The Morning After

At seven-fifteen in the morning, an unbidden shaft of sunlight found its way through a gap in the drapes and illuminated Brendan's eyelids, resulting in a groan and a loud expletive including the word "Fuck!"

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Brendan lifted his head from the pillow and gazed around the room The pink wallpaper and rattan furniture looked familiar, but for the life of him he couldn't remember where he was. Of one thing he was certain, that this was not his dorm room.

When Brendan had a hangover -- a really bad, head-throbbing hangover -- he sometimes found it helpful to close his eyes and let his mind wander until he found something very clear and definite in his memory. This morning, the last thing he remembered clearly was his organic chemistry exam. So he concentrated on that, as distasteful as it was, and thought about balancing carbon-chain reactions. And soon the fog started to lift.

First he remembered finishing his mid-term exams, and then he remembered packing his bag and getting into a car with his buddy, Joe. He remembered driving endlessly south on I-95, hour after hour and all through the night, until arriving in Daytona Beach, where thousands of oiled young bodies were laying on the sandy beaches and palm trees were waving in the breeze, and Harley Davidsons filled the air with lusty roars. Finally, he remembered checking into a grungy motel at the end of the strip called "Forty Winks, AAA-Approved," and going with Joe to the nearest bar where kegs were lined along the wall like foot soldiers, ready to sacrifice their lives for a noble cause.

Brendan smiled. No wonder his head hurt and his bladder felt like an overstretched balloon. "Must have been a pretty good party, " he chuckled.

Hearing the sound of a grunt, Brendan looked down and saw his roommate, Joe, on the floor beside the bed, and suddenly remembered something else that happened. Something between Joe and him. But his memory was so foggy--what was it?

Joe had been Brendan's roommate and buddy in college for almost two years. Just now he was curled on the floor snoring peacefully with his curly-haired head on a beach towel. He was wearing only a pair of navy blue briefs which were tugged so far down that Brendan could see the crack of his hairy ass. That in itself wasn't too remarkable, but Brendan also noticed that his own underpants were lying on the floor beside the bed, and Brendan wasn't in the habit of sleeping in the buff. What had happened?

He picked up his briefs and sniffed them Definitely used.

With growing uneasiness, he got a pair of clean underwear from his duffel bag and went into the bathroom.

"My God!" he whispered, washing his face. "My God, tell me we didn't do what I think we did!" The shock of cold water on his cheeks seemed to bring back some details that Brendan would have preferred not to remember. Turning to the toilet, he pulled down his briefs and aimed a long, powerful stream into the bowl. When his bladder was emptied he shook himself and looked down, studying his penis for a moment before tucking it away. Then as he brushed his teeth and combed his fine blond hair, he thought maybe it was all a dream. Maybe nothing funky had happened with Joe, he told himself. Maybe he just had some fucked-up dream after drinking too much on an empty stomach. But certain images in his head seemed too real. The more he thought about it, the more certain, and uncomfortable, he became.

When Brendan came out of the bathroom, Joe was sitting up on the side of the bed stretching his arms and yawning. He looked up and grinned.

"Hey, dude, how you feeling this morning?" he asked pleasantly.

"About like you'd expect," Brendan muttered.

"We got pretty trashed last night, didn't we?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," answered Brendan.

A long silence followed in which neither young man spoke, and the air in the room seemed so thick that Brendan thought he might faint. He walked over to the air conditioner and fiddled with the knobs without effect.

"I can't believe it, this AC is broken," he said. "What a fucking dump."

Meanwhile, Joe went into the bathroom and splashed some water in the sink. "We can call the front desk. They'll send somebody to fix it, " he yelled. A few minutes later he came out and sat on the bed again, and looked at Brendan.. "Listen, dude. About last night ---"

Brendan felt a knot in his stomach and turned away to avoid Joe's eyes. "I was drunk out of my mind last night, man. I don't know what the hell I -- or you – were doing. Whatever happened, maybe we should just forget about it, okay?"

Joe pursed his lips. "Are you sure? Don't you think we should talk about it?"

"No."

"It might be a good idea to –"

"Forget it, dammit! There's nothing to talk about because NOTHING HAPPENED. Zip! Nada! Do you get it?" Brendan snarled.

"Whatever you say, dude," said Joe quietly. He looked as though he had been slapped in the face, and turned away.

After getting dressed, the boys left their motel room and walked to a diner across the street for breakfast. They sat in a small booth in the back of the diner and ate mostly in silence, exchanging only an occasional, recriminating glance.

After the waitress refilled their coffee cups for the third time, Brendan couldn't stand it any more. He looked across the booth at his roomie and blurted, "Look, I'm sorry, dude. Okay? I didn't mean to snap at you this morning."

"That's all right," said Joe, in a calm, sarcastic tone. "I think I understand. Pretend that nothing happened and life goes on as normal. That's the Irish way, isn't it?"

"Fuck you," said Brendan. "I really hate when you take that tone. Maybe you wouldn't understand, being a dago and all, but I'm embarrassed. Nothing like this ever happened to me before. In fact, I'm totally freaked out."

"Which is why I thought we ought to talk about it," said Joe.

"I'm not even sure what happened last night, and I sure-as-shit don't know what we should talk about. How can you sit there and not be embarrassed?"

Joe shook his head. "Dude, we're buddies, aren't we? Roomies? We've been through a lot together. We've cribbed notes for each other, we've smelled each other's dirty socks and bad breath, so please don't give me that crap about being too embarrassed to talk."

"Fine," said Brendan. "You wanna talk? We'll talk!"

"We can't talk here. Let's go outside," said Joe.

They left the diner and started walking along the beach. Most of the college kids and motorcycle show-offs were still sleeping off their hangovers at that hour and the beach was mostly empty except for a few senior citizens walking their dogs. It was a beautiful morning with a clear, blue sky and a soft breeze blowing in from the ocean, carrying the plaintive sound of sea gulls.

Walking along the edge of the water, Brendan sighed and shook his head. "I was so drunk last night, I'm not sure what happened when we left the bar. Just tell me what happened, okay?"

"Sure, if I can. You weren't the only one blasted, you know," said Joe. "We stayed at that bar until the kegs ran dry and I think we left about two o'clock. There were a couple chicks outside with us. We were talking to them and they were laughing because you said you didn't know where our motel was. I'm not sure where they went. We were kind of stumbling around and holding each other up, you know? Then we finally found the room and started talking about which of us would get the bed. We started getting undressed and -- well, I guess one thing kind of led to another."

Brendan watched a line of foam and bubbles disappear into the sand. "We were fooling around," he said, "and you sort of hugged me or something."

"Yeah," said Joe. "And you hugged me back."

"And you touched me, didn't you. I could hardly believe you did that. But you started touching me. You know where."

"Yeah," said Joe. "Maybe I got a little carried away."

They stopped walking and Brendan gazed toward the undulating waves on the horizon. He swallowed hard, trying to get the words to come out, but found it difficult. "So we were messing around on the bed and I think you---you went down on me, didn't you?"

"Yeah," said Joe. "I didn't think you'd mind."

"Mind? Jesus Christ!" said Brendan. He grunted nervously and shuddered as he remembered how Joe tugged down his briefs and slid between his legs. "Jesus, I couldn't believe how that felt when you... well, you know."

"I hope you liked it," said Joe. "It seemed like you enjoyed it."

"Nobody ever did that to me before, dude."

"Really?"

"Unh-uh. That was like unbelievable! Was that your first time doing that?

"Sort of," said Joe. "To tell the truth I did it a couple times before. Not many."

Brendan stared at his roommate with a look of deep disapproval. "Dude, you never told me you were gay."

For the first time, Joe looked embarrassed. "I don't know. I think maybe I'm bi, but I'm not really sure. This is all pretty new to me. Lots of guys get turned that way, or so I've heard." He paused and looked at Brendan, but seeing no reaction went on: "I'm sorry, dude. I should have told you before. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd get mad or hate me. I guess I just lost control last night." His face clouded over. "Please don't hate me, Brendan. That would be the worst. I don't think I could stand it."

"Don't be an ass," said Brendan. A small wave washed over their feet and his eyes suddenly filled with tears, whether of embarrassment or a release of tension, he couldn't say. He looked at his dark-haired roommate and knew they would always be friends no matter what happened. And on some level he knew that if he, Brendan, had been a better friend, maybe things wouldn't have happened this way. Part of him wanted to reach out and give his friend a hug, but another part wanted to turn away and hide. He felt, in other words, utterly confused.

"What are we going to do now?" he asked.

The little room at the Forty Winks felt like an oven when they returned. Brendan finally got the air conditioner running with a couple of hard kicks, and as he stepped back from the window he bumped into Joe, which gave him a start. But he had no words to break the tension.

Silently Joe pulled the drapes closed and fastened the door chain, and when he completed those tasks he met Brendan in the middle of the room where they stared uncertainly at each other.

Brendan punched Joe's arm. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," said Joe. "Are you okay? Are you sure about this?"

"As a matter of fact, I feel like an idiot," said Brendan. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Me neither," agreed Joe. "The important thing is to relax, I guess. Whatever happens happens."

"You really should have told me, dude. This might be easier if you had told me."

"You mean, like -- 'Hey dude, I think you're hot, let's make out?"

Despite his nervousness, Brendan laughed.

When Brendan felt Joe's soft lips press against his mouth, the world again turned upside down. His stomach went queasy like it did on a roller coaster ride, and he had an urge to run and jump out a window. Then he felt a sudden heat and tightness in his pants and he began melting quickly into that forbidden world of man-love, where kisses occur behind locked doors and caresses seem more dream than reality. But this dream was real. It seemed as though all his senses had come alive. His skin prickled and his nostrils flared.

Brendan heard Joe close to his ear, whispering, "You don't have to do anything if you don't want, Brendan. I'll go down on you again if you want me to. I'll blow you."

"Fuck you!" said Brendan, and pushed Joe angrily onto the bed. Then after a few seconds he crawled onto the bed beside Joe so that they were facing each other, chests rising and falling in unison. He looked into Joe's intense, questioning brown eyes.

"It's okay. It's just so fucking hot in here, " said Brendan, pulling at his shirt. "I'm sweating to death." And, indeed, rivulets of perspiration were dripping from his smooth face. "You've gotta understand, I'm only doing this if we're together on it. You and me, we do it together."

Watching Joe unbutton his jeans, Brendan bit his lower lip and ran a finger hesitantly along the side of Joe's leg. Joe could see where his eyes were going and pulled down his zipper. "It's okay," he said quietly. "You can touch anything you want. We're on spring break here, dude."

His heart pounding, Brendan slipped his hand inside Joe's briefs and touched his friend's manhood for the very first time. He held onto it and felt it throb as Joe clutched his arm. Then, almost frantically, the boys stripped off the rest of their clothes and rolled naked together on the bed, intoxicating themselves in the sweaty smells and hardness of each other's bodies.

Later, when Brendan was feeling more relaxed and comfortable, he bent down and took the tip of Joe's penis into his mouth. He wanted to show Joe that they were still friends. Joe let out a deep, animal-like growl that sounded like a Harley Davidson gunning down the strip, and Brendan smiled.

Spring break would never be the same.