When we Cum Face to Face

From your Author’s:

We are jumping around now and what follows will make more sense.

From me.

Today marked an anniversary of sorts, an anniversary of a death. Twenty-five years is a long time. I will let the lyrics of a song spell it out.

‘There’s a light, a certain kind of light, that never shown on me. I wanted my life to be, lived with you, lived with you.

There’s a way, everybody says, to do each and every little thing. But what good does it bring, If I Ain’t got you? If I Ain’t got you?

Robby, you’re the only one who knows, the only one who knows what it’s like to love somebody, somebody, the way I still love you.

In my brain, I still see your young face; I know my frame of mind today. When you gotta be so blind, and I’m so… very blind.

I was a man, in love with a man, I lived and breathed for you. But what good does it do if I don’t have you?

Robby, you don’t know what it’s been like, you don’t know what it’s been like, to still love you after all these years.

‘In Memory of Robert John Chancellor.’

“Ok. You got point two. Can I ask you a question?” And I nodded.

“Do you have Honor???” He had never asked a more serious question before.

“I don’t understand, Grampy?” I really didn’t.

“Do you know what Honor is and what it stands for?” And I shook my head again.

“Google it.” And I did.

He watched me. Time and again I looked at him. None of what I read applied to me but Grampy hit every mark. “Why’d you do that to me?” I asked him.

“A man is only as good as his word. Honor; is what makes my word, gold. Honor is wearing a mask; do you understand now?” I got it.

“You will read Hemmingway someday’ I’m sure. ‘Today is only one day in all the days that will ever be. But what will happen in all the days that follow; depends on what, one chooses, to do with this day.” He had to understand.

“What the fuck are you doing to me, Grampy???”

“What if she calls me Grampy? Will you stand up? Will you keep your word to, Annie? Will you risk something as precious as the, little rank monster?

You need to be more than who you are when you say something. Respect, honor, a man is only as good as his word. Even when he’s stoned. And you always need to be looking ahead to the days that will follow this one.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked again.

“You should have never made that deal, Jr. ‘Normals’ don’t understand. You saw that first hand.” And he shook his head.

“I was just, they got me so… stoned. Grampy, you know what it’s like?”

“Jr.? I do know what it’s like but you need to understand. You, you are too strong. Let’s do it again. It could kill me, or you, or both of us; are you up to that?” I nodded.

We brought our heads together like we’d done almost two years ago. His wrists rested on my shoulders cupping my neck as mine did his. I was wrong about his colors.

He openly let me swim in his head as he did mine. It was like he watched me picking memories from his field and lived them again with me. Then both of us planting new ones. I started to cry.

He wasn’t lying, he just let me swim around till he finally asked, “Had enough?” And he let go.

“Glad they didn’t find us both dead.”

He told me to go to bed, watched me stand looking at him. Grampy smiled with his dimples and tilted head. ********************************

Back up a few days:

“Did you know him, Grampy?” I asked and he shrugged.

“Did you know, Jeff Healy?” I questioned, as he put flame to a roach.

From your Author;

OK. I hid a lot of shit from my boys when I was young. I’m not gonna make the same mistake twice. It’s been almost two years now. RJC.

“No, Robby. I didn’t know him but have a lot of respect for those I didn’t know. That was ‘The Start’, or ‘Something Different’, I think?

The poor, blind, bastard. For me it was kind of like understanding. I walked around the whole day with my eyes closed. And he was hotter than fuck, am I wrong”??? He looked at me and I smiled.

“I wanted readers to read and listen to music. Jeff was an artist with a handicap who had not seen himself in a mirror for years. Eric, Elton, Billy, and don’t get me started on, The Bee Gees.” And he looked at me again.

“From just what I wrote, thousands rolled into his foundations. I guess it could have been a coincidence? Can you even believe that?”

I thought about it thinking how an Author on a site like this could do that. “But you knew, Elton?” I knew he did, he wouldn’t have lied.

“You don’t know a bitch like him, but we did sing together once, thirty years ago. That’s why I added him and David in ‘The Start’, and ‘Something Different’. I did ask their permission.”

“Grampy? Did the whole campground thing happen???” I shouldn’t have asked; but did.

“You are a bad-bad-monkey. You need to forget that.” He took a deep breath and shook his head.

“But I can picture it. Parker at twenty, what a fuckin hunk, honestly, Grampy? Drunk and pounding on the door; pouring whisky over his head.

And what happened. So? What else should I forget, Grampy? Maybe the outing on The L&O?” He did not like that one little bit, or my tone asking.

“You got a slap cuming, Slick. Yes. Forget that.” And he settled back.

“Do you want to start?” I asked him.

“Forget,” and he rubbed his chin. “Forget the shower, forget the whole sunburn thing, and the first time we, well, you know what I’m talking about.” I nodded.

“Should I forget what you guys did at Willows, the first time?” And he nodded again.

“Really, Grampy?” And I shook my head at him.

“The first kiss, falling asleep in front of the fire with this blanket around you guys?” He smiled at me.

“And the between the legs thing?” I asked with a smile.

“You are a bad, bad, monkey. Fine. You can keep that; you little ass.” And he touched his lips like remembering.

“Should I forget what happened when you came back?” He nodded again.

“All of it?” I asked not understanding?

“Explain?” He questioned.

“Should I forget dinner at the Space Needle, the way you rested your hand over his, or the fun park?” I asked.

“No. That was good stuff, but everything after; like the club. Look, Slick. That was the seventies, not today. And I didn’t write about resting my hand on his or him taking mine.” I nodded knowingly.

“You wrote about Gerry, more than once? You knew him; didn’t you?”

“He was a conglomeration of a few guys I knew. Forget that disgusting queen and Zach.” And he huffed on a swallow.

“Wait. You forget about when we got home, and the next day.” His eyes were darting around.

“You forget everything about, Zach, Gerry, Oh God. Parker would fuckin die if he thought you knew that.” Grampy was in meltdown.

“Ok?” I asked.

“But I can never scrub from my brain, ‘Robby bouncing a dildo off Parkers’ head.” And Grampy doubled over in laughter.

“It was the funniest-fuckin-thing I have ever seen. You should have been there; No, you shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t even know about it.”

“Was it all the way you wrote? I cried for you, what you were allowing to happen so you could be sure love was true. That took such balls!” I told him.

He took a deep breath. “It had nothing to do with balls. Everything to do about heart was what I was thinking. I couldn’t deal with him in college, I knew it would happen.” And he took a sip.

“I knew it would happen, the hottest fuckin girl in the world would cum on to him. What we had would be lost in loins of curious youth, he’d realize when the damage had been done.”

His glass was half full again and I managed another half a teaspoon as he puffed. “OK. You go, Robby.”

“No! Back up?” And I searched the room looking for understanding?

“OK. You are seriously fucking with me, Grampy. Who would fold quad’s?”

His hand came up, knowing. “Enough of this.” He told me.

“The Deer???” I asked.

“I’m not gonna go there. It all happened as I wrote. I’d say let go of the hot tub part, but you want to keep that pain to balance you out, fine; I get it. The deer took twenty years to kill him,” and he took a breath.

“I may have told the whole story. They were just spotting for the next weekend. Robby shot that deer on the side of a gravel road, it fell down a ravine. They spent all day dragging it back up to the road; two times, because they had to cut it in half. Could life, be any more, fucked up?

I wish you could have known him at his best, Jr. You’re gonna look like him.” He told me.

“His initials and last name are the same as ours and he would have loved you as much as I do.” And he took a breath looking at me.

“Robin June Chancellor, she was your Grammy: Another RJC.” And he shifted gears.

“Shooting that fuckin-deer at sixteen and feeling it die. Then his brother-in-law dying the next week left him with PTSD and Survivors's guilt. He felt he was meant to die again, even if it was with them, and it ate him alive from the inside out. It was a sad, sad, thing to live through.” And I saw his pain.

“Hawaii, and the party before you left? And the shaving?” He searched his lids then smiled at me.

“You still do it; I do too, Grampy,” he did the ‘La, la thing.

“OK? Where are you going now, Slick?” he asked.

“I do it. It feels good, makes me look bigger in the mirror.” And again he did the, la, la thing.

“I Googled Sylvia and read her books, I think I know where she wrote about you guys; wish I knew you when your colors could light a city.” I didn’t think.

I realized at that moment when he turned his head and I could tell he was fighting tears yet again. “That’s her in the back. God, that woman pissed me off.”

He pointed to the picture. “And how do you know I’m not happy today?”

“I don’t see the colors around you like you described looking at him. Your rainbow isn’t really happy, Grampy.”

“So you shave, do you? Think it makes your, dick, look bigger in the mirror? And you forget about us shaving each other.”

“I nicked myself the first time but I can’t imagine letting someone else do it.”

“It’s all about trust, Slick. OK. Next.”

And he shrugged.

“The funeral,” I asked.

“Which one?” He asked back. He’d been to many and was being a smart ass.

“The deer, Grampy.”

“It was one of the saddest things I can remember. In a High School Auditorium, five Caskets, Robby’s would have been the Sixth had he not shot that fuckin deer the week before.

Two fathers. Two sons. And Walt.”

“Why do you say it like that? ‘That fuckin Deer’? If he had shot in the air his would have been the sixth. You’d have given it all up, you would have folded quad’s, wouldn’t you?” I couldn’t wrap my head around it all.

“Yes. If I could have, not knowing what I do today; in a second. You don’t miss what you don’t know, Slick.

I would have spared him twenty years of pain. And spared myself all these years. The Master plan, Robby. It fuckin sucks.”

OK. That took some digesting. “That was the start?” I asked.

“No. The Start was when I gave him the bigger part of my heart to hold his pain because his was ready to explode. But it was the first time I helped him.

It was as I wrote; I can still feel his heartbeat in my palm.” And I waited.

“He knew but, I didn’t know what it had done to me. My bangs had turned white by morning. And then it was the next week,” He looked off.

“I was just the kid who worked with her husband, yes, her little brother had gone back with me; Robby was a heart-filled mess.

We’d been home about two months and were re-discovering, and falling in love, all over again. It was a magical time.” And he cupped his face as I waited.

“She motioned me up and when I sat next to him my left arm went around his shoulder and my right hand went under his coat over his heart.” And he shook his head with tears running over his cheeks. I waited again.

“His head came to my neck and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. ‘Don’t, Rye’ that’s what he told me. He’d made me promise the week before that I’d never do that again. And the next morning: I had more white.” As he pointed.

“But it was the last time I slept alone for seven years.”

I yawned and he said I should go to bed.

“You talked about it,” And I smiled at him.

“We’re not having this conversation, Grampy.” And he nodded with a smile not having a clue.

“The way you wrote about it;” And I huffed ready to cry.

“I don’t think you even know. When you guys made love; like trying to make a baby.” And my eyes filled at the thought of it.

“You referred to it as, something you could leave behind in this life; something never before, something that carried your love for each other beyond tomorrow. Do you even know how fuckin profound that is, Grampy?” Fuckin tears.

“Robby?” And he smiled.

“Don’t cry. During that time, we never saw anything but each other, saw our lives this time, lasting much longer. Life has a way of fucking with the master plan.” And he took a deep breath.

“Grampy? ‘The Accident?”

“What do you want to know?” He asked.

I thought about everything. “What you wrote. wasn’t the truth.” And he looked at me.

“YOU, can’t handle the truth.” And I’d seen the movie.

“I can if you can.”

“Fine. You are a little ass. It was me. I was the one on death's door. He saved me. I was the one in a coma, he found me. Is that what you really wanted to hear?”

“Why are you pissed at me, Rye?”

“You have not earned the right to call me that.” And he got up and walked away.

From your Author’s;

A lot of shit has happened as you will read. Dad and I smile writing across from each other, sharing. We talk a lot. He is a hard read. I think I understand? His years of wanting, still.

Centuries of loving and living, and dying. I don’t like to think about doing that and coming back, just to do it again. Grampy hasn’t slept in days and it wears on him.

He misses him so bad. I miss him not even knowing who he was. I read their life, I know what he is, and he knows I know. Sometimes he sees my face and just shakes his head no.

The Fourth of July was a big thing. RJC’s. Rest in Peace RJC. 9-14-61---12-6-96. TEARS.