We ended up at a small BBQ place neither of us had been to before called ‘J.P. Smoke.’  It looked relatively empty – unlike the fast food places around it – so we pulled in and parked.  I’d heard okay reviews about it, but for some reason it hadn’t really become popular in town.  We went inside and got a table – the place was not too busy, and it was only 1pm, so alarm bells were ringing in my head.  In the end, it didn’t really matter – we were here to talk, not necessarily to eat.

 

                We took a table in the back part of the restaurant for privacy, and ordered drinks – I got a diet root beer, and David got a glass of ice water.  The booths were nice and spacious, and the seats clean – so the restaurant had that going for it.  I turned to David and sighed. 

 

                “So what’s going on inside your head, David?”

 

                “Before I answer that, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

 

                “Okay – go ahead.” I said.

 

                “What exactly were you planning when we were going to take the gate to another world?  How long were you going to stay, before returning?  Were you going to return at all?  What did you expect to do there?  What do you want to accomplish?  Are you planning on taking pictures or bringing back proof?  What were you going to do?  Have you even thought about it?”

 

                I was a bit overwhelmed by all of David’s questions, but I was more overwhelmed by my stupidity.  I hadn’t really thought this through at all.  Somehow, in my mind, I thought I’d go over, have an adventure, and come home – without considering what that might entail.  I started to realize this wasn’t a stupid game, and these were serious questions that needed to be answered.  David must have seen it on my face.

 

                “You didn’t have a plan, did you?” 

 

                “No.”  I replied, embarrassed.  “I guess I thought we’d look around, maybe meet some people, see some sights and come home.  Maybe have an adventure.”

 

                David sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “And adventures could literally take months of time, right?”

 

                “I’m sorry David.  I didn’t think.  I was stupid – but I promise I’ll think about it now, okay?  We’ve still got two weeks before the end of summer.”

 

                “Fine.  Just promise me you WILL think about it.”

 

                “I will.”

 

                “Fine.”  He paused and took a sip of his water.  “You want to know why I’m going for a long while?  Why I might not come back?”

 

                “Yeah.  It kind of hurt when you said you might not come back.”

 

                “Sorry.”  David said contritely.  “I mean it.  But I still might not come back.”

 

                “Why?”

 

                “It’s a long story… When I was young, weird things would happen around me.  Stuff would get moved or knocked over.  Toys lost.  Light switches flipped.  It freaked the hell out of my folks – who as you know are hard-core religious.  They called a priest – who couldn’t figure it out.  Fast forward to when I was twelve, shortly before I met you.  I was getting headaches a lot – I mean a lot – and when I got scared or mad I would get nosebleeds, headaches, and sometimes stuff around me – fragile stuff – would break.  Back came the damn priest, who said I was possessed by the devil.”

 

                “Jesus!  Are you okay?”

 

                “Let me finish, first, okay?”  David asked.  “My folks sent me to a special camp for ‘difficult children’ – my dad already thought I was ‘a faggot’ since I didn’t like guns and making racist jokes, so he thought it would help heal me.  They paid extra to ‘cast out my demons’ while I was there.”

 

                “Holy shit.”

 

                “There’s more.  There were a dozen kids there – between the ages of 12 and 16.  Some of them were gay, and others were trans – but I was the weirdo who was possessed.  The people there hurt us.  They hurt those other kids, and they hurt me.  One time I got boiling water poured on my hand to cast out the demons.  Instead, the pot scalded me, then flipped around and scalded them.  I remember getting punched, and when I woke up I was handcuffed to a chair.  I got whipped with a belt until I was bloody.  I begged for them to stop.  I cried.  I promised them I would never do it again, not even knowing whatever “it” was.  This went on all summer, until one of the counselors tried to carry things too far.  He raped me.  He choked me, and said “This is what you want, isn’t it faggot?” – and then he used a stun gun on me, and I blacked out.”

 

                “Jesus Christ!  How could they let this happen?”

 

                “Jeff!  They’re the ones that sent me there!  They wanted this to happen!  I spent the next three weeks in the fetal position, virtually unconscious, and they sent me home.  The headaches stopped.  The stuff breaking stopped.  I became the perfect child.   Since then, I’ve had to be perfect, because I’m scared as hell they’re going to send me back there.  I can’t afford to move out – and I know my dad and his buddies would have tried to hunt me down if I ran away.  I’ve been saving up every penny I could for the last six months since my 18^th birthday so I could get enough to get the fuck out of this town and away from them.”

 

                I was almost in tears after hearing all this.  I was shocked, and appalled, and hurt for my friend all at once.  “How come you never told me?”

 

                David was red eyed himself, and looked on the edge of tears.  “They told me if I told anyone, they’d send me back.  They told me if I told you, they wouldn’t let me see you anymore.  You’re my only friend outside Jake and Susan from band, and mom and dad won’t let them on the farm.”

 

                “Why me?  Why not them?”  I honestly couldn’t understand why I was so damn special.

 

                “Because you were a normal kid, with parents that weren’t ‘hippies’ or ‘liberals’ – even if you did go to one of the LGBT churches who ignore god.  Their words, not mine.  They figured you could teach me to ‘man up.’”

 

                “Oh my god.  I am so sorry.”

 

                “Me too.”  David said.  “I still have one more reason to go.  I used to move stuff.  I learned I could when I was younger.  I haven’t done it in years, and it really hurts.  I want to learn to make it better.  I want to see if it can do more than push stuff around.  Let me show you.”

 

                He took a spoon, and put in on the table in front of me – in between us, but several inches from either of our hands.  He started staring at it, and groaned, going ashen pale.

 

                “Hey, are you alright?”

 

                “Watch the spoon.”  He grunted.

 

                My eyes flashed back to the spoon – and I stared in shock as the spoon bent into an odd ‘u’ shape – with no one touching it!

My eye’s flicked back to David, and I could see he looked pale, and was having a pretty serious nosebleed. 

 

                “Holy shit!  David!”  I pointed at his nose, and he nodded, and covered his nose with a napkin, and tilted his head back a bit.  I looked back at the spoon – and it still sat there on its side, bent into a ‘u’ shape.  Telekinesis?  David had freaking telekinesis! 

 

                “That hurt worse than I remember it.”  David muttered, still stanching blood from his nose.  “I feel pretty sick, actually.”

 

                “Did you want to go to the hospital?”

 

                “No – I can’t afford that.  I just need some Ibuprofen or Tylenol.  Headache meds.”

 

                “And you’ve had this… power… since you were a little kid?”

 

                “I think so.  Mom and dad don’t talk about it much except to say it was the devil’s work and ‘they took care of it.’  By torturing me for an entire summer.  I hate them both with a passion I can’t even explain.  If they both died tomorrow, I would cry tears of joy, and I wouldn’t know what to do next.  I’ve lived the last six years doing everything I can to escape them forever – and now I have a chance to go where they can never find me again.  That’s one of the reasons I’m considering staying.  The other is because I want to learn how to develop my power, and I figure in a world where magic is known and accepted, I might be able to find a teacher.”

 

                I sat there, not knowing what to say.  A tear ran down my face – sympathy for the horror and the trials my friend had been through, and had been unable to tell anyone.  “I’m sorry I didn’t know.  I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.  You’re my best friend in the entire world, David.  I feel like I failed you.  I don’t even know what to say.”

 

                “You didn’t fail me, Jeff.  You didn’t know.”  He put his hand on mine, and gave it a squeeze.  “It’s no one’s fault except my mom and dad’s for sending me to that horrible place.  And maybe me for not saying anything until now.”

 

                “What happened at that place isn’t your fault.”  I said grimly.

 

                “I know that now, but it took me until last year to really believe it.  I never forgave mom and dad, and I never will.  I hope they rot in hell.”

 

                “You don’t have to go back there.”  I told him.  “You can stay with me – my Mom and Dad love having you over.”

 

                “I can’t.”  David replied.  “My dad would raise a stink, and think maybe I’m gay or some shit, and he’s got too many guns for that to not worry me.  I don’t want to put your family at risk, Jeff.  They’ve been my rock and so have you.  You guys kept me sane.  I’ll never forget it.  Ever.  Besides, it’s only two weeks – I can do that standing on my head.”

 

                We sat quietly for a moment, absorbing all that had been said.  I noticed his hand still on mine, and he noticed me see it, and pulled it back. 

 

                “Sorry.  I was just trying to comfort you.”

 

                “David, I should be the one comforting you!  Are… Are you gay?”

 

                “No,” he sighed.  “I’m pretty sure I’m not gay.  I think I might be trans, though.”  David smiled sadly.  “My parents would think that was like ten times worse than being gay, I’m sure.”  David looked at me tensely, worried.

 

                “Wow.”  I sat there a few seconds, looking at David, seeing him for what seemed like the first time.  It was hard to see – but I could see some of it.  Little mannerisms or things he used to do in school.  Tiny affectations that came and went.  Odd looks.   “I can see it.”  I said.  “I’ve got your back, David.  Always.”

 

                He sighed, and looked relieved.  “I’m glad.”

 

                “Hey – BFF’s, right?”  I said, holding out my hand.

 

                “Yeah!”  He clasped my hand, and smiled a sad smile.  “Friends forever.”

 

                “Do you have a name you want to be called?” 

 

                “Not yet – not here, where people can hear us.  I’ll tell you once we’re on the other side.”

 

                “Okay.  You know, if you want to crash at my house tonight, we could tell your dad we’re gonna eat pizza, watch porno movies, and look at guns online.”

 

                “My dad would jizz himself if he heard I was doing that.  Works for me.”  David smiled.

 

                “Cool.  It’s settled then.  I’ll tell mom and dad when we get to my place.  Do you have to drop off the camping fuel today?”

 

                “I should.  We should stop by my place and drop it off, then head over to your place.  I… I think I should bring some of my stuff to your place, just in case.”

 

                “You mean ‘just in case’ you need to leave at a moments notice?”

 

                “Yeah.  Was I that transparent?” 

 

                “Not really,” I said.  “Just consider what we’ve been talking about for the last 30 minutes.”

 

                “Yeah.” He said, sniffling a tear or two.  “Maybe that was pretty obvious.”

 

                We sat quietly for a few minutes, just absorbing the conversation and getting lost in our own thoughts, when a pretty little waitress about our age came over, and chirpily asked if we’d like menus.

 

                “Yes, please.”  I said.

 

                “Right away sir.  I’m sorry I took so long to come over, but I noticed you and your friend were having a private chat so I waited until you looked done.”  She looked at us both, and saw red eyes, and David’s ashen pale appearance.  “You boys okay?”

 

                “Yes, Ma’am.  I was just telling my friend some stuff that happened to me a while ago.  We’re okay.”  David began.  “A menu would be great.  What’s popular for lunch?”

 

                The waitress nodded.  “Well, we’ve got a Chipoltle chicken salad and soup combo that’s popular, and some people enjoy getting a dozen chicken wings with some vegetables on the side with dip.  We’ve got six different sauces and coatings you can select from.  Some people like the club sandwich with fries.  Those are the most popular.  All the meats are smoked in our own smoker out back, and we have tons of other stuff too, like brisket on a bun, ribs, and pulled pork.  You name it.  We’ve also got some pretty darn good baked beans, if you ask me.”

 

                “I’ll have the chicken wings with a side of baked beans.”  I told her. 

 

                “I’ll have the chipotle chicken salad and soup, with a side of beans too.”  David told her. 

 

                “Great.  Is this one bill or two?”

 

                “Two.”  David replied. 

 

                “Great.  I’ll be back soon.  Hope you two are feeling okay.”

 

                As the waitress left, I turned to David.  “She was really chirpy.”

 

                “Yeah.  It kind of cheered me up.”

 

                “Yeah.  Do you think I could get a neat super power if I tried?”

 

                “I don’t see why not.  It looked like it was an edge you could buy if you go by our character sheets.  Remember?  I had “Arcane Background” – which I assume is how I can move stuff.”

 

                “Yeah, but it looks like you’re having an aneurism when you do it.  There must be something wrong.”

 

                “Well, either there isn’t enough magic on Earth to do it, or I need a tutor – and I didn’t get my letter to Hogwarts.”

 

                “Maybe.  God, can you imagine if you did?  Your dad would shoot the damn owl and send it to a taxidermist.”

 

                “Heheh.  Probably.”

 

                “What’s it like being trans?”

               

                “Huh…”  David paused, trying to figure how to put it into words.  “It’s like feeling uncomfortable in your own skin all the time.  It’s like people never see the real you – just the mask you wear and can’t take off.   When you look in the mirror, you see a stranger – certainly not who you know you’re supposed to be – but you’ve never seen yourself, except maybe in a dream – so you don’t know what you’re supposed to look like either.  You look at other girls, and wish you were them instead of wishing to be with them.  You feel miserable and depressed, and lonely – and for me, I had to hide all of this all the time, so that mom and dad wouldn’t send me back to that horrible place.  You feel scared that if anyone ever found out, they’d abandon you – or in my parent’s case, possibly even kill me.”

 

                “That’s horrible.  How did you survive?”

 

                “I don’t know, really.  I had school – I was away from home most of the day, every day – except the weekends.  I had you – and we were always goofing off and hanging out together – and when we were, my parent’s didn’t bother me.  It was only when you went home, or when I was alone with them at night during the week it got bad.”

 

                “You know, my mom and dad would let you stay for the next two weeks, no questions asked.  We’re not afraid of your dad.”

 

                “You’re the best, Jeff, but I can’t.  And as for my dad, you should be.  He and his friends are psycho – totally into the right wing conspiracy stuff – and some of his friends talk about ‘taking things into their own hands’ – but dad hasn’t gone with them yet.  But I could totally see him doing it.  It wouldn’t take much to convince him, either.  He’s dangerous.”

 

                “Geez.  Okay, then.  Just, keep it in mind if things get bad.  If I have to I can quit my job and we can be out of town in a few hours.  I mean it.  It might be tricky to book a campsite, but fuck it.  If I have nearly a million dollars in gold and gemstones, why the fuck do I even need to work my shitty little job?”

 

                “You’d do that?  For me?”  David looked like he was tearing up again.  “That’s why you’re the best, Jeff.”

 

                “Hey!  No problem!  How could I not?  You’re my best friend!”

 

                “Yeah.”  He smiled, sadly.  “Thanks, Jeff.”

 

                “No problem.”  I wondered what I said that made David sad.  Was I being too pushy?  Or was it something else?  Before I could decide, our lunch arrived, and the hot steaming food was set down before us.

 

                “This looks good.”  I said, looking at the salt and pepper rubbed chicken wings.

 

                “Yeah – my salad looks good too.  It has a lot of chicken on it.”

 

                Whatever mood had been brewing was thoroughly dispelled and the topic changed, and we tucked into our meals.  The chicken wings were a generous size, and tasted great, and the beans were really, really good.  David said his chicken was moist, marinated just right, and cooked to perfection, and the salad was great too.

 

                I wondered why the place wasn’t packed.  The food was good, and the service was pretty good too.  When the bills came, we paid, and headed back to the car.

 

                “You still want to stay over for tonight?”  I asked.  “Last chance.”

 

                “Okay, dufus.  I’ll come over.  Maybe we can do some D&D.”

 

                “Sounds good.”

 

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

                The rest of the weekend went smoothly, and I dropped David off at home late Sunday afternoon.  I felt nervous leaving him there, knowing the danger he felt he was in, and I couldn’t help but see his mom and dad in a different – more dangerous – light.  I also knew I needed to do some serious research.  If David was trans, I owed it to him to learn about it and help him if I could.  That’s what friends do, right? 

 

                That night I spent most of my time in my bedroom, googling all sorts of topics – Transgender health, Trans issues, Hormones and how they affect people.  It was overwhelming – but the first and most important thing I noticed was how important support was.  How important understanding was.  And how many trans people our age committed suicide when there wasn’t that support there.  It made me very afraid for David – scared that he suffered all that, alone for so long.  I wished I could have helped him.  If he had told me, I would have tried.

 

                I tried imagining David as a girl.  He wasn’t too tall, and he was thin and gangly, so that would help, I thought.  I couldn’t imagine it, though – I knew him as David, and I guess it would take me a lot more time to adjust than perhaps I thought it would.  I knew one thing… If we did come back from this trip, I was going to liquidate enough gold and silver so that David would be able to get the treatments – or surgeries – he needed to feel better.  It was the least I could do for my friend.

 

                Sleep was a long time in coming.  I eventually drifted off to sleep around 3am.

 

*              *              *

 

 

                Tuesday came fairly quickly, and I was surprised at how nervous I was about going to meet Ed and David – although almost all the nerves were about Ed… I just didn’t see him in the same way anymore, once I learned he tortured his son.  He seemed dangerous, and possibly violent, and I realized I was scared of him.  I wonder if this is how David feels all the time?  I wasn’t looking forward to tonight’s excursion – but we needed the weapons, didn’t we?

 

                I wasn’t a stranger to shooting, and neither was David.  We’d been taken to ranges before by our dads, and taught gun safety like many young men, but David’s dad always tried to take it further.  My excursions to the range with David and his dad ended when I told my dad Ed let me fire a machine gun…  Apparently my dad had a limit, and that crossed it.  Since then, we had done some target shooting in his farm with .22 rifles, but as the years went on, less and less of that happened.  I just got the impression that David wasn’t a gun nut like his dad.  Now, I wondered how I hadn’t seen David’s fear of Ed for so long?

 

                I sighed.  Let’s do this. 

 

                I drove up to David’s farm, to find him and his dad waiting for me next to Ed’s truck – a big Ford F-150 with a bumper sticker on it proclaiming “Ask me about my 2^nd Amendment rights” and “This state is Open Carry.”  There was also a Confederate flag sticker on the back bumper as well, next to a sticker with a gun that said “A Smith and Wesson Trumps Four Aces!” 

 

                “Hey, Jeff!”  Ed called out. “You ready to get a good gun?”

 

                David looked enthused, but I suspected it was an act to make his dad feel good.  “Yes, sir!  I’m excited too – and a bit nervous.”

 

                “No surprise there, sport.  Owning a gun is a big responsibility.”  He motioned to the truck.  “Hop in.”

 

                I did as asked, and soon we were driving back down the laneway towards the street.  “Where are we going, Ed?”

 

                “There’s a gun shop I like out on Highway 422.  It’s got a range, so we can test fire a few rounds to see if the guns you pick are comfortable in your hand – that’s pretty important.  We also have to talk about caliber and a few other things.”

 

                “Why is it important?” 

 

                “Well, a lot of people are of the opinion that the .38 shell, the 9mm shell and the .45 shell have different qualities, different stopping powers, and different feels when you fire them.  I like a good solid 9mm for home defense or for my gun in the car, but if I suspect I might be in a real gunfight, I’d prefer the .45 for its stopping power.  It’s got a hell of a kick, though.  Plus, some people feel revolvers are way more reliable in the long run, and require less maintenance, while a semi-automatic can fire more bullets before reloading, but needs a bit more maintenance.”

 

                “What would you recommend?”  I asked.

 

                “For a first gun?  Either a revolver or a semi-automatic would be fine, but if you like reliability and don’t want to worry about a lot of moving parts, I’d use a revolver.  If you ever need to hide a murder, though, go with a semi automatic.”

 

                “Dad!  Why would you say something like that?  Jesus!”  David exclaimed.

 

                “Don’t get your panties in a twist, son.  It’s just a joke.  I heard from Tony that if you change out the firing pin, the barrel, and the ejector after shooting someone, there’s no way forensics can link the shooting to your gun!  How’s that for neat?”

 

                “Tony’s a bit mental, dad.” 

 

                “Tony is a good friend of mine, David, and I’ll thank you to not bad mouth him.  He’s a State trooper, and a respected man in this city.”

 

                “Yes, dad.”

 

                “Good.  Now let’s go get you some guns.” 

 

Ed drove onward, and the rest of the ride was in silence.  Meanwhile, I was wondering how learning how to cover up a murder was cool?  His statement didn’t make me feel relaxed – quite the opposite, actually, and I was tense the rest of the drive.               

 

                We arrived at the gun shop – a larger than usual Cabelas sporting goods store, with a gun range attached.  Ed parked, and went in to talk to his pals behind the counter.  I held up, and called David back for a moment. 

 

                “I think we should stick with easy and low maintenance.”  I began.  “We won’t have any replacement parts, and we need reliability.  Your dad is scary.”

 

                “I told you, Jeff.  He scares the shit out of me, too.  Let’s get this over with.”

 

                “Okay.”

 

                We headed inside, and prepared ourselves to be deluged with everything we never knew we needed to know about guns.  Surprisingly, I was actually interested in some of what we were taught about buying your first gun.  Ed and his friend knew a hell of a lot about guns, and were able to steer David and I away from some good-looking but regrettable gun choices, and in the end, we had picked out three pistols to try each.  I had a Smith and Wesson model 586, which fired .357 and .38 ammo, a Smith and Wesson model 642 Airweight with a Laser grip, which fired only .38 rounds and had 5 shots to the model 586’s six shots.  It also didn’t have a hammer to get caught on clothing, which was supposedly very good.  The last gun I had selected was a Ruger Redhawk 5033.  It could fire .357 and .38 ammunition, and was reputed to be rather accurate, and it held 8 shots.  It was also the most expensive gun – but it was on sale, for 20% off. 

 

                David had selected the same Smith and Wesson model 586 I had selected, but his hammerless option was the Smith and Wesson model 642 Ladysmith, which was exceptionally lightweight – which Ed’s dad said would mean it could be used longer without fatigue. It was chambered only for .38 ammunition, and held 5 shots; it also lacked a hammer.  His third choice was a Smith and Wesson 629 deluxe, which fired .44 magnum ammunition and .44 special ammunition.  It had 6 shots.

 

                We fired off a number of rounds each, to see how the guns felt in our hands.  To me, the Ruger Redhawk felt the most comfortable in my hand.  David picked the S&W 642 Ladysmith, because he could control it the best – it had the least recoil.  The S&W 629 bucked in his hand awfully, and he couldn’t control where his fire went downrange.  I know David didn’t really want a gun at all – but he actually looked a little disappointed he couldn’t handle the 629. 

 

                Ed looked over our selections.  “Those are some nice guns, boys, although I kind of wish you had a bit more in the way of muscles, son.”  He said to David.  “You looked like really wanted the 629.”

 

                “Yeah, I kind of did.” He said.  “But I figure it’s more important to hit what you’re aiming at than it is to have a big damn noise and miss.”

 

                “Damn right, son.”  Ed said, tousling David’s hair.  “You might regret not getting a gun that can fire .357 shells in the future, once you get the recoil under control, but we can always come back and get another, right?”

 

                David grinned – or grimaced – and nodded. “Yeah. I just might.”

 

                “That’s the spirit, boy!”  Ed slapped his son on the back, and turned to me.  “The Ruger is a bit expensive for a starter gun, Jeff, but it’s probably a gun you’ll never need to replace.”

 

                “It’s on sale, Ed.  20% off.”

 

                “Well, holy shit!  We’ll take them both!  What kind of ammunition do you want, Jeff?  A box of .38, a box of .357, or hell, a box of each?” 

 

                “Would a box of each be too much?”

 

                “Nah – just next time you’re buying your own.”  Ed smiled and took our guns up to the counter, and helped us walk through the application for the gun license.  It took maybe 20 minutes, and they checked us through a few federal databases, and that was it.  He handed over his VISA card, rang up the tally and paid.  Less than three hours, and we were in-and-out.  David and I now owned our first handguns, along with a holster, a gun lock, and a cleaning kit, and a couple of boxes of ammunition each. 

 

                Afterwards, Ed drove us back to his farm, gushing over how proud he was of David getting his first gun, and over how I’d brought such a change in David, and showed him how to be ‘a real man’ – whatever the hell that was.  I was pretty sure I didn’t need to own a gun to be a man – but Ed’s opinion was rather different.  I was glad when I said goodbye to David and Ed, and was able to drive home.

 

                When I got home, I stuffed the gun in my backpack that I took to work, and went inside.  The gun, the ammunition and the cleaning kit were pretty heavy when taken together.  As I went in, mom called out from the living room.

 

                “Hey, kiddo!  We’re in here watching TV!”  She called.

 

                “Thanks mom!”  I looked in the stove and there was some pizza keeping warm, so I grabbed a few slices and headed upstairs.  Once in my room, I took the gun and its paraphernalia and hid it under my bed, and then started getting my clothes ready for work. 

About twenty minutes later, I was good to go, and sat down to eat some cooling pizza.

 

                Just as I finished the last piece of pizza, mom stuck her head into my room.  “Hey, Jeff.  How are you doing?”

 

                “I’m okay mom.  Why?”

 

                “You’ve been a bit distant for a while.  Like your head is somewhere else.  Is everything okay?”

 

                “Yeah, mom.  It’s good.  Well, mostly.”

 

                Mom came over and sat on my bed across from me.  “What’s wrong, honey?”

 

                “David might need a place to stay at short notice.”  I began.  “I can’t really talk about it yet – it’s his privacy – but if he needs to stay here for a few weeks, can he?”

 

                “Of course, son.  Is he in trouble?”  Mom asked.

 

                “No… But he might need to leave in a hurry if something he’s hiding from his mom and dad comes out.”

 

                “Oh, honey… Is David gay?”

 

                “No, mom… I can’t talk about it yet.  I promised.  It’s nothing bad, but his parents might freak out and Ed has a lot of guns.”

 

                “Of course he can stay.  You tell him he’s welcome as long as he wants to stay, alright?  No questions asked, until he’s ready.”

 

                “Thanks mom.”

 

                “Is there anything else you need to tell me?” 

 

                “No.  I just needed to know if David could stay here.”

 

                “Is he in danger right now?”

 

                “No.  I don’t think so – and neither does he.”

 

                “Okay, then.  I’ll go tell your father.”

 

                “Thanks mom!”  I replied, giving her a hug.  She hugged me back, and went downstairs to talk with my dad.

 

                 I thought about all the preparations we had made – how I was kind of lying to my mom and dad.  They just weren’t ready to handle it.  I realized now that David and I were actually doing this.  We were going to another world, for real.  I resolved to sit down and think about what I wanted to accomplish while I was there.  I owed it to David to keep my promise – hell, I owed it to myself. 

 

                I wanted an adventure.  I knew that much – and I knew I wanted some sweet magical powers, like David seemed to have.  Getting some more gold might be cool too, and maybe finding something magic I could show dad, to prove his mom wasn’t crazy.  Other than that, I wasn’t sure.  Not yet.  I figured I’ll play it fast and loose and decide what I want once I get there and see what my options are. 

 

                To be honest with myself, I had been drifting through life without much real purpose, which is why I was spending my graduation year working at a McDonalds instead of going to college or learning a trade.  Maybe this new world will give me a focus?  Maybe it will at least get this yearning for something different – less boring that my world – dealt with?  I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like a good start. 

 

                Eventually I headed off to sleep.