Peter followed the boy and found himself in a large airy kitchen – probably recently renovated. The glow from the snow outside lit the marble countertops and the blonde wood.
“There’s the phone.” Neal pointed to a handset and went to make himself dinner. Peter dialed Triple-A, and watched the frightfully self-sufficient young man put together a meal. It would be about two hours for a tow truck, and he gave the dispatcher Neal’s phone number as a call back.
When he heard how long the wait would be, Neal looked back at Peter and smiled. Peter was once again struck by his beauty; it was like an arrow through his heart.
“Hope you like Fettuccini Carbonara…’though I leave out the peas.” Neal sniffed and Peter smiled. It helped remind him that he was a seventeen year old boy.
Peter set the table, and he was disconcerted at how comfortable he was in this little domestic scene.
“I think there’s wine, if you want.”
“No thank you – water will be fine.”
Neal flung a strand of pasta against the wall. At Peter’s snort of startled laughter, the kid explained that that’s how they did it in Italy. Peter doubted that, but he had heard of the trick. He expertly tossed the pasta in the sauce and presented two perfectly plated dishes.
The boy shrugged when Peter thanked him. “I like to cook and I like to watch Food TV – it’s like the chefs are talking to me.”
They ate with little conversation. Neal seemed suddenly very shy.
“Mr. Burke?”
“Yes, Neal.”
“Ummm, you won’t tell anyone what I told you. Right?”
“Neal – I gave you my word.”
“I suppose you think its funny that I haven’t had sex.”
Peter chose his words with great care. “Sex should be about more than satisfying hormonal urges.”
“You mean, it should be about love?” Neal snorted. He was seventeen year old boy, and that concept must be so alien.
Peter shook his head. “Neal – I don’t want to sound like a hypocrite, but yeah. The first time, at least – it should have some meaning.”
“When you fucked a girl for the first time, were you in love.”
Dangerous waters… “Mr. Caffrey, watch your mouth.”
The boy mumbled an apology.
Peter relented. “No, Neal. The first time I had sex, it wasn’t about love. It was messy and unpleasant and I ended up hating myself afterwards.” He was careful not to lie. The first time he had sex was with the varsity baseball coach and he felt dirty about it for weeks. It was worse when he had sex with a girl for the first time.
Peter watched as Neal toyed with his food, his silverware. And despite his own best intentions, Peter did feel like a hypocrite. But to tell Neal – who was struggling with his own sexuality, that he himself was gay – that seemed both wrong and an act of compassion.
They were both startled out of their silence by the shrill ring of the telephone. Neal picked it up, listened, and then handed it to him.
It was the tow truck dispatcher. They hoped he had a way to get home, because the roads were closed and no one was going anywhere.
Neal must have been watching him closely – because he got a worried look on his face. As soon as he disconnected, Neal pounced.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Burke?”
“No tow truck.” He picked up the phone, with the half-hearted idea about calling a cab. Spending the night under the same roof with the boy was going to be disastrous.
Neal was all smiles. “That’s great – well, not that your car’s been crushed – but that you can stay over. It’ll be fun.”
Jeez – the kid was treating this like an impromptu sleepover. “Neal – I can probably get a cab.”
“Mr. Burke – if tow trucks can’t come – cabs won’t either.”
Peter glared at his student. “Who taught you to think so logically?”
“You did, sir.” If Neal’s smile was any brighter, Peter would need to wear sunglasses or go blind.
Peter wished Neal hadn’t called him “sir.” He shifted in his seat.
“Okay…but I’ll need to go back out to my car. I have to get my briefcase and my gym bag.”
“Cool – I can watch you work.”
Peter had a metal facepalm moment.
“Can I leave you with the dishes while I go out to my car.”
“Sure – the alarm hasn’t been set on the door – and it won’t lock unless you set the deadbolt.”
Teach Me - Part IV
“There’s the phone.” Neal pointed to a handset and went to make himself dinner. Peter dialed Triple-A, and watched the frightfully self-sufficient young man put together a meal. It would be about two hours for a tow truck, and he gave the dispatcher Neal’s phone number as a call back.
When he heard how long the wait would be, Neal looked back at Peter and smiled. Peter was once again struck by his beauty; it was like an arrow through his heart.
“Hope you like Fettuccini Carbonara…’though I leave out the peas.” Neal sniffed and Peter smiled. It helped remind him that he was a seventeen year old boy.
Peter set the table, and he was disconcerted at how comfortable he was in this little domestic scene.
“I think there’s wine, if you want.”
“No thank you – water will be fine.”
Neal flung a strand of pasta against the wall. At Peter’s snort of startled laughter, the kid explained that that’s how they did it in Italy. Peter doubted that, but he had heard of the trick. He expertly tossed the pasta in the sauce and presented two perfectly plated dishes.
The boy shrugged when Peter thanked him. “I like to cook and I like to watch Food TV – it’s like the chefs are talking to me.”
They ate with little conversation. Neal seemed suddenly very shy.
“Mr. Burke?”
“Yes, Neal.”
“Ummm, you won’t tell anyone what I told you. Right?”
“Neal – I gave you my word.”
“I suppose you think its funny that I haven’t had sex.”
Peter chose his words with great care. “Sex should be about more than satisfying hormonal urges.”
“You mean, it should be about love?” Neal snorted. He was seventeen year old boy, and that concept must be so alien.
Peter shook his head. “Neal – I don’t want to sound like a hypocrite, but yeah. The first time, at least – it should have some meaning.”
“When you fucked a girl for the first time, were you in love.”
Dangerous waters… “Mr. Caffrey, watch your mouth.”
The boy mumbled an apology.
Peter relented. “No, Neal. The first time I had sex, it wasn’t about love. It was messy and unpleasant and I ended up hating myself afterwards.” He was careful not to lie. The first time he had sex was with the varsity baseball coach and he felt dirty about it for weeks. It was worse when he had sex with a girl for the first time.
Peter watched as Neal toyed with his food, his silverware. And despite his own best intentions, Peter did feel like a hypocrite. But to tell Neal – who was struggling with his own sexuality, that he himself was gay – that seemed both wrong and an act of compassion.
They were both startled out of their silence by the shrill ring of the telephone. Neal picked it up, listened, and then handed it to him.
It was the tow truck dispatcher. They hoped he had a way to get home, because the roads were closed and no one was going anywhere.
Neal must have been watching him closely – because he got a worried look on his face. As soon as he disconnected, Neal pounced.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Burke?”
“No tow truck.” He picked up the phone, with the half-hearted idea about calling a cab. Spending the night under the same roof with the boy was going to be disastrous.
Neal was all smiles. “That’s great – well, not that your car’s been crushed – but that you can stay over. It’ll be fun.”
Jeez – the kid was treating this like an impromptu sleepover. “Neal – I can probably get a cab.”
“Mr. Burke – if tow trucks can’t come – cabs won’t either.”
Peter glared at his student. “Who taught you to think so logically?”
“You did, sir.” If Neal’s smile was any brighter, Peter would need to wear sunglasses or go blind.
Peter wished Neal hadn’t called him “sir.” He shifted in his seat.
“Okay…but I’ll need to go back out to my car. I have to get my briefcase and my gym bag.”
“Cool – I can watch you work.”
Peter had a metal facepalm moment.
“Can I leave you with the dishes while I go out to my car.”
“Sure – the alarm hasn’t been set on the door – and it won’t lock unless you set the deadbolt.”