Westpoint Tales
by Kiwi
Jon & Bobby's Tale - 7
Next morning, after their daily 'constitutional', Mrs. Lyons and Justine called in at the hospital again. Her husband wasn't there, for once. He was still at home, sleeping - he'd had a long night, but the boys were there. Billy and Bobby had spent most of the last 24 hours there. No-one had been able to keep them away.
There was quite a crowd of others there too. They were sitting on the seats strung out halfway along the corridor. Paul and Marcie Jamieson were there, along with their son, Lucas, and several of their red-headed grandchildren.
The kid's landladies were there too - the pair of Lesbos who ran the Beachhouse backpackers, and several of their disreputable boarders as well. That disgusting old Eddie Carver was one of them. Man! He must be as old as Methusaleh - grubby old man!
David and Gaylene Craddock were there, with their daughter, Dulcie, and her live-in boyfriend and several others of the Foodworld staff. There were others there too, some of whom she didn't even know their names, but she knew the faces. It seemed like half the old biddies from the Westpoint Women's Institute were there.
She smiled when she noticed old Mrs. Lowrie, her old school principal and her mother's best friend. Surely all these people weren't waiting on news of the kid, were they? He'd only been in Westpoint for about 5 minutes. And, that was Bruce Johnson, he was the Craddocks' main business rival. What was he doing there?
"Mum! Hey." Billy and Bobby got up and came over. They had young Dee Jamieson-Carver with them too. They seemed to be spending a lot of time with her lately. (?)
"Hello Boys. How are you?"
"We're good," Billy said. "We're always good."
"Sure you are!" she smiled. Bobby said, "He's still sleeping. Dr. Fisher says that he's sleeping naturally now and he's not going to wake him up. Dad was going to wake him after 24 hours, wasn't he?"
"I'm not sure, I don't know. But I'm sure that Dr. Fisher knows what he's doing. You'll just have to wait, Son."
"I know, but I'm getting sick of waiting. Damm. I wish he'd wake up."
"If he's sleeping naturally, he'll wake up naturally. You'll just have to be patient, Boys."
"Patience, my arse! I'm going to kill something," Billy grinned, referring to an old poster of their dad's that they'd found and hung in their room - two long-necked vultures sitting on a tree in the desert, looking down hungrily.
"Language, Billy! Well, if there's nothing happening here, I'm going home for a shower. Are you coming or staying, Justine?"
"I'm coming home, this is boring!" Justine grumbled. (Everything was boring in Justine's world.)
Mrs. and Miss Lyons went home and Dee and the boys went back to their seats. The group continued their interrupted conversation/ debate. It seemed that most everyone there had a spare room at home and a very good reason why Jon should come and stay with them while he recovered.
Sherry and Jacquie said that there was no need for him to go anywhere. The Beachhouse was his home now and he could stay in the spare bed in their rooms on the ground floor.
Billy and Bobby argued that Jon should come and stay with them. He was their friend, they had found him first, they really did have a spare room with a big bed, and where better to stay than with his doctor? Their mum used to be a nurse too.
However, when he finally woke up and the question was put to him, Jon insisted that he was going home to his own room in the Beachhouse. He could still walk, he was not a cripple.
"Thanks, everyone, for your kind offers, but I'm going home. I'm used to looking after myself, have done for years now." So, that was that.
He was stuck in the hospital for a couple of days anyway. When he was finally released, Dulcie Craddock took him home in her father's car.
"Dad says that you're not to come back to work until you're fully recovered. Take all the time you need and then have a week's holiday. You'll be covered by sick leave, it's all out of the insurance anyway. So take plenty of time.
"I will be back soon. It was only cuts and scrapes, mostly scrapes."
He sat looking pensively out of the window. It was nice that so many people had taken time to come and see him in the hospital, but - well there were just so many of them! He really needed some time out. It would be nice to just be on his own for a while. Not too long though, he really wanted to see the 'twins' again. They were great kids, he really liked them.
The 'twins', Billy and Bobby, had been constant visitors when he was in the hospital. One or the other, or both of them together, had been with him practically every waking moment, apart from school hours, and he was never tired of them for a minute. They were great kids, and they'd saved him, hadn't they? There was just something about them that he really, really liked.
Jon felt a bit guilty about not telling the boys that he was going home, but it had all been a bit rushed. The doctor said that he could go, so he was out of there - asap. They were at school right now, he'd ring them later. He didn't have a phone, but Sherry would let him use hers, wouldn't she? Yes, of course she would. Sherry was great too, and Jacquie.
He was welcomed home. Dulcie said goodbye and he, slowly, made his way up the stairs. He wasn't sore, much, he was full of pain-killers, but he was SO tired. He finally got to his own room and closed the door on his well-wishers. Alone at last! He sunk down on to the bed, lay back with a sigh and went straight to sleep.
A couple of hours later, a quiet knock on the door didn't wake him, but then he swum up to consciousness to the sound of whispering by his bed.
"Shut up, Billy." He heard. "We shouldn't even be here. Let's go before we wake him up."
Jon opened one eye and then the other and he smiled as he saw two pairs of stunning blue eyes looking at him from under two raggedy-jaggedy fringes of black hair.
"Hey Boys," he smiled and was delighted to see two beaming smiles spread across their faces. "Don't go. I'm awake now."
These boys were so cute!
"I told you that you were going to wake him up," Bobby whispered at his brother.
"Well, you're the one who insisted that we come here in the first place," Billy whispered back.
"Guys. Guys, stop whispering, no-one's sleeping here."
"There's not now," Bobby agreed. "Sorry that we woke you up, Jon."
"Sorry that we came here at all, you mean," Billy said. "We should have left him alone."
"Billy,' Jon sighed. "Stop fighting with your brother. Don't be sorry that you came around, I'm delighted to see you both. You're welcome here any time."
"We are? Cool. Thanks, Jon. Maybe we could come and live here." Billy replied.
"No. You can't come and live here. Don't be silly Billy."
"Why not then? You just said that we're welcome any time."
"You are. You're welcome to visit, but you can't live here. You've already got a home and a family and you're schoolboys. I can't afford to support you, so you can't live here. Sit down, boys, please. One of you can have the chair and the other will have to sit on my bed."
"Okay, thanks." Billy took the chair and Bobby perched on the end of Jon's bed.
"I don't think I'd want to live here anyway," Billy said.
"You don't? Why not then?"
"Why not? Look around. No offence, but this is a horrible little room. It's small and it's grotty - all faded and tatty, and it's dark. You haven't even got a window. This whole place is just awful, you deserve better than this."
"I like my room!" Jon protested. "It's quiet and private, nice and close to the river, and to my work. The Beachhouse is old, but I like the people here, they're not as bad as they look. We're sort-of like a family, a family of loners. We're all much the same really."
"A family of losers you mean," Billy snorted. "You're better than these people. Much better. You don't belong here. Why don't you come and live with us? We've got plenty of room and a way nicer room than this. Our spare room has got a wardrobe that's bigger than this whole room, and it's got windows - a whole wall of windows."
"Thanks Billy, but I can't come and live with you. This is where I belong. I'm happy here."
"You could be much happier living at our place."
"I'm happy here, Billy."
Bobby, who had been quietly observing the conversation, suddenly blurted out. "We have sex you know. We're gay and we have sex all the time, every day and we've been doing it for years."
"Umm. Okay. What brought that on all of a sudden?"
"I just thought you should know."
"Bobby! Shut up," said Billy, all red in the face now. "You don't talk about that - not ever!"
"It's too late now, I've said it. We're gay and we're having sex, proper all-the-way sex, fucking and everything. Sometimes Billy's on top and sometimes I am, and it's great!"
"Bobby, why are you telling me this? Some things I don't need to know."
"But you do need to know. You think that we're just little kids and we're not. Have you ever had sex? With anybody?"
"That's actually none of your business; but, no. I never have and maybe I never will either. I certainly won't ever be doing it with you guys. So, what you do or don't do together is none of my business and I don't need to know. Okay?"
"Okay? No, it's not okay. Dammit! I love you, Jon. I love you and I want you. We both do."
"Whoah! Back off, Boy." Jon sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Don't say that. You can't say that, and we can't - no way. Not now, not ever."
"I can say that. I love you, Jon. We both love you and we think that you love us too, don't you?"
"Damm, Bobby." Jon sat looking from one brother to the other. A single tear slid down his cheek, then another and another. He wiped his eyes with his bandaged left hand and pulled himself together.
"Oh, hell! Yes I do love you, Kids. But you are kids. Maybe you're not little, but you're still kids, you're underage and I'm not. I am 18, I'm an adult, legally."
"You're not 18," said Billy. "You're 17, nearly 18."
"No, I was, but now I'm 18."
"You had a birthday? When did that happen?"
"Last Sunday."
"Really? Why didn't you say something?"
"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey guys, thanks for saving my life, today's my birthday by the way?'"
"You should have told us. Happy birthday, Jon."
"Thanks, Bobby. But that's besides the point. The point is that I'm an adult and you two are not. You're underage and if we were to do anything like that, it would be against the law. I could go to jail and I couldn't handle that. I would die, I really would."
"No-one would know. It's not something we do where anyone can see us."
"We could get caught, that happens. Or, if we had a falling out, an argument, one of you could tell on me and then I'd be in so much trouble!"
"We wouldn't do that. We would never do that. I love you, Jon. Billy loves you too. We wouldn't do anything to hurt you."
Billy, still red-faced and not believing that they were having this conversation, agreed. "Bobby's right and I do love you, Jon. I love you and I want you too."
"No!" Jon was crying openly now. "Our uncle, our mother's brother used to have sex with my brother all of the time. We lived with him after our mother died when I was really young.
Paul didn't want to do it, but, in our innocence, we believed that if we couldn't stay with him then we'd have nowhere to live, so he let him do it to him. As we grew older, but no wiser, Paul continued going to our uncle's bed as it kept him away from me. He made advances to me once, but Paul told him to leave me alone or he'd never have sex with him again. So, he did and I was safe - until Paul died.
After a few weeks, he told me that I'd have to take Paul's place in his bed or get out. He said that I couldn't live there any more unless I had sex with him. He's a disgusting old man and there was no way that I was going to do that, so I left.
Anyway, cutting a long story short, I am here now and there is no way that I am ever going to do to any young boys what my uncle tried to do to me. Especially not to you two.
You're great kids and I do love you both, but only as friends and that is all we ever can be. I'm way too old to have any other sort of relationship with either of you. I'm 4 years older than you, Bobby, and that's more than a quarter of your life."
"More like 3 years actually."
"Whatever, it's still too much. If you want more than you've got now, go find someone your own age. I'm too old for you."
There was silence for a minute, and then Billy said, "So that's your story. No wonder that you loved your brother so much. He really was a hero, wasn't he?"
"He was. Paul was my hero - day after day, year after year, he was a real hero. He gave everything, he gave himself so that I could have a home, so that I could have a childhood . . .and, I never thanked him!" Jon sat on his bed, tears streaming down his face. "Oh Paul! I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Bobby moved up the bed and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly. He turned his face into Bobby's shoulder and sobbed his heart out. Bobby kissed his hair and whispered, "It's all right, Jon. It's all right. Your brother obviously loved you too."
Billy sat on the bed and picked up, and held, Jon's uninjured right hand. "We can't be your Paul; can't take his place, but we would love to be your brothers too, Jon."
"Thank you, Billy. Thank you both," he sighed. He sat up and wiped his eyes and made a wry little grin.
"And I'm supposed to be the adult here! Thanks Guys. Sorry that I'm such a wuss."
Bobby nodded. "It's okay, Jon. You're not a wuss, you're just a kid really - a kid all alone in a big old world. But you're not alone, not any more. We'll always be here for you, anytime. We love you Jon, we really do."
"I love you too. I love you, Bobby. I love you, Billy. You're great kids - great people and I would love to have you both for my brothers."
"Cool," Billy grinned through his own tears, "We'll be brothers then, for now. I'll be 16 in 3 months and then we'll see what happens."
"Nothing will happen, Billy."
"Wait and see, Brother."
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
