised Brody by hugging him, “keep that grandson out of trouble, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Then he handed Preston a set of keys, picked up his bags and walked out the doors. Brody picked up their bags and followed Preston to a side door that led to the parking lot. They walked across the lot and when Preston went to a driver’s door to unlock it, Brody saw it was a new Tacoma, the four-door body style with a four-wheel drive suspension.

“This is what you guys bought?”

“This is what grandfather bought and believe me, it was an argument to keep it this simple. You should have seen what he first suggested.”

It was just after sunset when they pulled into the drive, parking the new truck next to the old. Brody said he still preferred the old truck and Preston agreed. The bags were pulled out and they made their way inside. They opened up the house, all the windows and the French doors to the side and rear garden. The evening breeze blew in pushing out the heat and stuffiness from being closed up. They removed each other clothes and held each other, then explored familiar bodies with hands moving over backs and cheeks and down arms. Brody led Preston to the bathroom and out to the shower. They bathed each other, kissed under the spray of water, and fondled each other to full erection. Brody turned to the stucco wall and put his hands on it, leaning forward. Preston moved up behind him, rubbed his back then leaned over his body and kissed the back of his neck as he penetrated him. They fucked slowly, feeling no sense of urgency. They had all the time in the world. There was nothing in that moment but just the two of them. Brody closed his eyes focusing on how Preston made him feel. The sense of being alive, every sense awake, from feeling Preston pushing into his depths and rubbing against his back, to the warm water cascading over them, the feel of the warm breeze swirling in the small garden, and his own body, alive, heart beating faster and faster. His cock was so hard in Preston’s hand he shivered with arousal.

“I love you” Preston whispered, and it was the first time either of them had said it. There were times one or the other were close to uttering those words, the phrase right on the tip of their tongues. But now, in this intimacy, Preston had uttered them and Brody smiled as he opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder.

“I love you,” Brody replied.

Preston held Brody in his arms as he moved inside him. Brody would come first, shuddering and jerking within Preston’s embrace, cum spattering the stucco wall. It would push Preston over the edge, and he would soon be pushing inward, jamming his hips up against Brody’s ass, as he came.

In the bed, they held each other till sleep overtook them. But during the night, Brody stirred awake, and in the darkness, he made Preston aroused. He moved over him, slowly entering him, fucking as slowly as he could. Their bodies moved against each other, flesh pressed against flesh, hands holding down hands, lips touching sweating skin. Brody pushed into Preston’s depths as their legs intertwined. The bed squeaked softly beneath them and a cool breeze drew the sweat from their hot skin.

Brody fucked till he couldn’t hold back, and he pushed inward all the way, and came, each ejaculation making him shudder and cry out. He pulled out and rolled Preston over. Soon he was between his legs, toying with Preston’s erection. He kissed it, slowly, from base to the head. He licked at the head, tongued the slit till he tasted the sweetness pooling in it, then he took as much as he could in his mouth. Preston was so aroused he came quickly, filling Brody’s mouth, then he fell back utterly exhausted.

It was late the next morning when they finally stirred. The room was warming by the heat of the day and they lay naked on top of the bed as they brought themselves fully awake.

“What time is it?” Brody asked as he rolled up behind Preston who had sat up wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Almost eleven.”

“Shit…I can’t believe we slept so late.”

“I can. Let’s get dressed and go have lunch at Maria’s.”

“That sounds good.”

“And let’s bring the stationary and start those letters.”

Brody frowned at first, but he knew Preston was right. The longer they put it off, the harder it would be. “Okay.”

They had lunch first, then sitting under the canopy, wrote their letters, occasionally stopping to talk with one of their friends. By day’s end, they were laying in the hammock. Dressed only in their boxers, as a breeze blew over them, Preston read aloud from their latest novel.

And thus, the time passed, one unhurried day after the next. Brody’s Spanish improved until he could converse with their neighbors.  The two of them helped with odd jobs, anything to make the village better and made them feel more a part of it. They hung out with the tourists come to surf in the ocean, and they made runs for supplies when deliveries were held up for one of the restaurants. The old truck saw more use than the newer one ever did, being loaned out to one person or another, or Brody and Preston taking off for a day trip to one of the nearby towns just to explore them.

They received more letters, the number growing more frequent as time passed, rebuilding relationships with family and friends. For Brody and Preston none were more important than those from their mothers.  They wrote in return, relishing the stories they had to tell, and the places and people they had visited.

They walked on beaches up and down the coast, most of the time during the day, but sometimes when the moon was full, late at night when few, if any, were on them. And to the village, they became the boys, the two who were partners, in all things they did. They came together to help build a new canopy for one of the restaurants with other men of the village. They cared for Leticia when she fell ill, the two of them staying with her for two nights till her fever broke and she was feeling better. Sooner than either realized, the village considered them a part of it, the two Americanos who arrived one day, one outgoing and one shy, not knowing their language.

And for the boys there was no mention of leaving, of moving back to the states or to somewhere else. There was a comforting routine to their lives, and for the time being, they just enjoyed the daily rituals that carried them from day to day.

Nine Months Later.

It was before sunrise when Preston and Brody loaded up the Tacoma and headed south. They drove down the familiar highway that wound its way along the coast, past the villages, small towns and open countryside till they came to the city of Acapulco. They had not been in a couple of months, usually just to visit the bank, but this trip was different. One that had been planned for some time. The drive through the outlaying areas of Acapulco took a long time, and they eased along with the traffic, both growing more anxious as they went.

They finally arrived in Las Playas and pulled up to the hotel that faced the Pacific Ocean. After climbing out, they stood at the front of the truck looking up at the hotel, each taking a deep breath.

“You ready?” Preston asked.

“Yes” Brody replied and took Preston’s hand letting him lead them toward the front doors.

The lobby was narrow and long, facing the parking lot and street. They entered its cool interior, the air conditioning a shock to their system, was something now odd to them. As they headed to the front desk, they saw four people in the lounge area stand and come toward them.

“Brody” a voice called out, almost too low to hear.

Brody and Preston stopped, seeing their mothers and Preston’s grandparents heading toward them. They had planned the trip for months, but it still surprised them to see their family. Preston’s mother came to him and they hugged. Brody’s mother came close and stopped, and it was obvious there was still some hurt between them.

“Brody.”

“Mom” Brody replied moving to her hugging her tightly as tears streamed down his face. He heard her crying, and he rocked her as she had done him as a child, telling her it was okay, and everything would be fine. There had been a moment when he had seen her standing behind his yelling father, froze in place, doing nothing. But then he saw her bandaging his knees after one of many falls then he saw her holding him after a bee sting, rocking him, telling him it was okay, and the pain would stop soon. And it had, for a long time now and he pulled back, wiping her cheeks.

“So, you finally made it to Acapulco” he whispered, and she smiled then laughed.

Preston was hugging his grandparents when Brody and his mother moved next to them.

“Let’s get your bags up to your room and go for lunch. There is a little place over on the bay side that is excellent” said Mr. Anderson.

After lunch, they walked the neighborhood around the restaurant, catching up since their last letters. Back at the hotel they sat on the terrace that overlooked the Pacific till the sun dropped from view and the sky became dark. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson retired first, the flight and all the excitement of the day tiring them. For the next hour the boys sat with their mothers and they had talked seriously for a few minutes, of past wrongs and events that had gotten out of hand. Preston was the one that changed the subject, refusing for their time together to be all about the bad things that happened, and soon they were laughing and joking about where life had taken them, especially Preston and Brody.

When their mothers retired for the night to their rooms, Preston led Brody to their room. He guided him to the window where the they could just make out the horizon with the sky lit by stars and the moon, and the Pacific an inky black, reflecting the nighttime sky.

They kissed while hugging tightly to each other, an old desperation rising in each of them. This need for the other they took for granted in their daily lives. They hugged till both began to feel their arousal grow. Preston pulled back and unbuttoned Brody’s shirt, slipping it from his shoulders. He leaned forward and kissed Brody along the neck as he undid the cargo shorts, pushing everything down, stripping him. He moved down the chest, one that had acquired more definition over the last few months, someone nineteen soon to be twenty. He kissed the firm pecs and tongued the hard nipple till Brody moaned. Then he pushed Brody on the bed, making the two of them giggle.

“Get your clothes off” Brody exclaimed, and he watched Preston remove his clothes, revealing the muscular body he knew every curve, every intimate place, the areas that needed so little manipulation to make Preston aroused.

Preston moved to the bed and over Brody. He let the weight of his body rest on him, where the heat of their skin warmed the other, as they felt each other grow fully erect. They moved against each other, hands roaming over backs and holding to ass cheeks or thighs and Preston moved between Brody’s raised knees. It was so natural, the way Preston easily penetrated him, eased through the tight opening, pumping his hips slowly, working deeper and deeper into him.

Brody clung to Preston, begging him to fuck harder, and Preston moved with vigor, driven by desire. They had fucked slowly for so long their bodies had grown flush, hot and sweaty against each other. Now, no air conditioning could cool them down, as Preston moved inside of Brody. Their day had been perfect, better than they had even hoped, and they wanted it to end this way. This intimacy between them, as Brody clung to Preston.

Preston increased his pace, his arousal driving him toward release. He pushed into Brody’s depths harder, deeper, the bed rocking beneath them. He lifted himself up on his hands and fucked Brody with a fast pace as he watched Brody move beneath him, head thrown back, and eyes closed.

“Brody…” Preston uttered as he pushed in all the way and shuddered with release.

Dropped down next to Brody, breathing hard, Preston reached over and toyed with Brody’s wet cock, stroked it until his hand was pushed away.

“Do me” Preston whispered as Brody shifted up behind him and eased through his tightness, slowly penetrating his depth.

With one leg held out, Brody thrust cock into Preston’s depths. He moved with strength and determination, aroused to the point of near release. He hooked his other arm around Preston’s neck and held on to him, desperate for every touch, each contact between their bodies. The feel of it, slick skin against slick skin, as they moved against each other.

“I’m going to…” Brody exclaimed, never finishing as he shoved into Preston’s depths and came. He jammed his hips against Preston with each ejaculation till spent and exhausted.

Even though both were exhausted from their exertions after such a long day, they eased off the bed and ran a hot bath in the freestanding tub by the windows. With curtains left open they eased down in the tub and soaked their tired bodies, Brody in Preston’s lap. he felt the soft kisses to his neck and fingers twirling in his hair.

“This is so unreal when I think about it” whispered Brody.

“Isn’t it.”

They woke to the phone ringing, Preston fumbling around for it. “Hello” he mumbled into the receiver.

“I know you boys probably sat up half the night, but we’re hungry and want to go for breakfast. You boys going to join us?” Mr. Anderson asked.

“Brody, you want to go for breakfast with everyone?”

Brody nodded his head yes as he sat up rubbing his eyes.

“Give us fifteen minutes” Preston replied, and Mr. Anderson chuckled.

“We’ll be in the lobby.”

For the next three days, they walked business districts looking into small shops, eating in restaurants and hanging out in bars during the evenings. Through it all, they talked about the mundane, the simple things of life, just enjoying each other’s company. And each night Brody and Preston found themselves in bed, seeking the comfort of the other.

After the third day, they were gathered in front of the hotel, the Tacoma and the SUV rental loaded up, as Preston and Mr. Anderson talked about the best way back to the main highway that led north along the coast. They were heading back to La Ticla. Their mothers and Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were going to stay with them for a couple of nights so everyone could see the village their boys now lived in. There were folding beds in the back of the truck, with the plan being the mothers would sleep on them in the living room and Preston’s grandparents would sleep in their room and they would take the guest room.

They drove up the highway at a casual speed letting those who had not been there see the country along the coast and at times views of the Pacific so different from those in Acapulco.  They arrived late in the afternoon and got the small house set up for the six of them. They sat in the back yard, now furnished with table and chairs, and a sitting area under a trellis that vines were just starting to make their way up.  As the day grew late, Preston told them a friend was preparing dinner for all of them and they should freshen up and head down to the beach.

Preston held Brody’s hand as everyone made their way toward the beach. They pointed out where friends lived and the other two restaurants, with their open-air canopies that served as dining areas. They talked about what they did in the village, the late nights on the beach listening to stories being told or a guitar playing music. The slow pace of it all that endeared them to it more and more with each passing day.

At the end of the street they cut around the corner heading out toward the beach and their destination. The restaurant that sat on the edge of the beach. There was a crowd gathered, most tables occupied. In the middle sat two tables pulled together with six place settings. Maria came out to greet them and led them to the table and food and drink was brought out for everyone. Dinner began amongst the banter of conversations, some English, but most in Spanish. After dinner, the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean, more drinks were served, and the guitar came out bringing the festive nature of the night to head.

Brody watched his mom through it all, the way her eyes would grow wide at times. He saw her laugh and lean over whispering to Preston’s mom. He saw her for the first time not as his mom, but as a person, a woman who had a rough time of it for a long time. He held Preston’s hand under the table and squeezed it slightly and Preston seemed to know what he meant, for he looked across at their mothers laughing loudly at something Mr. Anderson had said.

It was late when everyone headed home, and they strolled back to the house. Brody and Preston went around the house opening the French Doors and raising windows letting the nighttime breeze blow through it. Grandparents in their room, they helped their mothers get settled down, then retired to the guest room with its twin bed. It was so narrow they had to snuggle together, something they did every night anyway. The house settled into a quiet calm that would last till morning.

Brody woke early, not sure if he had heard a sound. Then the toilet flushed, and water ran at the sink, and he knew someone was up. He didn’t know how, but he knew it was his mother, for she had always been an early riser. He slipped out of bed, easing Preston’s arm from around his torso, put on his clothes. He opened the door slowly, knowing it’d squeak otherwise, and went to the kitchen where he saw his mother standing in the middle of it looking around lost.

“Are you looking for coffee?” Brody whispered.

“Oh, Brody…yes. Do you boys drink it?”

“Yes, but I have a better idea. Get dressed.”

Brody led his mother down to Maria’s restaurant where he knew she would be serving breakfast and had some of the strongest coffee in the village. They took a seat next to Juan and Martin. He spoke to them about the dinner the night before, his Spanish sounding fluent to his mother. She found herself constantly amazed at the changes in her son, his adapting to life in this foreign country and in such a place that she could never imagine. Brody and the men laughed, and he turned back to his mother when their conversation was over.

“I’ll have Maria bring us something to eat” said Brody as he saw Maria approach with two cups of coffee.

As they waited for their food, then while eating, she asked Brody about his life and was he truly happy. She watched his face as it seemed to nearly glow as he talked about life with Preston and the luxury of their simple life, one he knows would be impossible for most. When they finished, Brody paying Maria as they headed out, he led her to toward the beach.

“Come on, the ocean is so nice this time of day.”

They strolled down to the beach and sat on the sand just above the crashing waves. The wind blew off the water and they could feel the saltiness of it. Seagulls hovered in the air and surfers were out on the water waiting on the perfect wave, then riding it toward the shore. Brody leaned back on his elbows and watched his mother as she watched the surfers, wondering what things would have been like if everything had been different.

“I can see why you love this place” Brody’s mother said looking over her shoulder.

“It’s Paradise” Brody replied, and they laughed softly at his reply.

“Brody, I’m sorry about…”

“Don’t; we talked about it in our letters. Let it go.”

She nodded her head. “Preston really seems like a good person.”

“He is.”

“You love him?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“Brody?”

“Yes?”

“How did you sleep last night? I mean, the two of you in that single bed.”

Brody smiled, as he sat up next to his mother. “Why the way we do every night, snuggled up together.”

She looked at him in surprise, that he would admit their intimacy in such a way, then she saw his smile, the one her little boy would have had when he had done something mischievous but something she couldn’t scold him for and he had known it. Then she smiled too. “You boys, I swear.” Then she laughed out loud, and Brody did too; it carrying down the beach past the surfers and around the buildings till it seemed it would fill the whole of Mexico.