Then and Now

Chapter Eight



Toby's Excellent Blog- Saturday, July 30, 2005
Listening to- Foreigner/ I've Been Waiting
Mood- Thrilled 


            I am writing this on David's computer, so you can assume things have improved. Yeah, they've improved. Way improved. So majorly improved. Even if David likes eighties hair bands.

            My eyes have been opened by both David and my father. I don't know where to begin, so I guess I'll start with Thursday night.

            At dinner, I told Mom and Fuehrer that I wasn't going to church anymore. I told them Brother Seth was a pervert and a fraud and that the church was trying to protect him. I said the Faithbuilders was just a money-making scheme and I didn't want any part of it. Fuehrer said I was going to Hell anyway and he no longer gave a damn about the state of my soul. He said it was just as well because all I do, he says, is sulk when I'm at church with them. Funny. The kitchen TV was on and the news announced while we were talking that Brother Seth had been arrested on charges of molesting minors and that Brother Willy was calling it a conspiracy by enemies of Faithbuilders to destroy his ministry. But, they said that, so far, eight families were filing complaints against Brother Seth and that more were expected. I kept the smirk off my face while I watched the look of frustration grow on Fuehrer's face. Mother just frowned and gave me a “don't say anything” look.

            So, I went outside after dinner and David was playing football with a couple of gorillas out in the street. He looked at me, but didn't say anything. I just turned the other way and walked over to the shopping center across from the hospital. They always have “Jazz on Thursdays” during the summer there and it was kewl. I listened for a while and then went home when it started getting dark.

            I pulled out my father's journal. I couldn't find Volume 2, so I started Volume 3 and I think I understand Dad a lot more now. He had such dreams. He was trying so hard. And, I realize that he and I were going through basically the same shit. Letitia is right. I really am like my Dad, though I have to admit that it's really weird to read your Dad writing at the age of 15 about boning up.

            I can't imagine going through what he went through, though. He had it even rougher than me. But, he seemed like such a romantic and as I read what he wrote, I could see him, even though he was 15. I could see that was Dad, the sarcasm and humor, the depression, the idealism. And, it freaked me out so much that we both loved the Peace Garden and that one bench! Of course, when I was a kid, he used to take me there and maybe that's why I love it so much. It reminds me of the wonderful times when he and I would play Frisbee in the garden or sit by the conservatory and he would read to me.

            It is so weird to think of my father, who I knew in his thirties and forties, and read the words of pain and love he wrote at 15, the frustration he felt at not being recognized for his abilities, and to read of his love for the asshole Robin Pendleton, (who, BTW, is now the District Attorney), and his true love for Timothy Lawrence. It's totally weird to read him talk about the boys on that TV show and how beautiful Timothy was. It sounds like me talking about David except he was so much more eloquent. I wish I could write the way he did at my age.

            So, anyway, I looked out the door and David's window was open and I saw him walk past without his shirt. He is so beautiful and I wondered maybe if he didn't hate me anymore or if it was just that he didn't give a damn. And, then, his light went out. So I went out the door and sat in a lawn chair in the dark, looking at the stars listening to the crickets and the other sounds of the night, the ambulance helicopter landing at the hospital, the traffic on Twenty-fourth, the dogs in the neighborhood barking. Then I went to bed.

            Friday, I went to the library to write in my blog, but my computer access has been restricted. It's because the filter they use on their computers reported “inappropriate use.” It's my blog!!!!!! It's because of what I've been talking about on my blog!!!!!!! Can you fucking believe it???? The library is blocking my use of their computers because of what I write in my blog!!!!! The librarian told me she understood my feelings and agreed it was stupid, but there have been too many complaints about “freedom” by conservatives and they are clamping down on the libraries. So, I was pretty bummed out and trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to write my blog. I figured that Letitia would let me get on the computer Saturday nights when Mom and Fuehrer were at work.

            So, Friday night, I was back in my room copying Volume Three of my Dad's journal onto my laptop. It was late and I had just finished the part where Dad was talking about how boned he was, (God, it's my Dad I'm talking about here, this is too weird), thinking about the next night when he would stay over at Timothy's. Suddenly, I hear some footsteps in the grass outside my door and David's standing there, scaring the shit out of me. He asks if it's safe to come in. So I check and everyone's gone to bed in the front of the house, so I unlatched the screen and let him in. One nice thing about Fuehrer not letting me have air conditioning is that the door to the rest of the house stays closed and gives me even more privacy at night.

            So, David comes in wearing his usual shorts and tee and sandals, but he's like majorly boned and it's spearing out bad in front and he's like not embarrassed about it all. I look at him and he gives me this smile and takes my hands and says, “Dude, don't hate me, but I read your blog tonight.”

            I start to freak out in embarrassment, but he grabs me face and gives me a heart attack. He kissed me. David Rosen kissed me. And, then, he said, “Yeah, when I was parading around in front of the window, it was deliberate. Dude, you need to be more careful when you're spanking it in the floor. Even though you're behind the screen, I can still see you.”

            Then he kissed me again, only this time it was long and we just stood there, arms around each other and even getting tongue action going. Dude, I was as chubbed as he was and spearing out just as bad.

            Then, he says, “Toby, I'm not in love with you, but I like you so much and I understand what you're going through and I want to be there for you.” And, then, he kicked off his sandals, pulled off his tee and dropped his shorts. He was standing there totally naked and he was even more beautiful than I dreamed. And, then, he said, “I want to give you this. I want this to be a special night for you. You're my friend.”

            So he takes me to the bed and undresses me and turns off the light and we lay there all night and made love to each other.

            It was the most beautiful night of my life. He held me and hugged me and kissed me. We made each other cum four times and every time, it was better than anything I had ever done by myself. David is the most sensitive and caring lover anyone could ever hope for.

            And, as he stands behind me, looking over my shoulder reading what I am writing, I am not embarrassed to write that even though I know I'm probably not the one he wants to spend his life with and maybe he'll get married someday, I love him and I am grateful for the gift he gave me last night, of loving me all night, and I am grateful for the gift his of friendship. I know this sounds corny, (though after my Dad's flowery style, maybe not). And, he's going to sneak over again tonight, (even though we've already messed around twice today- this dude is hornier than I am).

            Thank you, David, for being my friend.


Toby's Excellent Blog- Sunday July 31, 2005
Listening to-


            I know the truth. OMG. I know the truth. It’s horrible. My poor father. My poor dear father. I love him so much and I hate my mother. How she could do what she did. I can understand Fuehrer doing what he did. He's the biggest asshole on earth. But, my mother?

            I must find my father. David did a search on the internet and found a Jeffrey C. Tenbrook in a small town in Vermont. I am almost certain it's him. In fact, I am sure that that's who JCTinVT is, the guy who wrote the really nice PM to me on Blogiomail. I am sure that was my father. How he found my blog I can't even begin to guess.

            I will explain everything after I post some journal entries of my father's. They're from the ninth grade and then a few from later. Letitia also talked to me Saturday night before Mom and Fuehrer came home. She's the one who told me the truth about why Dad left. Mom and Fuehrer don't know. But, I am going to run away. I know the truth and I am going to go find my father. I will live with him. I can't live with people who would do what they did to my father.



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