Emo Boi Finds Love
Chapter Thirty
by Terrance MacDonald
It was getting late at the Atlanta Airport. Jayson Carmichael was there to pick up his grandmother, and she had yet to appear. The plane on which she was returning from Toronto had actually landed a few minutes early. A large group of people had already cleared customs, but there was still no sign of his grandmother. Only a few others were still waiting for the people they were there to meet to arrive outside the customs gate. Knowing that his grandmother only flew first class, he thought she should have been one of the first ones off the plane, and thus here long before now.
Of the few people still waiting, there was one, a tall, distinguished looking man with short brown hair who was pacing as if he was unusually anxious. Finally he sat in one of the seats in the waiting area and pulled something from his pocket. It looked like… no, he took a pull from it and the end lighted, then he exhaled - a stream of smoke came from his mouth. It was a cigarette!
'This guy must either be stupid or trying to get arrested,' Jayson thought. The airport had 'No Smoking' signs posted everywhere. That thought seemed to bear itself out when an airport police officer walked up and started talking to the man. And it didn't look like it had begun as a friendly conversation.
Then the man took another pull from the cigarette and blew the smoke directly into the officer's face. 'That was dumber than average,' Jayson thought. But it was odd how quickly the smoke dissipated. Then suddenly the policeman laughed and walked away, shaking his head. Jayson was confused, so he walked over to the man. He'd expected him to at least get some sort of citation, or more probably arrested after what he had done, blowing his smoke into the policeman's face.
"How did you get him to let you get away with smoking in the airport?" he asked.
The man chuckled at little, and did the same thing to him that he had done to the policeman. When he blew the smoke at Jayson, once again it cleared away very quickly, and there was no smell at all. "It's electric," he explained. "What you're seeing is water vapor." He started to take the device apart and explain the functions of its various parts.
"So you're here waiting for someone?" Jayson asked when he was finished.
"Yeah, there's a friend coming in on a flight from Toronto. It's odd, I thought he would have cleared customs by now," the man told him.
"I was thinking the same thing," Jayson said. "My grandmother is on that flight. I'm here to meet her."
Thomas offered his hand. "I'm Thomas. I suppose we can wait together if you want."
Jayson shook the man's hand and introduced himself as well. "I guess that would be better than waiting alone."
An older couple came through the waiting area. They were talking and the woman was shaking her head, obviously complaining about something. As the couple passed close to them on the way to the exit, Thomas and Jayson were able to overhear a small bit of their conversation.
"It was so nice of that young man to help that old drunk woman. And at her age! She should know better!" the woman was saying.
"Now Martha, watch your tongue. You know nothing about what that poor woman's problems might be."
"I know this much George, she got falling down drunk on the airplane…"
That little bit was all they were able to hear, but it was enough to make Jayson drop his head into his hands. His reaction to what they had heard was obvious to Thomas.
"What's wrong?" Thomas asked, gently placing his hand on the boy's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.
"It's… It's, well, probably it's going to be Miss Abby - that's my grandmother. This wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened," the boy stuttered out. "She seems to have a weakness for scotch, but it seems to, um, well… She doesn't react too well when she drinks it." He paused for a moment. "Actually she gets pretty blitzed," he finally added.
Thomas was sympathetic to the way the boy apparently felt. Several members of his own family that had been alcoholics and Thomas himself had experimented with certain drugs himself when he was in his late teen years. While he had never become dependent on anything himself, a number of his friends and relatives had. Seeing the devastation addiction could cause was the primary reason Thomas felt the way he now did about drug abuse.
The boy next to him turned to look directly at Thomas. When he did, Thomas was able to detect tears forming in his eyes.
Friday was another typical day for the students at St. Ignatius high school, until the final class period of the day. There was a school-wide assembly called instead of the regular sixth period class. The intention was to build school spirit to bring students out to cheer for the school's rugby team, which would be playing that evening.
The team paraded into the school auditorium where the rest of the school, students and faculty alike were waiting. The star player and captain of the team was absent on this occasion, having been suspended for fighting earlier that week. As a result of his suspension, Ian Phillips was not allowed on school property for the time being and was thus also ineligible to play in that night's game. Becoming ineligible to play had raised Ian's ire. Ian didn't like many things, but the physical nature - almost akin to combat - that was involved in playing rugby was among them.
He did sneak onto the school grounds that afternoon. Since the rest of the school was otherwise engaged at the assembly, it was easy for him. He carried a small can of gasoline. All the other ingredients for his napalm recipe would be found in the school's chemistry lab. He also carried what was left of a six-pack of Labatt's 50 Cream Ale. He'd already started drinking earlier in the day. He thought it would help steady his nerves as he mixed up his little present for the fags who had irritated him so.
It was Chris Reynolds who made him angriest of all. Chris was supposed to be like him - a jock - even if Ian didn't consider baseball to be a real sport. 'How could any jock stick up for a homo unless he was one himself?' kept running through Ian's mind. That was how he convinced himself that Chris must be gay.
His anger, coupled with the buzz from the alcohol actually served to make Ian a little clumsier than usual. He didn't even notice that he had spilled some of the gas onto the stone tabletop or the chair and floor where he was setting up to do his work. He poured the gas into a large stainless steel bowl he had found, then he started adding the other ingredients.
Ian downed another bottle of the smooth cream ale. His buzz from the alcohol had fogged his brain enough so that he forgot what he was doing and lit a cigarette. A second later he found himself engulfed in flame. Ian thrashed about, but it didn't help his situation any. In fact, he made it worse when he knocked over the bowl he had been mixing his concoction in. He wasn't smart enough to lie down and roll to try to extinguish the fire that seemed to be consuming him, not that it would have been much use by then.
Ian was only vaguely aware of the fire alarms that had started sounding. Then finally, the school's automatic sprinkler system started and Ian was being sprayed with water. Against the gasoline, plus the added components to make it sticky, the water didn't stand a chance at reducing the flames.
Ian finally did one smart thing - he stripped away the burning clothes and ran out of the chemistry lab wearing only his white briefs, slightly soiled now in the rear. The sprinklers were spraying water in the hallway as well, and most of the accelerant had adhered to the clothing he had shed, so the flames started finally to die down somewhat. Faculty members ran into the hallway, rushing to investigate the cause of the fire alarms.
They managed to get Ian to the floor, and one of them used his suit jacket to put out the fire still burning on Ian's skin. Fortunately for Ian, the school's alarm system automatically summoned the authorities and ambulances had also been dispatched.
When the fire alarms sounded, the assembly quickly ended. Most of the faculty ushered the students outside, trying to keep some semblance of order while a few others rushed to investigate the cause of the alarm. The faculty marshaled the students into groups based on their homeroom assignments. They needed to make sure all the students were accounted for in the event of an emergency. As soon as the students were assembled into groups, their teachers started making head counts to ensure everyone was accounted for.
Tyler and Chris had been sitting with each other during the assembly, but they were separated when they came out onto the school's athletic field. As they made it outside, they agreed to meet at Chris' car once they were finally dismissed.
Everyone's attention was drawn to the fire trucks as they pulled into the school's front entrance. A couple firefighters donned oxygen masks and went quickly inside to scout out the source of the alarm while the rest flaked out hoses, readying themselves to battle the flames they already knew were inside the building.
It seemed to everyone watching as if they had been inside forever, yet it had only been slightly more than five minutes before they emerged, their oxygen masks now hanging around their necks. They briefly consulted with the Captain of the fire squad. A moment later he signaled for the rest of the team to begin packing up their gear, but sent paramedics inside.
Father Robert, who had been supervising the attendance being taken by the homeroom teachers saw this and headed toward the Fire Captain. All the students who had been in school that day had been accounted for; therefore Father Robert was concerned that one of the faculty members who went to investigate the alarm might have been injured. A shocked look came over his face as he was told what they had discovered. The conversation went on for a few minutes, and Father Robert pulled his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his brow a few times. Finally he broke away and walked back toward the faculty who were watching over the students.
One of the coaches brought him a portable megaphone so he could address the assembled students and faculty. He delivered the sad news that one of their fellow students had been badly burned as the result of an explosion in the chemistry lab. They didn't yet know who the injured student was, but he wished for everyone to pray for his wellbeing and recovery. He further informed them that the damage to the building was not significant, and that classes would not be affected for the following week - aside perhaps from chemistry.
This brought cheers from the few chemistry students who were behind on projects, but groans from quite a few others who were hoping classes might be cancelled, at least for a few days, because of the fire.
A couple of Ian's friends exchanged nervous glances. They knew the basics of his plan. Thus, they were fairly certain that they knew the identity of the student who had been injured.
The students had started to break up from their groups and mingle with their friends. Others were edging toward the parking lot, anxious to leave. Father Robert decided it would be better to go ahead and dismiss them, as the assigned school day was nearly over anyway. The school's shuttle drivers had their vehicles idling in the parking lot, so there was no real reason to wait any longer. As soon as Father Robert made the announcement, the students broke quickly toward the parking lot.
Chris grabbed Tyler by the arm and the two trotted toward Chris' car. There was quite a bit of congestion getting out of the lot, but at least they made it to the gates before the shuttle vans started out. Chris was driving fast, but the little sports car handled the curves well. Chris had put the top down on the convertible as they waited to get out of the parking lot. The wind blowing through his hair felt very nice to Tyler. He felt a slight bit of envy that Chris could experience this almost any time he wanted to.
Chris drove them past Tyler's neighborhood, and on into a far more upscale area just a few miles away. Tyler had no idea that Chris' family was so wealthy. They had to be to live in this area. The houses were all very large, with well-manicured lawns. Tyler's neighborhood was certainly not shabby - somewhere in the middle class range would be the best way to describe it, but it was nowhere as nice as this. Chris pulled into the driveway of a large, white stone house and drove around to the back where the garage was located. He pulled a remote door opener from the map pocket in the driver's door of the car and pressed the button, causing the door furthest to the right to slide up so he could drive inside.
They got out of the car and Tyler reached into the backseat to retrieve the bag he'd packed for the overnight stay with Chris. He'd brought a couple changes of clothes; just to be sure he could be dressed right for the party. Tyler was looking forward to the evening, but even more to being able to spend the night with Chris. Chris had already admitted to Tyler that his parents would be out of town for the weekend, so he had been thinking and wondering a lot about that Chris might have in mind for them.
Foremost in his mind was an earnest desire to make a good impression with Chris' friends. Giving it a couple moments thought, Tyler realized that aside from Andy Miller, he didn't really know who any of Chris' friends were.
They walked through the garage, past a small Mercedes SUV and through an empty stall that Tyler guessed must be where Chris' father parked his car. From there, a short hallway of about six feet brought them in the home's kitchen. The countertops all looked to be made of a light colored marble and the appliances all looked very new and were faced with stainless steel. Tyler couldn't help but think that the kitchen alone must have cost somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty thousand dollars.
Trying to keep his jaw from dropping, Tyler allowed Chris to take his hand and lead him through the house. Tyler didn't know whether to expect Chris to lead him to a guest room or to his own so he could drop his bag and change clothes. He was pleased when Chris took him into his own room.
As he looked around, Tyler found the room much as he expected it would be. There were some posters of Jason Frasor - who it turned out was Chris' favorite Toronto Blue Jays pitcher - on the wall, but they were framed, which Tyler wouldn't have expected. One was even autographed personally to Chris. There was a large flat screen TV mounted on one wall, a desk with a computer set up on it, a chest of drawers with a mirror mounted above it and two additional doors standing open. One obviously went into a walk-in closet and the other to a bathroom.
Chris told Tyler to drop his bag wherever he wanted and change out of his school uniform. "I have to drain the lizard," he said as he walked into the bathroom, pushing the door mostly shut behind him. Tyler dropped his bag on the bed and went into the large, walk-in closet to look for a hanger for his school uniform. Finding an old fashioned wooden one that would be appropriate to hold both his pants and jacket, he stripped down to his boxers and hung his school clothes.
Tyler was sitting on the bed pulling on a pair of black denim jeans when Chris came out of the bathroom. Chris gave him an appreciative grin.
"Do you think these will be right for the party?" Tyler asked as he stood and tucked his boxers into the legs of the pants. Chris watched as Tyler pulled up the zipper and turned in a full circle, showing Chris how the jeans looked on him. As Tyler turned to face him, Chris' eyes shifted quickly to Tyler's still bare chest. Tyler pretended not to notice.
"They're too tight. You can see exactly where your boxers are, and they look bunched up," Chris answered. "I think if maybe you had some bikini briefs or something like that… Those might work better."
Tyler frowned. But when he looked in the mirror he saw that Chris was right. He pulled the jeans down onto his thighs, then sat back on the bed and finished pulling them off. He dug through his bag looking for something that might work better than the boxers he was wearing. He thought about the little thong undies he and Ollie had danced in a few times… If he had something like that with him, it would have been perfect. But he didn't.
Thinking about Oliver tears to his eyes. Chris noticed a drop rolling down Tyler's cheek but he misunderstood why Tyler had started to cry.
Chris put an arm around Tyler's shoulders and asked him what was wrong. Tyler leaned into him and wrapped his arms around Chris. He appreciated that Chris wanted to comfort him, so he broke down and told Chris most of the story about the relationship he and Ollie had shared. He did leave out the parts that involved Drake, Tyler just wasn't sure that Chris would understand that part.
By the time he finished telling the story, they were lying on the bed and Chris was hugging Tyler close. Chris wanted desperately to try to relieve some of the pain he knew Tyler was feeling. He just wasn't quite sure how to go about it. When Tyler started to hug him back and had firmly wrapped his arms around him, Chris realized this was probably the best he could do for the moment.
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