Grandpa Adrian

Chapter 8

A Surprise

I dutifully followed Grandpa to his room, where he motioned for me to sit on his bed while he occupied the only chair.

For a long moment, he gazed at me, and I grew increasingly nervous.

At last he said, “Garreth, I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a true one, and it’s one I’ve never told anyone else. I don’t want you to repeat it ever unless I tell you to.”

I nodded, puzzled.

“When I was a boy,” he went on, “I had a friend, Jacob. We met in kindergarten and became great buddies. Throughout our childhoods we were always together.”

I was surprised to hear the way he was speaking. His gruffness was gone, like he had shed his shell. His expression was kind, almost tender.

“By the time we were your age,” he said, “we were doing things, physical things, experiments. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I think so, sir,” I answered, a little breathlessly.

He nodded. “One day, when we were having one of our sessions in his bedroom, his father walked in. He ordered us to stop immediately and get dressed. He called us terrible names and he said he was ashamed of the two of us. He said that we were never to see each other, to be alone together, again. He called my father, who yelled at me and said the same things.”

I was horrified. I wondered how much he knew about me and Rupert and if he was about to tell me I could never see Rupert again. But that didn’t seem right. He appeared to be friendly, even caring. I was confused.

“Garreth,” he said, “I don’t know what goes on between you and Rupert, and it’s none of my business. I just want you to know that I will support the two of you no matter what happens. I can tell by your expressions that you care for him, and I know how important a relationship like yours is.”

I was stunned. He knew; he approved; he supported us.

“Thank you, sir,” I said in a shaky voice. Then I asked, “What became of Jacob?”

There were tears in his eyes when he said, “Of course, our parents couldn’t keep us apart in school, but we were never able to continue our relationship. He was very near my age, and when we were both 18, we immediately enlisted in the army. We were in basic training together, and we eventually ended up in the same unit in Viet Nam. One day when we were on patrol, we were ambushed. He was shot. We drove the shotters off and I held his hand to comfort him as he died.”

By then, tears were pouring down both of our faces. Instinctively, I stood, went to Grandpa and hugged him. I must admit that, until that moment, I had never thought I would ever hug him. We simply held each other for a long time.

When we broke the hug, he said, “Now that you know about me, you may wonder where your father came from. When I was discharged and returned home, I married a girl I’d known in high school. She knew about me and Jacob, and she knew that it was a marriage of convenience, but she had always liked me. We seldom had sex, although sometimes I was just so horny it had to happen. Your father was born into that strange little family and was always loved by both of us.”

I hugged him again and said, “Thank you for telling me, sir.”

When we broke the hug, he said, “Now run along and do your homework. And remember what I said about telling anyone, although you can tell Rupert if you trust him.”

“I do, sir.” Before I left, I said again, “Thank you.”

In our room, Nigel asked what Grandpa wanted. Of course, I didn’t tell him the story. I simply said he wanted to share something with me.

That night I lay awake for a long time, thinking about Grandpa and what he’d told me. From what he said, I gathered that my father never knew the story.

January seemed to drag by. It snowed three more times, but two storms were on Saturdays so we didn’t get time off from school.

I sometimes spent weekends at Rupert’s home, and his family was always gracious. Nigel wanted to know if I had a crush on one of Rupert’s sisters, but I denied it. Ashley told him to leave me alone. I think she may have figured out what was happening.

I didn’t tell Rupert what Grandpa had said. I decided to wait until we were alone in our room in Vermont where we could talk for as long as we wanted to.

February finally arrived. Our vacation always included Presidents’ Day, which was close to Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays.

When the time finally came, we piled into the Gordons’ SUV and headed to Vermont.

If you’ve never been there, I will say that it’s a beautiful state with no roadside advertisements or billboards. Towns are set apart by farm fields and pine woods. In winter, the snow glistens. At night the moon can make the snow-covered fields shine silver.

While the drive was long, I enjoyed it as I sat in the far back of the car with Rupert. I think we held hands the entire way.

When we arrived, we unloaded the SUV and went into our rental. Sure enough, there was a separate room for me and Rupert. We put down our suitcases to unpack later and fell on the bed on our backs.

“This is the life,” said Rupert.

“Yeah. Did you say you came here every year?”

“Yup. The first time I came I was only a few weeks old.”

A knock on the door roused us. Mr. Gordon was there, saying it was time to go for lunch.

I hadn’t thought about food on the trip. I discovered that the Gordons were going to pay for my food, and as we chatted over soup and sandwiches, I learned they were also paying for my skiing equipment and even lessons for me.

After lunch, we went to a rental place to get equipped.

I asked Rupert if there was a difference between downhill skis and cross-country skis.

“Yes,” he said, “Downhill skis are built for speed, while cross-country skis are lighter and longer.”

We were all outfitted with ski boots and skis. Rupert wanted to start immediately, but I was a little hesitant. Of course, being new to skiing, I had no idea how to do it without killing myself. He urged me along and introduced me to an instructor.

I had my first lesson. I was in a small group of learners, and I was embarrassed. All the others in the group were much younger. I thought, the oldest one was probably about eight.

I was also embarrassed by the fact that they all seemed to catch on much more quickly than I did. They had no inhibitions about trying each skill the instructor showed us, while I was hesitant. Okay, I admit it. I was scared I’d fall and break a bone or have some other catastrophe. The little kids did fall, but they laughed and picked themselves up and went on practicing.

At the end of the lesson, when he dismissed the group, he held me back for a minute.

Chagrined, I said, “I didn’t do very well, did I?”

He smiled and told me that I did about as well as anyone else my age. “The difference between you and the others,” he said, “was that you are old enough to know that people fall and people get hurt when they’re skiing. The little kids don’t think about that. They’ve been told they’re going to have fun, and they believe it, so they did have fun. Once you learn to let go of your anxiety, you’ll do just fine.”

“So how do I do that?” I asked.

“Simple, fall down a few times. You’ll find that it usually doesn’t hurt and you’re fine. Then get up and try again.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

“Of course. You can come back as long as you need to, but I suspect that you’ll soon catch on. We’ll talk more tomorrow about controlling your skis so you know how to stop and how to stay out of the trees.”

I thanked him and joined Rupert, who had been out on the slopes but had then come for me and was waiting for me to finish.

Some of Rupert’s family were going to ski that night, but Rupert and I returned to our bedroom after dinner and unpacked.

Then we pulled back the covers of the large bed, went into our bathroom to pee and brush our teeth before returning to our room.

Grinning, Rupert asked, “Did you bring PJs?”

“No,” I laughed.

“Good,” he said, peeling off his shirt. I followed suit, and soon we were standing in front of each other with nothing on. I remembered that the first time we had done that, I’d felt a little nervous about it. Now it was our routine.

As usual, our things were hard and pointing at each other. We quickly embraced and began kissing, running our hands over each other’s bodies.

It wasn’t long before we were in bed, loving each other.

When we finished and cleaned ourselves, we lay back and pulled the covers up over us.

“Rupert,” I said, “I have something to tell you, but I need to ask you to keep it strictly to yourself. If you tell anyone, my grandpa will be very upset.”

“Okay,” he said, “what is it?”

I told him everything that Grandpa had said to me, including his assurance that if we were experimenting with sex, he was completely supportive. I noted that he never actually said the word ‘sex’, but it was very clear what he was talking about.

“Were you worried that he wouldn’t approve of us?”

“Very,” I said. “He was different than he’d ever been before. He was gentle and kind and understanding.”

“That’s great,” he said. Then he asked, “Do you think Nigel and Ashley know about us?”

“I think Ashley may suspect, but I don’t think Nigel does.”

“Why?”

“Well, he’s very self-absorbed, and I don’t think he really thinks about me much at all.”

We lay, thinking our own thoughts. Then Rupert turned on his side, reached over, and began lightly rubbing my chest. He found my nipples and squeezed them gently. I turned to face him, and soon we were again entwined, kissing, feeling, hugging, and breathing harder. We sixty-nined, our mouths seeking and enveloping each other’s thing.

When we finished, we lay back.

“That was wonderful,” I sighed.

“Just think,” Rupert whispered, “We have a whole week of this.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, “I’m gonna love every minute.”

“Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a way of sharing how we’re feeling.”

Soon we were both sound asleep.

NEXT CHAPTER

Posted 17 May 2025