Part 3
Joe's face, when he walked into the arena corridor, had been a
picture. And it wasn't one Chris wanted framed. The journey home had
been way too short and horribly uncomfortable, and ended with Joe
closing the car door crisply on the drive and giving Chris a look
directly over the car roof that made Chris's mouth go dry.
"Go inside, pick a corner and wait for me."
Chris went swiftly into the house, if only to get away from the look
he was getting. It was quiet inside, a fact he appreciated because
he knew how quickly it was going to be lost. He headed into the
kitchen and faced the corner, his stomach in knots.
Joe locked the car and went to finish putting away the mower:
something that had been interrupted by Eric's call half an hour
earlier. Eric was in for an interesting evening: if Joe was any
judge the phone lines would be buzzing. He locked the mower in the
garage and took a few moments more to water the planters before he
coiled the hose away. And went inside to where his lover was
standing very still in the kitchen corner, giving a clear impression
of trying to vanish into the paintwork.
Joe let him stand there, went directly to the kitchen drawer and
took out a wooden paddle, placing it on the kitchen table. He pulled
out a chair along side it and leaned on the table, resting his
weight on his knuckles.
"Christopher."
For the last couple of minutes all Chris could here in his own head
was "stupid, stupid, stupid, how could you be so stupid." The
unmistakable sounds of the kitchen drawer being pulled open and
closed made it impossible to think of anything else. When Joe said
his name, any and all coherent thoughts fled and he was left with
the rushing sound of impending doom. He turned slowly and tried not
to squeak. "Yes, sir?"
"I don't think there's anything we actually need to discuss here, is
there?" Joe asked mildly. "Do you think there's anything we need to
discuss?"
Not good. Joe in his business tone, the paddle sitting on the table.
And not a shred of ground anywhere within reach. He felt like the
coyote in the Road Runner cartoons, scrambling about ten feet away
from the edge of the cliff, open space below him and a definite,
painful end.
"Christopher?" Joe said just as calmly.
"I....I..." Chris said helplessly, unable to even come up with the
rest of a sentence.
Joe waited politely, one eyebrow raised while Chris stood and
fidgeted. Chris flushed and finally said softly to the floor, "No,
sir."
"No." Joe agreed. "It seems absolutely straight forward to me. You
can't have had any doubts at all about the ethics of what you were
doing. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"It won't happen again?" Chris said, more question than statement.
Joe shook his head, not sounding in the least annoyed or upset. In a
way that made it far worse.
"You think?"
Being at least smart enough not say it, he did think 'yeah, because
Matthew won't be asking me again anytime soon'. His voice shaking,
but a little stronger, he said "Yes, sir."
"Well you're going to have to explain that to Rolf." Joe said
calmly. "And that's after you're done with me my lad. I'm not at all
happy with you right now."
That snapped up Chris's head. Having to speak to Rolf wasn't a nice
prospect at all. "Why do I have to speak to him?" he asked, panicked.
"Take a wild guess?" Joe invited.
"I didn't take the lead, Matthew did!"
"And you fought him, kicking and screaming all the way?"
"No, but it wouldn't have mattered what I'd said!"
Joe Looked at him
"Jooooeeeeee, you know it wouldn't have!"
"Did you make anything like a good decision?" Joe inquired, not
responding to the whine.
Gulping, Chris shook his head no.
"You are going to be punished for making a decision you know
perfectly well was a very bad idea," Joe said calmly, picking up the
paddle. "You knew exactly what to expect as soon as you decided to
do it. Drop them Christopher."
"But Jooooeeeeee," Chris whined, tears pricking his eyes.
Joe waited, paddle in hand.
"Not the paddle, plllleeeeeeeeassssseeeeee," Chris said, the reality
sinking in just how upset Joe was with him.
Joe raised an eyebrow, leaning on the table to look at
him. "Christopher. You want to explain to me how you don't deserve
to be paddled?"
"I just went to the game, that's ALL. I can't decide for Matthew
what he can and can't do!"
"Rubbish." Joe said crisply. "Be honest with me right now
Christopher or we're done talking."
Since the paddle was waiting, Chris decided he had nothing to
lose. "I just met him out, I didn't make it -I didn't -" Chris
stamped his foot in frustration. "It wasn't my fault!" he finally
finished.
"You knew," Joe said simply. "And I know that you did, because you
were here the other day when Rolf called around. He talked to us
both. You knew EXACTLY what the situation was. Did you talk to
Matthew on the phone about tonight?"
Chris flushed redder still. "I talked to him on the phone, he was
bored stiff."
"Yes or no Chris."
The attorney in Joe was coming out again, picking everything to
pieces to get the answers he wanted. "......Yes."
"And you two planned this evening together?"
"NO, no," Chris said quickly, trying damage control. "He wanted to
go, I just...I just went along with it. I didn't PLAN anything with
him."
"How did you help him?" Joe inquired, not moving.
"I didn't! He told me what he was doing, I just went along with it."
"Ok, then how did you enable him Christopher?" Joe countered with
the same tone.
The small ray of hope that had been growing was just put out again
and the hole beneath his feet was getting steadily blacker and
deeper. Struggling again for a way around the biggest problem was
impossible. Maybe, just maybe if he gave in, Joe would take pity on
him. "I shouldn't have talked to him at all."
Joe waited, still leaning on the table with his hand on the
paddle. "And?"
"I should have said something to you," Chris said, his head dropping.
"Do you chat on the phone when you're grounded?" Joe inquired.
"No, sir."
"Think Mathew and Rolf work any differently?"
Chris shook his head no.
"Do you go out when you're grounded?"
"No," Chris said, angrily wiping away a stray tear.
"If I knew you were talking to, or going out with, someone who we
both knew perfectly well was grounded Christopher, what would I
say?"
"I was stupid to do it."
For the first time Joe's voice sharpened enough to make Chris
jump. "I have NEVER called you stupid Christopher, I never WILL.
WHAT would I say to you young man?"
Chris gulped. "Not to do it, sir." He fought mightily against the
urge to burst into a sobbing mess.
"Not ONLY would I have said not to, I would have made you stop it at
once and both you and Matthew would have been in trouble. Why?"
"Because I KNEW IT WAS WRONG!" Chris shouted, turning his distress
into anger.
"Why is it wrong?" Joe said in exactly the same tone, not moving an
inch.
"Because we do it too," Chris said quietly and Joe agreed.
"How would you feel Chris, in Matthew's position right now? Or
Rolf's? You lot are not kids. You KNOW first hand what it's like to
be angry or upset and think something's a good idea, and you know
too what you need to hear from the people you love at that point.
People who understand how we choose to live and why."
Chris took a long time to answer. "What's right, not what's fun."
"You can listen, you can support, you can understand how it feels to
be hearing no and trying to deal with it - God knows that isn't
easy. What you don't do is aid and abet a friend already in that
difficult position to make a bad situation a lot worse! What about
the trust you two managed to damage tonight?"
Chris sniffled once, his voice choked a bit. "I didn't mean to help
make things worse. He just really wanted to go."
That was the most honest and least defensive thing he had said so
far this evening, and despite himself Joe's eyes and voice softened
in response.
"And it's hard to see a friend upset and frustrated." he said more
gently. "But that wasn't what he needed from you, and you know it.
It's easy to be popular Chris, anyone can say the easy things."
Chris stepped quickly over to Joe and buried his face against his
chest, sobbing. Joe put an arm around him and cupped a hand behind
his head for a minute, but it was only a minute before he gently put
Chris back and made him look up.
"Do you think it's ever a good thing to help someone to do something
you know is going to hurt them?"
"No, and I'm sorry."
"You owe that apology to both of them,." Joe said gently but
pointedly. "I know how I'd feel about anyone getting between us."
He saw the slight nod that Chris gave. "It's as disloyal to Rolf as
it is to Matthew. You don't get between a couple Chris. But that
isn't why you're getting paddled. You want to tell me why that is?"
"I knew better," Chris said quietly.
"Yes." Joe agreed. "But that isn't all of it. You planned this
behind my back, you went out tonight under false pretences, it
damages the trust between us when you are not honest with me."
Chris's head dipped lower, Joe's words hurting. Joe looked at him
for a minute, seeing that he'd made all the impression he intended
to. Drawing out the chair behind him with a foot, he sat down and
once more picked up the paddle.
"Drop your pants Chris."
Chris took a few slow steps towards Joe, his hands working with his
button. He let his pants drop and didn't pull on his underwear
until Joe sharply prompted him to do so. It took all his self-
possession to bend across Joe's lap.
Joe wrapped an arm around his waist and drew him a little further
forward, moving Chris well clear of the table legs, then took a
firmer grasp on the paddle and applied it crisply to the bare bottom
upturned over his lap.
Chris yelped at the first swat and tried holding his breath against
the next two, the paddle's sting steadily building in intensity.
Knowing these were only the first in a long line of swats, Chris
gave into the desire to squirm and complain bitterly about how badly
he was hurting.
It always took a good deal of conviction and effort not to listen to
that familiar and loved voice in pain and protest, and it was never
easy. Joe held Chris too firmly to let him struggle and used the
paddle swiftly and hard, with sufficient strength behind each swat
to rapidly create the redness and the fervency of response from
Chris that was necessary.
Chris was sobbing incoherently by the time the paddle stopped
falling, positive in mind and body that he'd never again go along
with anything anyone else said no matter what. He dropped to his
knees, trying to catch his breath when Joe let him.
Joe steadied him for a moment, then put the paddle down on the table
and put both hands around Chris's head, running his fingers through
Chris's hair slowly and with comforting calmness.
When the blinding pain settled into something more manageable, Chris
worked on trying to breathe, appreciating Joe's touch a lot more at
the moment than earlier. He got to his feet and struggled to kick
off his shoes so that he could step out of the pants he had zero
desire to put back on. It took several tries and a steadying hand
by Joe to keep him from falling before he was free and able to make
his way over to the corner.
Joe watched him for a moment, then when he was sure Chris was
starting to calm, put the paddle away and glanced at his watch. In a
few moments he intended to get them both to bed, finish this
difficult evening and leave it in the past where it belonged.
He could only hope in Eric's, Stephen's and Rolf's homes, things
were equally beginning to settle down.