Chapter 2-3
917 Words
During the meal, which Bud devoured, the Marine began to reveal parts of his past. He told David about the hell of being raised in a succession of group homes. “I’m not saying it was like what you’d read in a Dickens novel or anything, but growing up in an orphanage ‘cause your parents didn’t want you, takes some getting used to. ‘Specially when you went to school and saw all the kids from normal homes in their nicer clothes, playing with nicer toys and all that.”
“I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine what you went through.” David had enjoyed a stable upbringing in a nice neighborhood, with a dad who went to work, and a mom who stayed at home. Not exactly Leave It to Beaver, but not too far off.
“We’d never get enough to eat, and what we did get was s**t. I know some of the kids got sick ‘cause of the bad food.”
“Didn’t child services or somebody do anything?”
Bud gave out a cynical laugh. “They didn’t care. Nope, us kids were on our own. I was lucky, or luckier than most ‘cause of my size, the staff at the homes wouldn’t beat me much.”
“They beat you? That’s…disgraceful!”
“Yeah,” Bud sighed. “I’d do my best to protect some of the smaller kids, but there was always too many to watch.”
“I bet they were grateful for what you could do, though.”
“I guess.”
Bud seemed to grow quiet then. David didn’t think he should interrupt, so the two ate in silence for a while.
“Christmas was always the worst,” Bud eventually said. “Some of the local charities would get us presents, but, though I could never prove it, I’m sure the staff at the home stole most of the good stuff and took it home for their own kids.”
“s**t, no!”
Bud shrugged. “That’s what it was like all the time. We kids didn’t matter. Our parents didn’t want us, the staff were just paid to imprison us, and—”
“What about fostering or adoption?”
“Some kids got lucky, yeah. Others, well. A lot of foster parents were just in it for the money, and the kids they got were treated no better than slaves. And like I said, the CPS couldn’t be bothered, insufficient staff to look out for too many kids.”
“Were you fostered or adopted?”
“Nah, I was too old when I was taken into care. Folks just want babies or maybe a really young kid. I was six when they took me off mom.”
“Why? Sorry, that’s none of my business.” David put his hand on top of Bud’s.
“It’s okay. She got into drugs and couldn’t hold down a regular job. What money she did get, went to feed her habit, rather than me.”
David got up from his side of the table and went round to give Bud a hug. “I don’t know what to say.” How could a system fail those it was meant to serve so tragically?
“Thanks,” Bud said, resting his head on David’s chest. “Sure caused me to grow up quick, I can tell you.”
“I can imagine. Robbing a child of his innocence, not allowing him to experience life without loading him down with the knowledge of the cruelties of life. Wrong, so wrong.”
“Yeah.” Bud turned in his seat and buried his face in David’s chest.
David wrapped his arms around the man’s thick neck and applied a comforting pressure. Leaning down, David kissed the top of Bud’s head, eliciting a moan of pleasure from the Marine. Growing bolder, he kissed his way down the side of Bud’s face to his ear.
“Thank you.”
Bud looked up in surprise.
“You showed me that you have a vulnerable side. Something I bet you don’t allow many people to see, in case they use it against you.”
Bud nodded. “Everyone expects someone who is built like me, and does the job I do, to always be strong and in control. I am most of the time, but…now and again I just want to—”
“You want someone else to do the looking after.”
“Yeah,” Bud said, not looking up.
“That’s not a sign of weakness, at least I don’t see it that way. It shows me that you’re human, more…real.”
Bud stood and took David into his arms and gave him a tight hug. “You’re special, Mr. Grover. Those kids are real lucky to have a teacher like you.”
By unspoken agreement, the pair joined hands, David leading his man to his bedroom, where the two undressed before climbing into bed. David wasn’t surprised when Bud wanted to be held, a duty he was more than willing to undertake.
* * * *
While holding the Marine in bed the previous night, David had made plans to cook his man a hearty breakfast, then maybe suggest a few activities to keep him around the place for a few hours, days, weeks, heck, decades, if he were lucky.
But on waking the next morning, David found himself alone in the bed. Investigating, he found Bud in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cold cereal.
“I’ll make you something if you like?”
His words startled Bud, who evidently hadn’t heard him approach. “Ah, uh, no. I don’t have time. I’ve got, um, to be on duty in a couple of hours.”
David looked at Bud, who couldn’t maintain eye contact. Something wasn’t right. He tried to stay positive. “Okay, that’s a shame. Will I get to see you next weekend?”
“Um, maybe, I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“Right.” David felt Bud was slipping away from him. He couldn’t blame him. After all, the gorgeous Marine could do a lot better than a plain looking forty-something teacher.
Bud stood and approached. “I’m not bailing on ya, stud. I’ve got a load of s**t to sort out in my head, and…but I promise I’ll be back soon.”
David nodded, wanting to believe his friend. “Do you have a number I can reach you at?”
“Ah, uh, not really, you see—”
“No,” David held a hand up. “You don’t need to explain. I’ll see you around.” He turned on his heel and left the kitchen, battling to keep it together.
- Writer
