Worried

Justin and Bing were at their favorite spot in the world. They’d discovered it while hiking in the woods during the summer they’d been together. It was a very private place by the river, hidden away by bushes and trees and four feet above the water. It could be approached only by pushing through the bushes that masked it, a small, flat piece of ground covered in soft, green moss, about ten by ten feet with a gentle slope leading down to the water which coursed below. To them, while visiting this place, they were invisible to the world and as close to heaven as they were likely to find.

It was fall now, and the leaves of the oak, ash and maple trees were a deep, vivid coppery red and brilliant orange, the beauty of which had to be experienced to be thoroughly appreciated. The boys should have been in awe, immersed in such scenic majesty, but they weren’t. They weren’t even holding hands, as was their custom when in this place.

They had been, but the news Justin had just been made aware of had shocked him. He’d let go of Bing’s hand and stood up, then sat back down again, but now facing his boyfriend rather than sitting next to him with their shoulders touching.

“You told him?!”

Bing lowered his deep brown eyes and his chin as well. “I had to,” he said, muttering rather than speaking.

“And how did he take it?”

Bing sighed. “He’ll come around.”

“See? SEE?! You NEVER should have said anything. Why? Why do it and risk everything?”

Bing was silent. Justin finally looked at him rather than staring blankly and only seeing his own anger and disappointment. He saw how Bing had slumped into himself. Justin’s compassion was stronger than his anger. He moved over next to Bing and took his hand. “Sorry,” he said contritely, then softly, “But why?”

Bing slid over so their shoulders were in contact again. He took a deep breath. “In our culture, the man is the head of the family, which means in all ways. We don’t keep secrets from him, not important ones. He has the right and duty to know what we’re doing and thinking. Without that, he could be surprised and unable to defend us if was needed or the family was under attack through something that was our fault. Culturally, this is our way—the eldest male is in charge. We grow up telling him everything important involving us, even embarrassing things or things we know he’ll not like.”

“But this?” Justin had a difficult time keeping his emotions in check. “He might make it so we can’t be together. He probably will. You said he doesn’t approve of gay people.”

Justin could feel Bing shudder. The boy remained silent, and so Justin did, too, knowing Bing was as miserable as he was. Time passed. Enough silence occurred that Justin took in the brightly colored leaves dancing in the breeze. The soothing sound of the stream. The peaceful setting helped settle him.

When Bing finally spoke, it was again very softly. “He’ll come around. I know he will. He wants what’s best for the family, and I’m part of that. The family’s his main concern. But I think it’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

Justin let out a sarcastic spurt of laughter. “Don’t worry! Yeah, right. Don’t worry. I do worry. I have an appointment to see him next week!”

Justin did worry. He couldn’t help himself. According to Bing, his dad was a large, serious man who rarely smiled. He had an air of dignity about him that made anyone talking to him very respectful and precluded small talk or informal social niceties. Lighthearted conversation or banter just wasn’t part of him.

Now Justin was supposed to see him, and that he was his son’s boyfriend was certain to come up. That Justin was gay might or might not be a problem for Bing’s dad, but that his son was gay, too? Could he accept that? Would he think that was Justin’s fault? Would he be angry? Violent even?

Justin would be alone with the man. Should Justin fear being hurt? Experience physical pain? Justin had a fear of pain that was phobic. He’d felt that for all of his 13 years. If Bing’s dad was upset enough, would he get physical? If he thought somehow it was Justin’s fault that Bing now had a boyfriend—in fact was claiming to be gay despite his family’s beliefs and the family’s honor—would Justin be in danger? It was something to think about.

He’d be meeting with a serious, large, intimidating, humorless man, a man who was upset with what his son had told him. Of course Justin was worried.

The receptionist smiled at Justin when he came in for his appointment. Justin didn’t smile back. He was too nervous.

“Justin Parks? You’re right on time. Because this is your first time here, please fill out this form. Have a seat, and when you’re done, bring it up to me and I’ll take you in.”

Justin filled out the form, answering ‘no’ to all the questions. The receptionist smiled at him and said, “You look worried. I think you’ll get to like Dr. Fong.”

Justin followed her into a hallway with individual workrooms along each side. From what he could see, each had a reclining chair. She took him into Exam Room 3 and had him sit in the chair. It was an adult-sized chair; there was room for two of him in it. “I’ll take some images first, and the doctor will be right in.”

Left alone after that, he glanced around as well as he could in the chair that was still reclined at a 45° angle. He could see what one always saw in a dentist’s workspace. It was small enough that the chair nearly filled it. There was a low cabinet with a shelf on top that held various obscene-looking things, like a full set of artificial teeth that seemed to grin at him, and a picture on the wall behind showing bleeding gums. Next to the chair was a tall stand, and hanging from it was his nemesis, the dental drill.

His heart started beating faster.

He heard footsteps, and then Doctor Fong was there. He wore a white lab coat, a cloth mask, and a white medical cap covering his hair. A pair of magnifying glasses enlarged his eyes, the only facial feature he could see all of, and made them appear menacing.

The man was large, as Justin had been told. He looked down at Justin silently and steadily for a moment, too long a moment, then said, “I understand you know Bing.”

Justin swallowed, even though his mouth seemed saliva-less and said, “Yes.” His heart was racing, and his breath was coming quicker than usual.

Dr. Fong nodded but said nothing, then unhooked his drill from the stand. He turned it on, and its angry buzz filled the room. He looked away from the drill and down at Justin and asked, “How much pain can you tolerate?”

Justin saw sparkles in front of his eyes before everything went blurry, and then he had a sense of falling even though he was sitting securely in the chair. That was right before everything went black.

Justin opened his eyes. Dr. Fong was still staring down at him. Justin felt like he’d only been gone for a short time. He shivered, then asked, “What happened?”

“You fainted.” Justin wasn’t sure because Dr. Fong still had his mask covering his nose and mouth, but his eyes through his glasses were giving the impression he might be smiling. His voice was softer than before, too.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Dr. Fong chuckled. “Probably my fault more than yours. I could see you were nervous and should have taken the time to let you settle down. But it’s all good. I took the short time you were out to look at your images. You’ll be delighted to know: no cavities! No drilling! You take good care of your teeth.”

Justin took a deep breath. Now was the time when the man seemed not so severe. “I thought maybe you were mad about me and Bing. I thought that’s why you asked about pain and ran the drill.”

“Oh, heavens, no! I ask that so I know how much Lidocaine to use. I shouldn’t have run the drill; that was my fault. Just making sure it was plugged in, but I never considered what you might think. As for Bing, well, no worries, Justin. He’s happier than he’s been in over a year, and that’s more important to me than whether he’s with a girl or boy. If you’re making him happy, then you’re fine with me.”

They were by the river again, the two of them, in their private spot. The leaves were still brilliant. The sun was behind them, backlighting them, and Justin thought he’d never seen anything so gorgeous.

He was looking with awe at the scenic wonder; Bing’s head was in his lap, and he was looking up at Justin.

“Everything go all right with Dad? I know you were worried.”

“Me? Worried? Worrying is just a waste of time. Don’t bother, that’s my personal philosophy.”

Bing began gently sliding his head around in Justin’s lap, pressing down and easing up, back and forth, grinning as the effect of what he was doing became apparent. “Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “Mine’s strike while the iron’s hot.” And he reached up to put both hands behind his head, but he placed his hands such that one was facing up to cradle his head, the other turned over to cradle something else.

“No worries, then,” Bing said. “I like that.”

Justin started to reply, to say that he liked what Bing was doing, too, but cogent speech was suddenly impossible as his words became a series of guttural, orgasmic, and thoroughly expressive groans.

The End