Chapter 8: Birthday Boy

The Higher Education of Matt Griffith

Chapter 8: Birthday Boy

Monday, August 21, 1995

Author's Note: Copyright 2024. All characters in this story are fictional and are not meant to represent any living persons.

Matt heard caterwauling before he even opened the door to the bathroom. Then he saw it—or rather them. Seth and Mark #1, naked (nekkid in Okie), waiting for shower stalls, singing Twist and Shout! Each of them held a shampoo bottle as a makeshift mic, doing their best to channel Ferris Bueller's famous parade song. Seth sang lead, Mark #1 was his backup.

It was a beautiful moment, exactly what Matt needed. Two weeks ago, the only twisting these two did was the awkward towel-around-the-torso twist as they self-consciously wriggled out of their underwear. Matt had almost certainly been the catalyst behind this change.

He knew that he had also grown and changed in the same two-week period. He had William and Jake to thank for that. Banished to OC by his birth family, tossed overboard like jetsam, he had been rescued and adopted by a new family of sorts, like-minded guys who had kissed him, fucked him, sucked, him, taught him to do the same—all within a context of mutual respect and affection.

A few minutes earlier, in the privacy of his room, Matt had begun the day with a slow, sensuous wank, his first since coming to OC. Instead of the frantic, furtive tug-and-squirts of the last 5 years, sad sessions where he had pined for the caresses of men who lived in the underwear section of the Sears & Roebuck catalog, this had been a glorious, guilt-free celebration. He had imagined that William and Jake were in the bed with him, all of them naked, crowded together. Jake had kissed him passionately while William serviced his cock. Then they had switched places. Matt had stroked himself slowly, teasing out pre-cum. Next, Matt had imagined that both Jake and Wiliam were licking his cock and balls, intermittently kissing each other, their bodies positioned so that Matt could finger and explore their holes. He had nearly climaxed twice, but edged through it, saving himself for the moment he picked which of them to mount.

He had finished by humping his pillow, a towel placed there to catch the spunk.

Despite all of that, Matt was in a bit of a funk. Today was his nineteenth birthday, which should be an occasion to celebrate. Instead, his thoughts were of Adam Maxwell, the kid he'd never met, who was also nineteen, also gay, and who was now in a hospital, having nearly succeeded in killing himself.

Seth held out his shampoo bottle-cum-mic, beckoning Matt to join in. Matt, already naked, as was his custom, hesitated. He was not in a singing mood. He decided to do so in Adam's honor, one Oklahomo shaking his booty in tribute to another.

Saturday, when Matt and Jake had fucked, all they had known about Adam was that he was no longer a student at OC. Even William had known little more than that. It was only post-fuck, when Matt and Jake were laughing and horsing around, that the room's phone rang insistently. William calling with the story, which was still incomplete. Someone had told the Dean Adam was gay. The Dean had confronted Adam and pressured him to drop out of school, the whole "save your family the shame" bit. A few hours later Adam almost died.

Matt sang and showered, dressed, and went to the cafeteria for some coffee. He didn't feel like eating.

Ruth, a girl he recognized from one of his classes, beckoned him to join her and some friends at their table. Ruth patted the seat next to her as if she had been saving it for Matt.

Matt sat, noticing as he did, a perfumed cloud enveloping Ruth, who was also very put-together for a Monday morning. Big hair. Tight top.

Ruth introduced Matt to her four tablemates, who, after some initial small talk, settled into their prescribed roles as backup singers for Ruth. Matt was wise to this game girls played. This was not his first rodeo.

Matt had often wondered why anyone with a real understanding of the Bible story would name their daughter Ruth. Bible Ruth had been a poor, young widow, whose only family was her elderly mother-in-law, Naomi. Ruth and Naomi concocted a plan at harvest time, when, after a day of hard work, all the men of the village got wasted at the threshing floor. The plan was for Ruth to wait until Mr. eligible bachelor, Boaz, passed out, and then curl up beside him. The Bible was scant on the details of what happened next, but shortly thereafter Boaz married Ruth. In other words, Bible Ruth entrapped her man. The original honey pot.

Modern Ruth touched Matt's forearm lightly. "The girls and I were just talking about the election! We've already voted for you!"

Cue the four backup singers' nodding heads. The "Naomies", Matt decided. This musical group was "Ruth and the Naomies."

Matt smiled and thanked them for their votes. He sipped his coffee. Election day. Yeehaw. He was only running because William had encouraged it. And, as one of three candidates for two freshman representative spots, he had good odds of winning. Matt had seen, on his way into the cafeteria, the sad little folding table/voting booth. He hadn't voted.

That evening he was supposed to go to a watch party/celebration at the clubhouse. He hadn't been to the clubhouse yet, so there was one positive in all this. Two positives: he would get to be with the rest of the Gay Mafia, the first time he'd been around any of them since Saturday evening.

Ruth upped her game. She flipped her hair AND touched Matt's hand. "Isn't there a big soccer game this Saturday?"

One of the Naomies—Nicole? —spoke up. "'Friends University', right? Saturday at 10:00 a.m."

Matt nodded absently. His thoughts were of Jake, specifically Jake's post-sex critique of Matt's performance. Thumbs up. Jake was highly satisfied and would recommend Matt to all his friends. Areas for improvement: stamina. A four-minute mile was impressive on a track field. A four-minute fuck was not impressive.

Ruth ran out of steam and started talking to one of the Naomies.

A part of Matt wanted to apologize to Ruth because he couldn't give her what she wanted. He remembered how, just a week or so earlier, he had spent his days pining for William. If he could have done so, he would have saved a seat for William, and tried his own honey pot. In some ways life was like a game of musical chairs. The world was just a big room full of lonely people shuffling around seeking partners. No one wanted to be the person still standing when the music stopped.

Matt had never learned how to navigate relations with girls, how to be friends but not misleading. He aspired to be the kind of person who subtracted from the world's loneliness—not added to it. But now was not the time to solve that riddle. He had muddled this situation enough already. He said his goodbyes to Ruth and company, apologized for having been distracted, explaining that he was worried about a friend who was in the hospital.

Matt should have gone to class. Instead, he went to the campus bookstore. He had an idea how to subtract from one person's loneliness. He picked out a greeting card with a picture of a kitten on the front. The caption read "Have a Purr-fect Day!" He bought that and a saran-wrapped chocolate chip cookie.

Matt made his way to the Registrar's Office, where Debbie—the punch and cookie lady he'd met at the new student reception--had said she'd worked for nineteen years. She'd started her career at OC the year Matt was born. He remembered thinking she was masking deep loneliness with an exaggerated, overloud cheerfulness.

Debbie was at her desk, hunched over a stack of papers, tapping on a keyboard. When she saw Matt, she lit up like a Christmas tree. (She certainly wore enough ornaments: hooped earrings, a multi-colored bead necklace that hung loosely around her neck like she'd been lassoed and broke free, bangles on her wrists.) She launched herself to a standing position, which sent her chair reeling backwards and set her ample chest quivering with aftershocks. She was not a graceful woman.

"MATT GRIFFTH!" she squealed. "Ladies!" she called to her two coworkers, "this is Mr. 'designated driver' I told you about!"

Matt smiled shyly. He was glad he had come.

Debbie loved the card and cookie. It turned out she was a cat lover and had three fur babies. "Did you end up joining the Drama Club?" she asked.

Matt shook his head. "Nah, that Bill guy got under my skin. Besides, there's enough drama on the soccer team." Matt couldn't help smiling at his little inside joke. What would Debbie think if she knew exactly how William had got under Matt's skin?

"Bill," Debbie giggle snorted. "You better not let William hear you calling him that!"

Matt remembered Debbie's advice a few hours later when William welcomed him to the clubhouse. What would Debbie think if she knew that William was also known as Godmother?

The clubhouse was a two-bedroom townhome at Wedgewood Village Apartments in Oklahoma City, far enough from OC to allow some privacy. William ushered Matt to the townhome's living area, which was in the back. Todd, Luke, Evan, and Josh were already there, as were two other guys Matt presumed to be the ones who had missed his interview. Absent this time was Jake, who was on security detail.

Everyone greeted Matt with shouted Happy Birthdays and sang the song with gusto. He blew out the candles on a cake that served dual purposes: Red-icinged script on the top line read "Happy Birthday!" His name was printed in large blue letters on the second line. The third line, red again, proclaimed "Congratulations!" in expectation that he had won his election.

Matt beamed with happiness. It was 6:00 p.m., and these were the first birthday wishes he'd received. He hadn't expected anyone to know it was his birthday, hadn't moped about no one's mentioning it, but had felt the absence all the same--like a tongue exploring the hole where a tooth had been. This had been a stark change from the previous eighteen anniversaries of his birth. He was touched that William had remembered the date, which had been a passing detail in their discussion about astrological signs.

Matt had expected either a card or phone call from his parents. Nada. They hadn't contacted him since he'd come to OC. His father had turned his attention to Matt's younger brother, Brian, who, at sixteen years old had not brought any shame on the family name. Matt's mom, ever the dutiful wife, followed her husband's lead.

William introduced Matt to the two other members: Kevin and Harley. Kevin was a short, soft-spoken, gentle kid. Harley was the Okie version of boy-next-door, as opposed to Josh who was the All-American boy-next-door. Harley was beefy, barrel chested, thick legged, pudgy faced. He looked like the kind of kid who bullied the Kevins and Todds of the world for sport, but his toothy smile betokened kindness.

Luke cut the birthday/congratulations cake and served it up on little dessert plates. Todd filled drink orders. Everyone settled into seats—either on the couch or side chair or one of the dining chairs that had been re-appropriated and carried into the living area. Luke sat on the floor in front of the oversized side chair in which Evan sat. Luke's shoulders were wedged between Evan's knees. Were they a couple?

Matt listened to the laughter and conversation around him. These guys seemed to genuinely like each other. (Dare he say love each other?) Nor did they hold him at arms-length or remand him to some junior, less-than status—as most groups would do. They pulled him into their conversations, filled him in on back stories and inside jokes. They asked him questions and listened to his answers. This truly was a Happy Birthday!

William interrupted long enough to hand Matt a key, his own key to the clubhouse. William retrieved a 3-ring binder from a drawer in the entertainment center behind him. "These are the club rules, dahling," he said. "Read them. Memorize them. There will be a test."

Harley, who was sitting on the couch beside Matt, leaned over and said in a stage whisper "There is no test, dahling."

Everyone laughed—even William. They were that kind of group.

William held up a hand. "Okay ladies. We must get serious for a bit."

The room quieted immediately. In what other world, Matt wondered, could a skinny, femme guy like William command such respect? And what was the deal with acting like they were all girls?

"First," William said, "This shouldn't surprise you, given recent events: Gay Chapel is Wednesday. That is not common knowledge. I heard the news from an inside source"

Everyone groaned, which cued Matt that this wasn't a good thing. No sodomy in the pews. No rainbow flags.

"What is Gay Chapel?" Matt asked.

Kevin answered. "You know how the ancient Romans used to toss Christians to the lions and sit around and cheer while the lions had a snack?"

Matt nodded.

"It's kind of like that, except with fags."

Matt had been enjoying his birthday cake but set it aside on the coffee table. He'd lost his appetite for celebration.

William nodded his agreement with Kevin's assessment of Gay Chapel. He looked at Matt. "This will be your first one. You will feel like all eyes are on you. In a way they will be. Everyone will be sizing up their neighbors, looking for closet cases. Try not to crack. If you do, you're toast at OC, loved and hugged right out the door."

Harley tapped Matt's arm. "You gonna eat that?" he asked, pointing to Matt's leftover cake on the coffee table.

Matt shook his head, decided maybe the moment deserved some levity. "It's all yours, dahling!"

Everyone laughed. This seemed to be an easy punchline. Harley snagged Matt's leftover cake.

"Next topic," William said after the laughter subsided. "Colton Langley. We now know he's the shitbag who ratted out Adam to the Dean. We should probably assume Colton's next target will be Paul Olson, the other freshman. Or Matt."

"Is that solid information about Colton?" Evan asked. "Or just speculation given your history with him?"

Josh beat William to the answer. "Solid. I visited Adam in the hospital while his parents were grabbing lunch. No visitors were allowed except family. I told the nurse I was Adam's brother."

"And?" Evan prompted.

Matt sat frozen. His mind had locked on William's last two words: "Or Matt." He could be Colton Langley's next target.

Josh continued. "Apparently, Colton's Gaydar works as well as ours. He guessed that Adam was gay, befriended him, and tricked him into telling him his secrets, including that he and an older student had hooked up on some old country road."

A shocked silence settled on the room. Harley even put down his fork.

Matt's mind was playing catchup. He'd heard that name Colton Langley somewhere. Now he had a name to pin on the villain who had nearly cost Adam his life. The villain whose next targets were either Matt or this Paul kid. The villain who was also probably trying to discover the name of the upper classman who had hooked up with Adam—Josh.

Evan voiced the question that was on everyone's mind. "Josh, do you think that Adam gave your name to Colton or the Dean?"

Josh shook his head. "Adam says he didn't. I believe him. He's a good kid. Besides, don't you think that if they knew my name, I'd be an 'ex' student by now?"

William nodded. "I think Josh is safe. And Matt knows not to fall for Colton's tricks. Which leaves Paul." William turned to Harley. "As Paul's sponsor what's your opinion of his readiness for membership?"

Harley wiped cake crumbs off his shirt. "He's a good kid. He's just so scared. His dad's a preacher. You know the drill."

William arched an eyebrow. "Harley, no hedging here. Do you, or do you not, recommend Paul for membership?"

Harley grimaced, shifted his weight in discomfort. "Not at this time," he said.

"I think that settles it," William said. "We'll hit the 'pause' button on Paul's membership until things cool down on campus. Any objections?"

Matt waited, hoping one of the other members would speak up on Paul's behalf. He knew the rules of group dynamics, knew that as the new guy he should hold his peace. It just seemed wrong. If they did nothing, they would be complicit in tossing Paul to the lions—their fellow students in general, the Dean and Colton specifically. And what if, in despair, Paul took the same road Adam had taken? This time the blood would be on their hands.

"I object," Matt said.

Silence. William nodded for Matt to continue.

"No one doubts that Paul is gay, right?" Matt asked. "He's just scared and timid—more than we ever were. But, scared as he is, he hasn't had gay guilt and ratted Harley out to the Dean. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

"It isn't enough," William said. "Our standard has always been that a guy must be comfortable enough in his own skin, that he's accepted that he's gay and there's no turning back. Paul isn't there yet."

Everyone nodded in grim agreement.

Matt looked around the group. He had said his piece. They had listened politely. The Godmother had made her ruling. He would be a fool to push any further.

Matt knew what he had to say.

The mere thought of it terrified him.

He took a deep breath, centered himself. "There's something I haven't told you. About me." He broke off eye contact, stared at the floor. Started again, stopped, then finally found his voice. In broken sentences, in shallow breaths, and blinking back tears he told them about the rape, how it had trapped him in fear and shame. How he had known he was gay but couldn't find the path out of the fear. "Rape is not the only way to terrorize a person with fear. Sometimes it is preacher dads. Maybe Paul just needs help finding his way."