Eleven years ago, I started these chapters as a means to just highlight some of the things that have happened in my life. I'm pretty comfortable in stating that most of the dialog is at least 90-95% accurate, though maybe not always 'correct'. I mean, if you think about it, the mind of a teenager is still developing, and our mastery of English as a language was still evolving - or so said one of my high school teachers once. Combine that with the dialect of where I was growing up - the country, that is - then some things I describe might be strange for some. What I can only promise to do is my best though, and try to explain things as simply as I can.
In the weeks and months that followed Cody's leaving, I was saddened at first by his departure. Looking back, I know now I was really being hard on myself: my friend, my best friend I had ever had, a gift I once described as having been given to me from Heaven, was now suddenly being taken away. For a long time, even though we continued to visit somewhat and still have our moments, I felt that deep down I was being punished. All because we had did our things - our trust with each other - that was in some way a massive taboo that had backfired on me. I felt indifferent for a while, cold, unfeeling - because other than the visits we made with one another, more often him visiting me than otherwise - there was just a numbness that wouldn't go away.
The effect on me was so bad that, for a time, I put almost all of my sexual energies aside, I think. I was afraid to go there anymore, to fantasize about Cody or other boys, or even to just be curious about other kids. Then I started thinking, maybe if I changed it around, and put girls into the picture and start fantasizing about feeling their boobs, or getting in their pants to look, and play, would at least be alright. It was the farthest from the truth though, and I knew it. I jacked off only on the rarest of occasions already, and there were times when I would put a girl in the picture. Usually that resulted in a loss of feeling, and then everything felt incomplete. Heck, even my dick would go flat, and that made me feel even worse.
Why couldn't I be normal like other boys, you know? When it came to things I had done, not only just sucking Cody's willy, but also taking a part of him inside me (though most people would have found it disgusting), I somehow got in my head that just that alone must have been the forbidden apple. So, in a way, I felt like I was damned if I did it, and damned if I didn't - and it made me miserable. I mean sure, we took baths and touched and looked at each other up close. Heck, even jocks take showers and stuff with other guys, right? Maybe they didn't get so physical like me and Cody had done, but it was just fun mostly, you know, curiosity. We didn't always have that sexual take on each other all the time, either. I was curious - and I still am to this day - what others look like. That might sound a little pervish in a way, but it's me. If that's a huge sin, then somebody can come and shoot me if they want. I don't mind seeing teens as they develop though, boned up or not, because I find it interesting at how two people can be different, but yet be the same.
So, anyway, back then I sort of come to the conclusion that being curious was okay. When I did finally decide to relieve some stress between my legs, I found I could fantasize to that extent and be okay. Sometimes I would get off, and sometimes not. But at least I wasn't punishing myself so hard, you know? When it came to going beyond that, sucking and taking and swallowing Cody's cum and stuff, that was the things that made me think, in my mind, I was being punished. I know better now, but then?
It's funny what things can do to your head, making you change your way of thinking, you know? I guess I stayed in my room a lot more after Cody moved away, or at least stayed out of the house, riding my bike around the countryside. That kept me from having to make contact, kept me from being in touch with anybody or anything. If I had developed this huge sin of sorts, then I felt I didn't deserve to be around anyone. Maybe some people would have craved the attention, even became sex maniacs or something; for me, I as just scared and depressed, not to mention I became numb to it all. Mom saw the change in me, and knew something was happening - but for as much love and trust I had in her, this was somewhere I knew she could not go with me.
It was almost 3 months after Cody's family had gone, before we got to see each other again. It was only for a single day; his family had come back to visit with friends, and it just conveniently worked out to be on a Sunday. After church, I didn't dare to hope, really - especially given the way Cody's mother was so controlling over his life, but then she is the one who surprised me. It was her suggestion we get together for the afternoon, and if I hadn't been in such deep shock, I might have even hugged her for it. The time we spent afterwards, for a little while, was back and it felt like he had never left. I think I knew and understood how much I really loved him then, and how much I missed him. The first thing he did for me, when we were alone, was give me this big hug, a real hug, which I gave right back. My tears had dried up long before then, but the warmth in my heart was there that day. I tried to put on the brave front, you know, not show myself as being a sissy or anything, but when we separated, I saw his eyes and his smile. I honestly believed he missed me as much as I missed him. Although he wasn't so much as crying, Cody's eyes were watery, and they had this thing about them. You know what I'm talking about, they had this happiness and spark in them - enough so it made me do the same. Then for the first time in months, I let my guard down. He was only there for a couple of hours, and we really didn't have the time or privacy to do anything that much, but when we decided to talk and play some video games, I felt a lot better. We only used one bean bag that afternoon, because he used me to sit with, to lean on and relax. For a little while, I could feel something inside of me again, the magic. Then, right before we left my room to go downstairs, where his Dad was waiting, Cody pushed the door up so that it was just me and him together, and in that private moment, he hugged me, hard.When he left, instead of being sad and almost crying again (that came later), I was so happy - and more so of the fact that just those little things that were there in our visit, had made me feel trusted and warm again inside for a while.
Again, I honestly don't think it was the sex stuff in our friendship that made me feel that close. Someone is probably going to read that statement and say 'Get out of here!', but I'm serious. It might even be why I treat sex as not just something for fun and play, but as something that shows so much trust you have between two people. Does that make sense? It would be a long, long time before I had that nervous energy build in me again, to see and play with anyone else. Mostly because I was so hard on myself, and it took a while for me to learn how to trust again.
Not that I cast aside the sex, mind you. I'm sure it probably helped, because the intimacy helped build that trusting relationship we had. It made for us, in the most barest of ways possible, something we didn't have to be ashamed of, or afraid we would be ridiculed for. Some people would say, 'It's just a pee-pee, Sean!' - and they would probably be right. Even I acknowledge that, you know? But still, getting over that initial fear of what the other would think, and just putting ourselves on the line in the most basic of ways, it exposes you - not just your naked skin, but your naked soul, too. As a society, we protect our modesty so hard sometimes, in what we let other people see of us. But that's the point, isn't it? If you let your guard down, if you say 'Hey, I trust you, we're okay', then it's letting them know you not only like them, but you respect them, too. Giving up that little part of yourself, knowing in some ways your no different than anybody else, but in other ways it's you - your inner self, shed from clothes and letting someone see you. That's trust.
Before that day, I thought I was being punished by being torn apart like we were. I can't describe why I was that way anymore than I've already attempted, but knowing things now, and knowing what drove me when I did try to jack off and stuff, then sex just took a back-burner. In the end I think I was just plain scared, because of what I found more interesting to me than not. I didn't question the gayness of it all, mind you. Seriously, I didn't, because I knew Cody enough on the inside, and it was like we agreed: we were brothers, with a sense of naughty curiosity, and a deep thread of trust that existed between us. I say before that day, because I remember talking about it a little, and he was so open with me, telling me his feelings and fears - and how they were so close to my own.
So, I guess you're getting tired of reading about him, but it does not separate the fact that I would do anything for my best friend, and I knew it. I would have even let him top me, pork my butt if it had come to that and he wanted to. Seriously, those thoughts had started entering my head, and creating even more guilt as I realized how much I loved him and was willing to give myself up for him. In other words, that was how much of my heart and soul I would have been willing to give him back, I think. I don't think that, for myself, I cared what it would take, as long as I could keep our friendship alive in some way. I truly didn't always know how Cody felt, either - other than for the little things he did and gave back to me. At least for the time being, all while I was growing up, it was enough for me to feel that he still had trust in me, and ultimately it was all that mattered. When he left, I started to finally feel somewhat better - about myself, and about life in general.
Within about a month though, he walked back into my life once again, this time on a surprise visit. This time it wasn't just an afternoon thing, but a whole weekend! I admit, at first it was kind of awkward. But as we slowly got back into a routine, again it was the little things he did when we were together that melted me. Even though I don't think it was so much a part of his persona, I do think he was a softie at heart - at least with me. I really don't think he ever knew what those little things he did for me meant in the end - in fact, I know he didn't. I mean, I was the only person alive at that age, I think, , who thought retrospectively about stuff like that! (Well, the only boy, at least!)
How I knew, though, was kind of simple. There was a time, a couple of years later maybe, I don't rightly know, when we started to trade emails, and he asked me some things in one of them. One of his questions was why did I always seem so sad. I fought with myself for a long time, but then I decided it was time to come clean. My response, and his in return, were two of the longest emails I think I've ever exchanged with somebody. I told him why, and I think it was probably one of my first attempts where I started learning how to spell everything out, insofar as what I now do in my writing. I told him that when he was here, some of the little things he did had made me feel so much better and not so alone. I admitted to him that I understood they were things that guys don't really do, not even close friends - like putting his head on my shoulder, putting his arm around my shoulders, nuzzling my neck sometimes, sitting so close and just being carefree with me - like sharing a soda, or cuddling together. I even mentioned that just in the way we wrestled - most guys would never touch anther persons crotch or anything like we did sometimes, and not that we ever did it to grope outright grope one another or anything, he just wasn't afraid of me and it made me feel better inside. Not because of the sex behind it, but because of the trust we shared.
I then went on to explain what life was like for me after he left. That was when the guys at school had started picking on me more than ever before. Not badly, and mostly always stupid stuff, but it was happening because I was becoming so much more of a loner. There was that rejection I always felt, because nobody seemed to want me around anymore, and it made me feel like I was weird or something. But when Cody was there and did those things, I just felt "normal" - at least what I felt like was normal - around him. I didn't have to hide from him or anything, because with him I felt accepted as a human being, and not some freak show or anything. Lastly, I even told him about my lack of sex-capades, because of the guilt I felt - maybe as a punishment for me. If we hadn't went so far, maybe he wouldn't have had to move.
His response? Good grief, you wouldn't believe the long email Cody wrote back to me. First, he told me to never call myself a freak again, or he'd hop a bus and come down and beat the snot out of me! Then, he told me I WAS normal, just as normal as he was or any other boy he knew. That lifted my spirits, I think. He knew that we did things other boys don't do, things he couldn't do with his other friends, but he also said he knew it was because of our bond we shared together. It's why he always looked forward to seeing me, and the things we still did together.
For the first time maybe, Cody actually started to talk to me about some of those things we did, too. I mean, we had asked questions, and talked about sex a lot of times - but to openly start talking about us was, well different. He told me there were a lot of little things that I did, too, that amazed and made him feel really good inside. Things like sharing my clothes with him, and even my underwear; about how I always hugged him back as much as he hugged me. He went on to say about how I was always so nice to his sister and his parents, when even now some of his friends couldn't get past a simple 'Hi' to them. He even told me how much he loved the fact that, when we got alone at night, and we knew we could have a little time to ourselves, that I didn't hesitate to strip down naked with him all the way, just so he could hug and hold me that way. I thought 'Whoa!' when I read that, and especially what followed when he told me he really felt the best when he could feel ME, feel me there in HIS world, HIS room for a change, all over and not be afraid. I mean, I knew I enjoyed it, and that he did to - especially when he instigated some of it for us both. To hear him outright tell me that though... wow!
The letter went on even more. He told me how easy I was to talk with, too, especially about the things that were so taboo. He said guys talk about doing stuff with girls all the time, and it always made him laugh but he didn't feel like he could join in with them or anything, because they were just in another world than he was. When we talked though, he didn't have to hold anything back, and he didn't have to be ashamed or anything - especially when we talked about both girls AND guys, including pussies, tits, dicks, nuts and creaming - and everything else (and yeah, those were his words, not mine!). He also told me how it was so awesome to him that we could spoon up together so perfectly to one another, and how overwhelming that always felt to him. Then lastly, I think he added somewhere in there that, of all the kids we both knew, how they would cuss and curse like no tomorrow, he always liked the fact that we didn't do it - at least not too much, anyways. I smiled when I understood what he was saying. Maybe, in some small way, that was our church side, or our upbringing showing up in us.
When it comes to heartfelt moments, there was one other thing more I remembered he told me, too. I think it was on the phone a few days afterward, because Mom surprised me and told me I could call him for a few minutes if I wanted to one night. Did I ever! That night, he told me that when we talked, or he got a letter, his insides turned mushy. When I asked why though, he said it was because he still remembered, and could still feel the trust we had. In a low whisper, that even now after all this time, if we could ever have a night together again, he would still strip me naked and still do the things we used to do - just so we could embrace and share that part of us together again. To him, I was still his brother, and would always be his brother. It was our bond that he loved the most, that pact we made between us, and even though we have both moved on since, he still felt it was just as strong as the day we made it.
Now, that might sound cliché, but let me set the record straight on something: I have never spoken of some of that stuff, even to him. A lot of things I kept bottled up inside of me, because I knew I was being kind of mellowed, or sappy about it. My emotions were all over the place, feeling hurt and alone and everything, but I never wanted to put any of that on him, especially since we were now so far apart. Other than the things I admitted in my email, when he asked me why I was so sad sometimes, I kind of figured were just a part of me, like my suffering and everything. As it turned out, it was a part of him, too.
It would be a couple of years later he would admit it to me, but when he saw I questioned my normal-ness, he explained how mad it had made him. He wanted to call and yell at me over the phone, but instead he waited until he calmed down first, then started writing back to me. In that reply, Cody told me all of that stuff - all on his own, as if he was reading my thoughts - only, I really think he was kind of really reading my heart. Maybe he knew I needed to feel it, or to hear how he felt about some of that stuff, because that is exactly what he gave me.
After reading it, I stopped feeling so guilty. That end of that email is where he told me to stop putting myself down so much, because he knew me - really knew me, and that he understood what I was living through on the inside by myself. He had never gotten down as bad as I had, but he had always had his sister, his parents and cousins to help him with being who he was. He understood I just had my Mom here. That's why he told me on the phone that night, that he would cut my balls off if I ever forgot that we were brothers, and that we always would be. Even the end of his email said the same thing, and I knew it wasn't bullshit. It couldn't have been empty words, I swear, but even if they were, I just didn't care anymore - because that was all the world to me. I still have that letter he sent me, and a couple of others, and when I get down sometimes, even today, I'll go find them and read them again. They meant that much to me, and helped me straighten myself out. Afterwards, I think the guilt was really gone. That's how much it helped me.
All of this is beside the point though. When Cody visited me THAT weekend, by the first night the awkwardness was gone, because it had melted away and we became inseparable again. By the time we went to bed, we were cuddling and spooning as we always had been, even naked. I remember he asked me if I wanted to do anything, and yes - I knew what he was asking. I told him I would do anything for him, but what I really wanted was just to hold him right then, to feel him again, and that is exactly what he let me do. I wasn't the only one holding the other either, because we fought sometimes over who was going to do what. We did do "stuff" later that night, and the next, but before anything else, there was no sex - unless you count the almost bareback spooning and snuggling that we did, and how at times it sandwiched our willies between us. The feeling, up and down of each other with our hands, our legs, our bellies and backs - everywhere - was just awesome.
When we were getting boned up and everything, we did do stuff. Sucking, stroking, massaging - it broke me from my shell inside. I didn't fear sex between us any at all, and he didn't either. He even got off just, as I said earlier, sandwiching his dick up the backside of my butt. Not inside, but up between my cheeks. When he was doing it, I remember giggling, because it was something we hadn't done before. He got a blast out of it, though - enough so he cummed. It may have been the only time he ever cummed that weekend when his willy wasn't in my mouth, if you get my meaning. It was something different though, and how he hugged onto me deeply afterwards, it was just something I knew felt okay, and felt right between us. Later, after he left, I kind of figured that if I was really being punished, then what was that weekend supposed to be about? Why was he sent back to see me again then, for a whole weekend at that? My thinking and feelings didn't turn around with just that weekend, but after a couple of other visits, and sharing our freedom and closeness over and over, it was enough for me to finally see the sex stuff as just a plus for fun, and that I stopped believing I was being punished. I remember during one of our last visits, toward the end, telling him my newfound realization, especially after a particularly messy culmination between us both. He let out this big breath and said, "Finally!" Then he did something I thought we would never do: Cody kissed me then, on the lips. No tongues or anything, but still, a really nice moment for a few seconds.When he pulled back, he was grinning. "Don't take that the wrong way, okay bro? But trust me... you deserved it!" Not exactly a big kiss, but I guess you could say it was my first of its kind, outside of family. I mean, even to this day, I have never really kissed anyone. It's something I'm still waiting to do...
In a way, Cody was my teacher about learning how to love, even boys, without losing ourselves. I was 13 at the time, and it seemed only when we were together, he was the only friend I could feel anything like that with on the inside. The idea of calling it puppy love probably isn't that far removed. I knew better than to be infatuated with him or anything, so there were limits for me, and him as well. Still, when he was gone, I was withdrawn. Maybe not as morbid as before, but I stayed that way well into the next school year because, again, I was alone.
When my 14th birthday rolled around, both my Mom and Dad had started to get worried about me. They often tried to coax me into doing stuff, getting involved with this or that, but only with limited success. I had started helping out our neighbor, the family that owned the farm around which our house was located, first doing simple stuff but eventually graduating to hauling hay and helping drive their tractor. It had helped, because I didn't withdraw away from that, or other responsibilities I was offered. It was mostly good to be doing something different at times, and I liked it - to a certain point. Our neighbor even paid me some money for helping him now and then, some of which I kept, some of which I gave to my Mom. Still, you can't work all the time, and farm-life only does so much for somebody my size. I hit 5'4", maybe 5'5" at some point that year, and unfortunately just stayed there. I did fill out a little more, as far as shedding my pre-teen appearance, and I had built some of my muscles up, especially in my legs - probably from all the bike riding I was doing. Other parts of me were changing too, but not like the rest of the kids in my class. In the end I was still shrimp-like, almost a geek to the core. I don't think it bothered me too bad - everyone told me I was coming along, just a little behind was all. It would be a while before I would grow to my full height though, but the longer it took, the more uneasy I got.
On my birthday in April of 2000, Dad decided maybe it would be a good time to get a computer. Since both he and Mom had divorced, money was tight for us, and to that I've made no illusion in describing these things before. Although it got better for Mom at times, her raising me I know had to be rough. I never understood why she wouldn't re-marry or anything, you know? I guess it just wasn't in her interest. Instead, she worked at a local florist shop, and got along great with everyone who worked there. I remember that always she seemed happy with it, so that was always a good thing in the end, I think. Dad wasn't unlike Mom in the beginning, having to make a living for himself and help pay for me, or rather, for us. The difference though, occurred when he initially moved to Wisconsin to take a job at the University of Madison. He had a Master's degree in History, and unlike many colleges around the country who had a dime-a-dozen people who could do the job, they had been having some trouble. Dad's brother (my uncle) helped him get the job through contacts, and it was at that point Dad started to hold his own a lot better. I don't think he was ever rich, as some people would call it, but compared to me and Mom he was, well, a lot better off. It's not something he kept to himself either - he shared, I think, with us as much as he could. I've already told about the fact he got us another car, and that he did several things for us when times really got tough. More than anything though, I now look back and realized that I never, not once, heard a cross thing said from either of them toward the other. I was too young to appreciate that for a long while, but now I am forever grateful. I was just saddened that they couldn't put aside whatever separated them to start with, and find their way back together.
So, Dad bought me a computer - not a fancy outfit, but it had most of the bells and whistles the ones in school had at least. It had a CAM, a modem, color screen, the usual for that period, but at first I didn't do much with it. They were not teaching computers at my school back then, so it was kind of awkward, I guess. That changed, though. In the summer of my 14th year, as school was out and I stayed either out on my bike, or up in my room, Dad also set me up with an internet service, and he started teaching me how to stay connected with him - writing emails and so forth. I also discovered how to keep in touch with Cody - although by that time he had moved to northern Indiana, somewhere too far for me to ever hope of visiting with him again. I did have my cousin Timmy, living in Madison as well, so learning he could use the computer, that gave me another outlet - another friend I could chat with. I mention Timmy here because he was another very important kid in my life, and you'll see why before these chapters end. Having him and Cody was a beginning for me though, and before long I discovered chat rooms, too. Life was starting to pick up a little, and I started to not be so much of a loner. In the chat rooms, I made some so-called friends, something I found was easy enough to do once you proved you were not some creepy perv, or somebody fishing for kids. How easy? Just turn on my cam for a few seconds, at a minimum, was all it took. It really wasn't so bad, and it actually helped me break my shell a lot at first.
I think back though, and I sigh big time. I only had the computer for about 6 months, after school had started again, when something happened. I was beginning to really like the fact I could chat with other people, all around the world. I wasn't totally hooked onto chat rooms, but I started to get a little close to some of the guys there. I found some were seemingly just like me, going through some of the same type of stuff I went through. Finding them sure made an impression on me. I knew better about the security stuff - after getting big lectures from my Mom and my one cousin, who was deep into computers and such - not to give my full name and address to anyone, for any reason. Still, I was a little too trusting on some nights though, and Mom already had heard plenty of horror stories about the things kids do on the internet.
It was because of those stories she had heard, that made my life take another turn and twist. It was one night, late on a Friday in early October I think, not far from being Halloween. I came home from the neighbor's house, and had went to my room and turned on the computer, logging into MSN and checking out who was online. Like I usually did back then (and still do today), I had stripped to just my briefs and t-shirt, intending to go to bed soon anyway, when an online friend messaged me and wanted to show me something. I didn't think anything of it really, so I clicked on the view cam button, and it not only opened a video window to him, but it opened my cam as well. I didn't think anything of it - honest; I was sitting at my desk, people could see mostly just my t-shirt, and I guess if they had been the observing kind, they might catch a glimpse of my underwear - but that was it. And they were teens, like me, so I wouldn't have cared if they did, I think. I certainly wasn't putting on a show for anyone - though there were the usual who tried to get me to do so. Still, that was about it. Well, I don't recall what it was he showed me, nothing dirty or vulgar or anything. I think it might have been something to do with artwork and stuff he was into. I had his video window just attached to the chat window, but when he showed me, I remember it was small, so I maximized the video, you know, to make it bigger. So anyway, he showed me and then stood up to go and get something. He had on boxers and a t-shirt, but they were tented, at least partially, hiding an obvious boner underneath the thin, almost visible fabric.
As it turned out, the same time he stood up - with his tented boxers in front - could not have been worse. Although the upstairs is very much my private haven, Mom had chosen that moment to come upstairs and see about something. She was at my door and just happened to look inside as he passed by the screen. She saw him and then looked at me, saw me in my underwear (although I am very certain I did NOT have a boner or anything then), and then went bananas. I mean, she became livid. She marched over and unplugged everything from the wall, and told me to get into bed that instant and not say another word. She was so mad, I could not even figure out why, and that was making me angry too. Watching her though, was also scaring me out of my wits. "Why? What's wrong?" I would ask, but she would ignore me, other than muttering once under her breath - 'You know very well...'
Was I THAT naive? Yeah, I probably was. I mean, seriously, I wasn't hiding anything, nor was I trying to be secretive about anything at all. Heck, my bedroom door had been wide open, for pity's sake, even though I was getting ready for bed! It didn't make any difference, though. She took the video cam right off the monitor, and with my keyboard and mouse dangling from her hands, she literally stomped out of my room and back downstairs. My mouth fell open, and I was none other than speechless. I heard a door slam, and then the tears started to well up in me. I honestly didn't know, or understand what the big deal was, or what had happened. I was 14, had already been through some of the lowest points in my life ever, and was on a bit of a rebound when this happened. I remembering finding and putting on a pair of sweats, then going downstairs, calling out for her. She wouldn't answer me, though, and that bothered me - big time. In fact, there was nothing but silence that way for the rest of the whole night. The next day was the same, and of course I was banned from the computer. I was in hysterics though, and I cried - but only to myself. I don't remember exactly what I did, but I know that for the next few days, it was the longest I had ever gone with Mom giving me the silent treatment. She was royally pissed about something, and what it was I hadn't the slightest clue.
My Mom and I had, up until that time, always been open and upfront with one another, about most anything. We could get annoyed at times, but outright upset and mad, to the point we didn't talk? I could at least acknowledge her, even if I was being snappish or snide; she was, and always will be, my mother. But those few days were crushing me.
Eventually, that cousin I mentioned before, the one who was deep into computers? He came over later that next week and started to go through my computer. He was there when I got home one day from school, so I was surprised when I saw him sitting there, and everything hooked up and running. Confused, I just went in and sat down on my bed, looking dumb I'm sure. Mom was there, too, standing next to him the whole time, so I'm sitting there thinking 'Huh?' At one point, the silence was broken when the phone rang and Mom left to go back downstairs and answer it. That was when she left me and Josh alone, and I finally got up the nerve to talk to him.
"Josh?" I asked.
"Yeah, Sean?"
"What's going on?" I asked. He looked at me, a look of confusion on his face, so I pleaded with him. "Please tell me why Mom is so mad, and why are you here. What's going on?"
Comprehension crossed his features, and looking toward the door, he lowered his voice. "Tell me something, first. Have you been getting into porn?"
"NO! I mean, sometimes I might get a popup or site by accident or something, but heck, no! I mean..."
He nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean about that. It's hard to completely avoid it in general, the way all the sites plaster everything." He observed me closely, though. "You can tell me though, okay? I won't squeal. Have you been getting into it any at all?"
"Into what? Porn?" He nodded, and I gave him the hardest stare I could muster up. "NO! Josh, I do not go to porn sites and stuff!"
Whether he believed me or not, my cousin just sat there and shook his head. "Sean, I think all boys - "
"NO JOSH!" I was getting louder, and he was trying to hush me before I added, "I don't even like the crap, big hairy creeps and boobs and whatever, doing sick stuff..." I emphasized the rest of my words, because I was getting mad. "I... DO... NOT... DO... PORN!"
"Jesus Sean, keep it down! Okay, okay!" He stared at me for a moment, and then nodded. "Well, something happened, because your mom said you was on here with some kid the other night, and that you two were looking at porn or something. That's why I'm here, to see if I can find out what you've been doing."
Finally! Of all people, HE gave me an answer I could understand, and as I thought about it, it all started to click into place. Okay, so maybe I wasn't the fastest person in the world to connect the dots, but still, at least I did get them to connect! I got up and walked over to him, then told him to keep searching and everything, then. My eyes were stinging from the humility of it all, but I knew in my heart - for other reasons - that I was in the clear. I really was innocent, and I would do anything I could - anything at all - to prove it. I even showed him a thing or two he didn't know about, walking through how to do global searches for pictures, web sites visited, checking the temporary folders - everything I could think of. He was impressed, and of course he knew several tricks, too. He even searched for compressed folders and hidden files and the like, but I had nothing to hide, and eventually he believed me. Mom never came back upstairs, and it was a good hour or more before Josh finally just sat back and sighed.
"You're clean, kiddo. To be honest, knowing you, I didn't think you would be into anything like that anyway. But man, you freaked your Mom out."
Huh? 'Knowing me?' Just what was that supposed to mean? Was I some goody-two-shoe gum now, so much that everyone thought they knew me better than I did myself? How wrong they were, and I started getting angry again. Then the reference to Mom freaking out hit home. "What do you think she's been doing to me? I guess it doesn't matter if I freak the fuck out either, does it? Nobody cares about what goody-little-Sean feels like, do they? I'm just the guilty piss-ant people can shit on and laugh about it afterwards, right?" Oh, I was so mad then, I wasn't even thinking clearly. Even my curses were flubbed like water spewing from a water hose; Josh was so surprised he was unsure of even what to say afterwards. When I turned to leave, of all the times for it to happen, I saw Mom standing in the doorway. She had that look on her face, the look like What did I just hear you say...?
I didn't care, though. I pushed my way past her, down the steps and out the front door. I then hopped on my bike and took off as fast as I could pedal, just to get away from there. I probably got a good couple of miles from the house before I pulled off into a field and just crashed onto the ground. It was the first time in a long time I started to cry, and I mean really cry hard. Although I had been miserable since Cody had moved away, I hadn't cried that hard since the night Cody told me that his family was leaving me. It hurt so bad inside me, I was screaming at the world, at myself, at anything I could to just let it out. You've got to understand - whether anyone reading this believes it or not, I really wasn't into porn then. Just like I told my cousin, what I had glimpsed of up until that point showed hairy creeps, boobs that were way too big, and screwing (kind of), the hardcore stuff I just had no interest in. Does that make sense?
As I think back, I believe I was just too messed up for a while, too much alone with myself and having no confidence in anything, and missing Cody so much. Yeah, I could find porn on the net if I really wanted to, because it wasn't that hard. I was still like a zombie on the inside though, still feeling empty. I had just started coming out of my shell a little, and I had this idea, this thing in my head that said maybe my punishment was over. Given everything positive that had been happening to that point - and given Cody's constant reminding me of how close we still were - maybe this was Heaven's way of letting me have back some of my feelings again. I mean, it was monumental to at least begin feeling a little bit of something again. I didn't want to screw that up again, and besides - although I would find it hard to admit publicly, at that time I just really had no interest in girls anyway. I wouldn't outright admit it, but I was still curious, and interested, in boys - however pathetic that might sound to some people.
What hurt me the most though, was my own Mom. Not the fact that she misunderstood what she had seen, or at least thought she had seen. I mean, anyone can make a mistake, right? Instead, it was the fact that she put all our trust we had for each other in the garbage that night, and the days afterward. I felt she tore it all away and just threw it out the door. I never kept anything from her, always talking, always believing we had this thing between us. When this happened though, she wouldn't talk to me. She wouldn't tell me what was going on in her head. I was automatically guilty, and ready to be sentenced without any possibility of parole, you know? But yet, as far as I knew, I hadn't even committed a crime! I think that's when I cried the worst, because it felt like she didn't trust me anymore.
There is one thing Cody taught me more than anything, and not because of the sex stuff either: a lot of stuff in life is based on how much trust you can put into a person, and how much they'll give you back. I gave her almost everything; obviously I didn't tell her ever about me and Cody's sex stuff going through my head, or my heart, or even my life - to me that was just something she couldn't, or wouldn't, understand. For everything else though, I held nothing back. I had always thought - with maybe the exception of her and Dad's divorce - that we could talk about anything. I was wrong, and that weekend and the week that followed had proven it to me.
When I got it out of my system, when all the rage and anger and shock had finally left me, I turned stone cold. I couldn't talk to anyone, nor could I even hardly eat. On days I got home from school, I was on my bike and gone - anywhere but the house. For weeks, that became my routine until dusk outside. It was late in the fall, and the sun dropped early then, and the nights grew gradually cooler. Still, I would stay out as long as I could get away with, and then some especially on the weekends.
Finally, Halloween arrived, and some three to four weeks had passed. I wasn't feeling any better about things, but I grudgingly knew I had no place else to go. Usually, I came home and gave my mother the same treatment she gave me: pure silence, speaking only when I absolutely had to. On that Halloween evening though, after school, I arrived and started to do my chores before once again heading out. Back then, we were building fires in the wood stove again, and it was my job to fill the wood-box inside each evening, so it would be ready for the next day.
Mom happened to be sitting on the swing when I walked up the steps onto our front porch. I almost made it to the door when I heard her small voice call out. "Sean, please, stop..."
I looked at her - not evil or anything, but probably more annoyed than anything, I guess. She only looked at me, not saying another word, so after several seconds, I just ignored her and went inside. Getting up to my room, I dropped my books on the bed and pulled my good jacket off, looking for the replacement I usually wore when working outside. Mom had followed me upstairs, but she did it respectfully, stopping in the doorway to my room. She stood there as I changed my mind about getting the wood right away, and instead kicked off my shoes before turning on the TV. I plopped on the bed and continued to ignore her as she stood there, not coming in, but observing me instead. I didn't care though. Like I said, I was still hurting inside, even after all the time that had already passed us. I remember so wishing Dad, or someone, would just come and take me away somewhere. But they didn't. It was just the two of us, me and my Mom, making the best of it as we could.
She stood there, battling with her own emotions, I guess, because I noticed her wipe at her eyes a time or two. I was hurting her, and deep down I knew it, but she was hurting me too, and she wasn't giving in. Because of that, I wasn't going to give in either.
She sighed at one point before speaking again, very quietly. "Sean, we have to talk."
I remember hesitating, and then looking at her. Again, there was like a dead silence between us. I think for a moment I really tried to let my guard down, and be willing to listen, but when she stood there and said nothing, something boiled inside of me again. I thought, wondering if she was waiting for me to say something, and if that was the case, so be it? I didn't speak mean to her, and I wasn't trying to be a smart-ass or anything. I think I really just used the same quiet voice she had used with me. "Yeah, you would think so I guess. When it's convenient for you, you want to talk, but if I needed to talk, if I needed to hear you... If I needed to know anything, or to feel anything, it's not worth crap to you, is it?" I even surprised myself at what I said, and I knew I was fumbling my words again. I saw the look, the hurt in her eyes though, and I think she knew what I was trying to say, even if I was screwing it up badly. I gave her at least a minute, but when she didn't say anything further, I turned back to the TV and ignored her again. She stood there for another minute oir two, before just silently leaving and retreating back downstairs.
I remember a few trick-or-treaters came early that evening, and I heard them at the door. Unlike so many times in the past though, I had no interest in them that year. I was in the dumps again, beginning to finally feel sorry for what I had said, and I had started to cry again, albeit quietly. Mom didn't deserve what I had said, and I knew it. She was trying to make it right, trying to reach back to me at least, but that silence was so ghostly, so far away that it hurt me still. Just come out and say it, get it over with! I mean, she's either sorry, or she isn't, right? Maybe that was the problem though. Maybe she didn't know how to feel either, and was just confused about her teenage son and what was going on. That weighed on me a little while - big time.
I had just about resolved to go down and try to listen to her for a change, when there came another knock at my bedroom doorway. It startled me, and when I turned around and looked up, my Dad was there. I was in shock, and I know my jaw had to have dropped open a couple of times, trying to say something, but no words coming out. I remember how I finally just got up slowly and walked over to the door, my feet weighing heavier with each step. My thoughts were running a hundred miles a second, it seemed. I'm sure I even whimpered before I finally just fell into his arms, burying my face into his chest. There could not ever have been any other person in the world who I would have been happier to see right then. I didn't care if he was there to whip me again or not, because maybe in some ways I deserved it, you know? Instead, I just crashed into him, hugging, and... yeah, for the second time in as many weeks... crying my heart out. From what I can remember, I never said a word. I couldn't say anything, really. I just bawled, all the anger, the frustration, all the hurt gushing out of a 14-year old body, as if I were still six years old.
That night, he had to coax me for a while, but we ended up going out to eat as a family, and yes, that means he brought Mom along. She was almost as red-eyed as myself, I think, and I remember once again feeling sorry for her. Still, I couldn't help it - I clung to my Dad like glue. It was probably the second time in my life while growing up that I needed him without realizing it, and somehow magically he was just there. I asked Mom a long time afterwards if she had called him, but she told me no. Dad also told me later, that he just felt like something was calling him home, so he came to see me. He knew Mom and I were having some problems - evidently, they had been talking off and on. For that day though, he just decided he needed to come down from Wisconsin. Is that magical or what?
We sat down in the restaurant and began to talk - all three of us. I finally got my Mom to listen to me, and I mean really listen to what I had to say about feeling betrayed, feeling worthless - even if it was just in her eyes. Before it was over, I finally forgave her and listened to her, too. Dad helped me to work out my feelings somewhat, but there was still a barrier there, something I could sense but just couldn't understand. I mean, in the end it was only my word. There was nothing I could do or say that would convince her otherwise that I wasn't into porn or stuff with other kids on the cam. I pointed out that she already knew I floated around in my underwear a lot in my room, especially at that time of the evening. So, that should have been no surprise to her, right? It didn't mean I was open to the whole world seeing me in my skivies though, especially since the monitor and everything sat at my desk. Still, even otherwise, it's one of the reasons she generally gave me my privacy, I think, right? Other than the fact Josh had spent over an hour and hadn't found anything on the computer, that was all I had as proof - but it still wasn't enough. Although I forgave her, she still couldn't forgive me, if that's what you'd call it. I mean, I was innocent, I wasn't guilty of anything - but it wasn't enough. How screwed up was that?
They both agreed, telling me together, that they knew I was a good kid, and that all of it had gotten blown out of proportion. Still, the damage was done, and when I looked up into her eyes - I saw it. I had lost some of that trust we had always shared, and I felt cheated of it again.
In the end they let me back on the computer - with the stipulation I had to give up the cam. Initially I was against it. Even though they were my parents, and their word was law, I still felt betrayed for having done something that wasn't even my fault to begin with. It was like adding icing to the cake of punishment, the cloak of penalty I was already going through, you know? Dad convinced me though, to try and look at it from Mom's point of view. In the end, I conceded that maybe she had had a right to be upset, but that was all I would allow her. I told them both that it still didn't give her the right to not trust me, especially without talking to me about it first. Instead, she had blown up, without thinking or caring about how I was feeling. She had treated me like some kind of convicted criminal, pronouncing me guilty before even considering I might be innocent. I told them if they wanted to take the cam, then fine; but by doing so just told me I was still guilty in her eyes, no matter what.
Believe it or not, she cried then and said she understood that now. I was getting older, and I had a right to have those feelings now. She said she was sorry, but struggled with her own thoughts and feelings then, too. Dad remained silent, because this was the one part that stood only between me and my mother, and he knew we had to work that part out for ourselves. I've never blamed him for that, nor for anything else that night. His showing up that night, out of nowhere, was finally what brought the two of us together to actually talk it out.
When everything was said and done, although it was a sucky compromise, I agreed to it just so I could keep some level of peace between me and my Mom. I promised, on my heart, not to use the cam anymore until they both told me otherwise. I felt cheated, but it was done, and so the damage was stopped from burrowing any further. Every time I got on the computer afterwards, for the rest of the school year, I still felt that betrayal inside of me, the lost trust. I refused to go back to the chat rooms, or anywhere else, for a long, long time. Mostly, I just did some of the basic stuff, like keeping my emails with Dad and Cody alive, and using it to write reports for school.
I'll say it again, here: I go into all of this detail because I am trying to explain what life was like for me after Cody left, and I was trying to find my way again, rebuilding confidence back for myself. I was a teenager still navigating through life and the world, though it really sucked sometimes. It wasn't until I started getting close to my cousin Timmy, and simultaneously returned to some of my friends in one of the chatrooms, that I ever started moving forward again. A lot of kids who had problems like mine seemingly bounced back from things practically overnight. Their minds were elsewhere. My problem was the hurt I went through, and where it was coming from inside of me. A lot from school, and a lot with myself missing my best friend still - but even more so, it came from my falling relationship with Mom. It would be a long time before we repaired our rift together, but I think that was to be expected. Why she couldn't believe me, I do not know. Was it that hard, really? I don't know, but something spooked her, and it spooked her down to her very core. There was nothing more I could do about it then.
In the end, that caused me to withdraw back into my shell. Because once again... well... I was alone...