My ears burned with his words, as much as one’s ears could ‘burn’ from just listening. I suppose there must be a modicum of truth in that little old cliché, because my ears were actually still ringing from the terrible scolding I had just endured. Or was it my mind which was playing tricks on me? At any rate, the words were running round and round in my head.

‘I have never been so humiliated in my life …’

I cringed again. Oh God, what have I done? The one person I wanted to be proud of me, the one man above all others I wanted to please, and I screwed it up. Royally.

I felt like kicking myself for having let it happen. Instead I stood quietly in my designated corner, head bowed, and sniffling as quietly as possible, because Glen did not like to hear sniffles while incalcitrant people were told to put their noses in there to think and be quiet.

I heard Glen moving about somewhere in the house – well in his house now, actually. Since Mr. Dennis’ death more than six months ago, the house had passed on to his only son, Glen. The thought of Mr. Dennis suddenly filled me with a great gulf of sadness, and a ridiculous urge to cry. I must have been making more noise than I intended because I heard impatient footsteps coming my way and then a stern voice say in a most uncompromising way.

‘Enough of that, young man. I put you in the corner to think, not to cry.’

I of course cried some more at the harshness of the tone, and the cruelty of the man standing behind me. Mr. Dennis NEVER spoke that way to me.

‘What’s that?’

I didn’t realize I had spoken, but I suppose I must have, so I ventured to turn my head around to look at Glen and saw him looking back at me, a funny quizzical expression on his face.

‘What did you say, Benji?’

I took a deep, indignant, breath. ‘I said your father never spoke that way to me. And that you are the meanest person alive!’

I turned back into the corner, which suddenly seemed a much safer refuge than it did a few moments ago, and waited for the retaliation. There was a long moment of silence, then a deep sigh.

‘Come here, Benji.’

My shoulders were shaking suddenly. The thought of Mr. Dennis gone forever made me burrow deeper into the corner. Or perhaps it was the unlooked for softness in the tone behind me which suddenly made me human mush.

‘Hey Benji, what is this? Hey, come here baby. C’mon!’ The tone was almost tender. And he called me baby.

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and my throat tightened even more. I pressed my lips firmly together in a gesture of toughness, ready to push off from that towering presence behind me. I didn’t need his kindness now. Nor his pity. And instead found myself wrapped in those hard arms, holding me close to his chest and making me feel oh so so so safe!

Somehow we were sitting in the large armchair which Mr. Dennis used to sit in the evenings after dinner while I lounged on the sofa and channel surfed. Except it was Mr. Dennis’ son who was sitting in it now, and instead of being busy with the remote control, I was busy curled up on Glen’s lap with my face buried in his chest. Eventually my tears did subside for who can go on crying indefinitely? Especially when held so securely by a pair of muscular arms belonging to the man of his dreams.

I tried not to fidget too much because it seemed Glen had fallen into a reverie and I was much too comfortable to move away. Besides, this was an experience which I had learnt to like very much lately. When he held me like this, I wanted it to go on forever. I wanted to savor heaven for as long as possible.

‘I know you miss him, Benji. God, I do too.’

I peeped up at him. ‘You do?’

He blinked once, then lowered his gaze to me, a little smile curling his lips. ‘Yes, brat!’ He tapped the side of my thigh smartly. ‘I do miss him, even if you don’t think it’s possible.’

‘We..ll I’m sorry. Didn’t mean the way it sounded …’

‘S’okay’ Glen said mildly, pushing at my bum as I regretfully slid off his lap. I landed on the floor next to the armchair and leaned my head against the arm instead. Still wanting to feel the closeness of him, and his warmth.

‘I know its been hard for you, Benji.’ One hand tousled my hair absently and I sighed softly. ‘You loved the old man, I know. But you’ve been too used to having your own way, kiddo. I’ve seen the way you twist him round your little finger. I am appalled at what he allowed you to get away with. But ..’ Glen said, eyeing me sternly, ‘ … that does not give you the right to act like a spoilt brat or to misbehave in public. Does it?’

I glanced down at my hands, a little flushed at the memory of some of the words which had escaped from my mouth that afternoon. I had been …. Um … a little out of control?

‘Does it, Benji?’

‘Noooo...?’ I ventured in a small voice, calculated to draw the utmost sympathy from my listener. It didn’t seem to work.

‘Of course it does not. So don’t you ever use such unbecoming words again, and to a neighbor who happens also to be a lady, do you hear me? Hmm?’

‘That ain’t no lady … OW!’

He cuffed me at the back of the head.

‘What did you say, Benji?’

I shrugged. He grunted and pulled at my hair, so that I was forced to look back up at him, my forehead going grotesquely out of shape I was sure.

‘However you behaved when my dad was alive, whether he taught you better or simply let you get away with hell, I don’t really need to know or want to know. We weren’t together then, and you were not my responsibility. You were just the kid staying in my house, with my dad …. y’know? But you’re with me now, you’re my boyfriend, and we have an understanding, which includes expectations and proper behavior and consequences. So let me remind you what I will do instead if I ever hear you being disrespectful to our neighbors or anyone else for that matter.’

I tried to pull away, because he was going into a line of conversation which had suddenly become very distasteful to me. But his hand held on firmly and I continued to stare back at him.

‘I will send you to the corner like I did just now. If it warrants, I will wash your mouth out with soap first. You will be given a warning. And if you persist in such unbecoming behavior, I will spank you. Like a little boy.’

The heat rushed up to my face and I quickly buried my face in his lap.

‘Benji? Did you hear what I just said?’

‘No!’

‘Benji,’ Glen said wearily.

‘Go away.’

‘Benji?’

I sniffed and transferred my face to my knees. ‘But I don’t want you to spank me!’

I suppose I did sound like a little kid.

‘I won’t if you don’t give me reason to.’ He said firmly but kindly.

I suppose I did burst into tears then.

· * * *

My dad and Mr. Dennis were best friends. Real buddies. They had that type of friendship which could only be cemented through years of understanding one another beyond words and actions, and sharing the same grief of losing their beloved spouses.

I was not in the least surprised when my dad died that he had passed guardianship of me to his best buddy Mr. Dennis. I had been fifteen then and had spent enough time in Mr. Dennis’ house to be almost fully comfortable there. Strange though I never called him anything else except Mr. Dennis, but that was how it was.

Glen was almost ten years older than me and had already moved out even before I came to stay with Mr. Dennis. I had caught glimpses of him on and off through the years, when he came to visit (which was not too often), or for Christmas dinners (which he dutifully did every year). And I had admired him from afar, had all along harbored a secret crush on him, which had only grown more pronounced as the years passed. Perhaps it was the way his eyes twinkled at me or his smile when he happened to catch me looking at him. Whatever his magic, it had taken hold of me and I was lost just looking at him.

I grieved for Mr. Dennis as much as I grieved for my dad when he passed away. In a way, it was like having two fathers and they had both been major influences in my life. I often suspected that Mr. Dennis showered upon me all the love his own son refused to allow him to show. I sometimes caught a melancholy expression in his face when he was looking at me. Maybe I reminded him of my dad. Maybe I reminded him of his son.

I am sure Glen had his reasons, but he never encouraged the father-son closeness of which I knew Mr. Dennis was capable. They were polite to one another, and Glen was always respectful. But beyond common civilities, there lacked the warmth that I myself felt so abundantly in his home. And that made me incredibly sad for Glen; that I had the love of two men who were wonderful fathers to me while he had none.

And yet, he never seemed dismayed or broken or lacking in any way.

When I learnt that Mr. Dennis had willed the house to Glen, I was struck with a moment of panic. Where would I go? I still had another two years to go before I graduated. I had enough money to cover college, which my dad had prepared for, but I wasn’t sure if I would be able to afford a place of my own plus all the other related expenses as well. Not to mention I was a creature of habit and hated the idea of starting over again. I had stayed in this house for the past five years and it felt like home. Hell, it WAS home!

Before I found an answer to my problem, Glen sat me down and told me that he would be moving back to the house. My chest constricted till I thought it would burst.

As I stared dumbly back at him, he smiled at me in the sweetest way.

‘Benji, I want you to know that you are welcome to stay on here, for as long as you like. You can keep you own room, just as it is now. And finish college. Nothing changes. I want you to feel this is your home too. That is if you want it.’

I almost passed out with relief and happiness. I could feel the little disjointed pieces in my life slowly clicking into places once again, like it had always done when Mr. Dennis put things right for me after I screwed up. I could still feel so much of his presence in the house – God! I had loved that man. It was not until much later, when the sense of relief had passed, that I digested what Glen had said and felt the full impact of his words. We would be roomies!! Whoopee!!

I have to say Glen took it all in his stride. He took over the reins of household management seamlessly, put up with my quirks and starts, and allowed me space for the first few weeks to gently mourn Mr. Dennis. How ironic that his own son would be the one comforting the pseudo son for his own passing. What Glen thought about all of this, he never told me and I didn’t feel I knew him well enough then to ask. By the time I started to really get to know Glen, and to love him with substance instead of hero-worshipping him from afar, the moment never came up again. Eventually, the ache of losing another ‘dad’ lessened till the void was finally filled by something or someone much larger and stronger and more tangible than I had ever imagined possible.

He was the rock in my life now and I really really liked having him around. I liked hearing him move about in the kitchen in the mornings when he fixed breakfast, sometimes humming softly to himself. I looked forward to his morning kiss. And because my day on campus ended earlier, I usually got dinner started before he came back from work because I liked the way his eyes light up in appreciation when I showed him what I had concocted for our evening meal.

* * *

If anyone asked how Glen and I became a pair, I don’t think I would have been able to say precisely. It was something that just happened.

After my initial shyness – and yes, it was a bit awkward for me to have Glen around so much in the beginning, especially when I was so aware of him – I very quickly adjusted to his presence. But like I said, Glen was so natural in everything he did, so self-assured, that I forgot my shyness and soon became very much myself. When he found me curled up one evening in a corner, mopping my eyes with a large dish cloth, he came over and quietly put his arms around my shoulders. Without saying a word, he pulled me close and held me while I cried some more. He never made me feel weak or stupid for crying; instead he made me feel safe and wanted, and in a world where I had no other family to call my own, it was an anchor I could cling on to.

When I had calmed down enough, he dropped a kiss on my head and took the dish cloth back to the kitchen and finished preparing the dinner I had started. And as I listened to Glen moving pots and pans and rinsing and chopping vegetables, I remembered the feel of his arms around me and his kiss that still burnt through my hair into my scalp. It was the first time we had been that physically close and it was the best feeling I had ever felt in my life. The pressure of his finger tips, his muscles rippling against my shoulders, the smell of the man … I knew I wanted more.

The first inklings I had of Glen’s feelings was when I began to catch him watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Once when I was hosing the garden, wet t-shirt clinging to my body and my shorts hitching some ways up my thighs. Another time, I was stretched out lazily on the sofa watching TV. And then again, while we were eating breakfast on the patio on a Sunday, with the morning papers split between us.

My heart beat faster every time I caught that look in his eyes.

I don’t know what got into me that day on the patio. I had been chuckling over the cartoon strips, feeling incredibly happy and free and without a care in the world for no apparent reason, when I looked up and found Glen’s eyes on me. With a quick flush, he dropped his eyes back to the papers in front of him and continued reading. Without thinking, I slid off my chair and went and knelt beside his. I put my arms around his waist and laid my head on his chest.

There we remained frozen for a long while; I could hear the strong heart beat. Surely it was going way too fast to be normal? I closed my eyes and held on tightly. Finally I felt Glen stir and I looked up at him, my eyes searching out his face anxiously, afraid that I had offended him with my action, yet hopeful that I had taken a step in the right direction. He smiled down at me, his eyes no longer hooded, and I nodded my head happily up at him. That was the way it would be for us from then onwards.

I think I floated through the next few weeks in a euphoric haze, so happy was I with all that had come to pass. We began a journey of discovery, with Glen setting the pace all the time, holding me back when I went too fast and letting me spring forward when he thought it was safe. I eventually moved into Glen’s room and, for me at least, shared a bed with another man for the first time.

I wish I could say everything was peachy and perfect and we lived happily ever after. But I can’t. A whole new world had been opened to me and it was both fulfilling as well as dizzying at the same time. Sometimes it scared me to bits, when I thought about being an adult and being loved by Glen. Sometimes it all got a bit too much, confusing my senses and reasoning, and making me feel like I needed to break free but not knowing how or why. At the same time, there was school, and assignments and exams coming on, and more pressure for a while than I thought I could handle. The fear that I would never graduate infiltrated my mind. How disappointed Glen would be in me, not to mention letting Mr. Dennis and my dad down. And that cast me into a panic-driven depression and made me do crazy impetuous things.

I don’t know what I would have done if Glen hadn’t stepped in and taken control. He never let me get away with my hundred and one excuses. He instinctively knew when I wanted him to not accept my reasons for freaking out and he knew how to keep me grounded. His methods were swift and sometimes painful, but they were always fair and did a lot of good for me. They kept me sane and each day I fell more in love with him.

So on Valentine’s Day that year, I bought him a single stalk of red rose, placed it on the pillow next to him, with a note attached. Then I crept downstairs and hid away in the laundry room squashed in between the washing machine and the clothes dryer.

Before I could get my thoughts in order, and before I could decide if my note had been too bold or too bland, a shadow loomed over me and I looked up at the tousled head and sleepy eyes of my lover. I probably stopped breathing for a while as he came and knelt down in front of me. We put our foreheads together and Glen closed his eyes and smiled.

I heard him take a deep breath, and say in a raspy morning voice. ‘I missed you upstairs.’

I ground my forehead harder into his, enjoying the satisfying warmth that spread down my nerve ends. There was something to the lions’ way of greeting after all. Glen pushed back, our fringes trapped in between our foreheads like fingers interlocking.

‘Thanks for the rose, its perfect,' he whispered. 'Just like the note. Come on up, baby. I want you.’

As I followed Glen unsteadily up the stairs to our bedroom, my hand clasped in his big warm ones, my heart soared with happiness. And I decided my note had been ‘just right’.

* T h e E n d *