"If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say: the house shelters daydreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace."
"What's he doing?" was my somewhat panicked response.
"Standing there, his right hand on your ass."
"Eyes open or shut?"
"They're open, you dumb shit! How else could I see him?"
"Not you, him!" I hissed, my retort exemplifying my concern.
"Open, but he's just staring."
"I know that! What I mean is, he's not readying himself to mount the old pony without a blanket and ride him to town is he?"
Now, I was really starting to panic!
I felt Andy begin to jiggle and shudder with suppressed laughter.
"God, Jacob," he giggled softly, "You should see your face; sheer terror, your eyes as big as cow pies, fearful your big-cocked nephew is getting ready to fuck you!"
Andy paused and gave me a quick kiss. "Take heart, Love, he's just sleepwalking and probably has to take a leak. Why don't you move off me, take his hand, and lead him to the bathroom? He won't object and is probably confused where it is. He had a pretty stressing day."
He's not the only one, I thought, especially the last few minutes!
Andy felt me move off of him and stand next to Mattie , but it didn't stop his barely suppressed giggling however.
"Mattie, honey," I said softly, "why don't I take you to the bathroom?"
Mattie didn't object as he took my hand and walked with me to the bedroom door.
"I'll follow you in," Andy said softly. "I need to rid myself of the heavy load somebody deposited in my ass earlier," and the dirty fucker giggled again, greatly irritating me, but not sufficiently for me to respond. I'd get him yet, right up the ass- I hoped!
I stood, Mattie in front of me, his back to my belly, sort of leaning up against the warmth of my body, his warm naked back up against my warm naked front, part of which was starting to awaken! He didn't take his own cock in hand so he might begin to piss, not pointing it, not sliding back the foreskin, nothing! He just stood there- and sort of wiggled, unfortunately.
"Tell him he can pee now, Jacob." Andy instructed from alongside the two. "He's in a deep somnambulant state."
That certainly wasn't the state I was rapidly approaching! If he didn't do something pretty soon, rigor mortise was going to set in in a very "outstanding" manner in one part of my body- Andy's favorite part.
"What the fuck's that?" I whispered, not wanting Mattie to hear him or wiggle anymore. I was somewhat angry, confused, and now hard as large cucumber ready to be plucked (notice I said plucked), undecided on what to do next. I knew what I wanted to do, but Andy was standing next to me and I had my nephew in my arms waiting for him to piss. Couldn't very well let him just drop to the floor half asleep, and lay there while I rammed my rampant cock up Andy's love chute for a vigorous, wonderful, gratifying, delicious standing- fuck could I?
Hell, I never had a sleepwalker in the family. Why should I? It was only Janet and me, and I didn't think either one of us walked in our sleep- fucked yes- walked no!
"A condition, sometimes abnormal, which is the walking in a person's sleep. In his case, it's almost as if he's in a hypnotic trance. He'll probably wake up in the morning and have no recollection of what he did. He could also awake anytime."
"What should I do?"
"Take a hold of his penis, slip back the foreskin, point it at the toilet bowl, and tell him it's okay to pee."
"You want me to hold his cock? Won't he think I'm trying to molest him or something? What'll I do if he gets stiff?"
I was blathering, trying to find a reason why I shouldn't act upon Andy's advice, certain Mattie would awaken and shout "what the fuck are you doing?"
Honest to god, I'd never been in this situation before, not had another boy's, as young as Mattie, cock in my hand since I was in grade school or high school, and then it hadn't been for the purpose of pissing; not intentionally anyway. Might have pissed afterward, but that wasn't the original purpose! Any sane person viewing the goings-on in our bathroom would've been on the phone to the police, screaming "molestation" and not give one good flying fuck about the predicament I found myself in, trying to do the best I could for my nephew. Oh, no; there'd be four thousand police officers out front with guns drawn and a judge ready to ship me off to the state pen where I'd meet thirteen self-proclaimed proctologists waiting in the prison shower ready to assist me with my bath and an intensive examination of my rectum. Nope, no way- but what the fuck do I do?
"Yes; no; and he might."
I sighed and nodded in resignation, realizing no one was going to arrest me, stuff their instruments up my butt except Andy or my personal physician, and understood my role in the process about to unfold in front of me by the sweet boy I held in my arms. I was more than Mattie's uncle, I was his protector, his champion, the one Mattie would always go to for comfort, for encouragement, and for his release of emotions in times of stress. I realized, at that moment, the enormity of responsibility Andy and I were undertaking being their guardian and parent. It was much more than being the "uncle."
I leaned my head over, lightly grasped the young, but maturing, penis in my fingers, slid back the foreskin, pointed it at the toilet bowl, and speaking softly in Mattie's ear, said, "Okay, Mattie; it's time to pee."
By god, he did it! Mattie did as he was told and peed and peed and peed until with a shiver and few final spurts, finished emptying his bladder. I gave Mattie's cock a few shakes to rid it of any dribbles. That's what I did to mine so I naturally assumed my nephews, especially Mattie, would do as well.
"There, Mattie, you should feel better now. Let's go back to bed. Okay?"
"Ok-k-k-kay," Mattie sort of muttered, barely understandable.
Andy became alert hearing Mattie speak! I'd mentioned I thought I heard Mattie say "I love you Uncle Jacob" the night before but was dubious since I'd not seen any indication Mattie could or would speak. However, Mattie said nothing more as I began, with an arm around him, walking back towards his bedroom.
"You like talking to me, don't you, Mattie?" I murmured softly, lovingly in his ear as we walked.
Mattie just nodded slowly, still semi-awake while walking in his sleep. Fortunately for me, part of me was sort of drooping now, as if semi-awake, rapidly descending to complete relaxation.
I took a chance. Just before putting Mattie down in his bed to sleep, I asked, "What did teacher do when you couldn't say your words?"
"H-h-h-h-hit me!" Mattie complained in the same slow, barely audible voice as before. "C-c-c-called m-mm-me s-s-s-st-t-t-t-tu-ped"
I lowered him to the bed, my hearty aching for the sweet young lad now under our care, feeling the suffering he'd been through, wanting to shoulder his burden, bringing him back to speaking with others, giving him confidence in himself and restoring trust, kissed him on his forehead and both cheeks before soothing back a lock of hair hanging over his smooth, soft forehead. "Mattie, honey, that won't happen again if Uncle Andy and I have anything to say about it. Now go to sleep and know Uncle Jake loves you so very much."
"L-l-l-luv you t-t-t-too," Mattie murmured softly, rolled over, and was fast asleep again.
Andy and I lay quietly in our bed, contemplating what just occurred with Mattie.
"My first thought, after visiting with Janet," Andy admitted, "was Mattie was autistic in some form. But watching him I couldn't say for certain. Perhaps he is, mildly, and perhaps he isn't. I do think getting his words mixed up might be a good sign he is dyslectic, perhaps severely so. We can give some informal tests in the morning to see if it's so."
"It's morning now," I complained, my sleep and love-making interrupted.
"I mean during the daylight morning, not now!"
"Well, I'm no speech therapists, or child psychologist or physician, but I can sure as hell tell my nephew has one hell of a stuttering problem; worse than a kid behind me a couple of years in high school. Mattie sounds worse than that country/western singer, Mel Tillis."
"Perhaps," Andy acknowledged, "and Tillis did pretty damned well for himself! I'll check with some of the docs at the hospital. Maybe they can give us some leads on what to do when the school year approaches and how to handle the problem in the meantime."
"Wish there was someone around to teach us about parenting," I reflected with a hint of melancholy.
"I think it's all about love, Jacob," Andy responded. "At least that's what I think."
I was reconciled in my fears of not being a good parent to my nephews by Andy's reassuring words. Of the six boys, although they all needed a great deal of love and guidance, having their fears alleviated, emotions comforted, and accomplishments, big or small, rewarded and praised, Mattie was the one who probably needed the most in any attempts to help him cope with the emotional trauma and physical problems he'd faced in life to this point. He appeared to be the most sensitive, tender-hearted, and caring.
The boys led an unconventional and nomadic life style until they came to the Farm, yet I knew Janet loved her sons deeply, refusing to give them up to strangers, forsaking her own welfare to provide for them, and fighting her disease long enough to come home so her sons would have a place to live and grow up. It'd taken great effort, pain, love, and persistence to bring them home, for that I am so grateful, only increasing the pain I felt for the lost time we shared.
"We need some more help around the house," I whispered softly, remembering I was to interview Rose Boyer in the morning, gave Andy another kiss, rolled him over, parted his lovely, firm butt cheeks, brought us both to satisfaction, and went to sleep for what remained of the night. Just before I did, I thought I heard Andy mutter, "And I thought you were tired."
In the morning, the boys all stopped by their mother's room to greet her with a kiss and a hug, then trotted to the kitchen to help with breakfast. They seemed to agree on duties for each one of them since Eddie and Jamie quickly began setting the table, Robbie and Davey helped with the cooking, and Mattie and Scottie seemed to be relegated with clean-up, although under some mild questioning by Andy, Robbie confessed all would be helping the two in kitchen clean-up in one way or the other.
As they cooked, set the table, or just waited, Andy explained he'd given their mother her medication for the morning and she had two more times before bed she had to take them, informing them he'd prepared a list near her meds on the dresser for them to refer to in case he wasn't available. Andy fully intended on including the boys in their mother's health care, especially now since the end of her life was so near.
"Most of it is to keep her comfortable," he said, addressing the boys, "and, if she wants to get outside for a breath of air, she should be able to manage it, for now. But, one of you guys have to be with her when she's up and about. Her balance isn't that great and she's not very strong."
The boys were quite aware of what their Uncle Andy was telling them and wouldn't disappoint their mother or their uncles.
Janet happened to walk out to the kitchen about that time and the little boys quickly scurried over to her, helped her sit in one of the chairs, and served her a cup of tea. She looked more rested than when she and the boys first arrived, but by no means was her health improving.
Robbie announced it was time to eat, Eddie and Jamie assisted their mother to the dining table, Davey placed a platter of burritos on the table, Robbie poured glasses of orange juice and milk, and breakfast began.
"There's a protein drink in the refrigerator," Andy advised. "Would one of you guys get it for your mother please? I've asked her to drink one of these at each meal. It'll help maintain her strength." It didn't take a moment before Mattie scooted to the refrigerator and returned with the chocolate drink container and an empty glass. He opened the drink, filled the glass, and handed it to his mother. She gave him a smile with a "thanks" and without objection consumed the beverage.
The table was filled with chatter, about their shopping trip, what they might be able to do today, especially wanting to explore the farm and maybe swim in the lake, and wondering what all happened on the Farm.
"Before you make too many plans," I advised the group of eager boys, "there are some things we need to get done as well. Uncle Andy is going to town to check on some beds, desks, dressers, and mattresses for your rooms. The rooms are large enough for a set of bunk beds, along with the bed already there, a dresser for each of you, and three small study desks. He noticed an ad in the paper advertising bedroom furniture available at low cost from the university. They've remodeled some of the dormitories and are selling the old furniture. He'll need a couple of you to help him."
I paused, letting it sink in and for them to begin sorting out who was going to go to town.
"I have to go to the office, check in with my crew leaders, go over some items with Mrs. Jenkins, and visit with a lady who is interested in helping out here in the house. I'd like someone to stay with your Mom during the time Uncle Andy and I are gone."
Immediately, Robbie asked if he could tag along. I felt Mattie's hand slip into mine, looked down, and saw the pleading in his eyes. I nodded to Mattie and said to Robbie, "No problem, but it means you'll have to sort how who helps Uncle Andy and who stays here. Okay?"
Without any argument or bickering of any kind, Scottie, Jamie, and Eddy chose to stay with their mother and Davey agreed to help Andy.
"We'll take one of the farm trucks," Andy announced and with a wave of his hand, motioned Davey to follow him.
Mattie, secured to my right hand, skipping, swinging both of our arms, while Robbie and I headed out toward the office building. Outside the office, Lee stopped me, "I need a moment please."
"What's the problem?"
"One of my field crew members called in sick this morning and I'm one person short for the work I had planned today. We need to move some irrigation pipe and the beef cattle to the east pasture. I could use another hand, but wanted to see which other crew you thought could spare one from."
Robbie spotted the remaining three members of the crew Lee was referring to and noticed it wasn't the cute boy who was sick and missing. I noticed him checking the remaining crew out and before Robbie could say anything, asked, "How about you Robbie? You may as well start learning the family business since you're going to be living here."
Taken by surprise, it only took a second however, before Robbie readily agreed. "Really, Uncle Jacob?"
"Go in the office, give Mrs. Jenkins your social security number if you remember it, pick up a couple of tee-shirts and go to work. You have your old jeans and shoes on, so you shouldn't need to change."
Robbie headed for the office faster than a rabbit on the run from hounds.
"Anything special you want him to do, Jake?"
"Nah; he and my other nephews are going to grow up here and going to be working most of the jobs one time or the other so he may as well start with some of the grunt work like everyone else. Just take care of my nephews, please. They haven't worked outside the home or on a farm, so it'll be all new." I paused before adding, "They've also never been up north before, so everything will be new, bugs and all."
"How about the shy one hanging on your arm?"
"He's Mattie and my special nephew, aren't you Mattie?"
Mattie, sort of peeking out around me, smiled shyly and nodded his head.
Lee, noting how shy Mattie was, merely said, "Nice to meet you Mattie. I can see you're going to be a big help to your uncles."
Robbie popped out of the office, sporting a new baseball cap with the Farm's logo on it, a new tee-shirt with the same logo, and a pair of leather gloves.
"Mrs. J. had an extra pair of gloves, Uncle Jake, so she gave them to me so I wouldn't blister my hands. See yah after work," and dashed off to join the three waiting crew members.
"I'll send a lunch out to you," I shouted.
"Eager isn't he?" Lee mused as he headed to join the crew.
I took another glance at the waiting crew and noticed Robbie was standing next to another boy about his age and size. "Not a bad looking lad either," I thought. "We'll see how eager he is by the end of the day," I added.
Lifting and moving irrigation pipe was hard and dirty work. Moving cattle, sometimes obstinate beasts, wasn't a ride in the park either.
Mattie and I entered the office and I noticed an older, grandmotherly in appearance, well dressed, and relaxed, lady laughing and visiting with Mrs. Jenkins. The woman was definitely comfortable and relaxed around Mrs. Jenkins, as if they'd known each other for years. Mattie noticed her as well, giving my hand a gentle squeeze, and tilting his head in her direction.
"Jacob," Mrs. Jenkins said, getting his attention, "This is Rose Boyer. She's here to talk to you about the full-time housekeeper/cook position you'd like to fill."
"If," Mrs. Boyer said, turning to greet me, "the young man who was just in here to sign on with the Farm crew is an example of who I'll be making cookies for, he's a credit to the family."
Mattie's eyes lit up when Mrs. Boyer mentioned cookies, looked up at me with a smile, and licked his lips.
"Robbie, is one of six of our nephews who have come to live with us and we find them all a credit to our family."
"And the handsome young man next to you?"
"This is Mattie, actually Jacob Matthew, but we call him Mattie. He's very special to his uncles, his mother, and his brothers. They're all special, but Mattie is the one most attached to me it seems and me to him," giving Mattie a bit of a hug with one arm. "Mattie is nine going on ten; he's number four in the birth order. Robbie, who you've met, is fourteen going on fifteen; Davey is age twelve, Scottie is age ten going on eleven, Eddie age eight, and Jamie, age seven, all at home right now."
"Hi, Mattie," Rose said with a slight wave of her hand.
Mattie just smiled shyly and slipped back a little more behind me.
"Mattie is sort of shy and doesn't say much," I mentioned softly.
She nodded her understandingly, gave a warm smile at Mattie, saying, "Sometimes there are boys who prefer to say nothing until they have something important to say and that's just perfectly fine with me and should be with others as well."
Mattie sort of relaxed, resting his head against my side, taking comfort from her words to him.
"Why don't we go into my office where we can be more comfortable and visit in a little more comfort. If you don't object, I'd like Mattie to sit in with us."
Rose Boyer had no objection, in fact, welcomed the opportunity to observe the "shy" boy's demeanor and reaction to her interview. She sat on a comfortable chair I pulled closer to my desk, Mattie sat on an office chair just to the left of me, while I settled in the chair behind my desk.
Leaning forward just a little, I asked, "Why don't you tell us something about yourself and why you think you'd be the person the boys would want to help them in a busy household of six boys, two gay men, and a very ill sister of mine who is mother to our nephews."
Rose (Simpson) Boyer was used to hard work and large families. One of five, she grew up in Bemidji, went to school here, graduating with excellent grades and recommendations. While in high school she was the accompanist for most choral groups, participated in the musical presentations, and accompanied students in Band and Vocal competitions.
Mattie's eyes perked up, he leaned a little forward in order to concentrate on what she was saying, when she mentioned "piano." It was a topic which seemed to hold his attention and interest. I noticed his sudden attentiveness, remembering hearing Mattie hum some classical music, and the story concerning his library purchases at book sales held in them.
She left the area to attend a small college downstate, majoring in piano performance, but after three years and pregnant, left school to raise her family. She married Ron Boyer, an over the road trucker and they had five children, three boys and two girls. She worked, giving private piano lessons, to help meet the increasing costs of raising the family. When her children were all finally in school, she went to work in the school's food service program. Her husband was killed in a fiery accident shortly after her youngest son graduated from high school. His widows' pension, insurance settlement, and a law suit settlement, although not as large as she'd hoped, sustained her, but she continued to work to provide for health insurance.
Her youngest son, John, moved in with her when his wife divorced him. John's youngest son was two at the time. Two years later, he overdosed and died leaving her with his three sons to raise.
"Unfortunately, I wasn't aware of the depth of his drug problem, although his oldest son, Paul, was. I moved back here two years ago since I have family here, knowing I'd have some emotional support and family available to help out if needed. I sold the home Ray and I owned for many years to help pay some bills, pick up the slack, and rented a place here. I picked up a part-time job at the university food service, but was laid off last winter."
Rose decided she needed to continue to work since she now had three young boys, not only to raise, but to provide opportunity for them to continue their education after high school. It'd take a great deal of her savings to do so, as well as provide health insurance for the boys.
"Three of my grandsons live with me," she said, "Paul, just fifteen and working here for the summer, Mark, age ten, and Douglas, age eight. I think I understand boys, what they like and dislike, and have a great deal of patience with them. My grandsons carry a bit of baggage with them, so I'm used to dealing with problems as well."
She smiled, and with a sigh, added, "Plus, I'm a pretty good cook, if I don't say so myself."
I was pleased with what I'd heard so far, explained my sister's illness, intimated my nephews came with a bit of baggage was well, and would be raised in a household of two married, gay men, and wondered aloud if there'd be any problems with that.
She merely shook her head. "No, not one bit, but I do ask the boys to give a shout when they traipse around naked like my grandsons do so I'm not shocked or at least able to avert my eyes so I'm not confronted with bare flesh and dangling boy parts."
Mattie actually laughed out loud when she said it!
I, thinking it was the right thing to do, at least I'd want to know the particulars of the employment, decided to ask her if she had any questions or comments, assuming she'd ask about wages and benefits, conditions of employment, and other things. Indeed, she did have some questions and comments.
"I was acquainted with your mother, Jacob, not friends, but acquainted since she was ahead of me in high school. My contact with her was through choral groups she belonged to I was accompanist for. She had a lovely voice and was a natural musician, I thought."
Rose spoke of knowing the Westcott family farm market in those years and was pleased to see it grown, but of Janet and me she knew little of since she moved away before Mom married. She did know, from family in the area, there were two of us, twins, and I ran the farm, married Andy Jamison, a physician's assistant, and beyond that little else. Until now, she hadn't realized Janet was back home or terminally ill or had six sons.
She paused, looked at me, twisted her head slightly to take a closer look at Mattie, smiled warmly at him again, and back to me.
"Jacob, if you were to offer me this position and if I were to accept it, what would I find when I walked in the door and what could I expect from you and your husband?"
I was highly encouraged by her use of the word "husband" acknowledging the legitimacy and acceptance of our marriage, acknowledging our right to marry and love each other as spouses should, but man, I didn't see that question coming! Totally different from what I expected. How in the hell do I answer it? There were so many thoughts racing through my head. Do I say it's going to a shit-pot full of hard work with six adolescent and preadolescent boys, two adult gay males with zip experience in raising children, and a beloved sister being slowly gobbled up and wasted away by a cancer so debilitating and terminal, she had only a short time to be with us, living a life her final days in pain, attended by hospice nurses, knowing nothing could be done to prevent her exciting this life and leaving her sons?
Shaking my head, I replied, "I really don't know what you expect to see. I do know you'll see two men struggling to learn how to be parents to six, lovely, adorable, emotionally strong boys from ages seven or eight to fourteen or fifteen, depending on which boy you ask; men who feel totally ill-prepared, lacking the parental skills needed. You'll find the nine of us, counting my sister who is in her final days and will require care by nurses, Andy, hospice nurses, and her sons, generate a great deal of work inside and outside the home since we operate a business, but all of us very willingly to help, at all times!"
"You'll find two gay, married men," I continued, "who are so totally and completely in love with each other, who could barely live one without the other, finding ourselves, a few short days ago, the guardians and eventual adoptive parents of our nephews, now finding we love them just as completely. We feel we could not now exist without the boys sharing our lives."
I paused momentarily, trying to organize my thoughts and say what I wished. "You'll also find a brother struggling with the grief of the impending death of his sister, feeling helpless he can do nothing to stop it, and almost overcome with sadness watching her sons, in the face of this, maintaining an upbeat public face while inwardly mourning the coming loss of the mother they loved and who loves them dearly, knowing their time with her is very short indeed."
Mattie rose from his chair, tears streaming in rivulets down his face, settled on my lap, and allowed my arms to pull him close and rest his head on my shoulder, allowing my presence, my warmth, and my love for him and his brothers comfort him.
"I guess, Mrs. Boyer, you'll find a house full of love, respect for each other, where differences are celebrated, where hope is inspired, where our nephews know our love, have our support in all they do, think, or feel, and advocate for them. Most of all, a place where we believe dreams are achievable and not impossible!"
"When can I start?"
I'm certain she'd want to know what type of wage, days off, vacation, and other benefits would go with the position and reassurance it really would be hard work. Additionally, she had her three grandsons to care for as well. All of this, I thought would take some time to arrange.
"How much do you wish in wages?"
"Not the foggiest; I just want a fair day's wage for a fair day's work."
"Mrs. Boyer, I was thinking about a salaried position, perhaps with a couple weeks' vacation, a couple of days off each week, but that could change during the summer when we hit a real busy stretch, definitely health insurance for you and, if possible, perhaps for your grandsons if the insurance company will let me."
So far she hadn't objected or raised any questions, just sat listening. I didn't have a clue what was going through her mind.
"Would a salary of thirty-seven thousand a year be adequate? That's about seventeen almost eighteen dollars an hour."
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead