Kaimoana Tales
by Kiwi
Riley
Part 22
"Sorry, Riley, but we're not going there."
Peter moved away from him and sat on the couch.
"But. But why? Am I reading the signals wrong? You are gay, aren't you?"
"Yes, of course I'm gay. You got that part right; but I'm not interested in sex with you, not with anyone actually."
"I don't get this. I'm gay, you're gay, let's do it. Sex is not a bad thing, it's great. Why don't you want to do it with me? You do like me don't you?"
"Yes, I like you very much, but only as a friend. I'd like a friend, I need one - I don't have any."
"You don't? Maybe that's because you don't give yourself. Have you thought of that?"
"I don't have friends because I'm not a slut? No, that's not why at all. Even if it was, I still wouldn't be interested. Look, I think that I'd better be going now. Thank you for today, it was fun. I hope I'll see you again sometime."
He stood up, but Riley beat him to the door and blocked it with his body.
"Don't, Peter. Please don't go. Stay here and talk to me, that's what friends do. Why don't you want me and why don't you have any friends? You're a nice kid, you're good-looking, very good-looking, and you're a nice guy. Why no friends?"
"It's a long story. A very long story."
"Fine. I'm not going anywhere and I love long stories. Tell me, please, I really want to know."
Peter sat down again and he sighed. "You just want to know because you're bored. You're new here and you've got no friends yet. You'll have lots of them when you start school and you won't want to know me either. They'll soon tell you not to bother with me."
"Not bother with you? Why would they do that and why wouldn't I? I want to bother with you, I like you."
"You won't for long."
"Why not?"
"It's no great mystery, I'm a loser, that's all."
"No you're not. I don't see a loser."
"But you do. You just don't know what you're looking at - yet. Your new friends will tell you."
"I'd rather you told me. What makes you different to the others?"
Peter sighed again. "I am different. For a start, I'm gay, but I don't think that they know that. I'm certainly not telling them. Plus, I don't go to school, I never have."
"Never? But you have to go to school, it's the law, you can't just ignore it. How old are you anyway?"
"I'm 15."
"Fifteen? Then you have to be in school until you're 17, unless you get a job at 16, I think."
"I don't go to school. I am home-schooled, always have been."
"So your mother teaches you?"
"Sort of, yes. She did more when I was younger, but mostly I teach myself now."
"And that's all legal and everything?" Riley was fascinated, home-schooling was something he knew nothing about.
"Yes, of course it is. Inspectors come around a couple of times a year to check on my progress. Hundreds of people are choosing not to send their kids to school. Mostly fundamentalist Christians though."
"Hundreds? So that's where you socialize then, with them?"
"No. I don't socialize with anyone. They don't want to know me either. We did for a while, but mother withdrew us because I wasn't welcome."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm gay. Christians don't like gays."
"You've always known that you're gay then?"
"Kind of. I worked it out a long time ago. Mother knew before I did. She just knew."
"And she still loves you?"
"Of course. She's my mother and I'm her only child."
"What about your father, does he feel the same?"
"He does. His work takes him away from home a lot, but he's still my father and he loves me."
"You don't know how lucky you are!"
"Oh but I do. I'm very lucky. I love my parents and they love me."
"I wish that I could say the same. But what about the other Home-School people? You were just a little kid. If they're Christians, shouldn't they love you no matter what?"
"Maybe they should, but they don't. Christians are very good at hating. "I love you, My Lord, and I will follow you and believe in the precepts you taught. But deliver me, Lord, from the judgment of the saints who've never been caught.""
"Who said that?"
"I don't know - some wise man. Probably a real Christian."
"Probably. But, I'm gay. Admittedly I go to school, but I'm not isolated like you are. I get on pretty good with people really."
"Yes, but you're not me. There's more to it than just not going to school. I don't go anywhere. I'm not interested in sports, I don't have friends and I don't have any money either - never."
"Never? Why not? Your father works, you said that he's got a job. If they love you, why don't they give you any pocket-money? Every kid needs some money of his own."
"Not every kid. I don't. Father would probably give me an allowance if I really wanted it, but I don't. I wouldn't take it. My parents don't spend any more than they have to. They live a very frugal life. It wouldn't be right to take their money and waste it."
"Living a life is not wasting it. They don't drink, much, they don't smoke. You don't have a big flash house or anything. What do they do with their money?"
"They save it."
"Save it for what? A rainy day?"
"No, for our future. Mother says that it's a dream, but Father says it's not, it's a plan. Every possible dollar is saved for the Plan."
"And what is the Plan?"
"To be rich again. They've been wealthy and they've been poor. They had a very comfortable life once, but through politics, they lost the lot. They arrived in New Zealand with nothing - penniless refugees who didn't even speak English. This country has been good to us and one day they're going to be rich again."
"Were you a refugee too?"
"Oh no. I was born here - I'm a kiwi."
"You weren't part of the Plan then?"
"Definitely not, but I am now. I was a complete surprise, their 'miracle baby'. They had no children and they thought that they never would. They'd decided that they couldn't have kids, and it was getting too late anyway. Then I happened.
I was a major set-back to the Plan, but I was welcomed with love. I love my parents and I'll do anything to help them with their plan."
"Of course you will. It's not just you who's lucky, you know - they are lucky to have you too. You're a great person."
"I'm not. I wish that I was, for them."
"Oh, you're special, don't ever doubt that. If I ever had kids, I'd be delighted to have one like you."
Peter grinned, blushed and hung his head. "Thank you, Riley." He raised his head and looked him in the eye. "I think that you're special too. I so wish that we could be friends."
"Oh, we will be, if you want me. I'll be proud to have you."
"So will I," Peter whispered.
"So - do you want to fool around now?"
"Sex? No, I can't do that."
"I don't get it. We're young and beautiful, we're both gay. Why can't we?"
"Because I'm in love."
"In love? Have you got a boyfriend?"
"No, of course not," Peter laughed. He wouldn't want to know me, but I love him. I always have."
"Always?"
"Always."
"Just the coolest, richest kid in town. Don't tell me, I know that I'm stupid, but I can't help it. I love him."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Do? Nothing. He's not gay. He doesn't even know that I exist, and even if he did, I'm not good enough."
"Well!" Riley grinned. "Cinderfella and Prince Charming, eh? All the best fairy stories have happy endings you know."
"Not in my world," Peter shrugged. "It's okay, Riley, I'm used to it."
"No, dammit. It's not okay. You've got as much right to be happy as anyone has. Who are we talking about?"
"It doesn't matter. Just forget it. I shouldn't have told you."
"Sure you should've. That's what friends do. Who is this perfect boy who has stolen your heart without even knowing about it?"
"It doesn't matter, Riley."
"It does. Who?"
"Well, okay, I'll tell you. It's Ashton Woods. You'll see. You'll see him around. You just might have a chance of getting into his circle, but I never will. He's not gay anyway, so don't go getting your hopes up."
"Like you did."
"Told you that I was dumb. I know it's hopeless. I can't help it; I just love him. I've got to go, Riley. Mother will be getting worried."
"I wish you'd stay. Can't you ring her and tell her that you're okay?"
"I can't. We don't have a telephone."
"Really? Wow. We've got 4 phones - 2 cells, the business and the land-line. How can you live with no phone?"
"We've never had one. You get used to it."
"Not likely! I couldn't live without my cell. How am I going to get in touch with you?"
Peter grinned. "You could always throw an umbrella at me."
"It was an accident!" Riley protested.
"I know. It was a lucky accident. It hurt, but it was well worth it."
"Glad you think so. Can I come and see you?"
"Of course - anytime. It's better after lunch, I do my schooling in the mornings. I'm usually at home; I don't go anywhere much."
"Except the beach?"
"Well, yes. I go there sometimes. 'Bye Riley. Enjoy your new town."
"I wasn't going to, but I'm starting to think that I might. 'Bye Peter."
Peter left and Riley lay on his bed to have a think about all of that. It seemed that he hadn't met a sex partner - yet. If this, very cute, blond boy's love really was as hopeless as he said it was, there might still be a chance for him. He'd be second-best, but he could handle that, couldn't he?
Yes, he could. A boy in the hand is worth two in the bush, or something like that. He really wanted a boy in the hand. He'd had that, back in Auckland, with Gareth and he was missing it already.
Still, it was not so bad. At the very least, he'd made a friend of a good-looking boy. One who wasn't interested in sex with him. That was worth something, wasn't it? Sure it was. A friend was worth a lot.
Peter went home to face the questions from his mother. As he expected, she wasn't disapproving, she was delighted that he'd made a friend. And wanted to know if there was anything she could do to help the relationship. She worried about him, didn't he know?
"I know, Mother. Thanks, but you shouldn't. Worrying never changed anything and I'm doing all right. Before you ask, no, I do not want to go to school. It's too late now. They're all settled in their relationships and there's no room for me."
That was his mother's usual response to any problems lately. Peter had gone beyond any help she could give him with his schooling and she thought he'd be better off in the high-school.
Peter was equally sure that he would not. The kids in town had no time for him; he was a freak in their eyes. Besides, his mother had taught him how to learn and now he was doing it.
They had no computer at home, but Mrs. Braidwood, at the town library, gave him as much time as he wanted on the one there. He was doing all right. The school inspectors agreed too.
"But you must spend time with your new friend. When can he come around for a meal? I could cook a traditional dish from the old country. You love my goulash, perhaps Riley will too?"
"I don't know, Mother. He said that he'll come around. We'll see if he does. He's new in town and doesn't know anyone here yet. He soon will and then he'll forget all about me."
"He is a silly boy if he does. I know what we can do. I made a nice chocolate cake today. I'll put cream and icing on it and, after dinner, you can take it around to welcome Riley and his mother to their new home."
"Mother! I'm not taking cake to them. They live in a café, for goodness sake."
"So? They will love my cake. Everybody does. It will be a nice thing to do and then Riley will not forget about you."
Peter rolled his eyes and lost himself in his book. He would've gone to his room, but he didn't have one. All he could do was to make like an ostrich with his head in the sand.
A few hours later, after dinner, Peter found himself walking back to the Craypot Café. Going along the sea-front, he was tempted to throw the cake, box and all, over the wall and let the seagulls have it. They'd soon clean it up, they were always hungry.
This was just dumb, taking a cake to a Café. They'd probably have more cakes than they knew what to do with. Besides, what a waste! Nobody made better cakes than his mother did. Everything she produced in her kitchen was all-but perfect.
His father was a master-baker, but he didn't even try at home. He couldn't compete with his wife, he was totally outclassed. Ah well. He hoped they appreciated it.
He never rebelled against his parents. He might not agree with everything they said and did, and often didn't, they were both so old-fashioned in their ways. But he'd never do anything that would hurt them. Peter loved his parents and he knew that they loved him too.
He walked into the café and Riley's mother came out in response to the bell. She greeted him with a smile.
"Hello again, Peter. What can we do for you?"
"Hello, Mrs. Sullivan. Is Riley here please?"
"No, he's not. He went out walking with a couple of girls he met. They're showing him around the town. I don't know when they'll be back, but it shouldn't be long. Do you want to wait for him?"
"No, thanks, but I should be getting back home. My mother made this for you."
He put the cake-box on the counter and pushed it across. Mrs. Sullivan opened it and looked inside.
"A cake?"
"A double-chocolate cake with cream. It's one of her specialties."
"I don't understand. Does your mother want us to sell her cakes for her?"
"Oh, no. It's a gift. A cake to welcome you and Riley to your new home.'
"A cake as a welcoming gift?"
Peter blushed. He wished that the floor would open up and swallow him. He was SO embarrassed. But, she smiled as she continued.
"That's lovely, Peter. What a nice thing to do. Tell your mother I said thank you. I appreciate this.'
"Thank you, Mrs. Sullivan. I hope you like it. I'll see Riley another time maybe."
He got out of there fast and headed for home. He'd never understand adults! That went better than he thought it would, but he was disappointed that Riley wasn't there. He shouldn't be; of course Riley was going to make new friends.
A boy like him would never be without friends for long. Didn't take him long though! Peter wished that he could be like that. Riley was only here for one day and he was meeting people. He'd lived here for years and he never had, no-one wanted to know him.
He tried not to feel bad, he should be used to it by now. A couple more years and he'd be out of here and going to 'varsity. He'd probably have no friends there either, he didn't know how to make them.
He went home to his book and bed.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
