Free Sons by Michael Halfhill

already nine o’clock. The house has been awake for two hours. Time to get up.”
    Colin slid farther down in the bed, a scowl masking his true reason for not wanting to leave the bed.
    I can’t let this guy see me with a hard-on! This place is full of homos. I don’t care what Dad says about Abdul a Bull-Bull here. Dad? Why did I think that? What am I supposed to call him? I wonder if I can find somebody to get me out of this place.
    “Well, I’m not ready!” was his sullen reply.
    “Then, young master, I will change the bed linens with you in them. I have duties to perform, and I will not be delayed by a lazy boy.”
    As Amal took a step toward the bed, Colin leapt from the other side and ran into the bathroom, trying to cover the front of his pajama bottoms, which were sticking out like a theater marquee. It was then that the Arab realized what the delay was all about.
    A few minutes later Colin emerged, relieved and modestly deflated. He stopped and watched Amal fluff the bed pillows and place them evenly against the mahogany headboard.
    “Where is my… I mean, where is everybody?”
    “My master and Mr. Lin ate breakfast hours ago. They are downstairs in the living room.”
    “Why do you call him master? Are you his slave?”
    Amal stiffened at the thought.
    “No, young master, I am a slave to no man!”
    Calming himself, Amal explained, “I serve your father because of who, and what, he is. I am here of my own will. I call him Master, or Effendi, because it is the custom of my people. It has nothing to do with being a slave. I hope you understand that.”
    “Okay, okay! Don’t get your hair up, I was just askin’.”
    Amal said, “Also, I wish you to remember that I am an honored person in this house, as you are, so please address me with respect.”
    Embarrassed, Colin’s first impulse was to defend his rudeness with a show of bravado; however, he wasn’t stupid. A little voice told him that the Arab would make a better friend than enemy.
    “I’m sorry… I apologize. Okay?”
    “Yes. Thank you, young master. Please eat. Your father is waiting for you downstairs.”
    Amal left Colin sitting at a table by the window. As he ate, he looked out at the frozen river. The sun made no impression on the blocks of ice packed against the ships moored on either side of the deep channel. The thick window glass blotted out the sound of a Coast Guard icebreaker as it slowly chewed a path for oil-laden ships, whose cargo couldn’t wait for the river to thaw in order to dock and unload. A chill shot down his back as he reached out and touched the window. He watched a wedge of Canada geese fly lazily along the far bank of the river.
    I wonder how they stand the cold .

Eleven

     
    C OLIN finished his cereal, stood, and looked down at the dirty dishes. What am I supposed to do with these?
    He eyed the bedside clock and ran his fingers through his blond hair. He sighed. Ugh, better get a move on. I wish I could just close my eyes and all this would be a dream.
    Colin went to the bedroom door to turn the lock, only to find there was none! Crap ! Now what ! he wondered. He looked around, then slipped off his pajama bottoms, tossing them onto the bed. “Well, no guts, no glory,” he muttered to the empty room.
    After soaping himself in the shower, Colin’s thoughts once more turned to how he could work his way out of this situation. A feeling of isolation pressed down on him as he came to the realization that, like it or not, he was stuck in a strange place without as much as a friend. There was nowhere to go and no one to turn to.
    Until I can find someone to help me get away, I’ll have to grin and bear it. Well, maybe not grin.
    His loins stirred as his hands swirled the lather around his groin. Colin discovered the joys of masturbation the year before and rarely missed an opportunity to delight in it. This time was no exception. Suddenly, he stopped and looked around for spy holes, or even for a camera. His