Oliver of the Adirondacks
by Dashiell Walraven
Chapter 37
Things got really crazy that night. Everything happened so fast, it is hard for me to remember what all went down. I think the medication was still muddying my brain. What I do recall, is that the local private school rejected Neal as a student, based upon, I'm guessing, whatever happened at his old one. This precipitated a tremendous argument between Neal's parents which resulted in dishes getting smashed and glass shattering. I do remember being scared as hell when my Dad burst into Neal's room and told me to get dressed because we were leaving. Neal looked at me with huge, frightened eyes. I frantically stuffed my clothes into the naval kit bag I'd brought along.
"Come on, Neal," my father motioned to him, "you're coming with us." Neal froze, we all did I think. I can still see him standing there, visibly trembling. To my horror, a wet stain started to spread from the middle of his pants, he was pissing himself.
"DAD!" I shrieked, "What's going on?"
"Hurry now Oliver," he said with extreme calm, tossing me my bag, "I'll get Neal changed, go with your mother out to the car please." When I got outside, I numbly stood and watched my mother frantically throwing suitcases into the back of the station wagon as Neal's parents could be heard hollering at each other inside. Dad exited the house with a very limp and shocked looking Neal slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. As Dad set Neal into the back seat of the car and I slid in next to him, Neal's parents came out of the house, still screaming. Neal's father looked visibly drunk.
More words were exchanged and the neighborhood began to take notice. Curtains were pulled aside and porch lights began to turn on. The dog next door began to bark through the fence. Words like "don't you dare", "I can't believe you would do this" rang out, but the last ones, "faggot son" suddenly stilled all the commotion. It seemed like the world stopped turning for a moment as we all held our collective breath.
Neal's mom, enraged, pointed her finger right in her husband's face and told him she was finished with him. As if to put a period on her sentence, Neal's father backhanded her, sending her reeling into the hedges. My father appeared out of nowhere and tackled him from the side. They both fell to the lawn, where Dad fastened his hands around the drunken man's throat and started to squeeze. Even though my father is a full head shorter than him, Ned knew enough to surrender immediately.
"If you ever lay another hand your wife or son again, Ned," I heard my father growl, even from inside the car, "I will snap your miserable neck." Dad's voice turned from a low grumble, to arctic cold, "Do I make myself perfectly clear, you drunken piece of shit?" Ned, pinned under my father, made a weak attempt to shrug him off. His eyelids fluttered as my father squeezed his neck a little harder.
One of Ned's neighbors walked over, dressed in his State Trooper's uniform, and tapped Dad on the shoulder.
"WHAT?" Dad spat, still staring into Ned's wide eyes; Ned flinched as some spittle landed on his face.
"I've got him from here, Sir." My dad looked up at the trooper, nodded and slowly released his grip on Ned's neck. There were red blotches on his skin where Dad's hands had been. Ned coughed and protested as the Trooper hoisted him up and wheeled him around to cuff him.
After Ned's arrest, things got calmer. Dad and my mother gave their statements, and Neal's mom gave hers. The cops wanted to interview me and Neal, but my father intervened, saying we'd been through enough. The police agreed, since one of their own observed the attack, they didn't need any more witness corroboration. Ned was unceremoniously cuffed and stuffed into a dark blue police cruiser and taken away. Once that was done, and we all had a moment to catch our breath, we went back inside the house, to the sight of broken dishes and glassware all over the living room.
"Okay, here's the deal." My dad announced to us boys, "Neal and his mom are going to come and stay with us until this all gets sorted out. Oliver, you go with Neal to his room and get him packed up with some clothes and whatever he thinks he needs to stay with us for a while. Your mother and I are going to do the same for Terry. Don't dawdle, were are going to head out shortly."
"We could stay the night," Neal's mom said numbly, standing amid the shards of porcelain and glass, "Besides, I have to clean all this up."
"This is Ned's mess," my mother said firmly, "You leave that to him. Besides, none of us want to be around if he posts bail tonight and comes home."
I sat on Neal's bed as he robotically wandered around his room, picking out clothes to put in his suitcase. Feeling sort of helpless, I tried to stay out of his way. He didn't say much as he did so, seemingly defeated and beat-down. Finally, after closing the latches on his suitcase, Neal sat down next to me and leaned onto my shoulder, sighing heavily. Dad came in to check on our progress.
"You guys all set?" Dad asked, smiling gently. Neal stayed glued to my shoulder and wiped a sleeve across his snotty nose, shaking his head.
"No," he said simply, his voice small and reedy. Dad's face dissolved into concern as he sat down next to Neal, rubbing his back.
"Aw kiddo," he soothed, "this is tough for you, I know."
Neal turned around to my father, wrapped his arms around Dad's neck, and broke out the ugly cry. Dad enfolded Neal, drawing him close and hugging him tightly. Neal spent his full payload of emotion against my father, howling like a lost cub, in between hitching gasps and sobs. I wept too, my heart sore for Neal's pain. I wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed like we had just witnessed the dissolution of his family, something I could never even fathom happening to mine. Dad rocked Neal gently in his arms, stroking his black hair while speaking soothingly to him and kissing his hair softly. I don't think I could have ever loved my father more than I did at that moment. It was as if Neal were his own son; anything he would do for me, he would do for Neal. It made me feel warm and safe inside, even as my soul keened for Neal's distress.
I looked up to see both moms standing at the doorway, looking down at the scene before them. Both appeared uncomfortable with Neal's crying, but seemed to understand its necessity. They busied themselves with grabbing the pillows and comforters from both beds. I grabbed the suitcase while Dad stood up and gently set Neal onto his feet. Neal still clung to him, but allowed Dad to walk him out of the door, into the hallway.
By the time we got underway, it was nearly ten o'clock. Even though we drove straight back, with no bathroom breaks or anything, our tires didn't crunch up the gravel of the driveway until about four-thirty in the morning. Neal and I collapsed into my bed and fell directly back to sleep until almost noontime. I actually woke a bit earlier than that, my bladder ready to explode. Returning from the bathroom, as quietly as I could, I climbed back into bed to snuggle up against Neal.
Neal leaned back against me in his sleep, I cradled him against my chest. Instinctively, I reached around his hip and slipped my hand gently into the fly of his flannel pajamas. There, within, I found his warm firmness, which I gripped tightly. He swelled in my hand and moaned softly. Idly, I gently stroked him to full erection, taking my time, in no particular hurry. I simply loved how he huffed softly into my ear. My heart felt close to bursting as I watched him sleep under my protective embrace.
I pressed my own hardness against the warmth of his thigh as I gently pulled his foreskin back and forth over his glans. In rapt fascination, I watched the wrinkled nozzle stretch and retract around his moist knob, only to glide back up and pucker closed once more. Doing this several more times, resulted in a soft, breathy moan from Neal, his penis pulsing strongly in my grip. I took a moment to cup his balls in my palm, gently rolling them between my fingers. I know Neal loves to have his balls played with, his dick became steely and rigid as I did so. His hips started to make slow, subtle gyrations as I fondled him.
Turning my attentions back to his penis, I shifted my position and took him into my mouth. I heard him gasp and it didn't take but a few, languid suckles to make him erupt, and erupt he did. I was almost unprepared for the amount he spurted into my mouth, causing me to choke for a brief second. Driving him deeply into my mouth, I let him fire the rest of his wad down my throat, which made swallowing it easier. He grunted, tossing and turning as I rode with him through his orgasm. Finally, I stopped sucking and just held him in the warmth of my mouth as his breathing returned to normal and his dick slowly subsided.
Neal rolled over and gazed at me for a moment, searching my eyes, almost as looking for my approval. I leaned down and pressed my lips to his, softly. His hands came up and gently held my face as we kissed, I felt salty tears spill across my lips. When I looked up, I saw his bright eyes sparkling with welled up tears.
"Dude," I whispered, "I'm right here, you're in my room and in my bed, you are totally okay."
"Oh Oliver," Neal breathed moistly, and then said nothing more. We looked at each other a little while longer. "I...... uhm...", he stuttered, "I have to pee." I nodded and rolled away so he could climb out of my bed. He did so like a pained, old man; he was even stooped over to a degree.
While Neal was in the bathroom, I heard the stairs creaking. I stuffed my semi-hard dick back into my boxers and pulled the blankets up over me. Mom stepped into the room and sat on the bed.
"Hey Ollie," she said sweetly, "Where's Neal?"
"Bathroom," I mumbled. She nodded in understanding.
"So..." she sighed, "I guess Neal and his mom are going to be staying with us for the time being. She's going to stay in the guest room and Neal is going to continue to bunk with you. Does that seem like a workable arrangement?" Ordinarily, I'd be over the moon, but the situation somehow still seemed fraught with danger. Things were so off-kilter, I hesitated to allow myself take joy from any of it.
"Mom?" I asked, "What happened? I don't understand what's going on." Mom sighed heavily, her brow furrowed, as she thought for a moment.
"Oliver," she said, finally, "Sometimes things happen in families. I think Ned and Terry were having problems anyway, and perhaps Neal getting in trouble at school was sort of a tipping point." Neal appeared at the door, standing there he looked like a little, shirtless, lost waif. His black hair was all akimbo, and his pajama bottoms hung from his hip bones, looking like they might fall off any moment; his fly was unbuttoned, but nothing was visible. The way he looked made my heart ache, I wanted to jump from the bed and somehow enfold him, wrap myself around him and protect him.
"Good morning there, Neal!" Mom said brightly, looking at her watch, "Or should I say, 'good afternoon'?" Neal gave a wan, half-smile.
"Hi."
"So, listen, Neal," my mom, suddenly all business, "Your mother asked me to give you a message to get dressed nicely. After a little lunchie-poo, she and I are going to take you around to Oliver's school and get you enrolled."
"They won't take me either," he said in a sullen, monotonous tone.
"It's a public school, Neal," Mom smiled, "They can't refuse you."
"Neal is going to school with me?" I brightened, sitting up in the bed.
"Yes, Oliver," mom said, "and we're making arrangements for Neal and his mother to rent one of the cabins. You two can be best friends year round!"
For a moment, a saw a flash of a smile from Neal and I felt one dash across my face as well. I wanted to throw off my bedclothes and dance around the room in giddy delight, but I didn't dare.
"Alright then," Mom said, getting up and putting her hand on Neal's shoulder, "I'll expect to see you boys at the kitchen table in a few minutes." She gave Neal a warm hug and playfully scrubbed his messy hair. He didn't react in his usual manner, which would have been to twist away, giggling; he just stood there and accepted her gesture.
I got out of bed, threw on some clothes and then helped Neal pick out an outfit from his suitcase. He looked very sharp, standing there half dressed in a shirt and tie, yet naked from the waist down. I grabbed him a pair of briefs, helped him step into them, and pulled them up, gently tucking him in and kissing his dick through the cloth. I had this crazy desire to lay him down on my bed and make love to him for as long as I could. Unfortunately, being expected at the kitchen table shortly, prevented me from ravishing him right there.
Neal took a pair of dark trousers from his suitcase and slipped them on. Normally, when Neal was dressed like this, he cut a very fine figure, making me pant for him even more. Now his clothes looked like they hung loosely on him, a size too big. I wondered if he'd lost weight.
We both went down to the kitchen to eat lunch. I sat down while Neal's mom hugged him for a long time, rubbing his back. When they broke apart, she smoothed his shirt, adjusted his tie, and tucked his shirt tail into his waistband for him. We mostly ate lunch in quiet before the two moms gathered Neal up and left with him. Dad and Garrett, who had been working on the winter preparations for the whole property, came in to fix themselves lunch and sit with me.
"How goes it, Oliver?" Garrett asked, "Feeling any better after all that doctor stuff?"
"Actually," I shrugged, "I am. I'm hoping we got the medicine right, because it made my thinking all fuzzy and stuff."
"Cool beans," he smiled, "I was worried about you." A warm flush came to my face, it was nice having Garrett say that, especially since we had all worried so much about him after his accident, almost a year earlier. In a weird way, I was happy to be the person Garrett had to worry about now. I'm not sure what I was thinking, my seizure medication, while effective, made me distrust my thoughts at any given moment.
"Dad?" I asked, after discarding the remains of my tuna fish sandwich, "What the heck happened?" My father cast a sidelong glance to Garrett and put his sandwich back onto his plate.
"Well Oliver," he said gravely, "I think I have a better handle on things now, I'm just not sure where to begin."
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