Free Without You I Have Nothing by J A Scooter Page B

not a full man. You
lift me in your arms, you dance with your arms around me and I am safe. My body
knows you're a man. Yet you bring me home and don’t attempt to kiss me - why? 
I'm falling for you, Peter and I can’t afford that luxury. I can’t fall for a
gay man.
    ‘There’s something
seriously wrong - why the dark shadows in your life?  I see your parent’s
picture and your eyes show the horror and hurt and I dare not question. The
plaque showed strength, not weakness, and again your eyes showed hurt and you
denied being able to read that inscription but the twinkle around your eyes
belied your words.’
    She rolled into a
ball as she continued. ‘That picture was so lifelike. Was it a picture or a
painting?  Your mother’s eyes seemed to stare into me and to follow me and she
seemed so happy with me.
    ‘The diamonds around
her neck and in her ears must have been worth a king’s ransom. As well, your
father - so much in love with his wife but his eyes, also, seemed to smile on me
as if approving. Peter, what have you done to me?’
    Her thoughts faded
and she dropped off to a deep sleep, full of dancing with Peter’s strong arms
around her.
    When he stepped back
into his apartment, Peter cleaned up before kneeling before his parents'
picture and pressing against the fireplace. An altar swung out and Peter burnt
the usual offerings to his ancestors. He was sure both his mother and father
approved of Jennifer and he was sure they smiled. Tonight’s nightly ritual was
complete as he stood to run his hands over the plaque.
    Ah, yes, the
inscription!
    To Honorary Major of the 6th Gurkha Brigade,
    Peter O'Brien
    Let no man be fooled
    The Little One is a man to be feared!
    Peter’s eyes twinkled
and in his mind he could see the parade ground with the ceremonial march past -
with him, all of sixteen years old, fully kitted out in a Major’s Uniform,
taking the salute of the troops as they swung past the dais.
    The music was in his
ears as was the crunch of the marching feet and the orders from the Regimental
Sergeant Major ringing out across the Parade Ground. What a proud, happy day
that had been. The whole regiment knew his story and they were saluting his
manhood, his courage and his bravery.
    He moved into the
main bedroom and knelt at the foot of the bed, overcome with the emotions of
the evening.
    As he recited the
Lord’s Prayer, that prayer from his childhood, he sought guidance in his
winning of Jennifer. His emotions stretched to breaking point and he felt the
presence of two people, joining him in prayers.
    On one side was the
roughness of his father’s uniform, on the other the sweet softness of his
mother. His mind, unable to cope, allowed him to slip to the floor where he
slept.
    Relentless weeks of
rehearsals followed and Peter slid into an easy routine of collecting Jennifer
at her apartment, attending rehearsals and taking her back to his apartment for
dinner, music and chess lessons.
    Working, learning
lines and memorizing stage movements were delightful tasks and always they had
something to discuss. Even so, Peter did not attempt to hold her or kiss her. He
was terrified of risking the friendship he believed they both enjoyed.
    It was at a rehearsal
that last, the time came for the villain to sweep the heroine into his arms.
    Conscious of the cast
watching, Peter was tentative every time he held Jennifer and, certainly, his
kisses were most demure until that fateful night when, brandishing the mortgage
high above her head and growling the fatal words, “Come, a kiss to seal the
bargain,” he swept Jennifer into his arms.
    No longer could he
deny his pent up feelings. His fingertips burned and his lips tingled. Drowning
in the sweetness of her mouth, he allowed his passion to sweep over her.
    “Break!”
    His mind too busy
absorbing the sweetness and the heat, Peter failed to hear the director. Such a
triviality did not enter his brain.
    “Break!  Break!”
    Only then did Peter
become