The Tennis Player

Chapter 4

I couldn’t believe how delicious the dinner was! I guess I was smiling a lot as I ate because he kept grinning at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You just look happy. I like that! You don’t usually smile this much.”

“Sure I do! I’m happy all the time. You just don’t know me much.”

He paused to consider that, looking pensive. “I do, you know. Not saying anything at school allows me lots of time to look at the kids there. I pick out the ones who appeal to me for various reasons. Like Timothy, who’s so shy it almost hurts to watch him navigate through the day. Or Mitzy, who wants everyone to look at her new breasts. She sticks out her chest every chance she gets. And Edward, who would bully people if the rules weren’t so strict. He still manages it some. And then there’s you.”

He stopped. I knew he wanted me to ask, ‘What about me?’ I thought it would be fun to frustrate him. My often-awkward sense of humor was rearing its head again. “Yeah, I know. But I’m used to all the eyes in the class coming my way. When you’re as handsome as I am, it just happens. Nothing I can do about it.”

He gave me a look. He did know me, I guessed. I never bragged about anything.

“Yeah, funny about that,” he rejoined. “Most handsome—or maybe the ugliest. That’s where all the eyes go. I was surprised that Skinner had the temerity to call you out that way.”

I almost bit. Came so close to erupting. That’s what he wanted. But I caught myself just in time. I made my voice kind of sad and hollow. “Well, I can’t do anything about my looks. I just have to live with them.” And then I dropped my eyes to the table. And sniffled.

The room was silent for a moment. I didn’t dare look up at him. I just kept my eyes on the table. Eventually, he said in a much smaller voice, “Hey, we were kidding. That was just a joke. No way you’re ugly. You know that. You are the most handsome kid in whatever room you’re in!”

Slowly, I raised my eyes to his. Slowly, I smiled. “Gotcha!” I said.

I think he wanted to attack me. If we’d been in the pool or out on the lawn, I know he would have. Sitting at the dinner table with all the fine china, glassware and stuff on it, he couldn’t. I just kept grinning at him. He opened his mouth, closed it again and finally said, “I’ll get you for that later.”

I helped him rinse off the plates and put everything in the dishwasher. He did know how to run that and didn’t even forget to put the soap in.

Afterwards, we still had a couple of hours till bedtime. He asked me if I knew how to play pool. I’d never done it, but he showed me the table; it was in its own room! He was good at pool, too. I was starting to get an inferiority complex being around him. But he showed me how to hold the cue stick, how to line up the shots, and a lot of that involved him standing behind me, me leaning over the table with him right behind me, sort of spooning against my back, up against my bottom, his left arm around me, his right holding my arm as I aimed my shot, and, well, it suddenly seemed way too warm in there, too intimate, and there was no way to ignore that he’d become excited. I got up the courage to tell him to let me try by myself; he backed off.

Then it was time for bed. We went up, and he took me into his bedroom. He had a king-sized bed. I looked at it, then at him. He had a big grin on his face.

And just that suddenly, I felt overwhelmed. Like the room was closing in on me. Like I was no longer in control of myself. Like he was totally in charge.

I’m a laid-back, easy-going kid. And everything with Clark was happening too quickly; the atmosphere was too intense. It felt like I was being seduced, and I had no say in what was going to occur.

I liked Clark, but I didn’t really know him. Now he was grinning at me, and from the look in his eyes, he knew what was going to come next. It felt very much that I was a pawn for him to play with, and that I was no longer in charge of anything at all. Like there were no boundaries.

The thought of being in that bed with him was thrilling. The thought of doing sexual things had my heart racing.

Yet I was uneasy. I didn’t feel at all ready for this.

He was watching me, and I guess my expression was showing the feelings that were suddenly affecting me. The grin he was wearing faded. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure how to answer. Maybe my feelings were all wrong, just the result of having an overactive imagination. No question part of me was ready for whatever might happen next. My body was all in. My mind, though. . .

My mind was in a different place entirely. It seemed that everything that had gone on with Clark up to now had been leading to this. Had everything with him from the time I’d gotten in the limo simply been part of a seduction?

Now, he was looking curiously at me, and I realized he’d asked me what was the matter, and I needed to answer. But what if I was wrong in what I was thinking? It would be embarrassing as all get-out if I wasn’t reading all this correctly. If all he wanted to do was share a bed . . .

I managed to speak, avoid his question by asking one of my own. “Uh, where do I sleep?”

His grin disappeared completely. He actually frowned. “I thought you’d sleep with me. Is there something wrong with that?” He sounded upset. “I’ve never had a sleepover with anyone. Always wanted to, always wished I could. Everything I’ve done with you is new to me. I never had a friend like you. Everything I’ve read and heard told me that sleepovers with friends are fun and part of most kids’ lives. I don’t understand. Why don’t you want to sleep in bed with me?”

The thought occurred to me that perhaps he was playing me like I’d played him at the table. Pretending he was hurt when really he was just ratcheting up the seduction. But if so, he was a far better actor than I was. His feelings and expectations were hurt, genuinely hurt. I could see that. Anyone could.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to hurt him. I never wanted to have that effect on anyone. But then, this whole situation was far from anything I’d ever experienced before.

I figured out what I had to do. “Let’s sit down and talk for a minute, Clark.” I walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it, my feet still on the floor. I patted the bed next to me, and he came and sat down. We both turned, raising one knee to support us in that position on the bed so we could face each other.

This wasn’t going to be easy. But it was necessary.

“I’m going to be honest. That means I’m going to tell you what I’m thinking and feeling. Some of it will be embarrassing, but I need to do it. So . . .”

This was hard. I was going to tell him things kids my age never tell anyone, never say out loud. But if I wanted to be friends with Clark, and I did, then this was necessary. I took a deep breath.

“I’m feeling very uncomfortable. I’m not sure what’s going on. I don’t know you very well, but I like you. A lot. I’ve always wondered at school why you were so quiet. Some of the kids are offended by that; they think you’re stuck up. I never did.

“When Mr. Skinner put us together, I was happy about that. I thought maybe I could get you to talk. Maybe we could be friends and I could help solve whatever problem you had getting along with the rest of us.

“I think that was one of the reasons Mr. Skinner put us together. He seemed to be challenging me to do that. You know him. He always wants to help us, and I think he felt maybe that could happen with you and me together.”

He was staring at me with no expression. He was good at that. Years of practice. I needed to just go ahead and get all this out.

“So, we got together, and I still don’t understand why it’s gone like it has. You said you’d explain things to me. I’m still waiting for that. That’s one of the reasons I’m uncomfortable. Not the biggest. It’s the rest of it we need to talk about.”

This would be easier if he’d give some sign of what he felt. He didn’t. I just had to continue on my own.

“I’m the same age you are, and you probably feel the same things I do. I think about sex a lot. I want to do it. And I think you do, too. But right now, I feel way over my head and out of control. It’s because of how you’re acting.”

Still no change in his behavior. Or lack of same.

“You’ve been flirting with me. I think you have. I have no experience with that. But I read it that way. And, honestly, up till right now, I’ve loved it. It’s been great. But it’s also something I’ve never encountered before. It’s flattering and exciting and arousing, and it’s been fun but also confusing. The fact we’re both boys isn’t the problem. The problem is, I don’t know what’s what. What’s real, what’s in my imagination, what’s going on, where it’s going. It’s confusing; it’s all so sudden. I’ve realized just now that I don’t know you at all but do know you’ve suddenly changed; you’re not like you are at school, and all of this put together makes me uncomfortable.”

Still no sign from him at all.

I took another deep breath. I hoped he’d react. Hoped he’d tell me something! “Now,” I continued, “we’re going to get into bed together, and I don’t know what you expect or even what I want to happen. The thought of sex in bed is part of my overwhelmed feeling. I want it! But part of me isn’t sure. I’m a little scared. And very uncomfortable. Whatever we’re doing, if it’s going to work, I want us on the same page. We need to be equals, and I’m completely lost. I don’t feel equal; it sorta feels like I’m being used. Like you’re calling all the shots. You’ve got me here, and, well . . . what I just said.”

I stopped, looking for understanding from him. I got nothing.

“Clark, I don’t know if you understand any of what I’m feeling. I don’t know if you’re even hearing what I’m saying! Come on. I need help here. Maybe I’m imagining everything because I’m hoping we’ll do stuff, while at the same time feeling pretty emotional about the whole thing. What I need more than anything is for you to tell me what this is all about. Why you’re so different from how you’ve been since early grade school. Why are you so friendly with me now? What’s changed? What’s going on!”

I stopped. I’d gotten myself worked up, way too emotional, and so I waited, trying to calm down. He’d either talk to me, or I was going to call my mom to come get me.

I didn’t understand why he said what he did when he finally spoke. He said, “I’m not ready.”

“For what?”

“To explain.”

“When will you be?”

He shook his head and when he spoke, he sounded defeated. “I thought I’d be tomorrow.”

“You mean, after we’d had our sleepover?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I thought that would make things clear. What I needed to know.”

“You could just ask me what you want to know if it’s about me. You could have asked any time we’ve been together.”

“I . . . I wasn’t brave enough.”

I smiled at him, trying to cut the tension that was now filling the room. “You were brave enough to get naked in front of me. Brave enough to let me see your boner. But not only that. You were brave enough to enter a tennis tournament against the best players our age in the state. Brave enough to flirt with me. You’ve been brave about a lot of things. You can do this. Tell me.”

He wasn’t looking at me. Then he stood up and sort of wandered around the room before coming back to face me. He stopped and looked at me. I couldn’t read his expression at all.

“I had it all planned. I’ll tell you what that plan was, what I was going to do.

“We were going to get into bed together, both naked. I was going to let our feelings decide what to do. I thought we’d do what we both would want to do. After that, I thought I’d know what I needed to know, and I could tell you the rest.”

His face looked different now. He’d been so outgoing with me before, and now he seemed to be looking inward. His voice was even different, softer, less certain.

“I had no idea I was scaring you. Scaring you was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I . . . I wanted you to like me as much as I like you. I’ve had a crush on you since third grade!”

“What?”

“Yeah. You’re beautiful and full of joy and laughter, you’re wide open, nothing’s hidden, and on top of that, you’re the nicest kid at school. Why wouldn’t I get a crush on you? I’ll bet half the class has one on you.”

“Why didn’t you let me know? Okay, wait, I understand why you’d not want to do that. But what about the rest, the not talking to anyone, being entirely apart from us all? And why did you suddenly change with me here?”

“As I said, I was going to tell you. But I wanted to wait. Can I ask you something else, first? Then maybe I can tell you after that?”

“Sure.”

“Do you like me, I mean, well, like a crush? No, don’t answer. I want to know something else. He gulped, looked as awkward as it was possible to look, dropped his eyes and stuttered out, “Are you gay?”

If I was uncomfortable before, that was nothing compared to now. Wow! I couldn’t believe he’d just asked me that.

I could answer that in five or six ways, all of them ambiguous. I could make a joke out of this. I was picking an answer when I raised my eyes to his and saw such anxiety there; it was incredible. I realized his question was more revealing, that he was opening himself up more than when he’d stripped naked in front of me and become aroused.

I changed my mind about the ambiguity. I wasn’t sure how fragile Clark was. I’d never thought of him that way. But now, he looked like I could break him in two simply by being callous. A joke would be absolutely decimating for him.

I never wanted to hurt anyone, and I could hurt him now so easily. I wasn’t going to do that. I was going to remain who I was; my self-esteem required that.

I waited for him to raise his eyes again, for them to meet mine before I answered him. “I’ve never told anyone, but yes, probably. I’m probably gay. From the way you’re looking at me, you probably are too. And a crush? Well, I’ve liked how you look, and I’ve always felt sad for you. I love the way you’ve come alive, been flirting with me, loved it until the change in you became a little too much too fast.”

“You like me?”

“Yes. Of course. And I want to do sex stuff. But I have to feel I’m an equal part of what we do, not someone who is being used, being lured without regards to who I am.”

“All right!” He breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I can tell you then. Everything! But let’s get in bed. It’ll be easier for me to talk there. I want . . . I want to hold you. No; you to hold me. That would be even better. A lot of what I have to tell you is difficult. A lot of it, I want to be looking away from you, not at your eyes. I don’t want to see disappointment. Or pity. Can we do that?”

I smiled. I didn’t answer him. Instead, I began undressing.

He caught on right away. His smile lit up the room.

He had a lot to say, and it became clear why he’d waited and why he wanted to be in bed. He wanted me to hold him, and I did. This time I was spooning him, and he could certainly feel how ready I was. I loved holding him like I was, but when he started talking, the fact we were naked in bed together and I was holding him suddenly was secondary. It became much less sexual. I’d been hard, but that ebbed as he spoke. How strange is that? Two kids who were 14 in bed together for the first time, both of them gay, both of them feeling the things they did, and neither of them was hard. Might be the first time in the history of the world for that.

“I don’t know where to start,” he said. His voice was different. It lacked the confidence it had had before.

“The beginning is always recommended,” I said; I was still in a happy mood then. Sexy and happy. Well, the sexy part might have ebbed, but sex was in there somewhere, waiting to be recovered.

“Okay. The beginning. That would put everything into context.” He wiggled a bit to get more comfortable, but not away from me. Closer, as if that were possible.

“At the very beginning, for me at least, my dad and grandmother lived in this house. It was my great-grandfather’s house before that, and when he died, it became my grandmother’s. She never married. Somehow, though, she managed to get pregnant with my father. That was never talked about, so I know nothing about how that happened. It’s been made clear, however, that I can never ask about that, about why she didn’t have a husband or about how my father’s birth came about. There are a lot of things that cannot be spoken about. That’s high on the list.”

He paused, then said, “This is a long story.”

“Go ahead,” I murmured. “I like holding you.”

I did. I liked his individual smell, the feel of his skin, the way he felt in my arms.

“Okay. Well, my grandmother is a very strong, opinionated woman who has to have her own way. She is powerful in her career, powerful in everything she does. She bossed my dad around when he was a boy, and she still bosses him around today. He never stands up for himself against her no matter what. She broke that spirit a long time ago.”

“Never? In anything?”

“Never. Well, only once, and then never again. Anyway, about my grandmother. See, what my great-grandfather started, she took over when he died. It was a publishing company, a major one, and when she took it over, she expanded it beyond publishing into manufacturing and media operations. All of them supported the publishing company. That publishing company principally handles religious books. And her other operations are all involved with religion in one way or another.

“It’s a world-wide operation, and she’s the chairman of the board of directors. My dad is the CEO of one of the non-publishing operations. He answers to the board, meaning she is in fact his boss.

“The companies are all very profitable. They are public companies now, but she still owns enough of the stock to retain her chairman position. And she rules the board with an iron fist, just like she does everything she’s involved with.”

He stopped to gather himself. I gave him a tighter hug for a moment, then relaxed again.

“My father never married. She didn’t want him to, so he didn’t. That’s the control she wields. I guess she thought if he married, she’d lose some of the hold she had on him. So, she made it her business to see he stayed single. Now, you’re wondering, how did I come to exist?”

I hadn’t been. I was too absorbed in the story.

“I came about because we had a maid. Virginia Gleason. She and my dad hooked up, probably when my grandmother was traveling to a corporate meeting, and I was conceived.”

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