R&R and The Renagades

From your Author:

I would like to take the opportunity and say a little about what has been happening. I feel I’m entitled and our host has given me a platform. Take a long hard look at where we are today. I see small gatherings of a hundred or so; no police. I see a lot of white people holding signs. Black lives matter, stop the hate and violence, we are the human race. All lives matter.

I never owned a slave and most of the black people today were never slaves. But I bet if you looked back on our lineage you would find my ancestors owned slaves and many today, have generations before them that were. I, along with many millions live with White privilege. It is the only thing we know and it doesn’t make us bad. We just don’t know anything else. We don’t walk in their shoes.

Myself, I don’t see color. I see assholes, but not their color. I see Niger’s; a term I hate but I see many white Niger’s. This is hate mail worthy. When I was a kid my mom worked at a golf course resort and the cooks were a husband and wife team. I did what I hope any kid would do in the sixties; I called them, Gramma, and Grandpa. They were black as coal.

I was white as ivory and they loved me with food and praise. I think the kids of today are the same and the actions of ‘the grown-ups’ are fucking them up. All I am saying is this, ‘we are all brothers and sisters riding this ship called earth, we walk and talk every day without a divide of color, why now? RJC. 

I’d finished our Biography for the last time almost a year ago; the story of our life with my soul mate, Robby. I never realized the impact it would have on me or the ones who read so feverishly. Though it brought me to tears many times I prevailed and our love was expressed to those who followed. It was long, spanning forty years, love and happiness, pain and heartache, and the connection we had. I poured my heart and soul into this manuscript sharing it with readers on a gay website called, Gaydemon.

I ended the three hundred-thousand-word document with what I considered to be the only true, happy, ending, my death; reuniting again with Robby. I enlisted the help of a reader to assist me to conclude our life and it shook my readers in a way I never thought or expected. They had become attached to me and the love of my life, Robby; they had become vested. I guess I see that as a success because they are still with me, Hence the title, Robby and Ryan. I have since started three non-fiction stories because I realized during my endeavor that I love to write and interact with readers; my Renegades.

I met Robby again in the spring of 1977 just before I turned seventeen and he would be sixteen in the fall. I had no idea how my life was going to change nor did I understand how our story would affect so my readers. It was the best of times, love, that had no boundaries, sex that was never selfish, and we lived as husbands till our early twenties. This is where I tell you to go back and read Robby and Ryan, by RJC.

Our life was normal but on so many levels, wasn’t. It’s hard to go into so much detail about us because we’d be back up over two hundred-thousand words again and this story is about my Renegades. These guys knew so much about Ryan with me knowing nothing about them. It’s a strange relationship.

To continue on I need to explain a few things; it was back around chapter 4 or 5 that I told you to think outside the box. First; Robby and I have been caught in a time loop for hundreds of years. We have lived over and over sometimes finding each other and sometimes not; this was the last time.

Second; we are connected in a way twins are but on a much deeper level. We feel what the other does. And in my case, I can give him the strength to overcome whatever he can’t shoulder on his own, but some things I just couldn’t fix. It came at a great cost to me but was something I’d never change. And last but not least; we saw colors in each other.

In the late summer of 77, my Grandfather passed away; my Dad’s Dad. I inherited everything. The Willows was a family estate built hundreds of years ago; when our flag had only thirteen stars. It was a grand and impressive home. I’d never been here before but it had a strange familiarity. Along with that came a safe-deposit box that provides me a lifestyle that continues today; it was in the form of stocks and barrier bonds. It was 1977.

Robby and I lived in Washington State and Willows became our home to the East for the time we were together; the only place that really felt like home. A little about myself that doesn’t separate me too far from my readers; I did marry in my mid-twenties when Robby’s addiction wouldn’t allow him to stay.

I became a father of two boys and now have two grandsons who live with me. My wife died all of fifteen years ago. I live in the home I lived in as a child, the same home my boys grew up in, and the home Rob and I shared in our early years. I have a heart condition that has followed me through the ages that have taken me on more than one occasion but has allowed me to make it to sixty this time.

Robby. He developed juvenile diabetes at eighteen and his symptoms I could feel in my own body. He was so smart, took to higher learning with an appetite that couldn’t be fed fast enough; but with all his smarts it didn’t stop him from saying yes to cocaine. It was our downfall. He was such a beautiful boy than a young man, dirty blond hair that framed his face, soft peaches, and cream skin, and eyes a color blue that I have yet to see again. His body was compact; he grew to 5-8 but back then he was about 5-5. From the work, we did he was stacked for his size and was not proportionate when it came to what he carried in his pants.

We were so lucky considering the late seventies and the gay phobia, the crash of disco, commonplace was, fag. I had friends, I’d been around even for my young age, and I could defend myself. The other part of that was my looks, the way I dressed, carried myself, and I had money but wasn’t one to flaunt it, much. I had an ear for music never having a lesson, played the piano and guitar by ear, and I could sing.

Over the years Robby’s voice was refined and he learned to play the drums. We were a hit at summer parties, we’re lusted after by many, but all knew we were together and only a few tried to break our resolve. Our true test came on Thanksgiving day of 79; The Accident. That was the first time what I could do was truly tested, what I did, and what I allowed to happen over and over again.

My injuries were external for the most part; Robby’s were both inside and out. He was in a coma for days and I went there to be with him, found him by our tree at the Willows, and we did pull through. I won’t go into the connection we had with this place and the sixty acres that surrounded us because few would understand.

During the seventy-five days, I posted a chapter every other day and some were long; over twenty-thousand words. That’s commitment when you read so much in such a short period of time. As I came to the last chapter it was becoming more and more difficult; I wanted to get it right and my need to put it all behind me was growing stronger.

I found solace in ‘The Start.’ I have views; strong ones, some that turned readers off but the platform that developed was too much to pass over. I made it clear my disdain for our President, school shootings, bullying, LGBTQ, all things that the orange one seems to find no interest in. And then there is music.

My readers say these stories have a soundtrack, words put to music, true, heart-wrenching words, that tell a story many of us live with. I say all of that is true but I think more times than not we find comfort; I know I do. ‘The Start’ was born in North Dakota and initially focusses around two boys who do something grand at an assembly on bullying in their school.

I say grand because it goes viral, two boys were thrown into the world of grand illusion. Talk shows, news, good and bad of media, and rumors. This particular story deals with gay sex, sex behavior that borders on dangerous, death of boys, abuse of one boy that is so horrific, and recovery. I never intended it to go as far as it did but who really knows once you start writing.

Today, The Start, is going on forty chapters. The star died a few months after he turned eighteen and I thought that was the end. The Star, Dean, left a legacy that carries on to the last twenty-five chapters. And I have incorporated Robby and Ryan.

I have explained how writers come to a block sometimes and it has happened to me more than once, hence, ‘Something Different.’ Again I incorporated music, gay sex between two lifelong friends, talent, and fears with one suffering an appendage abnormality. During all this time my Renegades have stood by me, commenting and emailing me, praising what I write and engaging others who comment.

When I reached another block I did what has worked for me, I started something totally different that brings us up to speed with ‘The Bug.’ This incorporates what we are all suffering today and finds three collage guys going to a cabin at the foot of Mt. Rainer to ride out the bug. None are gay, all three sports orientated, muscled bodies ranging from basketball and baseball along with wrestling. But boys will be boys. And some great weed was involved. ‘The Bug’ is in chapter nine on this site.

I don’t want to get carried away but through all this, my Renegades have read and commented; great guys. One of them emailed me today giving a few ideas and his spark lit a flame in me so you are coming up on fourteen hundred words and we haven’t even got to the meat and potatoes yet. There are a few other things that set me aside from my author friends; I thank them. I thank them for inspiring me to even start writing. I thank our host. If not for Bjorn providing a venue that we can do what we do, where would we be? And I reply to my readers.

I also do a thing called ‘From your Author.’ Most chapters start and end with that and it gives me a chance to share a little about myself. I can answer common questions, and it allows all of us to vent a little. I think it may have been that that brought my Renegades together, my responses to comments and emails, and how they saw my bare ass in what I wrote. Who really knows?

When I started Robby and Ryan, it was only to be around five-thousand words about one day in our life and it morphed into so much more. You would have to be a person with a story needing to be told, where life just pours out on the keys, fingers moving faster than you can type. I have said that non-fiction is much easier to write because you are recounting it rather than something from your imagination like my latest three.

The Willows got its name from willow trees; the theme of the estate. The driveway is blocks long, willow trees on both sides making a canopy over the driveway and framing our home when it comes into view. The house is majestic, three tall stories, white with green trim, and an attic that has those little half-moon windows on four sides.

The inside has tall ceilings, windows with stain glass above-featuring willow trees. Handcrafted moldings, large rooms with pocket doors for separation, and a grand staircase that splits in the middle. The house actually has ten bedrooms, parlor, living and dining rooms, and a library holding thousands of books. Downstairs has two fireplaces made from river rock big enough that a man could get inside.

This is where Rob and I came after the accident to heal, mend our bodies and spirits, the place that gave us Lady, our female canine. This would be where I brought my Renegades, a part of me they had read about, but soon they would experience it in person. It took some juggling to make it happen but after weeks of planning Derion, Art, and I sat on a G350 heading for Minnesota and Renegades numbers 3 and 4. I sent tickets to the outer guys.

My goal was to bring them all together, guys who email and text each other daily, guys who’ve never met but loved each other, never shook hands or the joy of sharing a hug, but because of me, they call one another friend. That’s some powerful shit right there that I never expected or saw happening. I think of a song, ‘It’s not what you take when you leave this world behind; it’s what you leave behind you when you go.’

It was all day in the air and I hoped to find out a little about my Renegades, the guys that supported me this whole time, but they wanted to know more about me. We landed at Dulles and we’re met by two black SUVs. Four of us took the first car and the others were in the second. I have a caretaker who handles the estate and it was her son Tommy, who drove for us. They are the only two who know my secret. I sat in front next to Tommy.

He is twenty-four, a fine specimen of a young man; like fine, fine. He has read my stories, never commented, but he knew who our guests were. We stopped at the gate because walking is really the only way to take it all in and it is what I do when I come once a month. I spend two days a month here; I have for almost twenty-five years. I was in the lead walking and listening to those behind me in awe.

Shannon, Tommy’s mom, was on the porch with open arms as I walked up reaching for her. She is ten years younger than me and she saw a part of Robby and I that was caught on film. The guys piled in behind and all were shown to the west wing; Shannon brought in extra staff and I followed her to the kitchen. I was exhausted.

I looked up, she smiled and nodded, and I smiled back. “Can I get you anything?” She asked and I shook my head no.

That Willow Tree was calling me as it always did, our tree, the grandest of them all. I could hear conversation on the deck wondering if I was ready to tell them all why they were here. It was Derion who came down first to see if the coast was clear and then the rest of the guys came down. I really didn’t know these guys from Adam but felt a kinship, and wasn’t sure who was who as they formed a circle around me.

It is the strangest thing when people know you, though never meeting you, but they knew me. All sat Indian style in the grass kind of talking amongst themselves but looking at me. Three people walked down holding trays with finger food, bottles of wine, napkins and small plates. Shannon followed with Billy’s guitar, a bottle of Scotch, a glass, and a smile for everybody.

I thought about what I was doing and why. I needed to come clean with these guys, tell the honest truth that I never shared. I picked up the guitar and plucked on the strings thinking of words that might help soften the blow. I stopped pulling the cork pouring two fingers of the golden liquid in a glass, cheers to the guys, and downed it filling the glass again setting it aside. Going through my mental list of lyrics I picked a song that might fit the bill

“A few nights ago I dug your picture out of our old dresser drawer; I set it on the table and talked to you till four. I read from your journals right up till the break of dawn; now were sitting here digging up bones.”

I looked up to our room; the doors open to the balcony. I returned my eyes back to the guys who seemed to stop mid whatever. Some looked to their laps or what they were holding, others looked back and forth between each other, and some looked at me. I downed it and poured a third. I felt bad because this was sipping scotch; expensive as fuck. This was something to enjoy, the fragrance, and the color that hangs on the inside of the glass. This was not to be wasted in a gulp but tonight it was more about effect than appreciation.

“I think about our jewelry, the rings we used to wear, and I remember the day we traded. I’ve strolled these lonely halls of our broken home alone, but today I’m sitting here digging up bones. Come on guys; that’s what we’re all here for, Isn’t it. We’re digging up bones, you’ve come here to help me exhuming things that’s better left alone, but here we are digging up bones. I know you want to help me resurrect memories; but all we’re doing is digging up bones.”

Shannon tapped me on the shoulder; gave me that look. “I’ll be back in a few minutes’ guys” and I downed the third. I walked away and watched them from the deck and then from the balcony. If they only knew the half of it.

I walked back out and sat pouring another asking them all their names again. I asked J, or G, what songs he liked from my playlist or any song that told a story. “Billy Joe”

No; I was not up to this. My gut clenched, the tears stung my eyes, and I pulled myself together. “This was his guitar; it’s all like I wrote. The song was about a kid I went to school with who answered the call. A kid who served his country, died saving a brother, and he wasn’t even old enough to buy a fuckin beer.”

I thought about the last time it passed my lips; decades ago. Rob and I came to take Bruno to the dedication of the wall. I have no idea how long I spaced out, the lyrics going through my head, and my fingers started to move. Back then I played a piano but strings are strings; are they not?

“There’s a moral to the story of this song. Not all hero’s in this land are tall and strong.”I opened my eyes and three guys were singing with me only knowing the words without the melody.

“This is as I wrote. I sang this for a room full of Vets’ who all knew a Billy. Guy’s?” And I changed the subject.

“You need to understand this place. Right now you are outside her walls but once inside you need to think happy thoughts. Willow will use you, take what you have and she’ll use it to feed. If it becomes to great come outside. It will piss her off but she can’t reach you out here.”

They all had their mouths open, eyes looking between me and the place where their beds were. “Johnny be Good.” Came from D.

Drink five, two more fingers in a glass, that is a lot of scotch even for a guy like me. I went to my room, showered in our bathroom, put on the clean sleep pants from last month, and I sat. This was way more than digging up bones for me. Over the past twenty-five years I have spent 300 days here. I fly in early, spend the next day, then fly out. I gave what I could but it was never enough. It was selfish bringing them here, I felt like leading lambs to slaughter.

I was standing on the balcony as they came out one by one and two by two; she was too greedy, way too quick. The guys were in the back yard, blankets spread around, conversations ran on top of each other; I shook my head. A knock came to my door and it opened a minute later; I looked back at her shaking my head no. I laid back in our bed and gave her all I could.

I didn’t need staff but they were here for the guys. Shannon laughed as I looked out on the yard that morning and what appeared to be a slumber party of guys my age. The kitchen was of fire with food, dozens of eggs, pig in all forms along with one guy making crapes, another chopping fruit, Shannon poured me coffee.

“It will never work.” She said as we looked down at them.

“You don’t know that.” And I walked out and rang the dinner bell.

Old men. These guys spent hours in a plane, ate and drank shit I’m sure wasn’t on their diet but shouldn’t be on anyone’s diet. And they slept on the ground outside. I laughed. “FIFTEEN MINUTES GUYS. Breakfast on the deck.”

I ate on the step away from the guys and Tommy sat next to me. “Was this your wish?” He questioned. I knew what he was talking about.

“Telling the story to all the readers?” He asked. I shrugged.

“Mom says it won’t work. Do you think it will?”

“I have no, fuckin, idea, Tommy; but what do we have to lose?”

Shannon had made arrangements; they could do what they wanted. Cars were available to go up the coast, Tommy could take some into DC, and whoever wanted could stay behind. My hair grows out but then I come back. The guys saw I was white again and there were murmurs. It was always the same.

My secret, something that’s worse than death. Most all of them choose to stay and food just rained all day. I got to know the guys, they told me things that were important to them, shared a part of themselves with me and their friends. It was an eclectic group. I listened as I came to know them.

Would they willingly sacrifice part of their heart, give away something that would leave them less than whole? Who in the hell was I to ask that of complete strangers? These guys cared for me; all had said it many times and I sought comfort in their kind words. What I was doing was wrong.

Tonight would be dinner at Phil’s Crab House on the deck and then when we get back home I’ll tell them my secret. My secret, the things I didn’t tell them and things I lied about would be laid out. And many of them would get what they wished for many times. This would probably be the second hardest thing I ever had to do. We gathered in the library when we got home.

I stood in front of the fireplace looking at the faces I had names for now. It wasn’t like being caught in a lie; I had to admit to them I’d done it. “You know Robby read many of these books.”

“Guys; close to the end of our journey I told you all how Robby died. That was a lie. You have all paid tribute to him in one form or another and I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know. Robby did OD as I said but he didn’t die; well his body didn’t.” And now they were looking at each other then back at me.

“Would you like to meet him?” And now they were all just looking at me.

“Yes.” Echoed through the room.

“Robby’s mind is gone or he’s fallen so deep into himself that all he can do is breathe. After decades I can’t find him in there. He blinks once and a while but there’s no eye movement. He has been here for the last twenty-five years with round the clock care.” And I turned to the fireplace watching their reactions in the mirror.

“Is that why you brought us here; to meet Robby?” D asked.

I turned back to them and took a breath. “I brought you all here because I’m not strong enough on my own. Each of you has a gift that I think has been dormant, hiding inside, an assents’, if you will. I am asking if you’ll help, help me wake Robby up. I’ll leave and let you talk it over. It will take all of us.”

I went upstairs and sat next to Robby’s bed, picked up the book, then started reading to him. I remembered how he would read to me with all the inflection of the author. He has aged gracefully considering. He is bathed every day and gets shaved, he’s moved around the house and sits on the balcony. He is in good physical health, heart is strong, has an insulin pump now, along with feeding tube and the other stuff. Willows’ watches over him, she can only give now because Robby has nothing to offer anymore. I scolded her for scaring the guys, trying to take something that wasn’t for her to take but needed, and I also needed her to facilitate what I was hoping to happen.

I looked around the room; our first room. I closed my eyes remembering as I wove my fingers in his thinking back on so many things; I walked my field. I have learned to appreciate the bad shit, understand life can’t always be rainbows and lollypops, and pathetic as it sounds, I still have him. The room is filled with pictures, snapshots in time, boys growing into young men, the love between them so evident.

I looked at his face and his eyes were open locked on the ceiling as I ran my hand over his forehead closing them. He can open them but for whatever reason sometimes they don’t close. I picked up the book and started reading to him. This is what I’ve done over and over again then I leave only to act like life is as I wrote. There is a saying, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ what a pile of shit that is.

“Robby, please. I know you’re in there. Please.”

It was what I always said. I don’t know how much time passed but a knock came to the door then Shannon walked in. “They’re all still in the library and would like to see you. I can sit with him.”

I nodded, took my left hand from his, kissed his forehead, and wiped a tear from his eye as I did the same from my own. I guess his tears still fall from my eyes as well. I sat on the bottom stair hearing them not seeing their faces but putting faces and names to the voice. Derion seemed to be the ring leader and he was explaining that among his people things like this were commonplace. I stood walking in.

“Will we be able to sleep in the house tonight?” R asked.

He is the shy one just wanting someone to love. “If you’re talking about Willow; she’ll play nice; won’t you?” I asked looking around. The curtains fluttered.

“What do you want us to do?” Came from Greg.

“You all have a conception of him; feel you know him and mourned his loss, and you care for him deeply never knowing him. I’m not sure exactly what’s going to happen but something tells me that each of you needs to spend a little time with him alone. If that’s too much to ask I would understand.” They all shook their heads no.

“In the morning after Rob is cleaned up Aaron, his nurse, will put him on the balcony, and one by one you can share time and space with him. You can just sit, pray, introduce yourself, and talk to him, tell him things you want him to know. If things go well, after dinner, we will all gather together for what I hope will bring Robby back to us. Sleep well guys.” And I left them there.

I walked back into Rob’s room and Tommy was sitting where his mom had reading to Robby from his tablet. He read what I wrote and for the first time, I actually heard it with my own ears read by someone else. He felt the inflection in my voice writing it, he knew where the emotion was, and he looked at me and stopped.

I smiled and shook my head wanting him to continue as I leaned against the door. “Why have you never read it to him?” he asked.

“We lived it,” I told him wondering why he’d even question me about it.

“Tommy? How long have you been doing this?” I questioned.

“Long as I can remember. If it’s ok, I’d like to be part of the circle.”

I smiled to try hiding the tears, the offer and the sentiment behind it, his want for this to work, or let me give up, either way, he wanted to be part of it. I nodded it was ok and for him to continue reading. After I don’t know how long, I walked over placing a kiss on Robby’s head, “sweet dreams,” and did the same to the top of Tommy’s head. Then I went to bed.

The morning was the same as yesterday but the guys slept great and were ready to eat. Today Shannon cut back on the eggs and pig although there were at least fifty links to accompany her sweet Belgium waffles. There were all kinds of fruit and yogurts along with other stuff. She served in the dining room because I wanted us all together for what I needed to share.

It took about three hours to get Rob ready with all the stuff that had to happen. He was showered, shaved, dressed, and I put the necklace around his neck as he was strapped in the wheelchair. His head was restrained, legs and chest, and the feeding tube were attached to his chair along with the bag for his urine. He sat up just a little reclined, his eyes were open. When I tried running my hand across his forehead to close them they opened again.

I wasn’t going to push the guys; figured they had drawn straws or something. “He is in my room, left at the landing, first door on the left. It’s called the East wing but faces mostly North.” And I watched Riley stand. I could tell he was ready to cry.

I watched the seven of them do this and thought it strange that Art didn’t go in with Derion choosing to do it alone. If I could have been a fly on the wall. Every one of them had tears when they came down the stairs and walked out to the willow joining the ones before them. When the last came down, Geoff, I followed with a scotch.

It’s hard to describe, our years and how emotions are so close to the surface, hanging on our sleeves, grown men just crying; in a manly way, of course. These guys were, all in, having no idea what the cost to them would be. I thought about the master plan. Was this it? Did I write this over a year ago so we might all come together today? I sat against the tree opposite them lighting a joint. Washington has the best weed.

I listened as the guys opened up about their experiences with Robby. The consciences was; ‘he didn’t deserve this’ and I sure as hell didn’t.’

I guess they didn’t see me sit on the other side of the tree and they all spoke freely; I gathered not smelling what I was smoking. What seemed to be happening was they were challenging each other about trivia in certain chapters. I got so lost when writing I paid no attention as fare as chapters go. I listened as they gave their own interruption of a passage, chapter, or one of my ‘From your Author’ notes.

I assume Eyes turned to Derion. “You knew this long before he pushed ‘submit story?” The tone was sour.

“Would any of you turned him down??? That last chapter was fiction but more about him than you know; he couldn’t, he couldn’t tell it himself. The difference between a good book and what we went through is that we got to know the Author, RJC, Ryan, both of them. The thing that changed in the ending; had you been reading a book nonstop and then saw ‘The End’ you might have sighed. Again, the illusion of me telling you the ending was different.” And he took a breath.

“So much of what I learned about him in the last chapter, I believe. I truly questioned all of this; and here we are. I think we have all read R&R several times and it’s always as it is with a great story; when you get to the end, you can start over again. There may be spots you don’t cry anymore and others bring on the same emotion as the first time.” And I assumed he scrubbed over his face with his hands.

“He had initially asked me to edit and put it in book form; I knew I didn’t have the time. Yes, it was tempting. Then he gave it to me. In the end, when he told me in the note he left to keep his emails; that was true.

“We get it.”

“I don’t think you do! He gave that to me. How many of you have become involved with a writer on this site other than a comment?” I assume no hands came up.

“Think about us, we commented between ourselves, then emailed each other, and some of us talk. I don’t think that’s common-place. I’m not sure that I can put my finger on one thing but, he always thanked everybody; even haters.” And he came to a stop.

“Do you remember when he talked about the blind readers. Dudes? I still can’t wrap my head around that. I could tell in the chapter how hard he tried bringing the field, and everything to life.” I knew it was Erick.

My readers were so diverse, all around the world; I talked about it in some Authors Notes. I had no idea. Some were much too young, some could have been put to death for reading or responding to me. Some of you saw the catfight between me and our host. I challenged him to find a way to keep kids from viewing this site.

R&R took me down many roads full of twists and turns, huge mountains to climb, and fields full of memories. One blind reader who emailed me was from England. A highly educated man, blind since birth and loved a man he’d been with for years. Imagine being blind just for a day, finding someone to love when you're blind. The man, the one who opened his eyes to life and so many things.

He told me he wanted to write and I encouraged him because he wanted to write about the man who helped him see. The last email I got from him he had about fifty pages with no title. He asked. My message was simple, ‘Through Your Eyes.’ I haven’t heard from him since. That’s what it like sometimes.

“What about when they went back to Lake, whatever. Do you really think he has RJC on his license plates? That whole thing with those two guys was unreal! How they didn’t know that song, is beyond me. I wish I’d met them at that age.” Johnny finished and I heard, ‘Second that.’

“I think what hooked me was the shower. When Robby came out of the shower that first time; I mean fuck me. I could feel what Ryan did watching drops slide down his smooth, young, body. He could have gone on for a hundred pages. OK? Look. I was looking for that. Come on, you were all looking for that too. To go back, look, and live the life Ryan did. I never saw any of this coming.” I didn’t recognize the voice.

“I hear what you’re saying but would you really want to walk in his shoes? I personally, have no idea how he’s survived. Think about it. I mean we all thought Robby died and felt his grief. This must have been so much worse than death.” And it was quiet after that.

“It was what Robby did for him that first Christmas. I look at people, relatives even. What Robby wrote for him is my limpness test now.” And he began reciting it, “Every Moment That We Are Together.”

“I loved it all, but when it came to, Reflection’s, that did it for me. He was married with two boys and what did he say; ‘everything came second to Robby. Him putting Robby back into rehab; I’ve been on both ends of that. Lady, and this place, people you love hurting you, I think we’ve all been there.” I wasn’t sure who that was and turned to see Tommy walk down joining the guys.

I, in the big scheme of things, am nothing. I was surprised that these guys knew so much about what I wrote and in turn, knew about me. Now if I was a narcissist; which, I’m, not, in spite of what you read; I would have had a hard-on; which I didn’t.

“Derion? Did he have scars on his back?” Brian asked that question.

“You know I had nothing to do with that chapter; right? How in the hell am I supposed to know? Do you want to ask him???”

“What about you, Kid?” I didn’t know where that came from but it got my attention.

“What about me, Pop’s?” And I smiled.

“How long you been here?”

I assume he turned pointing to the room. “Forever. I was born in that room up there and I know who all of you are. It kills me to watch him month after month, coming back here, just to read to him. I don’t know Willow without Uncle Robby.” And he paused. I felt sorry for him.

“All I know is what he wrote, their life, their pain, but I see it every month when he comes back. None of us will ever know love like that, someone who would give everything, love you unconditionally till their dying day. We have had a chance that millions will never have; their story.”

I listened to them going back and forth as I got stoned. I knew it would take as long for Aaron and Amy to get Rob ready for bed and we would eat dinner. I understood the guys now, need to know more about me, and how two people, or person, could live like this for over forty years. I laid it out to them with Tommy sitting next to me.

“Rob’s room is our old bedroom. We will gather around, you decide who will hold Robby’s hands, and we will join the circle that way. Willow will be the conduit and with your help, I’ll try and find him. I have no idea what this will do or what will happen but if you need to pull away, do it. You guys owe us nothing. Just because you read a story doesn’t mean you need to sacrifice part of yourself; are we clear.” They all nodded.

“Ryan? We all owe you something. I was lonely, needing someone to talk to.”

“I love this guy standing next to me because of you.”

“I have friends now when once there were none. You can’t put a value on that and I have you to thank for that.”

“You brought out things in me that had been buried for so long, stuff that made me laugh then cry, so much of what you had I wanted at that age. If all you said is true, at thirty you could have held a State office, Senate or Congress ten years; you could be our 2020 Candidate.” Now that just made me fuckin laugh.

“You must be drunk. But it could have happened and that’s why I never threw my hat in. I don’t like to lose and I get bored easily so I would have climbed that ladder. Let’s go.”

They followed me up the stairs. I pointed to the West Wing; “It’s called the West Wing but it faces mostly South.” And I laughed.

Robby was in bed, the black Onex necklace with his initials in gold rested on his chest, and his eyes were open. I had Aaron stay just to monitor him. And maybe us. The circle formed and hands held his, as I sat behind ready. I placed a hand on each side of his head and waited for something. I’d done this many times and nothing ever happened.

I kissed his forehead then rested mine to his. I felt Willow, her strength and the strength from the others. “Put your hands on him, don’t break the circle but rest your hands on him.” I told them. I don’t know why.

If I hadn’t been looking for it in the distance, I might not have heard Robby calling for me. Not one person broke the circle. “Guys? Feel your heart beat and the one in your hand? Breathe, think about your heart and the beat in the hand you’re holding; make them one.”

I knew there was no way in hell to bring a guy back from a quarter-century in a coma but maybe, maybe we could get him back to a place where I could reach him like the last time. I focused on the tree hearing his voice get a little loader, I have no idea how much time passed. Rob and I met under the tree. He had full mobility, could talk, move around, and it was like it was.

“Why are you so old, Rye?” As he cupped my cheek with a sad smile.

“Look Jr. You are pretty fucked up but it’s gonna be ok. Promise me you will stay here? Promise me.” And he nodded.

My head raised from his amazed I was still alive. I was prepared going into this. The guys were all asleep with their heads resting on Robby and I smiled; it was light outside. Hands were still holding another’s and I knew each and every one of them had to pee; including me. I placed my hands on Robby’s and the ones that held his. I said a silent thank you to Willow. I knew what this could mean but had no idea things that should never be shared, had?

Breakfast was a buffet and the guys didn’t eat together but choose to eat alone. You can tell looking at someone who is deep in thought and that’s what I saw watching them. I took my spiked coffee walking down to the tree and one by one the guys followed sitting in a half-moon off to my side. They didn’t say anything for a while.

“We watched. We all saw you two down here and we know what he said to you.” That came from, Tommy with tears in his eyes.

“You think you do, do you?” I fired back.

“Why are you so old, Rye?” They said at the same time trying to hide smiles getting the one up on me.

“Guys? I can’t thank you enough. Robby is in a place I can reach him and if that’s all I ever get, I’m ok with that. Are you all ok?”

Some nodded, some shrugged their shoulders, and a few shook their heads no. “I really never believed any of it.” I couldn’t remember his name.

“Up to Robby’s addiction, and him leaving you, I didn’t believe a word of it. Nobody has a charmed life like that. Being here, this home, You, and Willow. I know what frightens you; you have no idea what we saw and felt. I thought that whole thing about hearts syncing up was shit. But I felt it.” And the other guys nodded. “And I still feel it.”

Aaron came down whispering in my ear and I shared with the guys. “There wasn’t a miracle, Robby isn’t awake, but his pupils are slightly reactive. And he feels stimuli in his extremities. If you guys are willing, maybe we could do it again?” I told and asked

“I do believe Robby would never hurt you. He’d never give you more than you can handle and wouldn’t take more than you can give. You might see hundreds of years, see memories that you think are yours. Some of you might not even remember after a while. All I can ask is please don’t be scared.” That was a mouth full.

This came from Erick, “I don’t feel different. But I feel way closer to these guys. I know things about them; things others don’t and they’ve never told me and I’m sure they feel the same.” And the guys just looked bewildered.

“I saw stuff I read about and some I saw for the first time. But, it was what I felt. I can only describe it as being hugged by my mom. It was so… much more than that because I felt it, times ten. I want to tell you all that I love you and the warmth in my heart is like nothing I’ve ever known.” I couldn’t have hoped for more.

We did do it again and now all of us sat under the tree and we talked. We didn’t share because Rob had no idea what had happened or how much time had passed. It was things like, “You know how much he loves you?” We didn’t know which one of us he was talking to but both of us nodded.

Robby was comfortable under the tree but when you need to rest that’s what you do. Robby faded away back to the room that kept him safe for over 9000 nights. There was a ten-thousand-day war, once. I thanked the guys again and went to be with Rob. It was late when I went back to my room and heard piano from downstairs.

Derion was playing something he composed for Art. He told me about this a year ago and he was doing it for the guys; and his guy. And again I found myself sitting on the bottom step listening. Derion was my longest contact, years ago when I did the first, Robby and Ryan as Skate. I hold him in high regard and I know he believes me when I say it.

The thing about life, when you get to be our age, is regret, and it takes many forms. Regret can come in the form of something you did and are sorry for, things you could have and should have, done differently. Some see regret as an opportunity missed, the risk never taken, fear causing you to miss that one chance to change your path.

Some regret not doing more even though they have done much more than hundreds of people combined. Some regret marrying, living what was normal, having children, and still, living with regret. The thing is you love your wife and children, grandchildren, but you wonder, what if. Regret can come in the form of a good decision that went horribly wrong; maybe a love that hurt. None the less, it comes in many forms. And I myself, have many.

I think about another saying, ‘if I only knew then what I know now.’ Thinking about today and what I got from the path I choose; I’m not alone. If I could go back and not remember the love, the things I have, and feel now, would I change things? If there was no memory of that, would things be different? I have many things in this life that I would never want to forget.

I think back to that last day wondering if things didn’t happen the way they did; would Robby and I still be together. I think of us may be celebrating another lifetime together. I would have walked away from all I had to be with him at the time; my wife and boys, my position in the community. And Robby would have probably OD’d somewhere along the line and I’d been left with nothing.

For three days the guys roamed around the house and Rob participated as best he could. We put him on the deck, a table setting was at the table, and the guys took turns reading to him in the library. It was on the fourth day I saw them walk as a group upstream and I turned to Shannon.

“Do you have puppies?”

She smiled nodding saying, “Tommy’s there.”

I grabbed a joint; infused, and followed them some ways behind. I watched from a distance as old men played with puppies. “I hate dogs. I was bitten as a kid but if they could stay puppies, I’d have ten.”

We all went to the airport together but I wasn’t going home this time. They all had tickets for their destinations and we sat in a circle on the floor in an empty corner. “I want you guys to know my love for you is larger than this room because you exemplify the art of loving, giving, caring, and sharing. Now give me a hug.” And they did.

Robby did recover, a room turned in to a therapy room. Within three months he was mostly mobile, cognitive was returning, and he could get around. The last thing he remembered was 1983; when he broke his promise to me. I reminded him of our life before that, what we had and how we loved. I warred with myself on just what to do until one day I gave him his journals.

Robby spent two days in his room going over them; he still had his room. The need for me to go to sleep and wake up like I used to, was overwhelming. When he came down he asked why I gave them to him.

“Would you rather I hide that from you, not let you see a huge part of your life you don’t remember?”

“I am so… fuckin sorry, Rye. All I needed to do was one thing that would have changed everything, just say no like you told me. How can you still love me?”

“It was never a choice, Jr. I couldn’t help but love you and that hasn’t changed.”

“I am truly sorry for the things I did and said, all the things you went through, and I wish I remembered your boys.”

“Let’s go to the Library and I’ll read you a story.” I pulled a book then sat down with him resting his head on my lap but not before he looked at the pictures on the piano.

“These are the guys that helped you?”

“Shannon took a group shot before they left. Yes, they helped us.”

“Why Ryan? Why would they help you?”

“Because they love us. And I started to read, ‘Robby and Ryan. Chapter 1. The Beginning.’ I read to him as he had me and when I got to Reflections, I stopped. “We will read the rest tomorrow, Rob.”

“I want to take a shower, Ryan.”

“Arron will help you.”

“No. I want to take a shower with you, Rye. And I want to sleep in our bed with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Robby.”

From your Author:

This chapter was written for a group of guys that have followed the Author, RJC, through his life with the one that makes him whole. These are my Renegades. This is fiction but shows the love I have for them and what they give me in return. And a special thanks to, Geoff. If not for him, I might have never been able to share my appreciation for men I never knew. RJC.