The Hermit and The Boy

Alan Dwight

alantfraserdwight@gmail.com

While this story is about a man and a boy, nothing inappropriate happens between them.

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I don’t enjoy being with people and at the age of 76 I avoid them whenever possible. The people in town know who and what I am, and that often makes me uncomfortable. Years ago, I had a partner, Jacob. While my name was Benjamin, he always called me Ben. We lived together in a log cabin with two acres of woods around it. One morning I went into the kitchen and found him on the floor. He had died of a sudden heart attack and I was left alone with our cabin in the woods and a large inheritance he’d left to me.

I continued to live in the cabin, which had electricity and running water and a telephone, but no AC or TV. I didn’t possess a cell phone. I needed none of them. I did need to purchase food, which I did with the phone on the kitchen wall. I had an account with Mikhailov’s grocery store in town and I often ordered my food from there and had it delivered. I also occasionally went to the liquor store and Lightly Read, the used bookstore, and I was convinced the owner of that store was of my persuasion.

One warm day I phoned in an order to the grocery store only to learn that the usual delivery man, Nikolai, was ill. “But we’ll get it to you,” said the owner, Ivan. “It may be somewhat later than usual.”

I had no problem with that. I settled down in my recliner to read the newspaper which was delivered at the end of my access road every morning. My two basset hounds, Jack and Jill, lay dead to the world on the sofa. After a light lunch, I took the dogs for a walk. I always put them on their leashes, not because I didn’t trust them to stay with me but because I knew there were coyotes in the woods. As the day passed and I thought about the news I’d read, it seemed to me that thanks to the current president, the country was going quickly to hell.

As I sat fretting and sipping some Scotch, I heard a sound outside. Jill and Jack woke instantly and ran to the door. The sound I heard was not the usual wheezing of Nikolai’s old Ford, but something quieter. Soon, I heard a knock on the door. That was unusual. Nikolai usually just walked into the cabin and went straight to the refrigerator. I didn’t remember if I’d ever had a visitor who knocked.

I opened the door to see a young teenaged boy picking up some paper bags. I had seen him before occasionally in the store, but I knew neither his name nor his relationship to Ivan Mikhailov.

Stepping back, I held the door so the boy could enter. The dogs were trained not to jump on people, but they stood wagging their tails vigorously.

The boy began to kneel down to pat them, then stopped and looked at me. “May I?” he asked.

“Absolutely. They’ll be crushed if you don’t.”

He put down his bags, knelt, and was warmly welcomed by the dogs, tails flailing and tongues licking the boy’s cheeks.

Standing again, he picked up the bags, asking, “Where do you want these, sir?”

“Um, in the kitchen,” I answered.

He walked through, followed by the dogs, and put the bags on the kitchen table.

“I have more outside, sir,” he said before vanishing out my door. In a moment he was back, walking through to the kitchen and placing more bags on the table.

“I didn’t hear a car outside. How did you get here?” I asked.

“By bicycle, sir,” he answered. I pull a wagon behind my bike and I have a basket on the front.”

Unlike others from the store, he spoke with no discernible accent.

“Doesn’t the gravel road make that difficult?” I asked.

“Not really, sir, if I look where I’m going and stay out of the ruts.”

I noticed that he was sweating, so I asked if he’d like a cold glass of water before he headed back to the store. When he nodded, I suggested he sit on the sofa. I went into the kitchen, refreshed my Scotch, got a clean glass and some ice, and poured in the water.

I returned to the living room to find him being loved on by the dogs. Handing the glass to him, I asked, “What’s your name?”

“Gregor, sir,” he answered.

“Not Grigori?” I asked.

He giggled. “Well, yes, but I prefer Gregor. It sounds more American.”

“And you’re American,” I observed.

He nodded. “I was born here, sir. With Nikolai sick, I’m filling in after school. That’s why your order was late.”

“If you have to pull a wagon full of groceries and use what free time you have to make deliveries, I hope Ivan is paying you well.”

“He is. He’s my dad. He thinks that someday I’ll take over the business. I’m not so sure, but I haven’t told him that yet.”

“Gregor,” I said, “if you’re going to be delivering groceries here, you need to stop calling me sir. My name is Ben.”

“Oh, I couldn’t call you that, sir. It would be disrespectful.”

“Not if I’ve asked you to call me Ben. In fact, it would probably be disrespectful to call me sir.”

“I never thought of it like that . . . Ben.” He grinned.

He finished his water, thanked me as I gave him the tip I usually gave Nikolai, then quickly departed.

In case you’re wondering, I’m gay, but I have no interest in teen boys. I wasn’t even very interested in them when I was one. That said, I have to admit that he was quite good-looking in a young-teen-boy way, and I imagined that the girls at school must be chasing him.

Despite the fact that I was not fond of being with people, I enjoyed Gregor’s brief visit. He was pleasant and polite, and he was kind to my dogs. Either he didn’t know about my reputation or he didn’t care. Somehow, he knew he was safe with me.

It was nearly a week before I ordered more food from Mikhailov’s. I learned that Nikolai was still unwell and that Gregor would deliver my order after school.

It was nearly 6 o’clock and I was sipping my Scotch when he arrived and knocked. The dogs immediately bounded to the door. When I opened it, Gregor set the bags down and knelt as before to pat the dogs, before he brought the groceries into the kitchen.

I suggested that he get himself some water, which he did, filling the glass with water and ice.

I invited him to sit in the living room and rest for a few minutes before he returned to the store. Again, he sat on the sofa, a dog on each side of him.

“I’m actually not going back to the store. You’re my last delivery, so I’m going home to fix my supper and eat. Then I’ll do my homework before I fall into bed.”

“That’s a rigorous day for someone your age. How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” he answered. “Yeah, I get pretty tired, but I catch up on my sleep on the weekends.”

“Don’t you have any time to be with your friends, maybe play a little baseball or soccer?”

“Not right now,” he answered with a slightly wistful look. “I’m pretty busy.”

He returned his glass to the kitchen, thanked me for the tip, and departed.

For supper I fixed myself a bacon, onion, and cheese omelet. I ate as I read one of my books, the dogs lying at my feet hoping I’d drop something.

While I had no TV, I did have a radio which was usually tuned to an FM classical music station. I often had it on in the evenings while I read. My waking hours were more or less dictated by the sun. I went to bed when the sun set and awakened when it rose in the morning. Since it was late September, the daylight soon began to fade. I turned off my light and went to my bed, which was big enough that Jill and Jack could join me without crowding.

For some reason, I didn’t sleep well that night. My mind kept returning to Gregor and wondering how long he could keep up both school and working for the store.

The next time Gregor came, he opened the door himself as I’d asked him to do, walked in, and said, “Hi, Ben.” He’d brought marrow bones for the two dogs. They’d never had bones to chew but they quickly figured out what to do with them.

After he put the bags in the kitchen, Gregor flopped onto the sofa. He looked exhausted. When I mentioned that to him, he said, “Yeah, I’m really tired. Working and going to school, making my supper, and keeping up with my homework is wearing me out. And I’m having trouble with second-year algebra. I just don’t understand it.”

“What does your mother say about your being so busy and your fatigue?” I asked.

He paused for a moment and then said, “She died when I was born. I never even knew her.”

I regretted asking the question, but I had and there was nothing I could do about it now.

“So who fixes your meals?” I asked.

“I do. By the time I get up in the morning, Dad’s already at the market, so I have cereal and sometimes toast before I head out. I do buy my lunch at school, but in the evenings I’m on my own. Dad doesn’t usually get home much before 10.”

I didn’t want to delay him anymore. It was getting dark earlier and earlier, and he had to ride his bike home. So, I gave him his tip and sent him on his way.

As I thought about the situation, I had an idea, and two days later, I drove into town, parked, and entered the market. Ivan was just finishing with a customer.

When the customer left, Ivan said, “This is a rare treat, Mr. Maxwell. I’m glad to see you. How can I help you today?”

“Ivan,” I said, “I’m worried about Gregor. The last time he delivered to my cabin he was clearly worn out. Is this going to continue? How’s Nikolai?”

Looking very serious, Ivan said, “To be honest, Nikolai is dying. He’s a diabetic and yesterday he had a leg amputated.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, and I was. Nikolai was a friendly and reliable man, the kind of person who should not have to deal with something like this.

Ivan said, “I’ve been looking for a replacement, but so far I haven’t been able to find one. In one way, that’s good, because it means there aren’t a lot of unemployed people in town. On the other hand, it leaves me relying on Gregor, and I know it’s not fair to him.”

“Ivan, my house is often his last delivery. Would it be all right with you if he stayed a spell after bringing my groceries? I could feed him dinner and help him with his algebra.”

“But how would he get home? I don’t like him riding his bicycle at night.”

“I have an extra bedroom, so he could stay with me and ride his bike to school in the morning.”

Ivan looked at me doubtfully.

“Ivan,” I said, “let’s be honest. I’m gay and you know that, but like most gay men I’m not interested in teen boys. Gregor is totally safe with me. I have no interest in him that way. He’s a good kid, my dogs love him, but I think he needs some help. He was exhausted the last time he was at my house. Doing this would be so much easier on him.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Maxwell, but I have to say that I’ve been uncomfortable with Gregor going to your cabin with deliveries. He assures me that nothing has happened, but people do talk, and I’ve been worried.”

“I understand, but I can assure you that Gregor is completely safe with me.”

“It’s a kind offer. I’d like to think about it and ask Gregor what he thinks.”

“Of course,” I answered.

Two days later, Gregor appeared at my front door, kneeling down to pat the delighted dogs. I wondered why he was there, since I hadn’t placed an order.

Without asking, he plopped down on the sofa, a dog on either side of him.

“Should they be chewing their bones on the sofa?” he asked.

“Probably not, but I don’t really care. I know they’re spoiled but they’re my only companions and we get along well together.”

After a moment of silence while he rubbed the dogs’ backs, he said, “Dad told me about your invitation. It’s very kind, but do you really want me here so often? I’ve heard that you’re kind of a hermit. Dad explained to me about your being gay, and I really don’t care. I know you won’t try to do anything to me.”

“Gregor, I wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t want you here. You are welcome anytime you want.”

“Thank you,” he said. (There was that politeness again.) “What about meals?” (Spoken like a true teen boy.)

“Well, I cook every night and it would be no bother for me to cook a little bit more. You’re welcome to dine here if you want. I suppose for my next delivery I should order the kind of cereal you like.”

“May I stay tonight?”

“Sure. Let me show you the room.”

He followed me down the hall to my spare room. He looked around and said, “This is nice. I love the wood smell of your cabin.” I showed him the bathroom, saying that we’d have to share that. As we returned to my living room, he asked, “Can I just call my dad and tell him I’ll be staying here?”

“Sure,” I replied, and showed him where the phone was in the kitchen.

When he returned, he said that his dad had approved but that he wanted Gregor home on the weekends. “I’ll probably work in the store on Saturdays,” he said, “but the store is closed on Sundays. We always go to church together. On weekdays, you’ll either be my last delivery or I’ll stop here after I make my final one for the day.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “You mentioned the other day that you were having troubles with algebra. Is that still true?”

“Yes, sir . . . umm Ben,” he answered, looking sheepish. “I just don’t understand it. The teacher we have is new this year and just out of college. I guess he knows his math, but he’s not good at explaining things or seeing why some of us are having problems.”

“Well, let’s see if I can help.” We worked on his problems for a while. I saw what was confusing him and explained it to him. We continued our sessions throughout the week.

By Friday he said, “I think I’m getting it now. Thanks, Ben.” He closed his book with a smile and as always, we went on to supper.

Somehow, those algebra sessions, working together as we were, seemed to bring Gregor and me closer together. I was a loner by nature, but Gregor somehow found a way through my shell.

The next day I ventured out of my lair long enough to go to the library and to Lightly Read, where I picked up a couple of early Ian Rankin mysteries.

Sunday night I made a list of food to order from Mikhailov’s, expecting Gregor to deliver them the next day.

On Monday I awoke with a bad headache and a sore throat. I didn’t need a thermometer to tell me I was running a fever. I called the market and hoarsely ordered the food.

By the afternoon I was feeling terrible, and I thought about calling the market back and telling Ivan to cancel the order and not send Gregor, because I was afraid the boy might catch whatever I had. Walking to the phone, I fell on the kitchen floor, smacking my head on the tiles. That’s the last thing I remembered. As it turned out, it was fortunate that I didn’t make the call.

Strange thoughts and images were swimming through my mind. One moment I was talking to the clerk at the bookstore; another moment I was feeding Jill and Jack. I couldn’t open my eyes. I had no idea what time it was, or even what day. Gregor flowed through my thoughts, but he didn’t speak. My old partner Jacob appeared even though I knew he was dead.

There were spells when I had no thoughts at all. Only blackness. I had no grasp of the passing of time. Sometimes I felt great pain, especially in my head; other times I felt nothing.

A few times I heard hushed voices, but I could neither name them nor understand them.

The voices grew louder and more frequent. I still couldn’t understand them.

I tried to open my eyes, but at first I couldn't. Finally, when I did, I heard a woman’s voice say, “Well, good morning sunshine.”

The light seemed very bright and hurt my eyes, so I closed them again.

My head was pounding. I didn’t recognize the voice. I heard an unfamiliar man’s voice.

“Can you hear me?” he asked. I didn’t respond. He forced my eyelids open and shined a light in them. I tried to close them again.

“I’m Doctor Sullivan,” he said, allowing my eyes to close. “You’ve had quite a time. You had COVID when you came in, and it apparently brought about a heart attack. We performed a triple bypass operation on you. Altogether, you’ve been unconscious for over three weeks.

My first thought was for Jill and Jack. “My dogs?” I said.

“A boy has been taking care of them.”

“What boy?”

“He says his name his Gregor. He’s the one who found you and called the EMTs, who brought you here in an ambulance. If he hadn’t, you’d probably be dead now.”

Gregor, I thought, and then asked, my voice scratchy, my throat feeling like sandpaper, “Is he here?”

“He can’t be,” the doctor said. “Only close relatives are allowed to visit in the ICU.”

I felt very tired. “I have no close relatives,” I said. Then managed, “I think I’m going to sleep now.” I closed my eyes and slept ─ for how long I don’t know.

When I awoke, there was only a dim light on. I lay thinking and wondering what would become of me if I couldn’t care for myself.

The door opened and a nurse entered. She went to a contraption on a pole over my head and said, “I’m just giving you some medicine. Are you hungry?”

How odd, I thought. I haven’t eaten in three weeks but I’m not hungry. “Not really,” I said.

She showed me a button on a cord which was pinned to my sheet. “Well, if you get hungry or need anything, just push the button. I’ll bring some food in a while. Whether you’re hungry or not you need to eat.” With that she was gone and I was alone.

Later, she returned with a bowl of clear soup and spooned it into me.

A few days later the doctor said that if I continued to improve, I’d be moved to a private room. I asked where I was now, and he told me the name of the hospital and that I was still in the ICU. He also told me that Gregor had appeared every day, asking how I was doing.

Two days passed and I was moved to my new room. That afternoon I was visited by Gregor. The first thing he said was, “Jill and Jack really miss you.”

I still felt weak, but I was so glad to talk to him. “Well, I miss them,” I said, “and I can’t wait to get back to them.”

“I’ve missed you too,” said Gregor, shyly.

I couldn’t let that pass, because if I did, he’d believe I missed the dogs more than him, so I said, “I’ve missed you also, Gregor. Do you know that you’re the only person I really care about?”

I swear he blushed as he shook his head. We were interrupted by a nurse who wanted to take my vitals, so I grudgingly submitted.

“There are too many people in this hospital,” I said when she left, “and there’s no way I can get away from them.”

Gregor giggled. I loved his giggle. I had missed that, too.

The days passed slowly. Each day a physical therapist came and got me out of bed. At first she just helped me to a chair and returned a few minutes later to take me back to bed. I was soon able to get myself out of bed and even make it to my bathroom. No more bedpans!

Gregor visited me every day. How he found time in his busy schedule to do it, I never knew.

A few days later, after the physical therapist had increased my exercises, the doctor told me I was ready to leave the hospital, but I would need to continue the PT at an outpatient facility in town. He asked how I would get there. When I told him I’d drive, he said that wasn’t a very good idea. When I asked him what I should do, he told me to take a cab until I was fully recovered.

I didn’t like the idea. It wasn’t that the cab would cost money. I had plenty of that. I just didn’t want to ride with a driver who might talk my ear off.

When I was released from the hospital, I had to take a cab home. Sure enough, the cabbie thought it was his duty to start a conversation. I only replied with grunts, so thankfully he soon stopped.

I was almost knocked over by the dogs when I entered the cabin, and I had to brace myself against a wall.

I made some lunch and after I’d consumed it, I lay on my bed for a while, a basset on each side of me.

I still couldn’t walk far, so taking them out to do their business was a problem. I didn’t want to wait until Gregor arrived, so I let them out the door and stood on the steps watching them. Whenever they ventured too far, I called them back, and they soon learned the limits. Bassets may not look it but they’re very smart dogs. Back in the cabin I sat in my recliner reading until Gregor rolled in a little before 6:00.

Jill and Jack greeted him like an old friend as he carried bags into the kitchen.

“I brought supper,” he said, emptying the bags. “We need to be careful of what you eat for a few days.”

My supper consisted of canned chicken noodle soup and toast. He had beef stew which smelled delicious. “That’s not fair,” I grumbled. He giggled.

When we finished he asked, “Are you up to doing a bit of algebra?”

“Sure,” I said, moving so I was sitting beside him. I was aware of his scent, a combination of sweat, dirt, soap, and some sort of cologne. In short, he smelled like an active young teen. For a moment, it took me back to my own youth. Years ago, when I was his age, that might have turned me on, but not anymore.

He brought out his homework and told me the difficulty he was having. I saw his problem right away and was able to help him find the answer without simply giving it to him.

When he finished his homework, he took the dogs out for their evening pee and then went to bed, while I sat in my chair, reading the day’s newspaper.

In the following days we settled back into our comfortable relationship. In the morning before he returned to school, he took the dogs out and fed them. Around noon I took the dogs out just far enough for them to do their business.

I thought everything was going smoothly until one afternoon Gregor entered the cabin and it was obvious there was something wrong. His shirt was bloody, dirty, and torn. His left eye was beginning to discolor badly. There was dried blood on his face, and his nose and lips were swollen.

“Come here, Gregor,” I said gently, and he fell into my arms weeping.

I let him cry until the sobs finally stopped. Before I asked him what had happened, I had him sit on the couch and made up some plastic bags with ice in them to put on the places where he was swelling. Then I asked.

“I was attacked by three older guys,” he said.

“Any idea why?”

He hesitated for a minute before saying, “One of them said something about me coming here and hanging out with a homo ─ his word not mine. Then they began to pound me, asking if I’d done ─ I don’t remember the word ─ but some kind of job for you. Another asked if you’d fucked me yet.” Looking up at me, he said, “I don’t even know how two men do that. It wasn’t covered in our sex ed class.”

“And there’s no reason why you should or need to know it. But that was a cowardly thing to do. Did you recognize the boys?”

He was silent.

“I guess you did,” I said.

“But I won’t name them,” he said.

“Gregor, this goes beyond a schoolboy prank where you don’t tattle. This was a crime and it needs to be punished. If it isn’t, they could well do this or worse to you or another boy again. It needs to be stopped.”

“I won’t tell,” he said again.

“Okay, come with me,” I said and headed to the door.

“Where?” he asked.

“Your father needs to deal with this,” I answered.

“No. I don’t want him involved. The guys might wreck the store.”

“They won’t if they’re in jail,” I said, “They need to know there are consequences for things like this.” Then I urged, “Come on.”

At last he shrugged, followed me out the door, and we got into my car. We drove to the store in silence.

We parked near the store and went in. Ivan was checking out a customer and packing the woman’s purchases in paper bags. He looked up, then looked at us again.

As the customer passed us on her way out of the store she saw Gregor. “Goodness,” she said, “what happened?”

“Just a biking accident,” I replied.

When she was gone, Ivan said, “That was no biking accident.” He came around the counter and looked at Gregor, examining the boy’s cuts and bruises, the blood on his face and torn shirt.

“How did this happen?” he asked.

Gregor was silent.

“Tell him, Gregor,” I said.

Gregor shook his head.

“Well,” his father said, “I’m taking you to the hospital.” Looking at me, he asked, “Do you think you could manage the store while I’m gone?”

I agreed, so he led Gregor out the door to his truck and quickly drove off.

Ivan told me later that as soon as the doctor got a good look at Gregor, he called the police. When they arrived, they insisted that Gregor tell them what happened. Reluctantly, Gregor spoke, at first not identifying his attackers. The police continued to question him until he finally named the boys.

I had a few customers in the store, but there was nothing I couldn’t handle. One customer glared at me as I rang him up. It didn’t bother me; I was accustomed to such glares.

Shortly before closing time, Ivan’s truck pulled up outside. When he and his son entered the store, he said that Gregor would have to go to the police station tomorrow to sign a statement, and Ivan would have to sign with him as his father. He asked if I could manage the store while they were gone.

I wasn’t inclined to agree. I really didn’t want to be involved in the store, but I reluctantly nodded.

I arrived at the store by 9 AM, found a parking place, and went inside, where Ivan and Gregor were waiting. They left for the police station while I went behind the counter to wait. Customers came and went. Few of them said anything to me, but that was fine with me.

About an hour later, Gregor and his father returned. Ivan told me that when they had arrived at the police station, the three boys who had attacked his son were sitting on benches with their parents waiting. One of the boys, Aaron, was crying.

An officer gave Gregor a typed paper, saying that it contained what he had told them about the attack. Gregor was to read it over, make any changes that were needed, and sign it when he thought it was accurate. Gregor did as he was told and signed the paper. The officer asked Ivan to also sign it as Gregor’s father.

When they finished and went out the front door, they noticed that the three boys were no longer sitting on the bench.

Leaving the store, I dropped Gregor off at his school before heading home.

Three days later, when Gregor dropped off my groceries, he said, “There’s going to be a hearing tomorrow for the boys who attacked me. I don’t have to go but I want to. Ben, would you take care of the store while my father takes me?”

Again I reluctantly agreed.

The hearing was to convene at 9 AM. About an hour before that I went to the store while Gregor and Ivan drove to the hearing. As he went out the door, Gregor turned and said, “I’ll tell you all about it when we come back.”

Gregor later told me that when he and his father entered the courtroom the three boys were sitting in the front of the room with their parents behind them.

He said that he noticed Aaron was crying again.

The hearing was quite brief. At the end of it, the judge left the courtroom and the boys and their fathers all departed, Aaron stopped beside Gregor and sniffed, “I’m so, so sorry, Gregor. Please forgive me.”

Gregor nodded and took the boy’s hand. “Of course,” he said.

The other boys and parents ignored him.

Gregor and his father followed the boys out of the courtroom and to his father’s truck.

When they arrived, Gregor ran into the store. As soon as the customer I was helping left, I asked Gregor to tell me all about the hearing. He said:

When the judge entered the room, she didn’t sit behind a high desk, like you see in the movies. She had a table in front of her. On it she had some papers. She asked the three boys their names and wrote something on a paper. When she looked up, she saw me and asked, “Are you Gregor?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

“She asked if I understood that I wasn’t required to be there. I told her that I understood but I wanted to hear the outcome of the hearing.

“That’s certainly your right,” she said to me before looking at the boys again.

She said to the boys, “Now, gentlemen, which I call you, although what you did was anything but gentlemanly, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

Aaron answered, “I’m so sorry. It was cowardly and I wish I hadn’t been there.”

The other boys apologized, although I noticed that neither of them sounded like they meant it.

The judge said, “I understand you boys made some remarks during the attack which can only be construed as homophobic. That makes the attack a hate crime. I don’t know whether Gregor is gay or not, but that doesn’t matter. I could remand the three of you to a juvenile facility for several years, at least until you become adults. Can any of the three of you tell me why I shouldn’t?”

“No, your honor,” the boys responded, one at a time.

When one of the fathers stood and said, “Your honor?” the judge interrupted him, saying, “I don’t need to hear from you. Since none of you boys has ever been in trouble with the law before this event, I’m inclined to be lenient. Now boys, please stand.” The three stood silently.

She said to them, “I’m going to put the three of you on probation until you are 18. That means that you will report regularly to a probation officer, and if you get into any more trouble, I can retract your probation and sentence you to a juvenile facility. In addition, I am putting you under a restraining order to stay at least 50 feet away from Gregor Mikhailov, except when you are in school, and then stay as far away from him as possible.

“Is all that understood?”

“Yes, your honor,” the three again replied, this time together.

Turning to me, she asked, “Gregor, do you have anything to say?”

“Only that I’m sad it happened and I hope the boys learned something today.”

She dismissed the court and left the room.

When Gregor finished his tale, I thanked him and offered to take him to school. He accepted and we drove the short way there before I returned home to Jill and Jack.

A few days later, when Gregor came to the cabin, he told me that his father had finally hired someone to do the store deliveries. The new man was retired but wanted something to keep him busy as well as bring in a little cash.

“I guess I won’t be coming every day anymore,” Gregor said, but can I come occasionally if I let you know ahead of time?”

I found that I was disappointed, knowing I would miss him, but I agreed. We maintained our relationship for the rest of the school year. In May, Gregor turned 15.

Over the summer he stopped by often. He was always greeted by Jill and Jack as well as me.

During one of his visits he asked, “Ben, when did you first know you were gay?”

I had to think about that before I answered, “Well, I knew I was different from most of the other boys by the time I was in first grade, but I don’t think I identified the difference as being homosexual until I was about 12.” Then I asked, “Are you wondering about yourself?”

He nodded but clearly didn’t want to talk about it that evening.

Another time he asked, “Ben, could I bring a friend someday to join us for supper?”

Of course, I agreed, and we arranged the visit for a subsequent day.

Late on the afternoon of the appointed day, I heard bicycles pull up outside. Jill and Jack rushed to the door, and Gregor walked in, holding the hand of a lovely young girl whom he introduced as Erica.

I welcomed her and with the help of the dogs and Gregor tried to make her feel at home. As she relaxed, she began talking more, and soon we were a happy threesome. I couldn’t help but note the way she looked at Gregor, as though he was the most adorable boy ever. Well, I observed to myself, he is cute.

When they left, I said to the dogs, “I guess he’s straight. That will make life much easier for him.”

The next time he came for supper, he asked, “Ben, what did you think of Erica?”

“I thought she was lovely. She was very engaging, and she clearly thought very well of you.”

“That’s the problem,” he said, but he wouldn’t elucidate.

Two weeks later, Gregor asked me if he could again bring a guest.

“Erica?” I asked.

“No, someone different.”

I guess he’s playing the field I thought. I agreed to his request and we set a date for a couple of days later.

Again on the appointed day, I heard bicycles coming up the gravel driveway. Of course, the dogs also heard them and were at the door when Gregor opened it. To my surprise, there was a boy with him holding his hand.

Gregor introduced the boy as Kenny. I welcomed him and decided to await developments. Kenny seemed open and happy, and he certainly liked the dogs.

Over dinner the three of us chatted happily. I could see Kenny eyeing Gregor affectionately, and Gregor appeared to return the affection.

When the boys left, I was stumped. While I had assumed that Gregor was straight, how did Kenny fit in? Was Gregor actually gay? Bi? Was he playing Kenny and Erica against each other? I resolved to ask Gregor what was going on the next time I saw him.

That time came sooner than I expected. Gregor visited the next afternoon.

Walking in the door, he greeted the dogs and sat on the sofa.

“Well,” he said, “what do you think?”

“I think I’m confused,” I answered.

He giggled and said, “So am I. I need help. I don’t know what to do.”

“Do Erica and Kenny know about each other?”

“Oh, they know each other, but neither one knows I’m dating the other.”

I thought a moment and said, “That seems a little dishonest, Gregor.”

“I know, and I have no idea what to do about it. When I’m with Erica, I feel like she’s my girlfriend. When I’m with Kenny, I feel like he’s my boyfriend. And I know I can’t have it both ways. I know that’s not fair to them.”

“So are you still trying to figure out whether you’re gay or straight?”

“Well, I think I might be bi. What should I do?”

“And you really don’t prefer one over the other?”

He shook his head.

“I gather you haven’t told either of them about your problem.”

“Right.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to do,” I suggested.

“How?”

“Why don’t you meet with the two of them together? You could do it here if you want. I wouldn’t say anything unless things got really sticky.”

“I’m not anxious to do that.”

“I know, but it’s the only way to be fair to them, isn’t it?”

He was silent for what seemed like an interminable time before saying, “Okay. How do I set it up?”

“Just invite the two of them here, perhaps without telling them each that you’ve also invited the other one.”

“Do you think that’ll work?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, but it’s all I can think of. If you can think of something better, by all means try it.”

Again he was silent as he stroked Jill’s tummy. At last he said, “Okay, I’ll give it a try. I’m just afraid that I’ll hurt them and I’ll lose both of them.”

So that was how we left it. Gregor played with the dogs for a bit before heading home.

The next week I got a phone call from him. He said that everything was set for Friday night if that would work for me.

I agreed, saying that I’d cook up a big batch of spaghetti and meatballs.

When I hung up the phone, I said to the dogs, “What have I gotten myself into?” Then I took them outside so they could pee before we slept.

Late Friday afternoon, I heated water in my largest pot and threw in an entire large box of spaghetti. While that was slowly cooking, I put sauce in a pan and began to heat it. Then I made salad and put it in four bowls. I set the table with four place settings and put grated parmesan cheese as well as salt and pepper on it. I put little place cards on the table. Then I waited.

Soon, Jill and Jack, who had been sound asleep on the sofa, lifted their heads and headed to the door.

When the door opened, Gregor entered, appearing anything but confident. He was followed by Erica and Kenny, who were looking puzzled.

They had not come together but had encountered each other riding up my access road.

The dogs and I greeted them enthusiastically and I said that the food was ready and they should sit at the table. I had arranged it so that Gregor was facing me, while Erica and Kenny were facing each other.

The three of them sat in silence. I tried to think of something to say as I handed them plates of spaghetti.

“Do you know,” I asked, “that this is the first time the dogs and I have had three guests at once. That’s pretty rare for an old hermit like me.”

Erica smiled a little and said, “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Yeah,” said Kenny, “thanks.”

There was a little idle conversation as the meal progressed, but it was definitely stilted.

As we finished eating, I said, “I invited the three of you here because Gregor has a problem. Gregor, why don’t you tell them what it is?”

“Well,” he began and then said hesitantly, “my problem is that, when I’m with you, Erica, I feel like you’re my girlfriend, and I like that. You’re gentle and caring and loving. But when I’m with you, Kenny, I feel like you’re my boyfriend. You’re caring, and kind, and really into me. For a while I tried to figure out if I was straight or gay, but now I think I might be bi. I want to keep dating you both, but I will understand if you don’t like that arrangement. If that’s the case, I guess I’ll have to figure out what to do.”

Everyone was silent. At last, Kenny said, “I need to tell you about my grandfather. He lived as a straight man. He married and had children, and it wasn’t until later in his life that he realized he was gay. He decided he needed to get out of his marriage. That really hurt my grandmother and my father and my aunts. From what I’ve heard, that happened to several men of his generation. It was just assumed that they were straight and they lived the American dream ─ wife, children, white picket fence, the whole package ─ but they knew something was missing.

“Gregor, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m really glad you’re dealing with it now. I don’t think you have to make a decision today. I think you have to see where life takes you before you commit to anything. If I had to, I could be happy sharing you with Erica if she can do that.”

Erica looked unhappy. When she glanced at Gregor, she said, “Gregor, if that’s the way it is, I can’t live with it. I really respect your honesty and I do care about you. But I can’t share you with Kenny or anybody else.”

By the time she finished speaking, I could see that Gregor was crushed.

With tears in her eyes, Erica stood, thanked me for the meal, and departed.

Gregor and Kenny looked at each other. Kenny was clearly happy, but Gregor was not.

When they left that night, Kenny thanked me for the meal. Gregor said, “I guess I blew it.”

“I don’t think you did,” I said. “You were honest with them and they each made their own choice. Remember that high school romances seldom last. Enjoy your time with Kenny and see how things work out.

Gregor gave me a big hug and said, “Thanks, Ben.”

When they were all gone and I’d dealt with the dishes I said to the dogs, “C’mon you two, it’s time to go out and pee.”

A few days later, Gregor told me that what had happened at the cabin was all over school. Some kids thought he was crazy. Others snubbed him and Kenny. The result was that the two grew closer.

Gregor continued to date Kenny all through high school. They naturally separated when they went to different colleges. While there, Gregor formed a relationship with a young, very kind gay man. After they graduated, they married, since gay marriage had become legal in our state.

I was invited to the wedding, but I decided there would be too many people, so after the wedding Gregor brought his husband, Marco, to the cabin. Like Gregor, Marco was an appealing young man and it was clear that the two were very much in love.

Kenny moved on, in time finding a partner and eventually marrying him.

I never saw Erica again, but Gregor told me that she had boyfriends, one after another, in high school and was eventually married to a man she met in college.

Sadly for me, Jill and then Jack died of old age. By then it was getting more difficult for me to walk and to take them out. Perhaps, I thought, I’m better off not having a dog.

But I found myself feeling very lonely. One day on an impulse I visited the local dog pound and found a lovely and lonely basset hound, Georgie, who had been trained to come when called. I could let him out the door and just watch from there while he did his business and returned to the cabin.

At the age of 87 I visited a lawyer and drew up a will in which I left the cabin and all the surrounding land I owned to Gregor and Marco.

In time it has become too difficult for me to write, so I end this narrative here, as Georgie and I live out our last years together.

THE END