Festival Of Lights

"I think it's time for liquid refreshment," Charles called out as he led me away from the pastry vendor.  "Pick your poison, we have beer to the left, wine to the right, and virgin drinks straight ahead."

"I can't stand the smell of beer, and I've never tasted a wine that I liked, so I guess….  Wait a minute; did you just say virgin drinks?" I questioned.

"I was referring to non-alcoholic beverages, not your life experience," he explained.

"I didn't care about that," I shrugged.  "I just didn't understand the terminology."

"I take it then that you have had a fairly sheltered life?" Charles asked with a smile.  "Your parents were really protective of your innocence."

"My family was in an auto accident when I was very young," I answered.  "My parents were both killed.  No one in my family wanted to or was able to take me in, so I was brought up in the Baptist Children's Home."

"I'm sorry," Charles said. "I didn't mean to bring up a painful subject."

"It's alright," I assured him.  "You can't miss what you never had, or at least don't remember."

"I sometimes wish I couldn't remember my parents," Charles mused aloud.  "They sure weren't the quality time types.  My parents are incredibly intelligent people who planned every aspect of my life that they could around the concept that I would inherit the best of their genes."

I made a show of looking at his pants as I told him, "They look brand new, I never would have guessed they were hand me downs."  Charles almost choked on his bite of pastry he laughed so hard.

"You are such a funny guy," he finally wheezed.  "You should enter a talent contest or something."

"I did that once when I was in high school," I told him.  "My jokes went over great with the other kids, but I wasn't so popular with the establishment.  They were the butt of most of the humor."

"I can see where that would be a problem," Charles observed.  "Did you get in much trouble?"

"No real trouble, but I had problems getting permission to go on outings after that," I answered.  "Baptists are really good at holding grudges."

"I've heard that about them before," Charles pointed out.  I nodded my head in agreement.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready for that drink now," I said more cheerfully than I actually felt at that moment.  The topic of conversation had depressed me a bit, and I was anxious to put it behind me.  "Start guiding, guide."

"You haven't told me yet if you're a virgin," Charles smirked.

"Just when I thought the conversation couldn't get any more depressing," I mumbled.

"I'm sorry," Charles said immediately.  "That was out of line.  I shouldn't have said anything."  I looked into his face as best as I could while he tried his best to avoid my gaze.

"It isn't your fault," I told him.  "It's the answer that bothers me, not the question."

"You're absolutely right," he agreed too quickly.  "It's none of my business."

"I didn't say that," I corrected him.  "I just am ashamed to admit that I'm….."

"LALALALALALA!" Charles blurted with his ears plugged.  "I can't hear you."

I couldn't help myself.  I hadn't seen anyone do that since I was in the fourth grade and living in the Children's Home.  I didn't even try to stop myself, either.  I started laughing.

"Ok, I get the message," I told him, still giggling.  "I won't tell you what you asked.  I'll just tell you I want an iced tea to drink."

"Really!?" he asked me back, his eyes wide.

"That's what I want all right," I confirmed.  "I told you I don't like beer and I've never tasted a wine that I cared for either."  The shock in his face turned to disappointment rather quickly when he realized I hadn't told him anything about myself after all.

"An ice tea for you, and some strawberry wine for me," Charles announced.  "I'll be back with those shortly.  You wait here."

"I promise to wait right here," I said, as I gave him the Boy Scout salute.  As he walked away, I snuck a look at his backside for as long as I could see it in the crowd.  I'm gay and he's cute.  He was walking away, so he wouldn't know.

"He does have a nice ass, doesn't he?" I whirled around to see Marta standing beside me.  I panicked.  I tried to say something in my defense, but I couldn't get my voice to work.  What if she told Charles that I was looking at him?  He would never speak to me again at best, and at worst….  Well, I couldn't tell how bad it would be, but I have a very vivid imagination.  My stomach started churning.  I could feel the urge to throw up growing stronger every moment.  My eyes darted around the area close to me.  Finally I saw the public toilets (read porta-pottie) on the sidewalk across the street.  Ignoring Marta and everyone else around me, I ran for them.

As I dove inside the filthy little blue hut, I heard a strange sound like the backfire of a car in the distance.  It repeated a couple of times before I realized that it wasn't a car at all.  Someone was shooting a gun.  Just as I realized what was happening, a lot of other people must have done so as well.  I heard a lot of screaming outside the toilet.

The screams were followed by sirens, which grew steadily louder until they sounded as if they were inside my head.  I confess I was too terrified to open the door of the little building I was now inside, hiding.  I changed my mind when I heard a particular pair of voices outside.

"Marta, where is Charles?" a woman's voice asked.  "I heard you and he came together today."

"We rode together, but we got separated right after we got here," Marta replied.  "What the hell is going on here?"

"A certain drunken Santa Claus started getting a little too rowdy," was the answer.  "When the sheriff got there, instead of settling down, he got worse."

"Was he the one doing the shooting?" Marta gasped.  I didn't hear the answer to this question, but I heard the next comment loud and clear.  "Oh shit, we've got to find Charles.  Please God; don't let him have been there."

"What is going on, Marta?" I demanded as I stepped out of my blue box.  "What are you talking about?"

"Someone Charles knows tried to start some trouble," she explained as she grabbed my hand.  She started pulling me along with her as we ran through the crowded street fair.  "Don't let go of me," she called to me over the noise of the crowd.  "Where did you last see him?"

"He was going to get us some drinks," I replied.  "He headed off this direction, but he disappeared into the crowd."

"That's right, that's when I walked up and caught you staring at his butt," she said a bit louder than my comfort zone could handle.  I started to let go of her hand and run away again.  "No, you don't.  I only want to look for one person at a time," Marta scolded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tried to deny.  She didn't buy it.

"You are lying, and you're not good at it," she told me frankly.  "I don't have time to get into your issues right now.  I just want to find Charles and make sure he's alright."

"I'm sure your boyfriend is fine," I said as I dodged my way through people who had enough sense to be headed the other way.  We were like salmon swimming upstream.

"He's not my boyfriend," she snapped.  "Not that I didn't want him to be when I first met him.  He is a hunk, isn't he?"

"He's attractive, I suppose," I tried to sound less impressed than I was.  I apparently failed.

"You are a lousy liar," she laughed at me.  "You can admit that you like him.  I already know you do, and it obviously doesn't bother me."

"That's easy for you to say," I snapped.  "You're not a fag."

Marta suddenly stopped short.  I bounced off her because I couldn't stop in time.  She glared at me harshly.

"You aren't one of those, either," she growled.  "Don't ever let me hear you say that word again.  I will knock a knot on your head the size of a softball, get me?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said with a small smile.  "You really care about Charles, don't you?" I questioned her.  She nodded in response.

"He and I have been through a lot in this crappy little town," she confided in me.  "He was there for me when I needed him, and I've been there for him.  He's my best friend, in fact he's just about my only friend."

"I can't imagine that," I told her with a smirk.  "I think that just might change someday real soon."

"You think so?" she returned with equal sarcasm.  "We'll just see about that.  For now, I want to make sure Charles is alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?" We both turned to see him standing beside us.  "I'm sorry about the drinks.  When the shooting started, people started panicking all around me, and they knocked the drinks out of my hands."

"I don't care about the drinks," I told him honestly.  "I'm just glad to see you're alright."

"I was nowhere near the booth where the idiot with the gun was going crazy," he told us.

"I'll bet you weren't," Marta growled at him.  "You know who the idiot was, don't you?"

"Some guy in a Santa suit," he said casually.  I couldn't tell if he knew any more than that or not.

"It was some drunken guy in a Santa suit," I supplied.  "Marta said you knew him."

"Oh, and just what else did Marta tell you about me?" he asked, with an unexpected coldness in his voice.

"Nothing really," I said quietly.  His tone had surprised me and hurt just a little.

"Yeah, right," he retorted.  "She thinks she is helping me out by telling every gu… everyone I meet."

"I didn't tell him anything except that you are my friend," Marta said with a lot of emotion in her voice.  "I didn't realize that I was wrong about that," she added as she dropped my hand finally and took off away from us.

"Damn," Charles said as he started after her.  I didn't know what else to do, but follow them.  "Marta, wait!" he called.

"Leave me alone, Charles," she yelled back.  "I don't want to bother you anymore."

"Hey, you two!" I hollered.  "I am getting lost here.  If you're going to fight, at least take me back to my car so I can leave you both here."  They both stopped and turned to stare at me.  "Don't give me the looks.  You two know something that you're not telling me, and I don't appreciate secrets.  If you just wanted the ride to your old hometown, you could have said so.  You didn't have to act like you wanted to be friends."

"I do want to be your friend," Charles insisted.  "I like…. I mean…."

"Charles, do you like me?" I confronted him.  "I want a real answer, the truth."

"I'm gay," he confessed, looking at the ground.  "I think you are a really special guy and I want to get to know you better."

"How much better?" I quizzed him.  "I guess I should confess to you too.  I'm also gay."

"You are?" His smile was blinding, and I could feel my own beginning to spread across my face.

"Ok, we have established the obvious," Marta piped up.  Charles and I both turned to glare at her.  "Well, I'm sorry, but I'd have to have been blind not to notice the way that you two have been mooning over one another for the last few weeks."

"I have not mooned anybody," he defended with a pout.

"Me either," I added with a puppy-dog face of my own.

"I'm going to regret helping you two get together," Marta moaned as she looked from one of us to the other.

"But you know you love us," Charles whined as he lay his head on her shoulder.  I immediately did the same on her other side.

"Get off me, you... you boys, you.  I'm gonna get cooties," she said with a shudder.  We were all laughing as she led us down to a grassy spot near a bridge.

"Aren't we leaving now?" I asked as they sat down.  "Isn't the festival going to close?"

"You think that's the first time some idiot started shooting at this festival?" Marta asked.

"Yeah, with this many rednecks in one place at the same time, I'd say we're in for another before the night's over," Charles added.  I stared hard at him to see if he were joking or not.  The problem with staring at him was I started getting distracted by how cute he was.

"If you're going to pitch a tent, the least you could do is get one bigger than the front of your pants so it would cover us all," Marta teased.  I sat down very quickly with a very red face.