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CHAPTER 11: Chapter Eleven

--CHAPTER ELEVEN --


The sun was setting in the evening sky as Steven looked up from his computer. The orange light through the windows cast long shadows across his writing room and gave it a warm glow that Steven loved.

For the first time in a long time he had had a good workday. He had started early, had a minimum of interruptions, and had made excellent progress on a series of articles he had contracted to do for the Basingstoke Recorder. He reached over and took the last bite of a sandwich he'd slowly been eating all afternoon, and was thinking of rewarding himself with a cup of tea, when he heard a rather tentative knock at the door.

"Probably Mark and Wendy popping by", he said to himself, smiling, as he walked through his sitting room to the door. "Linda's got them on high alert."

He didn't bother looking through the viewer, but instead yanked the door open, and was about to offer his friends a cheerful "Hi" when he saw the ashen face of John Dixon.

"John--?"

"Steve, I-- Could I talk to you for a minute? John asked nervously.

Steven shook his head and replied, "John, I really don't think---"

"Please-- just-- just for a minute. I won't stay long." He looked up with pleading eyes.

"Okay, all right," Steven nodded, unconvinced that this was wise. "Come in."

John entered slowly and looked around the room. "Mmm, nice place."

"Um, thanks. Have a seat," Steven replied, gesturing toward the sofa. Then, noticing John's nervousness, Steven asked, "Would you like a cup of tea? I was just about to make some."

"No, no thanks. I don't want to impose."

Steven thought how strange this sounded coming from the John Dixon he remembered. Why, the John Dixon he knew was used to being served. The John Dixon he knew assumed himself to be the center of attention.

"Steve, I-- I just wanted to say something, um, to-- to tell you something, and you don't have to respond. You don't have to reply. Just hear me out, that's all I ask." John's voice was quivering. "Just hear me out."

"All right." Steven replied gently, furrowing his brow, and taking a seat across from John. He wondered what could have John Dixon this shaken.

"I don't know how to begin," John said, sitting forward, his hand on his forehead. "I really don't know how to begin," he said, shaking his head and giving a feeble laugh. "For twenty-two years I've longed to see you, to tell you--" His eyes looked down and his voice cracked.

"John, you don't have to--" Steven said softly, sitting forward in his chair.

"No. Just, just hear me out. Please," John said, holding back tears. "I want to tell you --need to tell you-- how sorry I am, how sorry I've always been, about what happened at school. Well, not only what happened --what I did to you-- in the locker room-- but also sorry that I wasn't man enough to stand up with you, and speak up with you when you made your speech." John's eyes searched the floor. "And, most of all, sorry that I wasn't courageous enough, and honest enough ...to keep...your love." With those words John's moist eyes began to silently shed the tears they had so long held in reserve.

Steven held himself still, part of him longing to rush to John's side, to put an arm around him, to wipe away the tears and hold him quietly against his shoulder. But another part of Steven knew instinctively that this was something that John had to do himself, a catharsis of sorts. And, it was something that Steven himself had waited a long time to hear. He knew John needed to say it, and he knew he deserved to hear it.

"Steven, I really did love you, and I was so foolish, so very foolish," John said shaking his head and wiping at his eyes with his hands. "Damn! Why is it you never have an handkerchief when you need one!"

Steven reached across to the lower shelf of an end table for some tissues, and passed them to John.

"Thanks." John paused. "Steve, what I want you to know is that-" John took a long breath and looked deeply into Steven's eyes, "--I still love you."

"John--" Steven started to reply.

John held up a hand to stop him, "No, please don't say anything. Just...just think about it," he said, still wiping at his eyes. "I've kicked it, fought it, and foolishly tried to ignore it, but that love has been there, all these years... like a, like a flame that just wouldn't go out," John continued, his voice breaking again. "I've always loved you. There hasn't been a week that has gone by that I haven't thought of you, wondered how you were, imagined what you were doing, wished I could see you, and wondered if maybe someday there'd be a chance, even just the smallest of chances---"

John pulled another tissue and tried to regain some of his composure. "Look, I know I have no right at all to come here and tell you this. I have no right to even see you, much less ask to be a mate or, or anything else. And if I told you I'd changed, I couldn't expect you to believe that, either."

"Still, I wanted you to know. I had to let you know." John paused. "I would give anything if I could go back and undo my youthful stupidity, the arrogance of thinking that everything and everyone had to be sorted into just the proper bins. The arrogance that John 'Superman' Dixon had it all together. The lie of denying the love that I felt. And the terrible waste of living in such fear." John looked down again.

"And then..." John's chin began to quiver, "...losing ...you..." He started to sob softly again.

Steven felt tears welling up in his eyes too, but couldn't speak.

"And, and when you gave that speech," John continued, his voice breaking, "part of me was so proud of you. I mean something deep down inside me, a part of me that I denied-- a part of me that I feared. So proud of you. So proud of us. I wasn't angry with you, I was angry with me. God, you were so perfect. You were everything I wasn't. You were the 'Superman'. I was such a bastard. So arrogant and afraid. But, Steven, you made me proud-- proud of you, and proud that what we had was real, and good-- even though I was too much of a coward to speak out, or face anyone." He looked up into Steven's eyes, "Somewhere deep, deep within me, I was so very, very proud."

John stood up, taking a deep breath, his face streaked with new tears, and stepped over to Steven.

"Jo-" Steven stood and tried to speak but his own tears choked the words.

John put a finger gently up to Steven's lips, silencing them. "That's what I came to say---" he said quietly, his fingers gently caressing Steven's face, "I was proud of-- US."

Then he turned quickly, and before Steven could reply, he was gone.