Title: A Wildwood Rose
Characters: Dillon and Gary
Authors: Gary with a little help from Carol
Author's Note: Inspired by Steve Walker's The Message
No warning all mistakes are mine.
I saw him as soon as I entered the apartment. He was sitting on the floor; I heard him sniff and then saw his body shaking with small trimmers from crying. At first I thought he was hurt, and I moved beside him instantly. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.
"I miss them so much," he told me. He placed his head on my shoulder, and grasped me tightly as before he broke down into deep sobs.
"It's alright love, I have you." I pulled him closer. A shoe of cards and letters was sitting at his feet, and he was holding a card in his hand. I gently took it from him, and began to read it. The front cover had a simple greeting,
For You
A wild flower for our wild one.
Love you,
Mom and Dad
Pasted just below his parents' signature was a dried lavender wildwood rose.
There were no words I could offer to make it better, so I just held him tight. I kissed the top of his head and felt a single tear slip down my cheek.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Bath Time
Warning: None, except all mistakes are mine. Sorry for the spelling and grammar errors.
"What are you doing?" I asked him. I laughed when I saw the love of my life sitting in the tub. The water was up to his chest and all over the floor. He was making battle noises as he sank a ship under the water.
"Playing," Dillon said with a nasty little grin. "Wanta play with my submarine?" he asked wiggling his eyebrows at me.
'God I love bath time,' I thought as I removed my clothes.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Do You Want To Know?
When we arrived at the scene of the accident, I saw by-standers picking up CD cases and papers. There were two bicycles lying on top of each other in the bike lane, and there was a car parked on the sidewalk, just inches from a building, and a woman crying hysterically. I looked over at the officer beside the young woman, and he pointed toward his left.
I looked over to where the officer was pointing, my heart stopped. There on the sidewalk was my accident-prone brat, sitting with blood all over his shirt, shorts, and a trail of blood running down his leg. He was trying to comfort another person laying on his/her back, with an arm over his or her eyes. Dillon was holding pressure on the person's forehead. David and I both headed over. I, of course, wanted to help my brat, but knowing the rules in such an incident like this, David went to Dillon's side, and I went to the other person.
"It wasn't my fault," was the first thing Dillon said when he saw us. David started to check where all the blood was coming from, but got stopped. "It's not mine; it's hers," Dillon told us.
Then he turned to me, and gave me a smile. I noticed that she had a folded towel around her neck, and tape to secure it into place. "We were both in the bike lane. I was just a few seconds behind her, when that car...," he pointed to the one on the sidewalk, "came around the corner into our lane. She got hit head-on and went over the hood, and landed there. I was unable to stop, and followed her up and over, landing almost on top of her. Yes, she had a helmet on. I took it off because of the blood, but not before I secured her neck. She has a laceration on the forehead, above her left eye; I've been applying pressure, but it's not stopping. Her left ankle hurts, and I'm not sure, but I think it might be broken, 'cause of the way it's laying. She's coherent, but a little shaky. She is also a diabetic; her medical information is there." He pointed to a folder lying on her chest. "Her name is Catherine, but they call her Kit. She's new here; she works for Johnson Carrier. I've already called, and told them she's been in an accident, and then I called her emergency contact; he will be here soon.
I was proud of my boy; he actually listened to what I have been trying to teach him in case of an emergency.
"Oh, yeah, she may be pregnant, and she's 26," he told us. David and I just looked at each other.
"Ok, now what about you?" David asked him, as I attended to Kit.
"I'm fine," Dillon told him.
"No, he's not," Kit told us.
"Kit, you're hurt worse; let them check you out," Dillon said.
I just looked over at my boy with the 'start-talking' look, and I saw David swallow. "Dillon talk," David told him.
He gave us a sly grin. "Male, 25, healthy, has been in a vehicle vs. bicycle accident; just shaken up; no major injuries; had slightly bloody nose, and a small cut on the right knee." Yeah, his slight cut later took six stitches.
"He hit his head on the sidewalk," Kit told us. About that time, we heard the sirens of the ambulance coming. With that new information, David made Dillon look at him, checking his eyes, and stuff. Kit laughed when David had Dillon follow his finger, and Dillon stuck out his tongue in the opposite direction as his eyes went.
"Dillon!" I warned him.
"Sorry," he mumbled, and did the rest of the test as he was supposed to. I called for another ambulance.
"I don't need one," he told me. "Ok, fine," he said, when I just looked at him.
One of the officers came over and told Dillon and Kit that the bikes could be picked up at the police impoundment yard, at no charge.
Just as they got Kit loaded into the ambulance, an older man came running up to it, yelling her name. I stopped him, and assured him that she was going to be fine, and that he could meet her at the hospital. Since there was no other ambulance available, Dillon was riding shotgun with us.
One of the by-standers, who picked up the stuff, came over and gave Dillon both packs, both crammed with papers and CD's. "Sorry; not sure what belongs to whom," he told him.
"I'll figure it out," Dillon said, as he climbed into the passenger side of the ambulance. "Thank you so much for your help," he told the guy.
Dillon went through the ER entrances with Kit; I stayed with him as long as possible, but, I soon had to go to another emergency. Before I left him in the hands of the ER doctor, I told Dillon to call me when he got released, and I would find him a way home. Dillon gave me a kiss good bye, then sat on the gurney, waiting his turn, and started going through the packs to find out what belonged to him, and what belonged to Kit.
A few hours passed, when I got a call from Dillon, telling me he got a ride with Kit's friend, and, since he was going to pick up her bike, he was taking him over to claim his. I started to tell him 'no', that I would have Allen pick him up, but he then told me not to worry; he'd be fine.
I got home around a quarter to six; I was bone-tired, but I knew my boy needed me more than normal tonight. When I walked into the apartment, he met me with a smile and a big hug.
One thing about living in an area where they treat you like family was when the news got out that Dillon was in an accident, not only were they concerned about him, they fed us. So when I got home, we had more food than we knew what to do with.
After we ate, and I had my shower, I went over to Dillon, who was going through his pack, and pulled him over to 'our' chair. "I'm getting spanked, huh?" he asked me, looking through his bangs, while I pulled him down onto my lap.
"Why should you be?" I asked him.
"Following to close, not paying attention, listening to my MP3 player instead of the traffic," he told me. "I am, aren't I?" he asked, when I didn't respond to his question.
"No, you did nothing wrong," I told him. He looked as if he didn't believe me. We sat there for a while; I just held him, knowing today could have been worse. "How's kit?" I finally asked.
"She's ok, she didn't lose the baby" he said, more or less looking down to his legs. We sat in silence for a while, when Dillon turned to straddle my lap. He then started to play with my chain that I wear. "We've been together for, what...almost four years?" I nodded 'yes'. "And, umm, according to Greg, umm, do you know, umm, if anything happens to you, umm, like at work, or, umm, an accident, umm, if I have any say so over you? Umm, and no matter what I decide, your family can over-rule me?" he said. "And you over me, even though my family don't care," he said, looking at me. "I was not too sure who Greg was, but I figured he had to be Kit's emergency contact."
"Dillon, what are you trying to say?" I asked him.
"Umm, well, do you want to you know?" he asked. I was totally lost.
"Do you want us to do the 'power of attorney' thing?" I asked him; he didn't say anything.
"Greg says he can do it for free, since I took care of Kit when she was hurt, and all," Dillon told me.
I put my hand under his chin, and made him look at me. "Baby, do what for free?" I asked him.
"You know, that thing that couples do," he told me.
I started to feel a headache coming on. "Sweetheart, I usually can come to grasp with what you are saying when you don't make sense, but right now I am totally lost," I finally told him.
I could see him take a deep breath, his cheeks turning a little pink. "Do you want to be my husband?" he finally asked. I was shocked to no end; I just sat there. "Oh, no," Dillon whispered. I could see tears make their way down his cheeks. I grabbed his hand, when he started to make a fast get-a-way, and pulled him to me, and kissed him for a long time. When I finally let him go, he gave me a smile. "Does that mean 'yes'?" he asked me.
"Yes, it means 'yes'. I would love to become your husband," I told him.
"Cool, 'cause I would love to become your husband, also," he said with a smile. The tears still fell freely, but this time they were tears of joy, not sadness. I just held him tight in my arms. "We probably still have to do that power thing," he said, looking up at me. His thumbs brushed my cheeks. "Why are you crying?" he asked me, when he realized that my face was as wet as his.
"I'm not; I'm just happy," I told him. "These are tears of joy."
TBC.
Monday, June 28, 2010
It’s wasn’t my fault
“It wasn’t my fault.” Dillon said as he pushed passed me wrapped only in an emergency blanket. I turn to see a cop and our Apartment manger standing in the open door. They were trying not to laugh.
“How was I supposed to know a helicopter would go over head and blow my stuff off the roof so the people on the freeway could see me sunbathing behind the A/C units?” Dillon yelled from the bedroom,” I got a mental image of what he just described. “Not funny.” Dillon yelled as the three of us busted up laughing.
“How was I supposed to know a helicopter would go over head and blow my stuff off the roof so the people on the freeway could see me sunbathing behind the A/C units?” Dillon yelled from the bedroom,” I got a mental image of what he just described. “Not funny.” Dillon yelled as the three of us busted up laughing.
Locked Out.
Allen and David are Gary and Dillon friends This is a true story, This actually happen to me and a couple staying with us. I just change some stuff and I added a few things, I was the one who had to confront the cops at the door, when my friends half naked boyfriend was found in
the front yard. At the time I was upset now I just think it funny. I hope you all enjoy this. There is no warning..
***********************************************
I OPENED THE DOOR TO FIND MY YOUNG LOVER DRIPPING WET, IN
HIS UNDERWEAR AND SOCKS, WITH TWO POLICE OFFICERS STANDING
BEHIND HIM. DAVID STOOD WITH HIS HANDS IN FRONT OF HIMSELF,
COVERING HIS PRIVATES, LOOKING ABOUT TEN INSTEAD OF
TWENTY-FIVE. I STOOD BACK AND LET HIM IN, AND I ASSURED THE
POLICE THAT DAVID DID LIVE HERE, AND HE WAS NO THREAT TO
THE NEIGHBORS. THE DOOR SHUT SOFTLY BEHIND US.
BEFORE I COULD EVEN OPEN MY MOUTH TO ASK.
"IT'S NOT MY FAULT," DAVID YELLED, AS HE STOMPED PAST ME
INTO THE KITCHEN, I WATCHED AS HE SLIPPED AND SLIDE ACROSS
THE NEW LINOLEUM FLOOR. THAT IS WHEN I SAW KEVIN STANDING
ALSO IN HIS UNDERWEAR, TRYING TO GET HIS CAT DINGBAT TO
JUMP UP AND UNLOCK THE SLIDING GLASS DOOR; THE CAT JUST SAT
THERE LIKE `AND YOU CALL ME A DINGBAT'.
"THEN WHOSE FAULT IS IT?" I HAD TO ASK, WONDERING HOW HE
WAS GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS. I JUST LOOKED OVER AT KEVIN, WHO
NOW LAY ON THE SOFA WITH HIS CAT LAYING ON HIS CHEST; HE
LOOKED MORE EMBARRASSED THEN ANYTHING.
I JUST JERKED MY HEAD TOWARD MY LOVER, WHEN I HEARD,
"YOUR'S," DAVID TOLD ME, AS HE GRABBED A TOWEL FROM THE HALL.
I HEARD A "YEAH" FROM THE SOFA. I JUST POINTED A FINGER AT
KEVIN; HE JUST PULLED THE SHEET UP, AND OVER HIS HEAD. ALL I
SAW WAS THE TOP OF HIS HAIR AND HIS EYES STICKING OUT FROM
UNDER IT. IT IS A GOOD THING TO HAVE YOUR BRAT'S YOUNGER
BROTHER SCARED OF YOU.
"HOW IN GOD'S GREEN UNIVERSE IS IT MY FAULT?" I JUST HAD TO
ASK. DAVID SPUN AROUND AND JUST GLARED AT ME; HE WAS TOTALLY
PISSED. "IF YOU WOULD HAVE GOTTEN THE SLIDING DOOR LOCK FIXED,
LIKE YOU SAID YOU WOULD A WEEK AGO, WE WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN
LOCKED OUTSIDE HALF-NAKED, WHEN HE SHUT THE DOOR SO DINGBAT
COULD NOT FOLLOW US OUT, WHICH CAUSED ME TO HAVE TO JUMP THE
SIDE FENCE TO GET TO THE FRONT DOOR, SO I COULD WAKE YOU. IN
ADDITION, IF YOU WOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT SETTING THE TIMER
ON THE SPRINKLERS, THEY WOULD NOT HAVE COME ON, AND I WOULD
HAVE NOT GOTTEN WET. THEREFORE, WHEN THE POLICE THAT WERE ON
PATROL WOULD NOT HAVE SEEN ALL OF ME," HE SAID, AS HE POINTED
TO HIS WAIST; YEAH YOU COULD SEE ALL OF HIM THROUGH HIS WET,
WHITE BRIEFS. HE HUFFED AT ME, LOOKING AT HIM WITH A SMILE.
THEN HE WRAPPED A TOWEL AROUND HIMSELF. "THINKING I WAS A
PERVERT, OR SOMETHING AWFUL." HE SHIVERED, NOT FROM BEING WET.
I THINK IT WAS JUST THE THOUGHT THAT WENT THROUGH HIS MIND AT
THE TIME. "SINCE YOU DIDN'T HEAR THE DOORBELL, WHICH IS BROKEN,
THE LADY OFFICER BANGED ON THE WIDOW TO WAKE YOU. SO THIS IS
ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!" HE SAID, WITH A STOMP OF HIS FOR AND
WAVING HIS ARMS AROUND LIKE A LUNATIC.
"WHY WERE YOU UP ANYWAY?" I ASKED HIM.
"I COULDN'T SLEEP, SO I CAME DOWN TO WATCH A MOVIE, AND I WOKE
UP KEVIN," HE TOLD ME.
"ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE OUT OF BED BEFORE SIX?" I ASKED HIM;
HE JUST LOOKED AT HIS FEET. "ARE YOU?" I ASKED AGAIN.
"NO, SIR." HE WHISPERED.
"WHY DID YOU GO OUTSIDE ANYWAY?" I ASKED HIM.
I SAW DAVID'S EYES MOVE TOWARD KEVIN, WHO JUST COVERED UP HIS
HEAD. "KEVIN WANTED ONE LAST SMOKE BEFORE HE WENT TO BED,"
DAVID SAID.
"LET ME SEE IF I CAN SUM THIS ALL UP. YOU WERE UP WHEN YOU
WERE SUPPOSE TO BE IN BED; WENT OUTSIDE HALF NAKED, TO BE WITH
YOUR BROTHER FOR ONE LAST SMOKE, WHICH I DO NOT APPROVE OF AT
ALL, AND YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE AROUND IT," I SAID;
HE STILL LOOKED AT HIS FEET. "SO THE SUMMARY IS...IF YOU HAD
STAYED IN BED, KEVIN WOULD NOT HAVE GOTTEN WOKE UP, AND GONE
OUT FOR A SMOKE; YOU WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN LOCKED OUT; YOU WOULD
NOT HAD TO OF JUMP THE FENCE OR GOT WET, THE POLICE WOULD NOT
HAVE SEEN ALL OF YOU. CORRECT?" I ASKED HIM.
"YES, SIR," HE TOLD ME.
"SO, TELL ME, MY DEAR, SWEET BRAT; WHOSE FAULTS IS THIS WHOLE
MESS." DAVID LOOKED UP AT ME THROUGH HIS STILL DAMP HAIR.
"KEVIN'S," DAVID TOLD ME..
the front yard. At the time I was upset now I just think it funny. I hope you all enjoy this. There is no warning..
***********************************************
I OPENED THE DOOR TO FIND MY YOUNG LOVER DRIPPING WET, IN
HIS UNDERWEAR AND SOCKS, WITH TWO POLICE OFFICERS STANDING
BEHIND HIM. DAVID STOOD WITH HIS HANDS IN FRONT OF HIMSELF,
COVERING HIS PRIVATES, LOOKING ABOUT TEN INSTEAD OF
TWENTY-FIVE. I STOOD BACK AND LET HIM IN, AND I ASSURED THE
POLICE THAT DAVID DID LIVE HERE, AND HE WAS NO THREAT TO
THE NEIGHBORS. THE DOOR SHUT SOFTLY BEHIND US.
BEFORE I COULD EVEN OPEN MY MOUTH TO ASK.
"IT'S NOT MY FAULT," DAVID YELLED, AS HE STOMPED PAST ME
INTO THE KITCHEN, I WATCHED AS HE SLIPPED AND SLIDE ACROSS
THE NEW LINOLEUM FLOOR. THAT IS WHEN I SAW KEVIN STANDING
ALSO IN HIS UNDERWEAR, TRYING TO GET HIS CAT DINGBAT TO
JUMP UP AND UNLOCK THE SLIDING GLASS DOOR; THE CAT JUST SAT
THERE LIKE `AND YOU CALL ME A DINGBAT'.
"THEN WHOSE FAULT IS IT?" I HAD TO ASK, WONDERING HOW HE
WAS GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS. I JUST LOOKED OVER AT KEVIN, WHO
NOW LAY ON THE SOFA WITH HIS CAT LAYING ON HIS CHEST; HE
LOOKED MORE EMBARRASSED THEN ANYTHING.
I JUST JERKED MY HEAD TOWARD MY LOVER, WHEN I HEARD,
"YOUR'S," DAVID TOLD ME, AS HE GRABBED A TOWEL FROM THE HALL.
I HEARD A "YEAH" FROM THE SOFA. I JUST POINTED A FINGER AT
KEVIN; HE JUST PULLED THE SHEET UP, AND OVER HIS HEAD. ALL I
SAW WAS THE TOP OF HIS HAIR AND HIS EYES STICKING OUT FROM
UNDER IT. IT IS A GOOD THING TO HAVE YOUR BRAT'S YOUNGER
BROTHER SCARED OF YOU.
"HOW IN GOD'S GREEN UNIVERSE IS IT MY FAULT?" I JUST HAD TO
ASK. DAVID SPUN AROUND AND JUST GLARED AT ME; HE WAS TOTALLY
PISSED. "IF YOU WOULD HAVE GOTTEN THE SLIDING DOOR LOCK FIXED,
LIKE YOU SAID YOU WOULD A WEEK AGO, WE WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN
LOCKED OUTSIDE HALF-NAKED, WHEN HE SHUT THE DOOR SO DINGBAT
COULD NOT FOLLOW US OUT, WHICH CAUSED ME TO HAVE TO JUMP THE
SIDE FENCE TO GET TO THE FRONT DOOR, SO I COULD WAKE YOU. IN
ADDITION, IF YOU WOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT SETTING THE TIMER
ON THE SPRINKLERS, THEY WOULD NOT HAVE COME ON, AND I WOULD
HAVE NOT GOTTEN WET. THEREFORE, WHEN THE POLICE THAT WERE ON
PATROL WOULD NOT HAVE SEEN ALL OF ME," HE SAID, AS HE POINTED
TO HIS WAIST; YEAH YOU COULD SEE ALL OF HIM THROUGH HIS WET,
WHITE BRIEFS. HE HUFFED AT ME, LOOKING AT HIM WITH A SMILE.
THEN HE WRAPPED A TOWEL AROUND HIMSELF. "THINKING I WAS A
PERVERT, OR SOMETHING AWFUL." HE SHIVERED, NOT FROM BEING WET.
I THINK IT WAS JUST THE THOUGHT THAT WENT THROUGH HIS MIND AT
THE TIME. "SINCE YOU DIDN'T HEAR THE DOORBELL, WHICH IS BROKEN,
THE LADY OFFICER BANGED ON THE WIDOW TO WAKE YOU. SO THIS IS
ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!" HE SAID, WITH A STOMP OF HIS FOR AND
WAVING HIS ARMS AROUND LIKE A LUNATIC.
"WHY WERE YOU UP ANYWAY?" I ASKED HIM.
"I COULDN'T SLEEP, SO I CAME DOWN TO WATCH A MOVIE, AND I WOKE
UP KEVIN," HE TOLD ME.
"ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE OUT OF BED BEFORE SIX?" I ASKED HIM;
HE JUST LOOKED AT HIS FEET. "ARE YOU?" I ASKED AGAIN.
"NO, SIR." HE WHISPERED.
"WHY DID YOU GO OUTSIDE ANYWAY?" I ASKED HIM.
I SAW DAVID'S EYES MOVE TOWARD KEVIN, WHO JUST COVERED UP HIS
HEAD. "KEVIN WANTED ONE LAST SMOKE BEFORE HE WENT TO BED,"
DAVID SAID.
"LET ME SEE IF I CAN SUM THIS ALL UP. YOU WERE UP WHEN YOU
WERE SUPPOSE TO BE IN BED; WENT OUTSIDE HALF NAKED, TO BE WITH
YOUR BROTHER FOR ONE LAST SMOKE, WHICH I DO NOT APPROVE OF AT
ALL, AND YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE AROUND IT," I SAID;
HE STILL LOOKED AT HIS FEET. "SO THE SUMMARY IS...IF YOU HAD
STAYED IN BED, KEVIN WOULD NOT HAVE GOTTEN WOKE UP, AND GONE
OUT FOR A SMOKE; YOU WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN LOCKED OUT; YOU WOULD
NOT HAD TO OF JUMP THE FENCE OR GOT WET, THE POLICE WOULD NOT
HAVE SEEN ALL OF YOU. CORRECT?" I ASKED HIM.
"YES, SIR," HE TOLD ME.
"SO, TELL ME, MY DEAR, SWEET BRAT; WHOSE FAULTS IS THIS WHOLE
MESS." DAVID LOOKED UP AT ME THROUGH HIS STILL DAMP HAIR.
"KEVIN'S," DAVID TOLD ME..
Brat Proof
I watch Dill rub his forehead then he closed his eyes
and lean back in the chair, sighing and then started
closing his computer down. I could tell he had a
headache coming he but he always waited for the last
minute to take anything for it. Once the computer was
off he got up and headed toward the bathroom. After a
few minutes I heard him. "Stupid, damn thing," then I
heard banging.
"Gaaaaaaary" He whined as he came out of the bathroom.
"What's the matter love," I asked as he climbed on my
lap tucking his head under my chin.
"Won't open" He told me handing onto the bottle of
Tylenol Plus Pain.
I reached over lined up the two arrows "That's because
it's brat proof," I said as I popped off the top with
ease.
"That's not funny" he told me giving me a light punch
in the shoulder.
and lean back in the chair, sighing and then started
closing his computer down. I could tell he had a
headache coming he but he always waited for the last
minute to take anything for it. Once the computer was
off he got up and headed toward the bathroom. After a
few minutes I heard him. "Stupid, damn thing," then I
heard banging.
"Gaaaaaaary" He whined as he came out of the bathroom.
"What's the matter love," I asked as he climbed on my
lap tucking his head under my chin.
"Won't open" He told me handing onto the bottle of
Tylenol Plus Pain.
I reached over lined up the two arrows "That's because
it's brat proof," I said as I popped off the top with
ease.
"That's not funny" he told me giving me a light punch
in the shoulder.
Valentine Day Aftermath
"Dillon, would you like to explain why there is a hole in our kitchen wall?" Gary asked, as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen
"What hole?" I asked, trying to act innocent.
"Do not play me for a fool, young man. Explain to me why there is a hole in the kitchen wall!" he almost shouted at me as he stood pointing at the wall, for some reason I hadn't noticed that he had started clearing the decorations from the kitchen, but, then, it's been two days.
I still tried to act as if I hadn't known about it, and I gave him a surprised look, and went over to where the hole was, and looked at it. "You'd better tell the landlord we've got termites," I told him. Before I knew it, I was facing the kitchen corner, with a handprint across both cheeks.
"Alright, Brat! Stand there until you are ready to tell me how that hole got there!" he said, as he left me standing there. I could hear him mumbling stuff to himself, as he cleaned up the room. "Termites, my aunt fanny! I can't believe this; eyes forward, young man!" He said `young man;' he's only a few years older than me, I thought, as I focused my eyes on the Navaho tan paint. He went past me, into the living room, and I heard him piddling around, doing this and that.
"Gaaaaaaary, " I whined at him, after an hour (ok, five minutes). I hated standing in the corner.
"Are you ready to talk?" he asked; I only nodded. I knew this was not going to end well; he hated it when I throw temper fits, as he calls them. He came over and led me to the chair in the living room. As he sat down, he pulled me down onto his lap. I snuggled close to him, with one arm around his neck, playing with the little curl at the nap of his neck, and picking at the hem of his t-shirt with the other hand.. "Talk or go stand in your corner," he told me.
"It was your fault," I told him. Yep, that's it; always try to blame the top. I thought, as I looked into his eyes, he is not buying this.
"How was it my fault? He asked, tapping my noise.
"Because you didn't call and let me know you were going to be late," I told him, trying not to let my bottom lip quiver.
"I didn't have time," he told me.
"You couldn't have had David call me?" I told him. "I bet David called Allen to tell him." I was pulling at straws.
"I don't know about that, but next time, I will call, or I'll have David do it," he said. I let out a deep breath, and laid my head on his shoulder, hoping he would forget about the wall. "However," Damn! He didn't, "that doesn't explain the wall," he said, turning my face to see him.
"I got pissed because you were late, and I threw a can of pears at it," I told him.
"I thought so," he said, as he shifted me a little. "We've talked about your little fits, and throwing things, have we not?" he asked. I only nodded. "Up; sweats down," he told me, as he helped me off his lap. I just looked at him. "Do you need help?" he asked. I shook my head this time. "You, my boy, are in for a very serious paddling," he told me, as he waited for me to lower my sweats. "Besides the tantrum, you lied to me," he said. I could feel the tears sting my eyes, as I lowered my sweats. Gary never paddled me before on the bare butt; he usually just pulled my pants tight, and went at it; but this time, I knew I was in for it.
Once my sweats were down below my knees, Gary helped me lay across his lap. When he had me in position, held me down, then I felt him shift. He puts the paddle in the magazine pocket on the side of the chair, when he's going to use it. Usually, it lives in a box on the top shelf over the closet in the hall. I took a deep breath, when he laid the paddle on my ass. "Why the paddle?" he asked me.
"Because I threw a temper fit, and they are not allowed," I told him. When he lifted the paddle off my butt, my hand shot back. "Move your hand," he ordered.
"But why bare?" I asked; I was almost in tears.
His arm came under my chest and he helped me up. Then he moved over, and I slid down between him and the arm of the chair. "Because I've paddled you before, over your pants, and it's not sinking in that `I will not allow temper fits," He told me.
"But I don't want you to," I told him. I know it sounded childish, even to me; but, hell, it was my ass on the roaster.
"You lost that choice, love," he told me. As his arms wrapped around me, he held me tight, and let me get used to the idea of my first paddling on the bare butt. "You ready?" He asked. I shook my head `no.' He turned a little, so that we were somewhat face-to-face, my legs were still over his legs. He gently rubbed his thumb over my cheek, to wipe away the tears that fell.
I took a deep breath, and sat back. "Ready," I told him; well, I thought I was. Gary helped me across his lap again. This time he didn't wait; he just started to paddle. After the first few smacks, I gave up on being quiet, and started to let him know that it hurt. It only took a few smacks, for me to realize that he was serious, and he wanted my temper fits to come to a stop. "Gary, stop please! I'm sorry!" I yelled, after each smack; but he didn't. This lesson was going to be learned, even if he had to burn it into my butt. I did my best to get my ass out of the way, but he just pulled me closer to him.
I finally gave up on him stopping, and went limp over his lap. I felt his one leg go up a bit, and the other one go down. The last of the swats I got was the hardest; two were on the under curve of my butt, and the last two were on my thighs. I screamed, and tried my best to crawl off his lap, when they landed. When the swats stopped falling, I didn't try to get up; I just laid there and cried. His fingers gently scratched up and down my back. When I was able to, I slid down to the floor. My weight rested on my hip; then I laid my head on his knee. I was crying so hard, I was unable to catch my breath.
I felt Gary slide down to the floor with me. His arms came around me, and pulled me close to him. Then he gently pushed my head to his shoulder."Shhh, it's ok," I heard him tell me, as he rocked me. "Babe, come on, calm down; easy breath; that's it, deep breaths; let it out slow; come on, you can do it," he whispered. My body shook with each sob, as his hand gently rubbed up and down my back. But with his gentle voice along with the rubbing, I started to settle down. Now, all I did was hiccup and sniff. "Come on, don't suck snot; blow," Gary said, as he handed me tissues. I blew my nose, and then buried my face into his shoulder. "I love you; you know that, right?" he told me, and I nodded my head into his shoulder. His lips touched my cheek. "It's alright, love; we're alright," he told me. We sat there . . . I don't know how long. Gary just gently rocked me, and gave me butterfly kisses on the side of my face, then he would gently rub the side of my face, or gently rub my head; his hands never went to my ass to rub it. I let out a deep sigh.
I got a kiss to the nose. "Better?" he asked; I nodded. "Up; my legs are asleep," he said, as he pushed me a little. It took me a few minutes to stand, and then I helped him up off the floor. "Go wash your face, love," he told me. I did, and it felt good to have a warm washcloth over my face. I tried to sit on the pot, but jumped up! It's not going to happen to soon, I thought, as I leaned against the sink. I tilted my head back, and laid the washcloth over my eyes. I just stayed there for a minute. When my eyes were no longer felt puffy, I headed back into the kitchen to help finish cleaning up the decorations.
"Oh, Gary! No, please no! I won't lie anymore!" I whined, when I saw him standing with his little brown bottle and a spoon. I opened my mouth, when his eyebrows went up. That stuff was the nastiest stuff I ever tasted. No wonder he never swears or lies; his mom had an antidote that worked better than any my mom tried. I stood there for five minute with that shit in my mouth. Gary watched the clock, and when it was exactly five minutes, he let me spit it out; but I could not rinse. I even tried to scrape the stuff off my tongue with my teeth, but it did no good; I could still taste it.
I saw Gary shaking his head. "You, my boy, have a week to fix it, and it comes out of your money," he said; I just looked at him. "Problem?" He asked. I just shook my head. I have seen my dad fix holes in walls before; it could not be that much trouble. I can go by the construction site, and see if I can get a scrap piece of sheetrock.
After Gary went back to work, I tried to fix the hole, but it was a pain, since the hole was between the studs. I had to replace a section of sheetrock. I got pissed, and grabbed the first thing I could lay my hand on I spun around, but when my butt hit the table, I gasped, and put the saltshaker down. `Maybe the lesson was learned,' I thought. I gave up, and asked one of the guys that live in the complex if he had a friend he could get a hold of to help me, and for fifty bucks the hole got fixed. When I told Gary I was going to have to repaint the whole wall to get it to match, he decided to repaint the entire kitchen, which we did together on his next day off; he paid for the paint.
Note to other Brats: If you are going to throw something in a fit of temper, make sure the thing you throw will break and not what it hits.
"What hole?" I asked, trying to act innocent.
"Do not play me for a fool, young man. Explain to me why there is a hole in the kitchen wall!" he almost shouted at me as he stood pointing at the wall, for some reason I hadn't noticed that he had started clearing the decorations from the kitchen, but, then, it's been two days.
I still tried to act as if I hadn't known about it, and I gave him a surprised look, and went over to where the hole was, and looked at it. "You'd better tell the landlord we've got termites," I told him. Before I knew it, I was facing the kitchen corner, with a handprint across both cheeks.
"Alright, Brat! Stand there until you are ready to tell me how that hole got there!" he said, as he left me standing there. I could hear him mumbling stuff to himself, as he cleaned up the room. "Termites, my aunt fanny! I can't believe this; eyes forward, young man!" He said `young man;' he's only a few years older than me, I thought, as I focused my eyes on the Navaho tan paint. He went past me, into the living room, and I heard him piddling around, doing this and that.
"Gaaaaaaary, " I whined at him, after an hour (ok, five minutes). I hated standing in the corner.
"Are you ready to talk?" he asked; I only nodded. I knew this was not going to end well; he hated it when I throw temper fits, as he calls them. He came over and led me to the chair in the living room. As he sat down, he pulled me down onto his lap. I snuggled close to him, with one arm around his neck, playing with the little curl at the nap of his neck, and picking at the hem of his t-shirt with the other hand.. "Talk or go stand in your corner," he told me.
"It was your fault," I told him. Yep, that's it; always try to blame the top. I thought, as I looked into his eyes, he is not buying this.
"How was it my fault? He asked, tapping my noise.
"Because you didn't call and let me know you were going to be late," I told him, trying not to let my bottom lip quiver.
"I didn't have time," he told me.
"You couldn't have had David call me?" I told him. "I bet David called Allen to tell him." I was pulling at straws.
"I don't know about that, but next time, I will call, or I'll have David do it," he said. I let out a deep breath, and laid my head on his shoulder, hoping he would forget about the wall. "However," Damn! He didn't, "that doesn't explain the wall," he said, turning my face to see him.
"I got pissed because you were late, and I threw a can of pears at it," I told him.
"I thought so," he said, as he shifted me a little. "We've talked about your little fits, and throwing things, have we not?" he asked. I only nodded. "Up; sweats down," he told me, as he helped me off his lap. I just looked at him. "Do you need help?" he asked. I shook my head this time. "You, my boy, are in for a very serious paddling," he told me, as he waited for me to lower my sweats. "Besides the tantrum, you lied to me," he said. I could feel the tears sting my eyes, as I lowered my sweats. Gary never paddled me before on the bare butt; he usually just pulled my pants tight, and went at it; but this time, I knew I was in for it.
Once my sweats were down below my knees, Gary helped me lay across his lap. When he had me in position, held me down, then I felt him shift. He puts the paddle in the magazine pocket on the side of the chair, when he's going to use it. Usually, it lives in a box on the top shelf over the closet in the hall. I took a deep breath, when he laid the paddle on my ass. "Why the paddle?" he asked me.
"Because I threw a temper fit, and they are not allowed," I told him. When he lifted the paddle off my butt, my hand shot back. "Move your hand," he ordered.
"But why bare?" I asked; I was almost in tears.
His arm came under my chest and he helped me up. Then he moved over, and I slid down between him and the arm of the chair. "Because I've paddled you before, over your pants, and it's not sinking in that `I will not allow temper fits," He told me.
"But I don't want you to," I told him. I know it sounded childish, even to me; but, hell, it was my ass on the roaster.
"You lost that choice, love," he told me. As his arms wrapped around me, he held me tight, and let me get used to the idea of my first paddling on the bare butt. "You ready?" He asked. I shook my head `no.' He turned a little, so that we were somewhat face-to-face, my legs were still over his legs. He gently rubbed his thumb over my cheek, to wipe away the tears that fell.
I took a deep breath, and sat back. "Ready," I told him; well, I thought I was. Gary helped me across his lap again. This time he didn't wait; he just started to paddle. After the first few smacks, I gave up on being quiet, and started to let him know that it hurt. It only took a few smacks, for me to realize that he was serious, and he wanted my temper fits to come to a stop. "Gary, stop please! I'm sorry!" I yelled, after each smack; but he didn't. This lesson was going to be learned, even if he had to burn it into my butt. I did my best to get my ass out of the way, but he just pulled me closer to him.
I finally gave up on him stopping, and went limp over his lap. I felt his one leg go up a bit, and the other one go down. The last of the swats I got was the hardest; two were on the under curve of my butt, and the last two were on my thighs. I screamed, and tried my best to crawl off his lap, when they landed. When the swats stopped falling, I didn't try to get up; I just laid there and cried. His fingers gently scratched up and down my back. When I was able to, I slid down to the floor. My weight rested on my hip; then I laid my head on his knee. I was crying so hard, I was unable to catch my breath.
I felt Gary slide down to the floor with me. His arms came around me, and pulled me close to him. Then he gently pushed my head to his shoulder."Shhh, it's ok," I heard him tell me, as he rocked me. "Babe, come on, calm down; easy breath; that's it, deep breaths; let it out slow; come on, you can do it," he whispered. My body shook with each sob, as his hand gently rubbed up and down my back. But with his gentle voice along with the rubbing, I started to settle down. Now, all I did was hiccup and sniff. "Come on, don't suck snot; blow," Gary said, as he handed me tissues. I blew my nose, and then buried my face into his shoulder. "I love you; you know that, right?" he told me, and I nodded my head into his shoulder. His lips touched my cheek. "It's alright, love; we're alright," he told me. We sat there . . . I don't know how long. Gary just gently rocked me, and gave me butterfly kisses on the side of my face, then he would gently rub the side of my face, or gently rub my head; his hands never went to my ass to rub it. I let out a deep sigh.
I got a kiss to the nose. "Better?" he asked; I nodded. "Up; my legs are asleep," he said, as he pushed me a little. It took me a few minutes to stand, and then I helped him up off the floor. "Go wash your face, love," he told me. I did, and it felt good to have a warm washcloth over my face. I tried to sit on the pot, but jumped up! It's not going to happen to soon, I thought, as I leaned against the sink. I tilted my head back, and laid the washcloth over my eyes. I just stayed there for a minute. When my eyes were no longer felt puffy, I headed back into the kitchen to help finish cleaning up the decorations.
"Oh, Gary! No, please no! I won't lie anymore!" I whined, when I saw him standing with his little brown bottle and a spoon. I opened my mouth, when his eyebrows went up. That stuff was the nastiest stuff I ever tasted. No wonder he never swears or lies; his mom had an antidote that worked better than any my mom tried. I stood there for five minute with that shit in my mouth. Gary watched the clock, and when it was exactly five minutes, he let me spit it out; but I could not rinse. I even tried to scrape the stuff off my tongue with my teeth, but it did no good; I could still taste it.
I saw Gary shaking his head. "You, my boy, have a week to fix it, and it comes out of your money," he said; I just looked at him. "Problem?" He asked. I just shook my head. I have seen my dad fix holes in walls before; it could not be that much trouble. I can go by the construction site, and see if I can get a scrap piece of sheetrock.
After Gary went back to work, I tried to fix the hole, but it was a pain, since the hole was between the studs. I had to replace a section of sheetrock. I got pissed, and grabbed the first thing I could lay my hand on I spun around, but when my butt hit the table, I gasped, and put the saltshaker down. `Maybe the lesson was learned,' I thought. I gave up, and asked one of the guys that live in the complex if he had a friend he could get a hold of to help me, and for fifty bucks the hole got fixed. When I told Gary I was going to have to repaint the whole wall to get it to match, he decided to repaint the entire kitchen, which we did together on his next day off; he paid for the paint.
Note to other Brats: If you are going to throw something in a fit of temper, make sure the thing you throw will break and not what it hits.
A Valentine Story (told by Dillon)
A valentines’ story told by Dillon
Carol
Gary and Dillon.
I had everything planned out to the minute; as soon as he walks in, I will hand him his after-work drink, and a kiss. Then I will take him by the hand, and serve him a nice dinner, then for dessert Champagne cake. Then, after dinner, I will give him my gift, which is not very much, but it is from the heart. Then I’ll take him to the bathroom, help him strip out of his uniform, and we’ll soak in a rose petal warm bath. After we dry off, then I‘ll take him to the bedroom and give him a full body, hot oil massage. After that, if he is not asleep, hopefully we will make out for an hour or so, and then fall sleep in each other’s arms.
I even had the kitchen decked out in streamers of pink and red, with Happy Valentine’s Day written in on them. I had those cupid cutouts on the cabinet’s doors. In addition, I even found Gary’s grandmothers old cake dish; if I remember right, his grandfather gave it to Gary’s grandmother on their first Valentines, so the lop-sided cake would look good. I think that’s the story he told me. Since I was not a drinker, I had a bottle of that Martineli Cider chilling in an old Easter bucket; well, it’s pink - I found it in the yard last year after one of the kids grew tired of it.
I looked at the clock; it was now six-thirty and no sign of my Gary. I was so pissed, it was not even funny I knew he would have to drop off David, but, hell, they only live fifteen minutes from us! He should be home by now. I was getting hot! I worked my ass off all day to make our First Valentine’s Day something to remember, and he was going to miss it and I went through hell to get it right. I headed into the kitchen to put the food back into the oven; I didn’t want it to get cold; bad enough it was going to get tough. I grabbed the first thing I saw (too bad it was a can of fruit) that was sitting on the counter, and spun around, throwing it against the far wall of the kitchen. It hit hard, and stuck into the sheetrock. I shook my head; I now had a hole in my wall as big as my fist. Gary was going to be pissed. I went over and pulled the can out; then looked around. Finding a big heart, I wrote, “I love you, Gary, with all my heart” on it with a Sharpie, and tacked it to the wall. It covered the hole nicely. Now all I had to do was to keep Gary from seeing it while he was off. When he went back to work, I could repair and paint it.
By eight, I gave up. I figured he just forgot, and went out for a few beers with some of the guys after work; he’s single, kind of. Afterward, I flopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. I usually don’t watch the news; Gary usually tells me the exciting stuff that happen around our town; and since we live in Washington, the weather never changes - cool, chilly, cold, freezing, or snow - for the next few months. However, when I saw a woman standing in front of an inferno, I turned up the sound.
“Like I said, Ken; just before six o’clock tonight, a gas main burst in the back of this warehouse, causing an explosion that knocked out windows for a few blocks down the street. Fortunately, the workers were able to get out before the second explosions happened. As you see here” (the camera panned out), and I could see the whole building in flames. “We have three stations attending the fire; several EMT’s are working on by-standers and several Emergency personnel who were overtaken by smoke, and even a few of our own members, as well as the other news crews, have been taken to local hospitals,” she told us, as the camera kept moving back and forth from her to the building, “I will have more in a minute,” she told us, and then the news went to commercial. I just flopped back on the sofa. Gary’s been hard at work, and I’ve been pissed because he’s not home with me. Here I thought he forgot about today, and went to have a few beers. I laid my arm over my eyes, and took a deep breath. I fought to keep the tears from escaping. ‘I’ve been such an ass,’ I thought, as I listened for the news to return. When the news came back, they talked about sports, so I flipped to another channel where a news crew was live at the fire. As I watched, I kept an eye out for a glimpse of Gary, or at least David. I wanted to know if either of them was the ones who had been sent to the hospital. I didn’t see either one of them, nor anyone from their station.
It was almost eleven when I turned off the TV. The Eleven o’clock news was the same as the late breaking news. Therefore, I just laid back on the couch and closed my eyes, The next thing I felt was warm lips on my forehead. Opening my eyes a little, I saw Gary standing in the doorway of the kitchen and our living room.
“You’re home?” I said, as I got up.
He turned around to see me standing there dressed (rumpled now) in a suit that I only wear for special functions, or court. He took me in his arms and kissed me.
“You smell,” I told him, kissing his cheek, and then I sneezed. I always sneezes when he come home smelling of his job from the smoke and all.
“I should have called; I am sorry,” he said. “Happy Valentine and he handed me an envelope.
“As long as you are home safe, every day is my Valentine day,” I told him, giving him my special hug, along with a kiss.
Carol
Gary and Dillon.
I had everything planned out to the minute; as soon as he walks in, I will hand him his after-work drink, and a kiss. Then I will take him by the hand, and serve him a nice dinner, then for dessert Champagne cake. Then, after dinner, I will give him my gift, which is not very much, but it is from the heart. Then I’ll take him to the bathroom, help him strip out of his uniform, and we’ll soak in a rose petal warm bath. After we dry off, then I‘ll take him to the bedroom and give him a full body, hot oil massage. After that, if he is not asleep, hopefully we will make out for an hour or so, and then fall sleep in each other’s arms.
I even had the kitchen decked out in streamers of pink and red, with Happy Valentine’s Day written in on them. I had those cupid cutouts on the cabinet’s doors. In addition, I even found Gary’s grandmothers old cake dish; if I remember right, his grandfather gave it to Gary’s grandmother on their first Valentines, so the lop-sided cake would look good. I think that’s the story he told me. Since I was not a drinker, I had a bottle of that Martineli Cider chilling in an old Easter bucket; well, it’s pink - I found it in the yard last year after one of the kids grew tired of it.
I looked at the clock; it was now six-thirty and no sign of my Gary. I was so pissed, it was not even funny I knew he would have to drop off David, but, hell, they only live fifteen minutes from us! He should be home by now. I was getting hot! I worked my ass off all day to make our First Valentine’s Day something to remember, and he was going to miss it and I went through hell to get it right. I headed into the kitchen to put the food back into the oven; I didn’t want it to get cold; bad enough it was going to get tough. I grabbed the first thing I saw (too bad it was a can of fruit) that was sitting on the counter, and spun around, throwing it against the far wall of the kitchen. It hit hard, and stuck into the sheetrock. I shook my head; I now had a hole in my wall as big as my fist. Gary was going to be pissed. I went over and pulled the can out; then looked around. Finding a big heart, I wrote, “I love you, Gary, with all my heart” on it with a Sharpie, and tacked it to the wall. It covered the hole nicely. Now all I had to do was to keep Gary from seeing it while he was off. When he went back to work, I could repair and paint it.
By eight, I gave up. I figured he just forgot, and went out for a few beers with some of the guys after work; he’s single, kind of. Afterward, I flopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. I usually don’t watch the news; Gary usually tells me the exciting stuff that happen around our town; and since we live in Washington, the weather never changes - cool, chilly, cold, freezing, or snow - for the next few months. However, when I saw a woman standing in front of an inferno, I turned up the sound.
“Like I said, Ken; just before six o’clock tonight, a gas main burst in the back of this warehouse, causing an explosion that knocked out windows for a few blocks down the street. Fortunately, the workers were able to get out before the second explosions happened. As you see here” (the camera panned out), and I could see the whole building in flames. “We have three stations attending the fire; several EMT’s are working on by-standers and several Emergency personnel who were overtaken by smoke, and even a few of our own members, as well as the other news crews, have been taken to local hospitals,” she told us, as the camera kept moving back and forth from her to the building, “I will have more in a minute,” she told us, and then the news went to commercial. I just flopped back on the sofa. Gary’s been hard at work, and I’ve been pissed because he’s not home with me. Here I thought he forgot about today, and went to have a few beers. I laid my arm over my eyes, and took a deep breath. I fought to keep the tears from escaping. ‘I’ve been such an ass,’ I thought, as I listened for the news to return. When the news came back, they talked about sports, so I flipped to another channel where a news crew was live at the fire. As I watched, I kept an eye out for a glimpse of Gary, or at least David. I wanted to know if either of them was the ones who had been sent to the hospital. I didn’t see either one of them, nor anyone from their station.
It was almost eleven when I turned off the TV. The Eleven o’clock news was the same as the late breaking news. Therefore, I just laid back on the couch and closed my eyes, The next thing I felt was warm lips on my forehead. Opening my eyes a little, I saw Gary standing in the doorway of the kitchen and our living room.
“You’re home?” I said, as I got up.
He turned around to see me standing there dressed (rumpled now) in a suit that I only wear for special functions, or court. He took me in his arms and kissed me.
“You smell,” I told him, kissing his cheek, and then I sneezed. I always sneezes when he come home smelling of his job from the smoke and all.
“I should have called; I am sorry,” he said. “Happy Valentine and he handed me an envelope.
“As long as you are home safe, every day is my Valentine day,” I told him, giving him my special hug, along with a kiss.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
A Valentine Story.
I was just getting ready to clock out; my twelve hours shift was over, and I could finally go home to my lover/brat for our first Valentine dinner. Even though Dillon and I have been together for a year, our first few months were just as roommates, not lovers. It was not until early spring that I asked him to be my boyfriend; so this, technically, would be our first Valentines together.
As I said, I was just about ready to slide my timecard through the clock, when a five-alarm rang though the station. ‘Fuck’, I muttered under my breath, and turned back toward my unit. David was already buckling up his seatbelt. I climbed in, grabbed the seatbelt, buckled up, and turned the engine over, as the hook and ladder pulled out of the station. It took me three seconds to be right on his finder.
It took six hours and three stations to put out the warehouse fire. The warehouse and contents were a loss. In the beginning, the workers got out with only minor burns, and a few smoke inhalations. Even the alley cats got out with only minor singes. A couple of firefighters from other units were, taken to the hospital with injuries and some inhalation, but no one from our unit. A few news personnel were taken to the hospital, because of their own foolishness; but, overall, it went well; no one died.
We pulled into the station just after eleven. Both Captains waved us bye, as David and I finally clocked out. I dropped David off at his house; Allen, his partner was waiting on the steps for him. He waved to me as he held out his arms for his lover to fall into them. He then kissed David’s smoke, smudged face; picked him up in his arms, and carried him into the house.
When I got home, I noticed the apartment was dark, since it was after eleven well close to midnight; I knew Dillon was asleep by now; he could never stay awake pass ten; eleven, if he was lucky. I did my best to be quiet when I opened the door. The first thing I noticed was a head lying on the back of the sofa, with the radio playing soft music, the type you dance to.
I shut the door with a soft click, and made my way over to the sofa; then gently kissed my young lover on the top of his head. My eyes caught the flickering light coming from the kitchen, and then I smelled candles burning. Looking at the table a little better, I noticed a candle light setting there, with a bottle of Apple Cider cooling in an old Easter bucket. I also noticed a cake setting on the counter, under a class cake dish, which used to belong to my grandmother. The kitchen was deck out in pink and red streamers, heart shape balloons; cupid cut outs on the cupboard doors. I just smiled to myself my baby went all out for this and I missed it.
“You’re home,” I heard Dillon say behind me.
I turned around to see him dressed (rumpled now) in a suit that he only wears for special functions, or court. His nicely gelled hair was sticking up here and there; he looked so cute. I took him in my arms and kissed him.
“You smell,” he told me, kissing my cheek, and then sneezing. He always sneezes when I come home smelling like my job. I am an EMT, not a firefighter; but licenses for both; like tonight, I played both parts.
“I should have called. I am sorry.” I told him as I glanced at the clock it was eleven fifty-nine “Happy Valentine,” I told him handing him a envelope.
“As long as you are home safe, every day is my Valentine day,” he said, giving me a hug, then a heartwarming kiss.
As I said, I was just about ready to slide my timecard through the clock, when a five-alarm rang though the station. ‘Fuck’, I muttered under my breath, and turned back toward my unit. David was already buckling up his seatbelt. I climbed in, grabbed the seatbelt, buckled up, and turned the engine over, as the hook and ladder pulled out of the station. It took me three seconds to be right on his finder.
It took six hours and three stations to put out the warehouse fire. The warehouse and contents were a loss. In the beginning, the workers got out with only minor burns, and a few smoke inhalations. Even the alley cats got out with only minor singes. A couple of firefighters from other units were, taken to the hospital with injuries and some inhalation, but no one from our unit. A few news personnel were taken to the hospital, because of their own foolishness; but, overall, it went well; no one died.
We pulled into the station just after eleven. Both Captains waved us bye, as David and I finally clocked out. I dropped David off at his house; Allen, his partner was waiting on the steps for him. He waved to me as he held out his arms for his lover to fall into them. He then kissed David’s smoke, smudged face; picked him up in his arms, and carried him into the house.
When I got home, I noticed the apartment was dark, since it was after eleven well close to midnight; I knew Dillon was asleep by now; he could never stay awake pass ten; eleven, if he was lucky. I did my best to be quiet when I opened the door. The first thing I noticed was a head lying on the back of the sofa, with the radio playing soft music, the type you dance to.
I shut the door with a soft click, and made my way over to the sofa; then gently kissed my young lover on the top of his head. My eyes caught the flickering light coming from the kitchen, and then I smelled candles burning. Looking at the table a little better, I noticed a candle light setting there, with a bottle of Apple Cider cooling in an old Easter bucket. I also noticed a cake setting on the counter, under a class cake dish, which used to belong to my grandmother. The kitchen was deck out in pink and red streamers, heart shape balloons; cupid cut outs on the cupboard doors. I just smiled to myself my baby went all out for this and I missed it.
“You’re home,” I heard Dillon say behind me.
I turned around to see him dressed (rumpled now) in a suit that he only wears for special functions, or court. His nicely gelled hair was sticking up here and there; he looked so cute. I took him in my arms and kissed him.
“You smell,” he told me, kissing my cheek, and then sneezing. He always sneezes when I come home smelling like my job. I am an EMT, not a firefighter; but licenses for both; like tonight, I played both parts.
“I should have called. I am sorry.” I told him as I glanced at the clock it was eleven fifty-nine “Happy Valentine,” I told him handing him a envelope.
“As long as you are home safe, every day is my Valentine day,” he said, giving me a hug, then a heartwarming kiss.
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