Chapter 22

Everything was magical. Little sparkling lights floated in the air around Peter and Timmy, and the color of the flowers spread until they became of one piece in a riotous smear of pigments. Every step taken felt like it occurred in near zero gravity, being both elongated and effortless. Sheer joy took their faces and souls and made them laugh and laugh and laugh.

They began running and dancing, ending up under an apple tree that stood as a sole sentry in the field. The gnarly old branches came down low, and Peter boosted Timmy into the green bower. Now Timmy felt like he was flying weightlessly in the Van Gogh clouds that spiraled and tumbled about. Peter's round moon laughing face peering up at him from the ground below made him feel completely safe. In reality, he could easily have fallen out of the tree and been quite hurt, but reality had no bearing on this wondrous journey they were taking together. Timmy had tripped many times, but it had never, ever been like this. It felt like he was being incredibly blessed with the most special moment possible in a person's life time. He was utterly, totally happy.

He came back out of the tree, and the two began to waft along in the meadow, finally finding themselves drifting down and around the lower end of the quarry. Everything they passed was imbued with the colors and smells of life, which they saw they had never fully experienced before. They observed how every particle of the universe fit together to make the whole, and that they themselves were an integral part. Oh and the joy of it! They were children to laugh and dance, and to enjoy their gifts.

Somehow they arrived at Peter's car which sat waiting for them like a chariot to heaven. Peter grabbed up Timmy and spun him around exultantly, then set him down and took his head into his hands. The kiss that followed was intense. It crept into every cell of their bodies, and while it lasted it was their total existence. Breathless, they separated, and got into the car. They didn't have to discuss where they were going to know Peter's place was their destination. Peter drove effortlessly and without any problem whatsoever, the drug actually heightening his abilities to see and judge distances, and choose the best trajectory. They arrived without mishap, and sat entranced by the little house surrounded by flowers and trees. Timmy moved to look at Peter, and reached across and touched his hand. The connecting jolt flashed through them, and Peter picked up Timmy's hand and looked at it in wonder. Then he looked at his own hand, mesmerized. Smiling, he turned to Timmy. "Let's go in," he said.

The sex that followed was amazing. There wasn't any lust. That's not to say they weren't turned on, because their bodies were very aroused, it's more that they felt the universe was within them and outside of them, and they were reuniting the pieces. As Timmy's body moved, the vortices of existence undulated with them. At one point, Peter sat against the headboard, and Timmy lay on his back between Peter's legs. Timmy's head was on Peter's lap. Peter was tracing lines connecting the freckles on Timmy's shoulders like stars in constellation. Throughout everything they did, there was infectious laughter. They were having sex, they were the universe made real, and they were children at play. All of it, every minute, was sheer magic.

After many, many hours, the acid wore away, and they fell asleep. Some time later, in the dark, Peter awoke. He was pretty much back to normal, but he remembered all of what had happened. He lay there thinking of the incredible gift the trip had been, and he quietly moved to put his arms around Timmy without waking the boy. Holding Timmy, he began to cry. He dared not hurt this young man, this incredible being. He believed himself to be fatally wrong for Timmy because he was too old, and Timmy too young and precious. The guilt and fear that he was a child molester were almost incapacitating. He also knew that he, himself, had a phobia of love and that sooner or later he would betray and abandon Timmy because of his terror anyway. He managed to convince himself, albeit with anguish and deep regret, that Timmy would be far better off if Peter simply left now, before the attachment became irreversible.

But to carry it off in such a way to prevent suffering, Peter would have to make a clean break without intimating that it was in any way Timmy's fault. It would minimize the process, and thus the agony, to make the end abrupt and without warning, Peter rationalized. He thus resolved to treat Timmy as if nothing was different or about to change this coming morning. In reality, Peter was setting Timmy up for an almost insurmountable maelstrom of self-doubt and destructive depression. Peter would escape with short term minor regrets and a sense of relief. However, in his old age, the memory of Timmy would haunt Peter in the midst of his isolation and loneliness, and he would come to deeply despise the short sighted decision and the cowardice he had exhibited.

With the dilemma resolved in his mind, Peter greeted Timmy in the morning with a hug and a kiss. They gently washed each other in the shower, and then Peter went to the kitchen and made a light breakfast. Although Peter was exhibiting some affection, Timmy knew Peter was holding back. With what they had experienced during the trip, any normal couple would feel very connected this morning. Instead, Peter was distant and withdrawn despite his polite attempts to appear friendly. Timmy didn't like it, but now had enough time under his belt with Peter to know to wait out the estrangement. There seemed to be a cycle - Peter would get close, then he'd run away, then he'd get a little closer, and then retreat again but not quite as far, and so on. Timmy decided to give Peter space, and wait for the next cycle of intimacy to come around.

It didn't surprise Timmy when Peter announced he was returning him to the apartment, Timmy had expected it. Peter wasn't ready yet, he knew, to spend a whole weekend with him. There was one odd moment when they arrived in front of Timmy's apartment. Peter reached over and took Timmy's chin in his hand and pinned his gaze for a long, long moment. "Goodbye, Love," he said, then kissed Timmy with profound intensity. He released Timmy, and sat back, turning and staring straight ahead out the windshield.

Timmy gulped air, and a tear raced down his cheek. "See ya'," he said, trying to be nonchalant. Oh, man, he thought to himself, what does that mean? He got out of the car, and fled up the stairs. He paused inside to calm his pounding heart. Catching his breath, he inhaled and slowly let the wind out. Gaining control, he went to the window and looked below. Peter's car was gone.

Timmy felt uneasy, but feeling insecure seemed to be the rule in his relationship with Peter. He shrugged it off.

Out of the blue, he remembered Danny. He wondered how it had gone with Ron, the wacko druggie. It would be cool to hang out with Danny today, if he could figure out where to find him. Hmmm. It was Sunday, and the nice weather was holding. Maybe he could find him at Johnny's Pizzeria or on Goldspink Avenue. He went back downstairs and walked south on Union Street to Johnny's. Ron wasn't there, neither was Danny, but a couple of goons from Ron's gang were.

"Hey, man, ya' seen Danny?" Timmy asked one of them.

"Who, you say?" the guy responded, pretending to be puzzled.

"You know, Danny, the kid who was hanging with Ron at the quarry yesterday? About my age?" Timmy expanded his description.

"Duh, yeah, okay, I remember," mister intelligent conceded. "What chu' want him for?"

Timmy groaned inwardly. This was like sweating bullets.

"He's my buddy, I was looking for him to hang out with," he admitted through clenched teeth. It wasn't anybody's business except his and Danny's, he thought.

"Hee, hee," laughed dodo brain. "Nope, ain't seen him." He guffawed and slapped his thigh. The rest of the bevy of geese tittered along with him.

Timmy flushed bright red, holding back on the anger that made him want to smash the fucker right on the nose.

Another member of the crew took a small measure of pity on him. "Aw, hey. Really, we ain't seen Danny since yesterday. He's prol'ly still with Ron, but we ain't seen him, either. You might wanna check Ron's place on Goldspink."

"Uh, ok, thanks. Ah, which one belongs to Ron?" Timmy inquired, relaxing a bit.

"It ain't his, dude, he lives on the porch. It's his mother's house," came the answer. "Try the seventh house, man, the yellow one. Maybe he'll be there."

"Great, thank you very much," groveled Timmy politely. He didn't want these hooligans to bear him a grudge, and to have one or more of them coming out of the dark for him some night.

Goldspink Avenue started a block away where Railroad Avenue ended. He went along toward Goldspink, noticing that some of Ron's weirdos were trailing along behind him. Oh well, it couldn't be helped. He counted houses. They were all broken down with peeling paint. Only about eight houses sat hunched over on Goldspink, and the faded cream colored box with a porch stuck on the front was easy to pick out. He went to the torn screen door and tried it. It was locked, probably with just a hook on the inner frame. He knocked, softly at first, and then more loudly, but there was no response. Irritated, he pushed his face against the opening where the screen was torn. He distinctly saw two bodies lying there, and one was Danny's.

"Danny?" he tried. "Danny, you ok?" There was no movement. Something was wrong.

Timmy panicked. He screamed, "HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY," and tore at the door. The adrenalin charge pulled the hook out of the wood like nothing. He fumbled with Danny, trying to wake him. He couldn't get him to respond, although he was breathing, thank god. Timmy looked up to get help from the guys, but they were nowhere to be seen, and had scattered to the wind. A chaotic thought burst through Timmy's brain that they had known there was a problem and had let him be the patsy to have to deal with it. Ohmigod, thought Timmy's distraught brain, as he twirled around and checked Ron, who was also not responsive. Unlike Danny, he wasn't breathing. Timmy screeched, "Help! I need help here! Somebody call an ambulance!"

A wrinkled face peered out between the ratty torn curtains on the door leading into the house. Seeing the two men lying there, the door opened, and an old woman stuck her head out the door.

"Call an ambulance," Timmy commanded her, agitatedly. "They're hurt, they need help. Something is wrong, they're not moving."

Without a word, the head retreated. Timmy only hoped she was making the call. From the side, at the next moth eaten house, a large man with a ratty, filthy t-shirt came out and told Timmy not to worry, he'd already called for help.

Timmy kept trying to get some response from the two men, focusing mostly on Danny. The neighbor huffed himself up the broken cement steps and took over on Ron. As he worked, the guy shook his head from side to side, and confessed that he had yelled at Ron and his guest the night before for making too much noise. He had been happy when they had gotten quiet. Too bad that was probably when they passed out, he moaned. Timmy didn't know what to say. They kept working on the comatose men, but nothing seemed to succeed.

The ambulance screamed up, preceded by a howling police car. Timmy sagged in relief. Danny was still breathing, it might not be too late. For Ron, however, it was a different matter.

The paramedics bustled onto the scene and took control. Ron was rapidly assessed, and left to one side, quite dead. They put an oxygen mask over Danny's face, and quickly set up an IV line. He was transferred to a stretcher and hustled into the ambulance. Ron was loaded in to one side, almost as an afterthought. Timmy begged to ride along, but was refused because he was not a family member. This made no sense to Timmy, because there were no family members willing to go, and he was present and concerned. The elderly woman inside, who turned out to be Ron's mother, had finally put in an appearance during the melee, but had retreated into the house again. For whatever reason, Timmy was not allowed to attend Danny, and the ambulance pulled away to take Danny to the Medical Center Hospital in the main town. Timmy's town was too small to have a hospital of its own.

In the vacuum left by the departing ambulance, Timmy started to walk away. "Not so fast," intoned a familiar voice. Timmy turned and saw Officer Farnham. He was glad to see a face he recognized as knowing what to do, but he groaned at what Timmy knew was coming next. He girded himself in preparation for relaying his part of the story without giving away anything incriminating about himself or Danny. Ron or his dirtbag buddies, he could care less about, although being close to death for the first time had shaken him up.

"So, we meet again," Officer Farnham greeted Timmy, putting his hand on Timmy's shoulder. "Shall we revisit my car for a while?"