If You Could Do It Again... Ch. 01-02

`There's the bastard now.' Paul thought. If this was his dream, why wasn't the asshole still dead?

"Traps were empty. We don't have no food for tonight." Eddie Stark said without preamble or emotion.

Eddie was a large man, standing six foot three with wide shoulders and hands like bear paws. His hair was as unkempt as his wife's and his beard hadn't been tended to in sometime. His clothes were stained, though clean and mostly threadbare. Paul felt his body shake as he took in the sight of his father, a sight he had not seen in over twenty years, and didn't know whether he shook with fear or anger. Eddie glanced over at Paul and swept a large arm to knock him off the chair.

"You know that's where I sit, boy." Eddie said and grabbed the chair from the floor to sit at the table.

Paul lay on the floor for a minute with a hand held over his bruised jaw. His mother made no comment and gave no look or indication that she had even noticed but stood to fetch his father a cup of coffee. `It's definitely anger.' Paul thought as his body shook even harder. He was going to kill the bastard if he didn't leave and soon. He stood and headed to the door but his father's query stopped him before he could escape.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"I have to piss." Paul said trying to keep the resentment out of his voice.

"Hurry up. You're going to get food from old Mrs. Welch."

Paul's stomach clenched. He had totally forgotten about that. Forgotten or blocked it out. His father had made him beg for food from Mrs. Welch, an elderly woman who worked for the church. She would give it to him, but she would also let everyone in town know that his family had required charity again and isn't it nice that Jesus and his church could help such low life's as the Starks. It was an embarrassment that he hadn't needed then and sure as shit didn't need now.

Paul left the shack and stepped out into the heat of the day. He looked up into the canopy of trees above him and saw the bright sun shining down. It was still low in the sky which meant it was early, but it was unusually hot. The budding leaves on the trees seemed to suggest early spring, such as May but the sweat still dripping from his brow told a different story. Then a distant memory crept up into the forefront of his mind. There had been one early spring that they had been hit with a heatwave that had gripped the Northeast for weeks. The year was nineteen seventy nine. The year he had almost graduated from high school. It was also the year that he had run away from home after his father had found the first of his letters to Dylan and had read it with the help of his mother. This was the worst year of his life.

Paul pulled his fly open, took his penis in his hand and let go with a stream of urine that had been straining against his bladder. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Why was he dreaming about this year? Why not a better time, like the year he had finally broken a million? Why not relive the day that he had spent the day fucking two Spanish sailors who had been on leave in Buenos Aires? Why this day? He knew why of course. He had asked for it. With Todd's instigation and question would he do it all again, Paul had been thinking of this particular time in his life. Now he was just going to have relive the past with all he knew of the future. Paul smiled. It could be fun.

He finished pissing and put his penis back in his shorts, then headed off through the woods towards town. `Let's go see the old bitch, Mrs. Welch.' He thought. It took him a half an hour to climb down the mountain and walk into the small municipality that was known as Denniston. Most of the people from the surrounding area lived in the few blocks of the town proper which left the woods, hills and other areas for the poorer "lower class" people. The higher up the mountain you were, the more of an "undesirable" you became. No one lived higher up than the Starks.

Paul reached town and walked down the main street toward the old lady's house who lived just opposite the Lutheran, and only church in town. He walked up the back steps to her house as had been his habit when he was younger and knocked. It took a few minutes for the old bat to answer the door.

"Here for food, I guess." She said as a statement not a question.

"Yup, I am." Paul answered brightly. He no longer cared what this woman thought of him for a number of reasons but his favorites were because; he would go on to accumulate a hell of a lot of money in his life, and because she was a long dead and rotting corpse.

Her face showed her surprise and distaste at his boldness but again he didn't care.

"Who is it?!" Called the voice of Mrs. Welch's sister-in-law who had lived with her since the death of her husband. He had actually never seen Mrs. Welch's sister-in-law, for to his knowledge, she never left the living room and he was never allowed further in than the kitchen.

"It's the Stark boy!" Mrs. Welch answered.

"Again?! Wasn't he just here the other day? You'd think trash like that could stretch our charity a little more and make it last longer."

Paul stepped into the kitchen as Mrs. Welch held the door open for him.

"Trash is as trash does." She answered her sister-in-law as she began putting cans and packages of food into a small paper bag. "They ain't got no consideration."

"You know there are other hungry people in our area. It's not just your ilk. You don't even go to church and thank Jesus for what he gives you."

"Can you just please give me the food without your hypocritical preaching, stereotypical judgements and general nastiness? I'd be much obliged." Paul said with a charming smile.

The old woman handed over the bag of food with a confused look on her face but didn't say a word as the young man left.

"What did he say?" Asked her sister-in-law from the other room.

"Something about our stereo." Mrs. Welch called back, still confused.

Paul took the food and wandered about town feeling it strange to walk down roads and by houses that no longer existed. He remembered the people who lived in each and funny stories about them. Like the time the Mrs. Zimmerman ran about the yard with a rolling pin after her husband who had left his tractor carburetor in her kitchen sink one too many times. Or the time that Cindy Burwell was caught with the minister's son, who was engaged to another young woman, in the back shed. And being of a lower caste in the town and thought of as invisible he knew an awful lot of their secrets. He knew that Mr. Preet would make advances toward the young boys of his boy scout troop during camping trips and that Mrs. Rowe had an affair with Mr. Arlin while her husband was away on a business trip.

Paul stopped in front of one house, a large white house with blue shutters and a lawn gnome. It was Dylan's house. Though he had grown up with Dylan and even been his friend, he had never stepped inside. The inside of houses in town were not for the likes of people such as him. It was sometimes an unspoken rule, but often people had said it outright to his face.

"Is there something you needed?" An irritated voice pulled him from his thoughts and he turned and saw Dylan's mother and younger sister walking up the side walk toward their house.

"No, Mrs. Boch. I was just..." Despite the fact that he looked like an eighteen year old, Paul knew he was fifty years old and shouldn't be intimidated by this woman and yet he found himself exactly that. "Is Dylan home?"

"No. He's not." She said shortly.

"Would you tell him I stopped by?"

"No." She said as she brushed by him and started up their walk way. "I won't."

Dylan's younger sister came to stand next to Paul and they both watched the older woman make her way to the house.

"I'm sorry she's such a bitch." Laura Boch apologized.

Paul remembered that she had only been a year or two younger than he and Dylan and like Dylan, had always treated Paul as if he were a person.

"It's not your fault. Most of the town was that way." He caught himself. "Is that way."

"It doesn't make it right." Laura said.

"Laura! Come inside now!" Mrs. Boch yelled from the front porch.

"All right mom." She answered before turning back to Paul. "Dylan's up at Baker's pond swimming."

"Thanks." Paul said and headed back up the mountain to the little swimming hole.

His shack was on the way, so he stopped by to drop off the food. Paul's father wasn't there for which he was grateful.

"This is all they gave you?" Connie asked as she scanned the contents of the bag.

"You know old Mrs. Welch, she's a fucking rag. Treated me like shit to get that much." Paul took a swig from the bucket they kept filled with stream water.

"They're getting cheap in their old age." Connie said as she wondered how this little amount of food was going to satisfy her husband. It looked like she and Paul would go hungry again tonight. "I can't wait till they die and someone else takes over the Church's pantry."

"Yeah, well they're going to hold on for a good many years yet. It's all the piss and vinegar." Paul said.

"You say that like you know when they're gonna die." Connie mentioned and Paul paused realizing it wasn't a good idea to let his mother know that he did know when they all were going to die. Even if this was a dream, it was best to act like everything was normal. Or most things, anyway.

"No, it's just our luck that they won't die till for a while yet." Paul said and saw his mother accept his explanation. "Where's Eddie?"

"Red rock." His mother said simply.

Red rock was where Eddie Stark kept his still and brewed his form of moonshine. Most likely he would come home wasted and be in a piss poor mood looking to fight.

"Will you be ok if I don't come home tonight?" He asked.

"I'll be fine. That'll actually leave more food for your father and if he's not hungry he won't be so bad." She answered.

"Well, eat a little yourself before he comes home. He won't miss it if it's not here." Paul advised.

"If I eat something what's left might not be enough for him. He'll get ornery."

"If what's left isn't enough for him what's there now won't help and he'll probably get ornery either way. Would you rather be hungry or not hungry when you get beat?"

"I suppose." Connie answered, impressed by her son's point of view.

She glanced at him and thought he was different today. She wasn't sure how, but he seemed a man grown, more mature. When he turned in the light she almost caught a glimpse of what he would look like when he was older. She knew she had no right to be proud of him and that the little good he would have in his life couldn't be attributed to her, but she felt it anyway. Her son was going to be a strong man, not like her or her husband. He would be smart and he would get very far away from this hard, dirty life they lived. She felt almost as much anger toward him for it as she did joy.

"You should leave." Connie said, embarrassed by her thoughts. "Be far gone before he gets back."

"He won't be back till the sun goes down. It's not even noon." Paul said.

"Well, maybe I don't want you around. You ever think of that?" She said testily.

"Fine. I'll be back tomorrow." Paul said, though he doubted she even cared.

It was only a twenty minute walk to Baker's pond and the sun was high in the sky by the time Paul arrived. He heard the splashing of many people swimming and realized that he was standing in the same spot where he had watched Dylan and his friends swimming so many years ago. This was the day that Paul had written his first letter to the love of his life. The letter that was found by his parents and was responsible for the beating he received that made him flee to New York.

He peaked through the brush, saw his classmates and for a quick minute his stomach was clenched with a familiar hesitancy. It was a feeling that came over him when people he thought of as his betters were around. He had learned it in these very hills and it had lasted through much of his adult life, till he realized that no one knew where he was from or who he had been then. The Paul Edward Stark of Denniston had died when he had moved away and been reborn in Paul E. Stark of Manhattan. But today, this crazy day, he was that boy again and subject to those feelings of insecurity.

Paul shook his head and forced himself to remember that he was a fifty year old man who had left behind his near illiteracy and his poverty to be the man he was.... well, yesterday. He could handle a bunch of adolescents and anything they threw at him and come out smiling. He could handle this.

"Come on, losers!! Get in the water!" Called an achingly familiar voice.

Paul glanced again through the leaves and watched Dylan fly through the air holding the rope swing, let go and splash down into the water. He came up moments later and walked up the shore of the pond. Water dripped down his young, muscular body and glinted on his skin. Dylan's build was similar to Paul's as they were the same height but Dylan was slightly slimmer and more muscular. While Paul's hair was jet black, Dylan's was a lighter brown and gave him a softer look from his own sharp qualities. Even his personality was comfortable and put people at ease. He radiated friendship and inspired loyalty. It was hard not to love Dylan Boch and Paul knew he wasn't the only one who did.

"Dylan, stay away!" The young woman screeched as Dylan came toward her. From the mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes, Paul knew he meant to toss her in the water.

The young woman was Sarah Tolling and she had been Dylan's unofficial girlfriend since sophomore year. Whenever Paul had asked Dylan about her, he had always shrugged his shoulders and smirked.

"Not ready to get tied down yet." He had answered and Paul's heart would skip a beat.

The chase didn't last long and Dylan picked Sarah up and tossed her into the pond to the hoots of laughter from his friends. Sarah came up shrieking.

"Dylan, you asshole! I didn't want to get wet!" She shouted.

"Why did you come then?" Dylan asked in answer. "It's a swimming hole. You're supposed to go swimming."

Paul watched them for a moment more and then drummed up some courage to step out into the open. He wasn't afraid of Dylan's friends, but was nervous to see Dylan himself. He took a breath and walked toward them.

"Oh no! Look who it is." Paul overheard one of the group say.

He ignored the comment and it's speaker and made his way over to Dylan.

"Hey."

"Hey Paul! How's it going?" Dylan was the only one genuinely happy to see him, of that Paul was certain.

"Good. Just running around. It's hot today." He answered and felt a little abashed that he was fumbling like the eighteen year old he looked like.

"Uh duh, Einstein." Mark Van White sneered. "It's called a swimming hole. You go there when it's really hot out."

"Hey Mark, why don't you shut the fuck up and let the big people talk, ok? I'd appreciate that, buddy." Paul dropped the command with just a hint of a smile which really pissed Mark off.

"What did you say to me, dirtbag?"

"I said, shut the fuck up..." Paul repeated his comment slowly as if talking to an imbecile. He had to admit, it did feel good finally speaking his mind to these little shits.

Mark walked forward and stood in Paul's face but Paul didn't back down.

"You want to repeat that, ass wipe?" Mark whispered, threateningly.

"I already said it twice. Are you not hearing it or not understanding it?" Paul smiled back.

"Hey, guys. Why don't we all just take a step back and cool off?" Dylan recommended, stepping in between the two. "This pond's big enough for all of us."

"No, Dylan. I don't think it is. Besides, he's trash. I don't swim where trash is." Mark said, turned and left. Most of the group followed him.

"Come on, Dylan. Let's go." Sarah said but stopped when she realized he wasn't coming with her. "I said, let's go."

"I don't want to go. I want to swim." Dylan said. "You head back with the others. I'm gonna stay here with Paul."

"Are you serious?" A look of disgust passed over her face as she glanced over at Paul.

"Yeah. I'm staying. I walked up here to go swimming and I'm not leaving till I'm ready." He said and they both watched her walk off in a huff.

"Jesus, man! What's gotten into you?" Dylan asked with a bit of a chuckle. "I've never seen you stand up to them like that."

"I just got tired of their shit. Didn't feel like taking it anymore." Paul answered honestly and then thought `better late than never'.

"Well be careful around Mark. He's got a short fuse. You don't want to set him off." Dylan warned.

"From the tales I've heard he's got shorter things than fuses." Paul mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Well, are we gonna go swimming or just bullshit?" Dylan said and ran and jumped into the water. Paul smiled and followed him in.

The water was freezing as it hadn't had warmed up much in the heatwave but Paul was thankful for the cooling effect it had on his body. Seeing Dylan after so many years looking beautiful as always had given him a hard on that he could crack teeth with. The shock of the water helped to temper his... affections. They swam till their bodies couldn't take the cold anymore and then climbed out to sun themselves on the warm rocks while they talked.

"No, seriously. Erica told me he put it in the wrong hole." Dylan related the trials and tribulations of mutual acquaintances.

Paul didn't care about Erica and Mark's love life, or even the fact that Dylan was acting like Paul was friends with these people and would want to know. He just loved to hear Dylan talk and the laughter that almost spilled out made Paul grin until he couldn't stop from laughing himself. It also brought back his raging hard on and he rolled over to be face down on the rock to hide his erection.

"Dylan, no man `puts it in the wrong hole' accidentally. He either is a total moron, which in Mark's case is actually possible, or he likes doing it up the butt."

"No way! Up the butt? Really? Gross! Why would you want to?"

"It's just a different way." Paul added.

"Do girls like it?"

"Some do."

"Wow." Dylan frowned. "I've never thought about it."

Paul's heartbeat raced as he thought of how to phrase his next statement.

"Some guys like it too."

Dylan looked over at Paul with confusion on his face.

"Some guys like what?"

"Some guys like it up the butt." Paul watched Dylan's face for his reaction.

"Well, I guess it'd be the same as doing a girl up her chooch but you'd get shit all over your dick."

"No, Dylan. Some guys like taking it up the butt." Paul saw the moment of comprehension wash over Dylan's face.

"I know that. Fags do. They do each other up the butt. That's just weird." Dylan was frowning again, but this time it looked like he was more disturbed with the conversation than contemplating what it meant.

"It's not weird, if you think about it. It's just sex. Sometimes it's even more, just like with a man and a woman. Why can't two men love each other just like a man and a woman? Why can't two women love each other for that that matter?"

"So you think it's all right to be gay?" Dylan asked. "What about the bible where it says `thou shalt not lay with a man' and all that stuff. That's gospel."

"That's bullshit. Love can be between two people who see something special in each other. That's all it takes. Love doesn't check to see that one has a dick and the other has a chooch." Paul said and closed his eyes, afraid that Dylan was going to react badly to what he had said.

"Have you ever been in love, Paul?" Paul's eyes opened and saw Dylan looking down at him from where he sat.

"Yeah. Haven't you been?"

"I thought I have but now I don't know. What does it feel like?" Dylan asked quietly.