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The Good Life Ch. 01

By: cforester44



I was merging onto the Interstate when my cell phone gave a trilling ring, telling me someone had just left a message on my e-Love account. I slid the phone open and scanned the new profile that had appeared in the "interested" column. Twenty-five, good job, very pretty brunette. Damn. I almost deleted her, but then thought, what the hell, there might be something she's not telling. You do after all put your best foot forward on these sorts of sites. Well, everyone but me. I had used the worst photographs, played down all my selling points, emphasized my weaknesses, and actually added twenty pounds to my weight and subtracted two inches from my height. But still I wasn't catching anywhere near the right type of woman. All pretty, all successful, all full of hopes for the future with the guy of their dreams. The problem was, even though I still looked every inch the athletic golden boy I was in high school -- a fact which even creative photo shopping seemed unable to hide - I would never be that guy for them. I figured it would be another five years at least until I found what I was looking for, a nice woman, older, a little on the desperate side, happy to settle for "good enough". The women who responded to my profile were still too young to see any promise in a comfortable but passionless life as the wife of a gay man.

You have to understand, it's not like I hated myself for being gay. Well, not anymore. Back in high school my best friend Jason and I and a couple of other guys had spent most of our free time brutally bullying gay kids. Mostly we made nasty remarks, called them fag, dyke. We pushed them into lockers, stuffed their heads in toilets. On more than one occasion we beat the living crap out of them. Then, the last day of class our Senior year, Jason stole his dad's gun and shot himself.

And I knew instantly why he did it, why he hated himself so much that he would end his life, because it was the same reason I had hated myself. We were both gay. We were both gay, and that is why we bullied all those kids. The next couple weeks were the most difficult of my life, but on the other side I came to terms with who I was. I accepted that I was attracted to men. But what I didn't accept is that it would be allowed to have any part in my life. Maybe I cared too much about what other people thought, but the idea of being that weird gay guy, who gathered strange looks all around town, who none but the most liberal parents would let babysit their kids, who would never just be one of the guys, it made my stomach turn. Besides, stupid as it may sound, it never really occurred to me that I would be giving up anything more than physical passion. The thought of falling in love never occurred to me. I was going to be an architect, I was going marry a nice woman, have half a dozen kids, live in the suburbs, and give really great barbeques. That was the plan, and nothing was going to take it away from me.

I cursed when I saw the flashing lights in my rearview window. Had I been speeding? Had he seen me looking at my phone while I was driving? Maybe he just thought a young guy by himself driving a crappy red convertible that screamed "pot dealer" couldn't be up to any good. It wouldn't be the first time. I had thought more than once about trading in the piece of junk for something more respectable, but what can I say, I just loved the feeling of speeding along under the open sky.

I pulled over. As the officer approached I rolled down the window and looked up with what I hoped was an adequately apologetic smile, only to have my stomach leap into my throat. It had been six years, and time had changed him considerably, but even if it had been twenty years or fifty my conscience would never let me forget. It was Evan Chamberlain.

Back in high school my friends and I had targeted a lot of people, but there was one poor kid who got the worst of it, and that was Evan Chamberlain. I don't know what it was that made us go after him especially. Maybe because his parents never complained, and it made him an easy target. Maybe it was because he had the nerve to shower with us after gym class. Or maybe it was because he was so...normal. He didn't prance or mince around or lisp his words, he ate junk food, had absolutely no style, played contact sports, and did so many baseball related oral reports the teacher asked him to stop. If he could be gay, so could anyone, and that scared the hell out of us. I still hated myself when I thought about what I had done. Sometimes when it had been on my mind a lot I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror, but slowly it had fallen into the past. Now all the old feelings came flooding back.

"License and registration please, sir," Evan said calmly. Was it possible he didn't recognize me? I could barely look him in the face as I handed him my documents, but when I did my eyes went right to the scar over his left eye. I had given him that scar, when I had shoved him into the lockers Junior year and he stumbled and fallen down the stairs instead. He handed back my license and registration, then paused, I suppose waiting for me to ask what I had done.

When I didn't say anything he said, "I saw you on the cell phone, sir. That's a $250 fine now. Did you know that?" I couldn't speak. "It's a new law, so I'll let it slide. But keep you eyes on the road from now on, okay?" He turned to go.

That was it? He was letting me off? No way.

"Officer," I called. He reappeared at my window. With the roof down I could see him very well, and still there was no obvious recognition. "Officer," I stammered, "um, I don't know if you remember me, but, um, we went to high school together, and..."

"I remember you Mr. Dubach." His tone was flat.

"Oh." This was stupid. What could I say? After everything I did? "I am so, so fucking sorry. I was so out of line..." I trailed off, realizing how utterly inadequate that was.

Evan gave me an irritated stare. "What do you want Mr. Dubach? For me to forgive you?"

"Of course not, I..."

He bit his lip, a gesture that might have seemed impatient but I understood from experience was agitation. "Look, that was years ago. It was really shitty, but it's done, so..." I saw the car in the rearview mirror before he did, a dark SUV swerving in the right lane going at least thirty over the speed limit. Without thinking I grabbed Evan by the front of his uniform and yanked him over the door into my lap just as the SUV sideswiped the car, spinning us around forty five degrees in a shower of sparks and safety glass.

Evan scrambled up to catch the SUV's plate as it sped away, then grabbed his radio. Wide eyed he called in the accident while I sat in shocked silence. When he was done he looked at me.

"Mr. Dubach? Mr. Dubach, are you okay?" I heard him, but was still too out of it to understand. "Charlie!" That snapped me out of it.

"Goddamned fucking shit!" I screamed.

"Are you hurt?"

I was dazed, but everything felt alright. "No. You?"

"Fine. We should get out."

We stood in the grass on the shoulder, politely waving on the concerned drivers that stopped to help. Evan looked me up and down cautiously, as though still trying to figure out what just happened. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"After what I put you through you don't owe me shit." At least I could talk to him now without feeling like a piece of garbage. At least not so much.

He shrugged. "You really aren't that guy anymore, are you?"

I didn't know what to say, but it seemed to be a rhetorical question anyway. I wanted to tell him that I hated the person I had been, that I would give anything to be able to take it all back. Instead I stood in the grass and marveled how much Evan had changed in six years. The skittish, lanky, fiery eyed teenager I remembered was all but unrecognizable. Outwardly, he looked good. He had grown four inches since high school, making him a hair over six feet, and, from the way the uniform hung, had filled out very nicely. (Yeah, I know, but I can still look can't I?) His face was a big surprise. Though he couldn't be more than twenty five he looked well into his thirties (I hate to think what part I had in his premature aging), but that aside the boyish awkwardness of his teen years had disappeared leaving behind a very passable man. But I didn't know if all the changes were for the better. Despite everything, in high school he had always been upbeat, defiant, and smiled an almost shocking amount. This guy didn't look like he smiled much.

A squad car with a bent license plate pulled in behind Evan's. Evan frowned and reached for his radio.

"Um, Dispatch this is Chamberlain, it that officer Bryson responding?"

"That's a positive."

He released the button. "Fantastic."

He set his expression to impassive as a giant barrel chested cop walked over. "Officer Chamberlain," he smirked slightly, and said the word "officer" like it was a joke.

"Officer Dyson," Evan responded coolly.

"What've we got here?" he said, getting out a notepad and pen.

Evan gave his statement first, leaving out only what we had been discussing when the accident happened. Dyson was a perfect ass throughout. He talked to Evan more like some mall rent a cop than an equal, lecturing him on traffic stop safety, congratulating him condescendingly on getting the plate number, and even biting back a laugh when he realized that I had pulled Evan on top of me. That was the last straw. Dyson may not think much of Evan, but maybe he would show an accident victim a little more respect.

"Is that a problem, officer?" I said, trying not to let my contempt show.

Dyson's smile vanished, and he looked at me with embarrassment. "No sir. Um, inside joke. Could I please get your statement now?"

From that point Dyson was all business, and was even professional with Evan when they had to talk. The tow truck came and went and Evan gave me a ride to the car rental place.

"Well, thanks again," he said. "You couldn't have handled that better."

"I told you, you don't ever have to thank me for anything. That guy was an ass. And you have to work with him?"

"Unfortunately. Dyson's a good cop, but he's a real dick when it comes to the whole gay thing."

"Sorry to hear that."

We sat in awkward silence for a few minutes. It was a long way to the rental place. What on earth were we supposed to talk about? But he preempted me.

"So, what've you been up to?" he asked.

"Oh, you know, this and that." It was way more than I deserved for him to try to be friendly, even after what just happened. It nowhere near made us even.

"'This and that?' What about that tattoo on your arm? Navy, right?" He kept pressing, and I found myself telling him all about my four years in the navy and studying to become an architect.

"You needed the G.I. Bill to go to college? I always thought your family was pretty well off."

He sure was observant. I couldn't tell you a thing about his family. "Yeah, but my dad wants me to pay my own way. You know, build character, just like he did." Of course that was only half the story. What I didn't tell him was that I had wanted to give myself a few years breathing room before college because I couldn't bear the thought of running into any of my old high school classmates there. "Of course he wanted me to go into the family business..."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Contracting. You see those signs at construction sites for D&B Builders?"

"That's your dad?"

"Yeah. He even offered me a two year advance on my salary and a big bonus so I could get settled right away. But I've wanted to be an architect ever since he took me to see a Greene and Greene house when I was eleven. How about you?"

"All I've ever wanted to be is a cop. I joined the force right out of high school, and well, that's pretty much it."

It was my turn to start pressing. By the time we got to the rental place we were both laughing as Evan told me how as a rookie he was called in on a home invasion, burst into the house gun drawn, only to find a family of possums raiding the kitchen.

We pulled into the parking lot, and Evan paused before asking me, "You must be hungry. Want to grab some lunch?"

Well, I had already missed class. Evan was clearly a great guy. I still didn't know how he could stand to be around me, but if he wanted to be friends who was I to argue?

We ate at a little greasy spoon full of cops, all of whom either ignored Evan or gave him a weird look and then ignored him. I commented on it. "Oh, they're still getting used to me. It just takes some time, you know?" I didn't, but nodded anyway.

Evan and I really hit it off, and an hour later when it was time for him to get back to work he asked if I wanted to do something that weekend.

That Saturday we went to the city to see a baseball game. We had seats about ten rows up from the left field foul pole. Evan sat with his feet up, crunching some $5 peanuts and explaining to me in fine detail about the team's solid fielding and promising minor league prospects. He was particularly exited about the new first baseman's major league debut, a really talented hitter apparently. In truth I was more of a football man, but it was great to see Evan so open. All the guardedness and shyness had evaporated, taking ten years off him. When the first baseman's very first major league hit fell foul into the empty seats in front of us Evan made a dash for it, scrambling madly over the rows of seats, catching his foot, falling, falling again, (it was almost painful to watch) before just beating out a pot bellied forty something for the ball. He spun around and grinned at me, holding up the ball in triumph. I pointed over his shoulder. He looked confused. I cupped my hands to my mouth. "JUMBO TRON."

He spun just in time to see the replay of his decidedly ungraceful dash for the ball. When it turned back to live he smiled sheepishly and waved to the laughing stadium. He was blushing but still smiling when he came back to his seat. He put the ball in my hand. "That is a piece of baseball history," he said happily. He even bought an overpriced beer for the guy he had beaten.

Over the next few months Evan and I went to other baseball games. We also went to movies, went hiking, played catch and tennis and went to the batting cages. A lot of times we just hung out at one of our places. It was almost like being teenagers again. Evan was quickly becoming the best friend I had had in a very long time, maybe ever. The more I got to know him the more I liked him -- his sense of humor, his energy, his kindness, his bordering on fanatical devotion to helping people.

I also started to worry about him. He never seemed to date, and I was his only real friend. It was like at twenty five he had already given up on having a life and devoted himself entirely to his job. In his mind he didn't have to have friends or love, but he did have to be a cop. I didn't see any reason why he couldn't have both. I even took him to some GLA mixers on campus. He seemed willing enough to go, but then would just stand against the wall staring at his drink. Nearly every person he talked to hit on me first. I would tell them I was flattered but not available, but why don't you go talk to my friend over there? But after spending essentially his entire adult life alone he was shy and uncomfortable meeting new people. I thought he was cute as hell, but for some reason I seemed to be the only one. He did make some casual friends, the kind that he could go running with if I was busy cramming for an exam, and was thrilled about it. I thought he owed it to himself to aim a little higher.

"Evan, I know that you're lonely. There are lots of great guys out there. You could get one easy if you just acted like you do around me. Why don't you try?"

"It's not that easy. Society teaches you how to date women, not men. I've never been any good at this."

"Just be yourself."

"Yeah, for some reason I kind of have an aversion to doing that." He saw the guilty look on my face and flinched. "Sorry. I didn't mean that."

"I deserved it."

"We're past all that."

"No. We're not." He tried, he really did, but I didn't know if he would ever be able to look at me and not see the high school bully just a little bit.

I had wanted to tell him for a while that I was gay. It had been awful not having anyone to talk to, to confide in, and Evan was the first person I knew who I felt I could really trust with this. I don't know why I thought this was the right moment, but for whatever reason I found myself blurting it out. "Evan, I'm gay."

Evan just blinked at me obviously. "Yeah."

"What! You knew?" Oh God, if he knew, who else had figured it out?

Evan seemed to read my mind. "There are two reasons people have bullied me as bad as you guys did, because they're psychopaths or because they're trying really hard to convince themselves they aren't gay. Besides," he grinned, "I see the way you look at other guys. Don't think I didn't notice you checking me out the day of the accident."

"What?!"

"Don't panic. You're actually really good about it. Subtle, I mean. The only reason I can tell is that I can relate. Have you told anyone else?"

"Nobody." I almost told him all about my home in the suburbs plan, the wife, the kids, the barbeques, the whole thing, but thought it would sound like I was accusing him of something.

"Don't."

"What?"

"You may think it's hell keeping it hidden, but trust me it can be a lot worse. Just keep it to yourself."

I felt slightly sick. Despite the shame I would always feel regarding Evan, ever since I realized I was gay right after high school he had been sort of a hero to me. Someone who was himself, unapologetically, and if you didn't like it you could go to hell because he wasn't going to change for anyone. That took such an immense amount of courage that I had assumed that was just who he was, that he stood defiantly on some higher plane where no one would ever be able to touch him or hurt him. He was showing me now just how wrong I had been.

"What?" he said. "Don't give me that look. I hate being gay. I fucking hate it. Back in high school I thought things were changing, only a few years at most and it would all be okay. Now I don't know if it'll ever be okay. When people look at me they don't see a nice guy or a good cop. They see a queer. I'll never have a family of my own. You're the first real friend I've had since I came out. I can barely even do my job because nobody respects me. It's just not worth it."

I buried my face in my hands and groaned.

Evan's tone softened. "I'm not telling you to make you feel bad. I'm telling you so that you know. Coming out can ruin you whole life."

"It's not that. It's not just that. Evan, that guy you were in high school...I admire the hell out of him. I hate to see you like this. It's fucking breaking my heart." That was more than I had intended to say, but it was absolutely true.

After a moment's surprised hesitation, Evan put his hand on my back. "I'm sorry. That kid had a lot of guts, but he didn't know a lot about the real world. Besides, he said squeezing my shoulder, "at least now I've got you."

Even now, seeing him down off the pedestal I had placed him on, I had to admire his strength. And he was right, he did have me. To the ends of the earth. I put an arm around him. I wished I could show him that he was wrong, that he could be happy. That he was the greatest guy in the world, and someday everyone would see that.

It was like that. In my mind Evan was great, he was brilliant, he was brave and selfless. He was even fantastically good looking. Yes, I was indeed enough of an idiot to have that thought cross my mind nearly every time I saw him and still not get that I was falling for him. I was even thick headed enough to wonder why it took me several weeks to notice how green his eyes were, how handsome, how bright his smile, how strong and graceful his body. When we went out I was increasingly confused by how it was always me who would get hit on. I knew I was good looking (a fact I was unable to get away from), tall and dark with a strong athletic body and chiseled features. And I have to admit that my soft brown eyes seem to have a certain draw. But in my eyes Evan was at least a match for me. The guys and girls should have been all over him.


The Good Life Ch. 01



I laugh about it now, but, Jesus, if love had been an oncoming car, I would never have known what hit me. If the word "love" had crept into my ever more frequent and affectionate thoughts of him, even once, I might have caught myself before it was too late.

It was about two months after Evan had pulled me over and I stopped by the station to pick him up for lunch. I was going to get his attention and then wait outside while he got ready, not wanting to cause a stir. I knew that things were hard for him, that he had to work twice as hard as anyone else to get just a hint of respect. Before I could flag Evan down I was intercepted by Henry Dyson, the dickhead cop from the day of the accident. He grinned at me, not exactly malevolently but with more than a little condescension.

"Hey Chamberlain," he said loud enough for the whole room to hear, "your boyfriend's here." I could see Evan at his desk flinch. I'm generally an easy going person, but I had never met a guy in my life that I wanted so frequently to punch in the face. I smiled tightly at him. "We're actually just friends, Officer Dyson." And thanks as always for being an asshole.

Dyson was the worst, but the other officers, his Lieutenant, even the receptionist all treated Evan like there was something wrong with him. Not cruelly exactly, but with a mix of awkwardness and doubt, like he had some sort of disease. Dyson was a lout, he should have been the exception. Evan was a good cop and had paid his dues, but nobody really trusted him. He was a great guy, but nobody really like him. He kept telling me that all they needed was more time (how much did they need?), but as I got to know him I thought he was becoming less sure. Of course he had to keep telling himself he believed it, because being a cop was all he had. Helping and protecting others was his whole life, his calling, his reason for existing. If he didn't have that... High school had been brutal, but in a way this was worse. This was the rest of his life.

As we walked to the diner I apologized for causing a scene. "I should have known better than to come by. I'll call from now on."

He shook it off. "If it's not one thing it's another. Don't worry about it."

We were silent for a moment, then Evan smiled. I loved it when he smiled. "Dyson really does think we're dating, you know."

I laughed, more from seeing Evan smile than because of some macho cop's idiot misconceptions. Like a gay guy couldn't have platonic male friends. "We'd make a good looking couple, though." I was joking of course, but something inside of me clicked, and perhaps inevitably it put a thought in my head that had never been there before.

That night my dreams were all shaken up. It was of course not unusual for me to dream about guys, usually the generic handsome stud who would moan and buck as I plowed him mechanically into the mattress, but this was something else entirely. For one thing, my dreams had never involved kissing.

But in this dream I was kissing someone, hot and heavy. I pulled away and saw that it was Evan. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and kissed me again, firm and deep. With my head swimming from the sensation of his tongue tracing the lines on the roof of my mouth I let my hands explore his lean sinewy body. As I traced my fingers from his shoulders down his chest to his stomach and finally grasped his firm shaft, his mouth was suddenly no longer pressed to mine but sucking my dick with reckless abandon. I thrashed and groaned as a release the likes of which I had been holding back my entire life built up in me. It was the best fucking feeling in the world. Every bit of my body was on fire. I had just enough awareness to shove Evan onto his back and push into him, burying myself into his warm writhing body, before exploding.

When I jolted awake I was nearly gasping for air, and my heart was beating out of my chest. I jumped up to get a drink of water and only then did I notice the warm stickiness between my legs. Christ, I hadn't had a wet dream since I was a teenager. I gulped down a glass of water and then took a long cool shower. What the hell was that? I had never even looked at Evan that way before, and now it was like having the blinders ripped off my eyes. But it was much, much more than that and I knew it. I knew lust, and this wasn't lust. At least not only lust. It was a tight feeling in my chest, like someone squeezing me from the inside. It made me want to smile and cry at the same time. I couldn't be blind to it any more. God help me, I was head over heels crazy in love with Evan.

What a mess.

I couldn't sleep the rest of the night. At five o'clock I gave up and took out my feelings on the treadmill. I couldn't get that dream out of my head. The feel of Evan's hot skin under my hands, his tongue in my mouth, his tight warm...God, if I kept thinking about it I was going to do something that I would regret. After an hour and a half I had run myself to exhaustion, but that only helped a little. I had just decided to go to campus early to study at the library when I got a call from the last person in the world I wanted to talk to right now.

"Hey Evan," I said as normally as possible.

"Hey Charlie." Just the sound of his voice made my heart skip. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

A shiver ran through my body. "No, I'm just leaving. What's up?"

"My building's being fumigated. Is it okay if I sleep on your couch for a few days?"

Panic time. "What about..." Shit. He didn't have any other friends. I froze.

"Is everything okay?" Evan said after a while. My mind was a blank. "You know, it's okay for you to say no. It won't hurt my..."

"Of course you can stay," I blurted out. It would be difficult, but he was my best friend after all. "Sorry about the brain freeze, I haven't had my caffeine yet."

"Great, I'll bring my stuff over this afternoon. We still on for tennis later?"

"Sure, see you." I hung up. Well, I was committed now. The sensible thing would have been to break our friendship off now, take some time to get him out of my system, and move on with my life. But even if I thought that would work (which I didn't), I couldn't do that to him. I was just a friend, but I was the only one he had.

Despite my long run I decided to walk to campus to give myself a chance to think. What was I going to do? Were all my old plans even still an option? Before today I had been certain that I was capable of remaining emotionally and physically loyal to a wife. I would even love her in my own way. But now? How could I get married when I was desperately in love with someone else? I just couldn't be that cruel to myself or to any woman. That was a bitter pill. I really wanted to have kids someday, and the thought of growing old and dying alone was not something I liked to consider. But there was a third option. And, scary as it was, I started to let myself explore it.

Could I actually -- a giddy thrill passed through me at the very thought -- could I throw away all my old plans for the future, the approval of my parents, the acceptance of society, the serenity of a normal life, give all that up and pursue a relationship with Evan? I laughed out loud. The answer was so obvious. I could. I absolutely could. I could give it all up in a heartbeat for him. I knew it would be hard. I was nowhere near as strong or brave as Evan, and I had seen what being openly gay in this town did to him. But in the stupid, blind, blissful state of mind I was in it didn't matter. We would have each other.

But there was a problem. It was like walking into a wall when the obvious thought struck me - why on Earth would Evan want me? Sure we were friends now, but after how I had treated him in high school... It would almost be an act of self-hatred for Evan to ever be with me. That should have been a red light right there, but again my stupid blissful state overwhelmed reason. Well, it was his choice, and I wasn't about to give up before I began. I couldn't change what I had done but I could try to be a better person, and even if the odds were a hundred to one of him ever loving me it was well worth it. But how to move forward? If I came right out with it, that I loved him more than I ever thought I could love anyone, that I was willing to give up everything to be with him, despite his warning about coming out, it would only scare him away. I decided I would watch him carefully for any sign he had even the slightest feelings for me, and move from there.

When I met him for tennis I groaned. It was a hot day and he was wearing that raggy old tank top that had shrunk in the wash and clung so tight to his already sweating body. I was glad I wore an extra baggy pair of shorts. This was my first time being with him since I had realized how I felt, and I was somewhat surprised to realize that other than a little awkwardness, nothing was different. My feelings hadn't changed, I just understood them now. The only real difference was that now that I could let myself really enjoy watching him move, I was finding it hard to concentrate on the game.

By the time he moved into my apartment that afternoon I was beginning to wonder how long I could keep my hands off him. For two nights I couldn't sleep a wink just knowing he was right down the hall. He noticed I was acting weird but I just made up some excuse about a big term paper. I don't think he believed me. Besides, he was acting oddly too. I had assumed it was just a natural funk, until the third night just after I had finally drifted off to sleep I was wakened by a scream, followed by a crash and loud, "GOD DAMN IT!" When I got out to the living room I found the sheets on the couch an empty tangled mess, a plank of my coffee table snapped in two, and Evan bent over the kitchen sink.

"Evan! Jesus, are you okay?"

"Just a nightmare," he said breathlessly. He turned off the faucet and wiped the water from his face. "I'm sorry about your table. I didn't know where I was. I'll pay for a new one."

"Don't worry about it." He was visibly shaken. Before I knew what I was doing I wrapped my arms around him. He was tense for a moment, then relaxed into my chest and I rubbed his back. Physical displays weren't really my style, but he looked like he needed it.

"Sorry," he said into my night shirt. "Sometimes I go through these phases when I'll have nightmares every night. Sometimes for a week or more. It can get pretty bad. If I'd known it was coming I would have stayed at a hotel."

I held him tighter. "You don't have to be embarrassed. Don't leave." I hated the thought of him being alone like that. He nodded, then sighed and pulled away, leaving me feeling strangely empty. His sheets were soaked in sweat so I got him some new ones, and sat next to him until he fell asleep. Then I went to the computed in my room, did some research, and started reading up on PTSD.

The next night was even worse. Evan ended up on the floor with a badly bruised elbow and it took him ten minutes to calm down. I couldn't leave him alone, so for the rest of the night he slept in my bed. It was kind of awkward, since neither of us were used to sleeping with another person (however innocently). When he finally fell asleep and slept soundly through the rest of the night I insisted that he sleep in my bed for the rest of the week. I was coming to realize that there was something very painful he was still not telling me. It scared me to think how bad it must be considering he had already told me about most of the worst periods of his life - his dad breaking his jaw and throwing him out of the house the day he came out, spending the next two and a half years living in hotels and a cargo van, his first love claiming Evan had seduced him and giving him a black eye. I mean, God, what could be worse than all that? I started dropping hints that I knew something was wrong, but didn't push him. After he moved to my bed the nightmares stopped altogether. Every time he would start to whimper I would touch him, and it would pass. I would wake up with my arm draped over him, but if he minded he didn't say anything. The morning after his first full night's sleep he was bright and well rested and poked fun at my rubbery breakfast eggs. I was over the moon.

It was Saturday and he had the day off, so I decided on the spur of the moment to take him for a boys' day out. We spent the day riding the roller coasters at Six Flags and then caught a baseball game. I even sprung for the good seats in the lower deck behind the home team dugout, and about half a dozen hot dogs. It was the most fun I'd had since I was a kid, and Evan was fully back to his old self. When we got home I told him that I thought he should stay with me until he dealt with whatever was going on. Pretty convenient for me, huh, to have the perfect excuse to have him in my bed every night. I was still giddy from the day and must have let my guard down. I must have seemed too happy about it, because Evan gave me the oddest look, a look that made my stomach drop into my feet when I realized I had done it. I had tipped my hand. He knew. Well if this was it. I screwed up my courage and blurted out...

"I love you Evan. I know what you said about coming out, but I can't help it. I love you."

For twenty five seconds (I actually counted the ticks of my wall clock) he just stared at me. My hands were sweating. I was just beginning to panic when he took a step towards me. He was frowning, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows as he absently bit his lower lip - Oh my God was he sexy - and I could see in his green eyes his mind running a mile a minute. I had shocked the hell out of him, that was for sure. Another step and he was standing in front of me. He seemed to come to a decision and looked up into my eyes. I can't say what I saw there. If it had been conflict or reluctance I would have stopped right then, but I'm not sure I could even have remembered my own name at that point. Evan raised his hand and, so gingerly, reached out and touched my chest. An electric thrill shot through my entire body.

I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to me, pressing my lips against his temple. He was breathing as hard as me, and...Christ...I could feel his erection pressed against my thigh.

Looking back, I was being selfish. I was definitely deluding myself that I would have the willpower to be the friend Evan needed. I was so wrapped up that I didn't stop to think that he needed help, not a distraction. But the tiny bit of sense I had left was quickly flying out the window.

Suddenly he was tugging at my shirt, peeling it roughly over my head and then kissing and licking me up and down my chest and neck. Every contact went straight to my groin. I realized I was moaning loud enough the neighbors could probably hear, which just drove Evan even wilder. When he bit me on my stomach it pushed me so close to the edge I had to pull away. Evan looked at me, panting hard with a hungry light in his eyes.

"Need to slow down," I gasped. He nodded.

I leaned down to kiss him on the lips, and for just a split second I saw in his face that same bright panicky expression he used to have when we were teenagers and me and my friends had him cornered. That should have ended it right there. Instead I buried my face in his neck, holding him as close to me as I could.

He looked up at me apologetically, then smiled and nodded his head toward the bedroom. After the response I had gotten trying to kiss him the last thing I wanted was for him to feel vulnerable with me, so I tried to encourage him to take a dominant role (not to mention for the turn on factor on my part). But he wouldn't have it. I sat down on the edge of my bed hoping to pull him on top of me, but instead he dropped down between my knees, practically gasping for air as he undid my belt, button, and zipper. I knew vaguely that I should be the one doing this for him, but before the idea could form into action Evan slipped my cock out of my shorts and engulfed it in his hot warm mouth. I was completely lost. Evan went at it like there was nothing in the world he'd rather do than suck my cock. I watched captivated as he moved up and down, taking my six inches all the way in, then pulling off to lick circles around my head. Aside from it being an infinitely better blow job than any I had ever received from my disinterested and/or grossed out high school girlfriends, this was Evan, the man I loved. Even if this had been his first (it clearly wasn't, I don't know why that bothered me a little bit), it would have been the best of my life. His rhythm faltered as he wiggled uncomfortably and tried to adjust the bulge in his pants.

"Why don't you take them off?" I offered helpfully. He nodded and broke away to undo his pants and drop them and his shorts to down to his thighs. He was too close to me for me to get a good look, but I could see his hand move down, and he gave a quiet moan as he started jacking himself. He grabbed the base of my cock with his free hand, ready to take me back into his mouth. I wasn't ready yet. I put my hand on his shoulder and he looked up at me questioningly. "Oh, God baby please let me look at you."

He looked almost shocked when I called him "baby", but he sat back onto his heels to give me a view. Realizing his shirt was in the way he pulled it off. "God, you are beautiful," I whispered. He blushed slightly, and I think he gave a faint smile. I had always loved the way he looked, and now I finally got a chance to really take it in. He had grown into his body since high school, but was a little on the gangly side. Aside from that he was in terrific shape, not a gym rat body but the body of someone who genuinely loved to get up and move. His hand never stopped stroking his cock, which was as long as mine but much thicker. Was I ready for it? You bet your sweet ass I was. After I don't know how long he couldn't stand it any more and started sucking me again. He brought me close a couple of times, to the point where my fingers would start digging into the warm flesh of his shoulders and I would start moaning his name, then he would slow down, letting me back off. I could already tell I was building to an incredible orgasm.

I wanted desperately to return the favor, to taste his precum and see how far I could swallow his thick cock, to give him some of the pleasure he was giving me. He finally pulled off and removed his pants, shorts, and shoes, and then mine. I tried to make a move, but before I could he grabbed me and lay down on the bed, pulling me on top of him. The feeling of our naked bodies pressed together, Evan wiggling under me as we sought for the right position, the right friction... When we found it sparks started going off in my head. Just rubbing together was better than any sex I had ever had. A couple times I tried to reverse positions, to roll over and have him on top of me, but he wouldn't budge. The whole time our faces were inches away.

More than anything else I wanted him to kiss me. I felt like until he did, this was nothing more than a mindless fuck, and that was the last thing in the world I wanted with him. Would it be like in my dream? The thought sent a tingle straight to my already well worked cock. But Evan wouldn't kiss me. Not on the mouth anyway. Whenever he looked like he might, or when I wanted to enough to let it show through, he would bury his face in my neck, licking and nipping almost roughly. I would have thought he wasn't thinking about me at all, except for the most intense look in his green eyes. For nearly the entire time I was pressing him into the bed, he stared me right in the eye like he was trying to see right through me. It might have been odd, but frankly by that point he could have punched me in the ribs and I would have thought it was sexy.

"Condom and lube?" He asked.




The Good Life Ch. 01



"Lube's in the night stand, but..." Shit. "I don't have any condoms."

"Neither do I."

I knew I was clean, and I really wanted this, but didn't want to pressure Evan.

But it turned out Evan was on the same page. "I'm clean, but I understand if you aren't comfortable."

"Very comfortable," I replied eagerly.

"Sure?"

"Absolutely."

He wiggled out from under me enough to reach the bedside table, reach into the drawer and grab the bottle of K-Y. He squeezed some of it into his palm, and started rubbing it onto my cock. I grabbed his wrist. I could hardly stand the thought of him making himself so vulnerable to me. I wanted to show him how much I trusted him, how much I loved him. "I want you Evan."

His eyes shot up to mine in shock. I felt a little hurt. How could he think I wouldn't want us to share everything, every experience? For a moment he looked torn, but then held to his guns. "Come on Charlie, don't make me beg."

I didn't. I tried to pull him on top of me but again he was insistent. He took some more lube and reached between us to rub it around his hole, then the next thing I knew he was positioning my cock at his entrance.

I pulled back. "I don't want to hurt you." I had never had anal sex before, but I knew that it usually took some easing and preparation.

He pulled me back into position. "You won't, I promise." He pulled his knees to his chest, watching me with raw need in his eyes. "Please Charlie." Inwardly I cursed. This is definitely not how I envisioned our first time. But the way he looked at me...there was no doubt how bad he wanted it, and I wasn't about to let him down.

At first there was strong resistance, but then Evan clenched his teeth and bore down. When my head slid in he gasped. I tried to pull out but he wrapped his legs around me and held me in place. "Don't you dare," he panted. I couldn't tell if his expression was pain or excitement. Probably both. He tilted his head back. "Fuck. It's been a while." After a few more seconds he squeezed me with his legs, encouraging me to move. I was still reluctant, so he rocked underneath me, groaning as I slid back and forth. The tight, hot feeling of him gripping me was indescribable. I didn't try to kiss him again, even though I wanted to more than anything, but I ran my hands all over every inch of his body that I could reach, trying to convey love and tenderness with each touch. Evan seemed in a world of his own, his eyes on mine but sort of unfocused, lost in the sensation of me inside him.

I could tell he was getting close. I tried to slow down, to draw it out, but Evan pulled me in roughly. "I want you to fuck me hard, Charlie. As hard as you can." The way he said it didn't seem quite right, but I would give him anything he wanted. I sped up, and soon was slamming into him harder than I thought he would be able to take it, but between groans and cries he begged for more. He arched his back, his cock grinding between our bodies, let out an inarticulate scream, and shot his load, his cum coating both of our stomachs. I felt his orgasm contract around my cock, squeezing me almost painfully. I hadn't felt all that close, but seeing, hearing, and feeling Evan come underneath me was too much. I rushed over the edge, coming deep inside him, emptying six years worth of repressed desires into Evan's shuddering body.

Almost immediately darkness started enveloping me. I tried to fight it, suddenly frightened of what would be there waiting for me (or not) when I woke up. If this was what I wanted, what I had dreamed about, then why did it seem so wrong? Why was I so scared? I pulled Evan close, wrapping my arms around him, holding on to him for dear life, then succumbed to sleep.

When I woke up it was past midnight and Evan was gone. My mind was clear now, and I had a terrible sinking feeling of guilt deep in my stomach. I knew I had done something very wrong. I knew that Evan hadn't been ready, that maybe he never would be, and that by letting things go ahead I had failed him.

Feeling wretched I got up and went to see if he at least left a note. He had. It was dated the tenth, the day after the first nightmare.

"Charlie, I know you've guessed there's something I'm not telling you. It's not something I've ever talked about, but it involves you and you deserve to know. It's about Jason and the day he killed himself. I was in the locker room that afternoon, clearing out my things. I was alone when Jason came in. He had been drinking." I remembered Senior year when Jason had started carrying a water bottle full of vodka. That that day had been worse than most. He had nearly broken my nose when I tried to take it away from him. I continued reading with a sense of dark dread. "I could see how dangerous he was, but he was between me and the door. He caught me. That's all I remember. When I woke up it was after dark. The back of my head was smashed up, and there was so much blood on the floor. I couldn't stop throwing up. It was probably midnight by the time I could walk. I had to break a window to get out of the building. I was so out of it I walked home the way I always did, right by Jason's house. I saw the sirens. Even before I heard people whispering I knew what had happened. The reason your best friend killed himself because he thought he had killed me. I know what happened to Jason isn't my fault, but I'm still the cause. I should have given you a chance to decide if you could live with that. I'm so sorry I took so long to tell you."

Below, in hurried scribble, it said,

"Charlie, I'm sorry I let things get this far. I guess I just wanted it too much. There are a million reasons why this will never work, even if you still wanted it to, but the most important one is that I care about you too much to let you throw the rest of your life away for me."

I could only stand there in shock. That's why he had been acting so strange, why he wouldn't kiss me, why he looked at me with that strange light in his eyes. Six years ago my best friend had almost killed him. He couldn't help but look at me and relive the terror, pain, and guilt. Having sex with me must have been almost unbearable. He was trying to claim some of the blame for himself, but he hated himself right now, and I knew it was all my fault. How could I have been so selfish? How could I think that that awful time of our lives was forgotten, that I could ever touch Evan without hurting him? I wanted so badly to talk to him, to try to make things better, but what could I say that would ever make up for this? I had to let this be on his terms. I had to give him time.



The Good Life Ch. 02



Thank you to everyone who left comments on The Good Life Ch. 01, your encouragement really made all the difference. I hope you enjoy the finale. 

Days turned to weeks, and I didn't hear from Evan. After I found out what Jason had done to him I realized just how bad I had hurt him, how I had ignored the walls he put up and just pushed right along like an animal in rut. The situation was so fucked up I couldn't see any possible way to fix it. From my end it was almost poetic. My own cruel and thoughtless behavior had come full circle to bite me in the ass, denying me the love of my life. For Evan it was downright tragic. I hurt him no matter whether I loved him or hated him. There was no way around it. 

No matter how bad I wanted to reach out to him I knew it was best to wait for Evan to make the first move. I didn't see any way a romantic relationship could ever work between us now. That selfish delusion had been shattered the night he left. But I missed his friendship, and still held out hope it could be salvaged. But time turned to months, and still nothing. 

I thought I was doing a good job hiding my suffering. My grades never fell and I still spent time with my friends. I even joined some intramural sports to replace the activities I used to do with Evan. It was all a show of course. 

Then one night when I was visiting home my parents sat me down after my sisters had gone to bed and asked me if I was sick. 

"What are your talking about? I feel fine." 

"Don't lie to your mother. Sweetie, you look awful. You're dull, there are bags under your eyes, you're skinny as a rail. You're so sad all the time."

"Mom..."

"We want you to see a doctor, please son," said my dad, as usual making it sound more like an order than a suggestion.

"It's just a big course load this semester, that's all."

"Don't you think we can tell when something's seriously wrong?" My mother reached across the table and grasped my hand. "You know baby, whatever it is, anything at all, you can tell us." 

Her eyes were so tender, so concerned, that for about ten seconds I very seriously considered having out with the whole thing. Then I remembered growing up learning the words "fag" and "fairy" from my dad, listening to his derisive comments on gay marriage, on the lesbian couple on the next block, how "those people" shouldn't be allowed to have children. I pulled my hand away. 

"If you want me to see a doctor I'll see a doctor, but I'm telling you there's nothing wrong." 

I went home less often after that. 

Gradually I entered a new normal, and friends and family started to accept that I just wasn't the same guy I used to be. The concerned looks became less frequent, and my friends stopped trying quite so hard to drag me away from my studies to go have some fun. 

I tried, I really did. I had never been the type to wallow in self pity. But no matter what I did I couldn't make myself snap out of it.

I graduated and got a job at my top-pick firm. I threw myself into the work and slowly the pain started to ease. I was sure that Evan had moved on, probably already found someone who was actually worthy of him. Who didn't come with so much ugly baggage, and could make him feel as good about himself as he deserved. I had such a high opinion of him I couldn't think it would be any different. That thought gave me a lot of comfort. 

Five years passed. I was even starting to think that maybe, in another few years, I might be able to resurrect my plans for a normal life. I had realized by then that I would never stop loving Evan, that he would always be under my skin, but I wanted a family and was beginning to think being unhappily married wasn't too high a price to pay to get one. I was kidding myself of course.

Sometimes in moments of weakness I still thought about contacting Evan, seeing if the friendship that had meant so much to both of us could still be saved. But after what had happened I couldn't trust myself to be the friend he deserved. And I would just be torturing myself while I was at it. I was beginning to think it would take a miracle (or a disaster) to ever get Evan back in my life again. I had no idea how right I was.

********

Even after five years I still watched the local news every night, just in case. Every high speed chase and police raid had me on edge. Three years ago they had aired a cell phone video of Evan and another cop tackling a drunk redneck brandishing a giant hunting knife. It had scared the living shit out of me. 

One Saturday night I was working on some design details at home, only half listening to the television when I heard, "Our top story tonight, an officer involved shooting on the 300 block of Hannover." 

I was instantly in front of the T.V. 

"An hour ago two officers responded to a domestic disturbance here at 319 Hannover Street. Details are still forthcoming, but at least one of the officers was shot by a male suspect, who was taken into custody. No news yet on the condition or name of the officer. More on this as it develops." 

I tried to calm myself down. The odds it was Evan were twenty to one. I called the station, but the line was busy. I called again three times and finally got through. I recognized the voice of the receptionist. I asked for the name of the officer that was shot.

"Look, sir, I'll tell you what I'm telling everyone else. I can't release that information until next of kin is notified. I'm sorry." She was going to hang up.

Christ, what was her name? "Donna, wait!"

"Do I know you?"

"I'm a friend of Evan Chamberlain."

There was a long pause that made my heart sink. "Look, it's policy, it's really not up to me. I'm sorry." She hung up. I grabbed my car keys. There was only one major hospital in town.

Fifteen minutes later I ran into the emergency waiting room of St. Luke's and right into a mob of cops. Many of them I recognized, but Evan wasn't there. I saw Henry Dyson seated against the wall, white as a sheet with blood covering the front of his uniform. He was bent over with his head in his hands, while the cops seated next to him tried to comfort him. He looked up and saw me, took a moment to remember who I was, and burst into tears. I felt for a second like I was going to throw up. Instead I went to stand in front of him. "Dyson..."

He looked up at me, at first unable to say anything. "I am so sorry," he finally choked out, It's...it's all my fault..." He couldn't say any more.

I looked desperately to one of the cops sitting next to him. 

"You're a friend of Officer Chamberlain?" the cop asked. I recognized him as a rookie five years ago who used to refer to Evan as "Officer Faggot" whenever he thought we couldn't hear him. He didn't recognize me, but he looked almost as guilt ridden as Dyson. A lot of the cops did.

I could only nod.

"He's in surgery. Touch and go. We still don't know all the details of what happened," he motioned to Dyson, who was clearly too distraught to make a statement. "Even if he makes it...they're going to take his leg."

"Jesus," I moaned. My mind was reeling. I turned to go sit in the corner away from the crowd, but Dyson caught my arm. 

"He saved my life. The guy opened the door and pointed a shotgun right in my face. Evan grabbed it. It should have been me." He deteriorated into sobs again. All the hate I ever felt for the man vanished in an instant.

I sat with Henry Dyson for hours. I couldn't help but notice that I was the only civilian there: no friends, no family. Evan was still alone. Eventually Dyson recovered himself enough to go change his shirt and get us both some coffee. We didn't talk much at first, but from what he did say I gathered that nothing had changed in the last five years for Evan, that everyone still treated him like he was diseased.

Well, not anymore.

In one act of bravery and sacrifice Evan had won the respect and admiration of every cop on the force. It was what he had wanted most in the world, but it would probably be pretty cold comfort when he found out it had cost him his leg.

Eventually Henry was able to recount what had happened. He gave his statement, then looking drained, came back and repeated the whole thing for me.

"About eight o'clock Officer and Chamberlain and I are called in on a domestic disturbance. We were at the door when we heard a gunshot from inside the residence." He closed his eyes painfully, and the cop speak slipped away. "I'm about to kick in the door when it swings open, and some out-of-his-fucking-skull meth head sticks a shotgun right in my face. And I'm just standing there frozen, and the only thing I can do is wonder if I'll hear the shot or not. Then Evan...Evan who I called a fairy at least five times a fucking day...he grabs the gun and tries to wrestle it away. But the meth head won't give it up. The first shot goes into the ground next to my foot. The second one goes into Evan's leg above the knee. The gun's empty now and I grab it and cuff the meth head. Oh God, it was such a mess. I tied a tourniquet and called it in. There was blood all over, he was so torn up. I thought he was going to die right then and there. Thank God the ambulance was already on the way." 

He sighed miserably and rubbed his red rimmed eyes. "Evan risked his life for a big intolerant dumb ass who was embarrassed to be his partner. But he's a better cop than I am and I'm not afraid to tell that to anyone in the world now." 

I caught myself wondering what Evan would think of the changed Henry Dyson, and prayed I would get to find out.

Near dawn the surgeon finally appeared and announced that Evan was out of danger. Everyone gave a sigh of relief, but none more than me and Henry. I hadn't lost him. I didn't technically have him to lose, but the thought stuck in my mind anyway.

"He's out of surgery. He won't come out from under the anesthesia for several hours but it is okay for immediate family to visit now." The doctor's eyes came to rest on me, the only one not in a uniform. "Are you a family member?"

"Brother," said Dyson before I could respond. The other cops, who over the last few hours had all gathered (in a general sort of way) who I was, nodded in agreement.

"Come with me please."

I gave the cops a grateful backward glance then followed her to the recovery ward.

I was by Evan's bed when he woke up six hours later. He smiled at me sleepily. It was almost more than I could take. He came to so slowly that it took him twenty minutes to realize that I shouldn't be there.

"Charlie?" he looked at me frowning, as though seeing me for the first time. "What happened? What's going on?"

"You were shot. You're in the hospital."

He squeezed his eyes closed groggily, trying to remember.

Suddenly they shot open. "Dyson."

"He wasn't hurt." Just like Evan. His first thoughts were for the guy who had spent the last years tormenting him.

"What?" he said with a small smile. "He may be an ass, but he was still my partner." Even five years later and barely conscious he was able to read me like a book. 

For half an hour we talked about nothing in particular while Evan struggled to get his head on straight. He was glad to see me, which made me unreasonably happy. I had been kind of expecting to be kicked out the second he came to. 

I could tell the moment I had been dreading was coming when he started looking over his arms and chest, searching for the wound. That's when he noticed there was a screen shielding his view from the waist down. 

"Is it my leg?" 

"Yeah." Here it comes.

He wiggled the toes on his remaining foot. And turned white. 

I told him. "I'm so, so sorry Evan. There was too much damage. The doctors had to remove your leg."

He bit his lip, looking ill. "How much of it?" he managed to ask.

"Six inches above the knee. I'm sorry." He swallowed hard. I saw his mind racing with the news. For a moment I thought I saw panic rising up, but he forced it down. He was doing what he always did, what he had always had to do. Be brave. I guess I was expecting a dramatic reaction. Tears, rage, physical illness, anything. Instead he went silent, his expression unreadable. I wanted to say something, to let him know that I would be here for him every moment. Instead I stayed quiet, afraid he would make me leave if I reminded him I was there.

********

"Charlie, why did you come back?" The sound of his voice breaking the dead silence made me jump. I looked at the clock. It had been nearly two hours since he found out his leg was gone.

"You're my friend, Evan. I still care about you. No amount of time will change that."

"Yeah? You say that you love me, I have sex with you, then don't so much as call for five years. What kind of friend does that make me?"

"What? You can't really think that was your fault. It was selfish of me to think you would just get over what happened. I knew it was all wrong but went ahead anyway. After I read your note...I don't know how you could even stand to look at me."

"Oh, please, don't give me that shit. You're not Jason. You saved my life five years ago. You were the best friend I ever had. I was going through a rough time trying to deal with what Jason did to me, and you and me, it was just...really, really bad timing. It was way too soon and I should have known better. Then after all that time, after I walked out on you, I find you waiting by my bedside like nothing's changed. And anyway, as I remember, I pretty much jumped you. You don't owe me anything."

But this was long past who owed who. I still loved him. I would always love him. I wished I could tell him that, but I remembered what had happened the last time I had done it and kept my mouth shut. What he needed was a friend, not some poor fool hopelessly mooning after him. And this time I was damned sure going to remember it.

********

Time passed, and I kept waiting for an explosion that never came. Day after day, then week after week, Evan did his best to act normally. He never cried, never cursed, never got angry. When he was supposed to talk, he talked. When he was supposed to eat, he ate. He did his physical therapy. He even smiled and talked about how it wouldn't be that bad living with a prosthetic leg, that he would still be able to do most of the things he used to. He was friendly with the endless stream of cops that came by during visiting hours. Henry Dyson was there for at least an hour every day, smuggling Evan milkshakes and beer. Evan acted grateful.

In short, Evan did what he did best – put on a brave face and act like every blow that life threw at him was just water off a duck's back. I knew that old act well and wasn't falling for it. But try as I might I couldn't get him to open up to me. I knew he was suffering, but I still got the same fake smile and small talk as everyone else. 

I spent every moment I wasn't sleeping or working with him, but we hadn't had a meaningful conversation since just after he woke up. Crushed by pain and grief and still swimming from the anesthesia he had talked to me like the old Evan, without reservation. But then he had closed up. I was beginning to think that those days were gone forever, that the close friendship we once had was irretrievably broken. 

But still I kept at it. If he ever needed a friend to open up to, I would always be there. If he wanted someone to play cards or talk baseball, well, I would still be there. 

Tentatively, Evan formed a plan. He would take his disability and go to school to study social work. It would be a distant second to being a police officer, but he would still be able to help people. He said it would be okay so many times that he was really starting to force himself to believe it. He had been teetering on the edge for a while, even though nobody knew it but me and him, but slowly, painfully, he was starting to inch his way back. Then something happened that threw him right over.

********

The day before he was going to be discharged, the two of us and a couple cops were playing penny ante poker while a local news program droned on the radio. It was an interview with the town council's chairwoman, boring political stuff that was the only alternative to country music until the baseball game came on. The only thing I knew about the woman was that she was "the kind of good old fashioned social conservative this country desperately needs", whatever that means. None of us were paying any attention until a familiar name made us all snap up.

...Evan Chamberlain, is that the name? Anyway, this whole shooting incident really illustrates what I'm saying about the moral decay of America. Everyone is going around acting like this guy's a hero for getting shot. What they should be asking, what I certainly asked myself when I heard that there was an openly homosexual police officer in our town was, where is the concern for our security? Where is the God blessed outrage? Now, I don't have anything against homosexuals, I have friends who are homosexuals, but is that really the type of person we want to trust to protect us? Our children? Someone who has spit in the face of God's law, if you ask me, wouldn't have a lick of respect for man's law. Studies have shown that homosexuals are far more likely to take drugs, to commit violent sex, to have sex with minors...

Which is when I finally unfroze myself and switched off the radio.

The two cops made almost identical cries of outrage, then got out the cell phones and dialed what I assumed was city hall by the red faced ranting that ensued. My only thought was for Evan.

Evan had been called worse things before (I should know, I had historically been one of the people shouting them at him), but never like this. An authority figure the whole town knew and trusted had just essentially called him a criminal and child molester on the public airways. 

He hadn't moved a muscle, but I could see in his eyes that he was losing it. It wasn't the worst thing that had happened to him by a long shot. It was simply one too many, and in the precarious state he was in it had shoved him right over the edge. Well, I had wanted the walls down, and now they were. Now I was seeing the monster face to face.

His first reaction was bewilderment. "Why? Why would she say those things? She doesn't even know me." He was barely whispering, but I could sense it building. "Why the fuck would she say that?" He ran his hands through his hair in anguished confusion. "Like this wasn't fucking enough? Huh? Like it wasn't all fucking enough?" 

He suddenly wanted to hit something, and the only thing in reach was the bedside table, which he threw clattering to the floor. Cards and eating utensils scattered. The two cops stopped yelling at their cell phones and watched, wide eyed. Evan had spent his whole life holding everything in, but this was the last straw and he was now exploding spectacularly. 

His vengeful eyes fell on the two cops. "You. Why the hell are you even here? I'll tell you. You feel guilty about being so shitty to me, and now you're making friends to make yourselves feel better." They tried to object, but Evan cut them off. "Urich, you didn't even bother to lower your voice when you called me a faggot all those times. Yeah, I heard! You stupid bastard, you think I can't hear you from your desk fifteen feet away? I'm gay, not deaf. And Cooper, you think I didn't notice how you never brought your kids to the station during my shift? Afraid I can't keep my pervert hands to myself? You and the chairwoman would have a lot to talk about, wouldn't you?" 

They didn't know whether to be ashamed or scared and ended up expressing an odd combination of both. They made a break for the door just as Henry Dyson had the misfortune to enter. 

He took a quick look around. "I guess you've heard."




The Good Life Ch. 02



Evan's eyes fixed on him. "Dyson. Why the hell are you here acting like my friend? A month ago you hated my guts. You didn't think I had any business being a school crossing guard much less a cop. Well, guess what, I hated you even worse. Neither of us are different people than we were then. You wouldn't have minded if I had been hit by a truck. I wasn't thinking when I grabbed that gun, or I never would have done it." 

Dyson stood there frozen in place, looking like a deer in the headlights. "I am your friend Evan. You know that," he managed in a voice that was surprisingly small for such a big guy.

"Ha. The fuck I do. The truth is neither of you would give a rat's ass about me if it wasn't to make yourselves feel better. That's the only reason you're always here. Well you can both fuck off!" I saw that, through his fury, he was finally telling the truth. He really, honestly believed that we were only here out of guilt.

I had planned to ride this out in silence, but he was ripping my heart out and didn't even know it. "This isn't about guilt," I found myself yelling at him, "I fucking love you Evan, don't you understand that?"

For a moment he stared at me in stunned silence. He really hadn't understood. But this freight train had way too much momentum to be slowed down now. "If what you and me have is love then there's something seriously fucked up with both of us. Just touching you made me feel sick." 

I think he immediately regretted saying it, which didn't make it hurt any less, but he had finally worked himself up to the breaking point. He screamed and threw his television remote at the window so hard it cracked, and then started gasping for air. That's when I yelled for a nurse. It took both Dyson and me to hold him down while she administered a sedative, and both of us would have bruises to show for it. After a few seconds Evan's body went limp. The nurse went to find a doctor.

"What the hell was that?" Henry asked me breathlessly.

"The last straw."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"I don't know. Either he's really lost it or that was just him blowing off fifteen years of steam." I was surprised by how little concern I felt. I believed in Evan. And I was right to. 

Two hours later Even woke up, looking hung over. He flinched when he looked at me and Henry. "That wasn't a dream, was it?"

We shook our heads.

He groaned. "I'm sorry you guys. I just kind of... lost my head."

"No joke. But you didn't say anything that wasn't true. You should have said it a long time ago. God knows we deserved it."

He thought about it. "Yeah, kind of." He gave a small smile. A real smile, for the first time since the shooting. "What about Urich and Cooper? Are they pissed?"

"Well," I said, "you scared the shit out of them, that's for sure. But they're your friends. You can't chase them off that easy."

"I wouldn't say I was easy on them."

"No you weren't. But you were honest. We can take it Evan. We're all big boys. You don't always have to be such a saint. Not anymore. You've got everyone on your side now."

"Even after what the chairwoman said?"

Henry grinned. "Especially after what she said. You didn't hear the rest of the interview. She was out in front of city hall and people started heckling and jeering her. It was actually funny as hell. She just kept going, tearing her career down around her head, and just never fucking got it. She's probably being tarred and feathered as we speak."

"Wow." It certainly hadn't been the outcome he expected. Just then there was a knock at the door. 

It was Urich. "Is it safe to come in now?" 

Evan smiled back and gave him the finger.

"What, no apology?"

"Apology? You're lucky all you got was yelled at. If I had two legs I'd of kicked your ass."

"And I would've deserved it." He finally stopped smiling and looked at his feet like a kid in trouble. "Look man, I really owe you an apology. There isn't any excuse for how I acted."

"Yeah. Well, sneak me in a cheeseburger and we'll call it even." 

"Sure. Just promise you'll never do that again."

"Only if you piss me off, Ulrich."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Cooper brought someone to meet you."

Cooper poked his head in the door. "Women and children present. We gonna cut out the sailor talk?"

"Fuck yes," said Ulrich. 

Cooper pointed out the door, Ulrich mock-saluted and left.

Cooper looked at Evan. "I owe you an apology too." Before Evan could respond he was ushering in his wife and two small children. He introduced Evan to them as a hero, and asked Evan if he could call on him to babysit once he was better. 

I remember how I used to think Evan was the best guy in the world and someday everyone would realize it. Now they finally did. And all it took was fifteen years of hell and getting his leg blown off. 

********

I was feeling better than I had in a very long time when I got home late that night. Then I opened my door to find my parents sitting in my living room. They had a key, but had never used it before. 

"What's wrong?" I asked, alarmed. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yes, everyone's fine sweetie," replied my mom. "This isn't about that. We need to talk."

I was aware that I had been particularly closed off and distant lately, but I had no idea it was that bad. I had been so worried about Evan that I had let the mask slip.

"Oh, yeah? What about?" I asked innocently.

"Don't play with us Charlie," said my dad gruffly. "We've put up with whatever this is for five years, and now it's time to come clean."

"It's been getting worse lately, honey," mom said, "Don't think we haven't noticed. You hardly ever call, you're never at home. You're a wreck. We can't just ignore it anymore."

They weren't going to leave until I came up with something. On the fly I decided on telling them half the story. "A friend's been in the hospital. I've been worried."

"We know."

"You know? Have you been following me?"

"We were so worried about you," my mom replied. My dad was more to the point.

"Charlie, who is this person to you?"

"He's a friend dad." I was starting to panic, but I pushed it down. Maybe I could still get out of this.

"I don't have any friends that I would spend every waking hour with, even if he was a crippled hero." I was squirming. That's when he came right out with it. "Charlie, are you gay?"

"What? No! Of course not!" I said it as insistently as I could, but saying it loudly didn't make it the truth. They knew me too well.

My dad let out a sigh and buried his face in his hands. My mom put a comforting hand on his back. How could I have been so careless? Now my family was slipping away and there was nothing I could do about it. 

That's when I realized that they weren't angry or disappointed. My dad was laughing. He looked up at me, relief filling his eyes. "Thank God! The way you've been acting we thought you had cancer or owed money to the mob or some shit like that."

I stood there in shock, slightly light headed. I had wanted to tell them so many times, but after being ambushed like this it took quite a bit of effort to fight back the urge to continue denying it. "'Thank God?' What about all the things you said when I was a kid?"

Dad flinched. "That. You have to understand, at the time I didn't realize what I was doing. It was just...the way I was raised. It was a different time." He shrugged, knowing how lame that sounded. "Didn't you notice that I stopped saying those things when you started getting in trouble for bullying?"

"Why would you... Wait a minute. You knew that's why I was bullying?

"Suspected. Strongly."

I dropped my work satchel. I felt like throwing it. "You knew! You knew all this time, you knew I was miserable, and you never told me it was okay? You let me think for fifteen years that you would disown me if I came out?" Would they still? Maybe it wasn't being gay they minded so much as everyone knowing they had a queer for a son. 

"It's been hard for us too, son. It's wasn't an easy thing for us to accept. It took a long time."

"Hard for you? You aren't the ones who spent the first half of your life hating yourself for who you were, and the second half regretting what you did because of it."

"We want to meet him."

"You never had to...wait, what?"

"We want to meet the man that's so important to you," repeated my mother. "We should have said it years ago, but it's okay. We love you, no matter what. All we want is for you to be happy again." My mom really knew how to take the wind out of my sails. 

"Since when have you insisted on meeting my friends?"

"Come on now, don't start with this again. We know, Charlie."

"We really are just friends. I..." God this was hard to say. "I have...feelings...for him. But I don't think he does for me." 

"Oh," she said knowingly. "So that's what this has been about. Unrequited love. But he's still obviously a very important part of your life and has been for a long time, and we want to know him."

I had to sit down. Anger and overwhelming relief were battling in my head and it was making me dizzy.

"Um, okay." I finally said. "I guess I can ask him. You sure you guys are ready for that?"

"Of course," said my mother.

"Yeah," said my dad, but he looked dubious. "Um, he's not too...fancy...is he?"

"Dad, he's a cop."

"A gay cop."

"I'm gay." It was only the second time in my life I had uttered those words, and it felt good. 

He looked at me with dread.

"Dad, you're being stupid. I'm still the same person I was before. It's not like I'm suddenly going to get a tramp stamp and start watching Project Runway."

Dad heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God." In spite of everything I couldn't help but laugh at him. How clueless could you be? It would take a while for me to be able to forgive them, but they were willing to learn, and that meant a lot. 

********

The next day was Tuesday, but I took a personal day to help Evan move back home. When I got to his hospital room I overheard him talking with his former Lieutenant. 

"I'm not going to be a liability," Evan was saying. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I'll come back to the force, but behind a desk." 

"I knew you'd say that. I've checked it out with the union, and we're going to send you to MIT. They've got a program there with the U.S. Army. Real high tech prosthetics, robotics and computer chips and all that. They'll have you almost as good as new. Everyone wants you back."

From the doorway I could see Evan's astonishment. He still wasn't used to being treated like this. "I'll think about it."

"What's there to think about? I've booked you a flight in three days. It isn't going to be easy. And it'll take time. A few months at least. I expect you to do your best."

"Yes sir."

The Lieutenant patted him on the shoulder and nodded at me as he left.

Evan looked at me in happy bewilderment. "Well, how do you like that? Who would have thought that losing my leg would be the best thing that ever happened to me?" Just the prospect of having a normal life and being well liked was heaven to him. "What are you smiling about?"

I couldn't stop grinning. "I am just so happy for you, man."

His expression changed slightly. "You are a great friend, Charlie. You didn't deserve those things I said."

"Yes I did."

"You used to deserve it, not anymore. I wish I could have taken it out on you in high school."

"I deserved it for that, and for what happened five years ago."

"That wasn't... Okay. I think we're going to have to just agree that that was both our faults equally."

"Fair enough."

"One thing I really didn't mean. It doesn't make me sick to touch you. It used to, but I can't even see that guy anymore. Just a really great friend." To prove his point he wound his fingers into mine and squeezed my hand. It was a small gesture, but it still made my heart skip. 

He was still ignoring the most glaring fact of all. I had told him that I loved him. Again. What did that mean? Was he trying to let me down without hurting me? I wanted to push, but after burning both of us so badly the first time, I wasn't about to risk our renewed friendship by sticking my hand in the fire again. 

We packed his things. He had a dozen vases from long gone flowers, enough cards to paper an entire wall, and a massive collection of stuffed "get well" animals, gifts from the police wives and kids. It was crap, but I somehow knew he would never throw one piece of it away. He was still getting used to walking with a crutch, so he needed a lot of help. 

"I came out to my parents last night." I had been nervous to tell him, guessing what his reaction would be. I was right.

"What?" He shook his head and moaned. "Charlie..."

"I didn't really have a choice. They knew something was wrong, and it was either tell them I was gay or tell them the mob was going to break my legs. Besides, I get the feeling it won't be as bad being gay in this town as it used to be."

"It's still not going to be anywhere close to easy. So, they weren't mad?"

"Turns out they've known since I was in high school. It'll be an adjustment, but they're really trying."

"Look Charlie, I know this is your choice, and I respect it, but you should consider keeping it between you and your family." 

"No offense Evan but you don't know what it's like to be in the closet, because you came out as soon as you realized you were gay. I can't say which is harder, but they both come with their fair share of pain. If it's going to be difficult either way, maybe I'd rather be honest while I'm at it."

Evan thought about it. "I just don't want to see you get hurt the way I did. I guess I didn't think hard enough about how you were hurting on your own. You should do whatever you think is best." He smirked. "If it helps, you're already half way there. Most of the police force thinks you're my boyfriend."

I didn't trust myself to respond to that, so I kept my mouth shut.

When we got to his place we immediately started packing for a long trip to Massachusetts.

********

Four months later

I saw the uniform first, which was not unusual since most of my friends nowadays were cops. It took me a second to realize it was Evan in the uniform, standing there on two legs in my doorway. I had talked to him nearly every day since he had left, but God it was good to see him.

I didn't know whether to stare or hug him, but he made the first move and hugged me so tight my feet came off the ground. 

"Evan, you bastard, why didn't you tell me you were coming home today?"

"I wanted to surprise you." He stood back and held out his arms. "So, what do you think?"

If I didn't know he was missing a leg I never would have guessed. But what I was really interested in was him. He had a gigantic smile, his eyes were sparkling. He looked the oldest I had ever seen him, but for the first time since I knew him it was right. 

"You look great." It was a vast understatement. "You'll be able to work a beat again?"

"Eventually. They still need to do some fine tuning. Another year, maybe two. The department's going to pay for me to study forensics, so at least I'll be of some use."

"That's great. Well, let's see it." He walked across the living room. The stride was completely natural. "Wow. That's amazing. I can't even tell it's there."

"You think that's something, watch this." He grabbed one of my kitchen chairs. I thought he was going to step onto it but instead he set it on its side, took a couple running steps and jumped over it. It was only a foot and a half, and it was nowhere near graceful, but for a guy with one leg was huge. He stumbled when he landed and I grabbed him, feeling a shot of heat as our bodies came together again. Evan put his arms around me to steady himself, but then didn't let go. 

He stared straight in my eyes. He was breathing hard, but I didn't think it was from the exertion. It was a look I recognized well, because it was the one I was constantly trying to hide every time I looked at him. He put a hand on my face and leaned in close.

"You've got to know there's another reason why I'm here. You said you loved me Charlie." His voice was husky. "Do you still?"

I could only nod, my head swimming from having him this close, looking at me like that. 

"I love you too." 

Then he kissed me. If he hadn't been holding onto me so tight I'm sure I would have ended up on the floor. I pulled away while I still had the wherewithal to do it, and I searched his face for the tiniest hint of that fevered expression from five years ago. All I saw was love.

"You don't have to worry, Charlie. I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't absolutely sure. Last time I wasn't ready. I thought the past was past, but it was right on my heels and I should have dealt with it first. By the time I did it was two years later and I didn't think I had any business contacting you. I fell for you too quick, before I could separate you from the guy you used to be. But I don't see that guy anymore."

"Why now?"

"Because you came out. I couldn't stand us being together but having to be a secret. It was worth waiting."

I was beginning to suspect this was a dream, but even if it was I would take it. I pulled him over to the couch, pushed him down, and straddled him. I'd been waiting five years for him to kiss me and now I was going to get my fill. I brought my lips to his again, gently at first, absorbing the feel of his soft mouth and slight stubble, his masculine smell and taste. He licked my bottom lip. I opened my mouth and our tongues met. He wrapped his hands around the back of my neck and pulled me in deeper. One of his hands slid down to my ass, but I pulled it up to my shoulder. 

He understood. Wanting this so badly for so long had given me a hell of a fixation, and I wasn't going to be distracted until I was satisfied. We kissed deep and passionate, moaning into each other's mouths, and light and tender, looking into each other's eyes. For half an hour we made out like teenagers until I finally broke it off. 

We were both breathing like we had just run a marathon, and were turned on to a degree I hadn't known was possible.

"God Charlie," Evan panted, "I had no idea kissing could be like that."

"I don't think it would be with anyone else."

Part of me wanted to draw this out as long as possible, to give us a chance to explore each other head to toe. I wanted to find every erogenous zone on Evan's body, find out what made him moan and whimper. But I was at a point of near desperation, and from the way Evan was grasping at me so was he. I put my mouth to his ear. "I want you to take me Evan." He nodded.

I hated to leave the warmth of his body, but the lube was in the bedroom. When I came back he pulled me to the couch, stripping me naked gently but urgently. It was my turn to do the same for him. I unbuttoned his uniform, which for some reason I found sexy as hell (I had always loved the way he looked in uniform), and stripped off his undershirt. He was leaner than he had been, but still just as beautiful. When I got to his pants I felt his body tense. "Um, Charlie, you should know that shotgun kind of fucked things up down there a little bit, and not just the leg."

"I know. I don't care."

He smiled faintly. "I know you don't. I just didn't want it to be a surprise."

I undid his button and zipper, exposing the first of the scars on his lower abdomen. I kissed them roughly, making him groan. I pulled his pants and underwear down to mid thigh. There were more scars on his hip, and the front and outside of his thigh were more scar tissue than not. I kissed those too. I wanted him to know that there was no way he could be anything but perfect to me. He got it and relaxed, grinning in anticipation. There was one scar I hadn't gotten to yet, one from a pellet that had grazed the top of his dick near the head. 




The Good Life Ch. 02



Given the scope of the damage it was a miracle he had escaped intact, but even if he hadn't we would have figured something out. I would have him any way I could. I kissed the last scar, then I licked it, all the way up to the head of his thick, hard cock, making him groan and arch his back. 

I finally got to taste his precum. I had never tasted any before, but I was instantly hooked. This wasn't what I had had in mind, but now that I was there I couldn't resist. I let his head slide past my lips and kept moving down until he hit the back of my throat. I licked the underside, coating it in saliva, then started moving up and down. 

I had always thought a blow job was a one sided thing, a way of giving pleasure only, so I was astonished by how much I was enjoying it. The feel and taste, not to mention the noises Evan made, his hand wrapped loosely in my hair – it was absolutely intoxicating. I was getting so caught up that I was losing focus, and was surprised when Evan pulled my mouth off his dick and planted an open mouthed kiss on me. 

"Charlie, that was absolutely incredible. But I don't think it's what you had in mind."

"I got carried away. I didn't think I'd like it that much."

He laughed and kissed me again. "God, could you be any sexier?"

His pants were still at mid thigh, begging an obvious question. "So," he asked, "the leg. On or off?"

"Off. This time, I want it to be just you." 

He showed me how to undo the straps. It came lose and I set it next to the couch. I took his right shoe and pants off, and finally had him sitting on my couch naked. I pulled his ass to the edge of the cushion and straddled him again, relishing the feeling of his skin against mine. I kissed him more. I felt like I would never get enough. Then I handed him the bottle of lube. "Get me ready." 

"Turn around so I can look."

I straddled him backwards, leaning forward and bracing my hands on the coffee table. It was such a vulnerable pose, it excited me to be so exposed before Evan. I felt his hands on me, on my thighs, on my ass cheeks spreading them apart. I expected a lubed finger at any moment. Instead I felt him move and there was the most incredible feeling as his tongue swept across my hole, sending a jolt to every synapse in my body. It was such a shock that one of my hands slid off the coffee table and I nearly banged my head.

"Christ, Charlie are you okay? I guess I should have warned you first."

"God, don't stop." He obliged eagerly. The feeling of being rimmed for the first time was indescribable. It was so unlike anything else, and so good I quickly lost all capacity for rational thought. I don't know what noises I made, what garbled words escaped my lips, but Evan was loving it. Soon he was pressing a lubed finger into me, and then another, still licking and kissing my ass cheeks. 

"Wow, baby. You feel so good." He groaned.

I was pretty out of it, but still managed to grin to myself to hear him call me "baby".

He spent fifteen minutes alternating between licking and fingering me until he could easily slip in four fingers. "Ready baby?"

"Mmm," was all I was able to get out. 

He pulled me up and turned me around to face him so I was straddling his lap again. I looked him in the eyes as I lowered myself slowly onto his cock, taking in every gasp, every expression of pleasure while he did the same with me. When I finally came down on his lap, taking his entire thick length into me, I paused to mentally absorb what was happening to my body, marveling at the tight, slightly uncomfortable, but still wonderful feeling. Evan leaned in to kiss me, pausing just short of my lips to give me a questioning look. Asking if he could still kiss me after eating me out. I responded by sticking my tongue down his throat. 

Soon the discomfort subsided, and was replaced by an urgent need to move. I wrapped one arm around Evan's shoulders, and grabbed the back of the couch with the other for leverage. Despite the need and passion that had carried us to that point we found ourselves slowing down, moving gently against each other, our eyes fixed together, our hands touching and caressing. We were really, truly making love. It was the most intense moment of my life. 

I could tell from Evan's raspy breathing that he was getting close. Until then my cock had been pinned, rubbed and tortured between our bodies. He pulled away just enough to get his hand between us and grasped my shaft, letting it slide up and down in his firm hand with each thrust. I moaned and rode him faster. He started thrusting his hips up to meet mine. Animal instinct took over my movements, but I never stopped looking into Evan's eyes, even as I screamed and exploded in his hand. Coming with his cock inside me was wonderful. When he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked the cum off his fingers, I swear I felt for a second like I was going to faint. It was absolutely the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. He gave a gasping grunt and drove up into me, I kissed him deep through his climax, tasting my own cum on his mouth.

We kept our mouths pressed together, not really moving but just enjoying the contact as we both came down. I thought vaguely that this is about the time I should be waking up, it was too good to be real. But it was real. Evan was still here, looking at me with such intense love that I knew I never had to worry about him running away again.

"You know," he said, "I let the lease on my apartment expire when I went to Massachusetts."

"That's lucky," I replied. "We can get your things moved in tomorrow."

We showered and then dragged ourselves to my bed, our bed, only to find we weren't as tired as we thought. I sucked Evan to orgasm, then rode him to another one. When I drifted off holding him tightly in my arms I didn't think about wasted time, about the five years we could have had. I only thought it had been so worth the wait. 

In the end I got my dream life: a home in the suburbs, four beautiful children, friends, family. We even threw killer barbeques that every cop in town looked forward to all year long. We were well liked by the neighbors, and nobody we knew gave a second thought to letting us babysit their kids. It was everything I had ever hoped for, only so much infinitely better because I got to share it all with the love of my life.