Double Tears
Chapter 148
“Sensus, non aetas, invenit sapientem.”
(Good sense, not age, brings wisdom.)
—Publilius Syrus, Maxims
10 MAY 2021
I think we have it all backwards. I certainly did. I was a doddering old fool and selfishly wanted my life to continue. I wanted to live forever, if the truth were known. Why? I could go on and on about the value of life and how it shouldn’t be given up at any cost. I fully intended to live to be 100. Maybe 200. If I survive in this body, certainly 150 is not beyond my range.
But I was wrong about my life. I had all the wrong reasons for wanting to be young again. My eighty-year-old life was not precious. I had nothing to offer this world. My brain, my ideas, my attitudes had all calcified. I was a hardened conservative. Well, as they say, ‘If you aren’t a conservative at eighty, you have no brain.’ I’ve added to that. ‘If you are STILL a conservative at seventeen, you have no heart.’ And, in fact, you didn’t have one at eighty, either. What I had backward was believing my precious life was worth saving. My brain. It wasn’t. The life that was worth saving was this seventeen-year-old I now inhabit. The passion and compassion.
Older, wiser, sager heads are what is destroying this country. There should be mandatory retirement from government service in ANY capacity at sixty-five. Even that is too old. Government should be left to the young, the compassionate, the caring. As old people, we’re frightened to let go of the control and give it to the young. Why? Because we’re afraid the young will treat the old like we have treated them. Of course, I’ll feel different when I’m eighty again.
Already, I’m feeling the pressure to let Peyton go. I could feel it even in Mom when I held her last night. Aside from our emotions and attachment, Pey’s life is considered moot. She didn’t solve any great world problems. She didn’t write any great symphonies. She didn’t find any cures. She won’t be missed.
That’s the way society looks at youth. Send them to the fields to harvest tomatoes. Send them to war to enforce our will on the world. Whose will? Old people’s will. Losing a few kids here and there—whether in a foreign war or to defend our second amendment rights—is a good thing. Thins the herd. Survival of the fittest. Well, it thins the wrong end of the herd. Send the old people to the fields so they can do something useful before they die. Start suggesting old people’s homes are better targets for mass murderers than schools. Old people move slower and are easier targets. When politicians reach that mandatory retirement of sixty-five, put them in National Service for two years. Better yet, sign them up to be foot soldiers. Put the expendables on the front line.
My ‘old man’ had nothing to offer this world. He wasn’t even that good a lover. I’m through with him. I don’t care if I don’t remember anything from that past life again. It’s youth that has the potential to change the world for the better, not age. That old bastard tried to get me to wait safely on the outside of the rubble for qualified help and would have left my sister to die alone.
Fuck him.
I went back to school Monday morning more determined than ever to help Cindy into a place where she could change the world with her music. And the first step in that process was to get her in front of that audition committee at the National School of the Arts.
I think our advisers were all surprised when I called a meeting of those who could attend for Tuesday evening. I was most concerned that our mothers and LeBlanc were at the meeting. If Jannie, Vinnie, Sophie, and Donna could be there as well, so much the better. Neither Cindy nor I could just take off and go to Washington DC in July without parental permission and support. Monday night, I called Ray and questioned him regarding what he knew about the special tracks that seemed to be opening up to people going into the National Service. He said he’d be there for the meeting.
When Dad and Mr. Marvel heard about what I was asking, they both decided to attend the meeting, too. I hadn’t intended to leave them out. They’d left most of the management of Cindy and me to our mothers. I felt somehow that their participation would bode well for us.
“The National School of the Arts has contacted me three times now to come for an audition,” I said, laying the most recent letter on the coffee table among us. I was surprised that everyone had decided to come to the meeting, which we held at Nanette’s house as a neutral location. Mom and Dad were living there but it wasn’t their home. A construction company had parked some heavy equipment in front of our house, prepared to start demolition before the weekend. Our ‘replacement cost’ insurance had agreed to rebuild the house but also determined they would replace it with a three-bedroom two-bath home consistent with what we had before and with the size of houses in the neighborhood. It would be a little more modern than the former house, simply because of advances in construction techniques and material since the original house was built. I think Mom and Dad planned to sell the house as soon as it was completed. They couldn’t see moving back into the space that had claimed their daughter’s life.
“I think you should go,” LeBlanc said. “You’re a talented musician and they could help you advance to the next level.”
“Not me. Us,” I said. “They’ve carefully suggested a time for the audition for after Cindy turns sixteen. They can’t openly recruit her until then. It’s something about recruitment regulations.”
“Why would they be interested in having Cynthia audition?” Mark asked. Cindy’s father wasn’t going to sit back idly while I pushed my agenda through. “I can understand you. Even if you don’t transfer there for your senior year, you’ll start National Service after graduation. My daughter has another year and a half after you turn eighteen before she is even required to take the test. You could be nearly out of service by the time she starts.”
“Ray?” I said. Joan’s father nodded.
“We’ve discovered the National Service is expanding its footprint,” Ray said. “It’s something that couldn’t be done in the startup years. There was too much pressure to get the program up and running and all resources were devoted to getting four million teens a year into some kind of productive capacity. But two significant things have occurred. First, the infrastructure repairs in the country are well on their way to being accomplished and returned to a maintenance mode. They have to find more places to put kids. Second, the wholesale move of service corps personnel into the fields to replace migrant workers has had a huge backlash. I wouldn’t be surprised if we start seeing some significant incentives being offered to kids who volunteer for hard labor. It might even mean shorter terms of service.”
“How does that fit with equal treatment?” Dad asked.
“Good question. We aren’t clear on how it will all shake out. It’s possible that one of the incentives will be a year of hard labor and the kids get moved to a strict educational/training track to complete their service. Colleges and tech schools are jumping all over that. But a part of the process includes enabling more kids to volunteer for service before they complete high school,” Ray said. “I’ve looked over the invitation and have done a fair amount of research on both the school and the trends.”
“You think they’d want Cynthia to drop out of school to join the service a year early?” Betty asked.
“I think that’s a distinct possibility. Even though they can start actively recruiting when a student turns sixteen, they can’t actually induct them before they turn seventeen. I think this is only being done for students with exceptional talent.”
“I don’t want to lose Cindy in our orchestra her senior year!” LeBlanc almost shouted. Funny, he was quite willing to see me transfer out.
“I think what they are after is consistent with what we stated as our goals when Cindy and I started performing together,” I said. “You yourself said you wanted Cindy to rise above the standard and make a mark on the world. Would you want to hold her back from doing that now?”
“We can’t know that’s what they want,” Mark said.
“Exactly,” I responded. “The only way we’re going to find out is if Cindy and I go to audition.”
“So, you think we should let our sixteen-year-old daughter accompany you alone to Washington DC? I think not,” Betty said.
“I’m actually hoping you and Mom will go with us. We are minors. We wouldn’t be able to do anything without parental permission anyway.” Betty looked a little mollified and glanced at Mom. Mom kept her neutral face on.
“I think Jacob has the right idea,” Ray said. “We won’t know the true scope of what they want and what the opportunity is unless they attend the audition.”
“And remember, an audition is not an offer of any kind. They haven’t been guaranteed anything,” Donna said. “I’d like to send an entire team with them and see if we can video their audition for a patron performance. Mostly, we’ve let people know there won’t be any new performances this summer. We hoped to capture something at the Kansas Ren Faire, but it won’t be the same as what we did in Kentucky last fall.”
“I can see using it as a huge promotion,” Vinnie said. “Just the idea of following them to auditions would be a production we could use to increase their popularity… a kind of reality TV show that follows the two of them as they pursue the possibility of expanding their careers.”
“Start our own private version of America’s Got Talent,” Jannie said, nodding. I could see Mark beginning to nod, too. I thought the real opposition to the idea would come from LeBlanc. He wanted Cindy to succeed but he didn’t want to lose her in his little high school orchestra.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to audition and find out what they want,” Betty sighed.
That was the voice that tipped the scale.
And that was all I could accomplish. Agreement that Cindy and I would go to audition and leave the scheduling, production of a video, and any negotiating up to Sophie and Donna.
Dad, Mark, and Mr. LeBlanc also discussed insurance for my new guitars. It looked like I’d be adding other instruments soon as well. Mark showed us a tag on the inside of Cindy’s flute case.
“When you pay thousands of dollars for an instrument, you want to protect it as much as possible,” he said. “I’d rather this was on the instrument instead of just in the case, but there’s no place to put it on the flute. It would fit nicely inside the guitar, though, and no one would know it was there.”
“Lo-Jack? We’re putting these in all the vehicles we sell now,” Dad said. “If the vehicle is stolen, you call the company and they can located it almost immediately. We’re running near a hundred percent recovery.”
“Works the same way for the instruments,” Mark said.
For my part, the rest of the week was focused on prom. For all intents and purposes, I lived at Donna’s house. My address was maintained as the old house, even though there was nothing there but a pile of rubble. I was simply staying at Donna’s until construction was complete, which would probably take several months. Mom and Dad hadn’t even chosen a design yet and the bulldozers were just starting to work removing things. I sat at lunch between Desi and Brittany each day as they primped and prepared for the big event. The only others in our group attending this year were Rachel and Livy, who would attend as a couple. We planned to have an adjoining hotel suite again, though.
I arranged a limo for the five of us and at six o’clock Saturday, we were all picked up and delivered to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. Of course, there were five sets of parents who wanted photos, too, so we posed in couples, trios, and quintets while moms and dads snapped dozens of pictures. I hoped a few of them, at least, turned out well. I’d like to have some of them playing on my new computer screen.
Most of my data was stored in the cloud, so it was a loss of equipment the insurance company covered. I was able to replace my laptop and recording equipment and I got a nice big check to cover the guitars. I’d be able to get a viol and another guitar or maybe a lute. LeBlanc repeated his suggestion that I get a mandolin.
They did a nice job with the Asian Sunset theme at the prom. Our outfits were appropriate and among the nicest at the prom. A lot of kids went all out, dressing in kimonos or silk pajamas. Ours just looked like a hint of Asian theme without trying to appropriate the culture. We looked like five white kids attending an Asian party.
When we posed for our photos on the replica Great Wall setting, I thought that one day, I’d like to visit the real thing. Better to visit the Great Wall of China than the Great Wall of Mexico.
“Jacob, you have to dance with all of us. Vertically and horizontally,” Desi said. “We’ve got you as our prom date and want to get filled to the brim with your good stuff. But this is it for Rachel and Livy. Livy’s just a month from starting her basic and Rachel is just two months away. We all have to make sure they’ve been loved up enough to let them know we’re here for them.”
“We’re going to have a little three-on-two action tonight,” Brittany giggled. I wondered if she’d found a spiked drink. She and Desi had seated themselves on either side of Rachel and Livy and were pressed against them.
“You should calm down, girl,” Rachel laughed at Britt. “There’s going to be a wet spot on the back of your dress before long.”
“Mmm. I think you have exactly the right idea,” Livy said, breaking an intense kiss with Desi. “I really feel the need to bury myself between these bounteous boobies.”
“They’re all yours, baby,” Desi purred. “If you get lost, I’ll send Jacob in to rescue you.”
And so it went. We danced. We snacked. We did as much petting and kissing as we could get away with. Adrienne and Celia joined us at one point and even though there was a fair amount of touchy feely going on among us, it was obvious they were into each other and had no intention of joining us for the night. Celia tried to see how far down my throat she could get her tongue at one point and then suggested maybe I could give her a little relief after graduation before she joined up.
Another surprising embrace came from a girl I hadn’t seen much of this year—the cross country runner, Sue. When the girls’ and boys’ teams had been split with varsity and JV on each as well, we just didn’t see as much of each other. Sue was making a mark for herself in track this year, though, and said she was sad Livy and I had decided not to run in the spring sport.
“I’m still a little disappointed that we never got that threesome pulled together,” she said. “On the other hand, Rich, Sam and I are having a pretty good time of it.” I looked at the two guys who had their arms around Sue. Behind her back they were holding hands. I’d about decided there was only one kind of pod developing and that they would all have one guy and multiple girls. It looked like Sue and her guys were reversing that.
Eventually, the five of us made it to our rooms and clothes started coming off. We had two beds but we were all hanging out in one room while we undressed. Helping each other. I was operating zippers and peeling dresses off boobs by inserting my hands between flesh and fabric. There was a lot of kissing going on, too. I took my time nibbling on Brittany’s butt as I pulled her dress down. She was wearing garters and stockings but no underwear. And there was some evidence of a wet spot forming on the back of her dress. My fingers sure slipped into her wet channel with ease while she was busy kissing Livy.
“I love you all so much,” Rachel said as the five of us, now fully naked, clasped each other together in a hug. “I love being with you, loving you, being naked, and tasting your goodies. But I love just hanging out, too. Studying, shopping, or just lounging around watching TV. I know we’ve talked about what will happen when we go to basic and all get split up. I know there will come a time when I just need a tongue or a cock and take whatever is near. But I’m not really looking forward to it. My heart will be here at home with you.”
I looked at her and more passed in our glance than in any words I could say. From the very beginning, Rachel had been my girlfriend. Thinking about her being with someone else at basic or NSO training stung a little but we’d talked about it enough that we were prepared. I just wanted my sweet redhead soulmate to be happy and cared for. I knew we’d all have experiences we never imagined when we went into service, but the only ones I worried about were Rachel and Beca. And Cindy. That was a different category.
I’m not sure what clicked in those few seconds, but instead of taking Desi and Brittany to the other bed, Rachel and I stretched out on the bed next to us and began kissing. Desi and Britt already had Livy stretched out and moaning between them. I surrendered myself to the union with Rachel and soon, without more noticeable foreplay than our kisses, I was buried in her red thatch and we were moaning as we kissed and moved together.
“Rachel, I love you more than life,” I whispered. “I’ll do everything I can to make our life the best ever.”
“Take care of our pod mates. Visit me when you can. Love me forever.”
As charged up as we were it didn’t take long before our smooth sliding action had the expected results and we exploded onto and into each other. We lay there, still connected, my body pressing hers into the mattress as we kissed and sealed our love.
“I get the creamy center,” Brittany said as she pushed me aside. “You have to fill Livy for Des.” We laughed and I rolled to find Livy on her hands and knees, face buried in Desi’s center. That view of my tall lean girlfriend never failed to light a spark. I got behind her and slid my revived cock into her core from behind.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
