Plattsburgh, New York, in the summer of 1970...
It had been a rough couple of months for Dustin Wood, and his life seemed to fall apart in every way imaginable. First, his mother passed away in the spring, and with her gone, Dustin's father seemed to change into someone unrecognizable, drinking heavily and taking all of his frustration out on his only son.
This might have been 1972 in San Francisco but out here in rural Averill Park it might as well have been 1930. There may have been gay guys my age around, but if there were they kept it to themselves like it did.
A couple of weeks ago my Mom let me take the car into the big city, which in our case was Albany, New York.
My name is Jen; I've been married now for three years to my husband Tim. I think we have a good relationship and sex life. He'd probably say it could be better but that's a typical guy, always wanting more. But that's not the point of the story. No, I'm writing today because of what happened last week why it's fresh in my mind.
Corey Cooper wrote this journal on his laptop in two places, the first part sitting on the throne of the bathroom in the motel room he was brought to, and the rest at home after his battery gave out.
It was somewhere around 4 in the morning when I finally gave in to the fact that I wasn't going to be getting any sleep, and while the man sleeping beside me wasn't helping with his occasional snoring, the truth is that I never could sleep well in any bed but my own.
1. Standing alone in the rain.
That's what I was doing on that miserable late summer morning somewhere in the neighborhood of Lee, Massachusetts; standing in the rain near the entrance ramp of the interstate, doing a bad job of hitchhiking. How I managed to get to this spot is a long story which is painful for me to recall even now.
When I emerged from the bathroom, my best friend was on his back in bed, naked except for his underwear, and as I looked at him, arms and legs akimbo and with his eyes closed, I started to get emotional, knowing this would likely be the last time we would ever do what we were about to do.
Cleo and I were both nurses in our late twenties employed at the local hospital. We had been seeing each other for almost a year when we worked the same shift we always took our evening meal together once the patients had settled down and our wards were quite.
On an unusually balmy night in September we had arranged to meet on the flat roof of a disused hospital block to enjoy the warm night air, snatch a meal and a little quality time alone.
Jack Barker watched his girlfriend's son go into the garage, and after making sure that his soon-to-be wife was in the bathroom, went out the back door and toward the garage. Jack had just moved into the modest old farmhouse a couple of days ago, although he had spent a lot of time there in the year he had been courting Alice Randolph.
Attending a collage in the south has many benefits not the least of which is frequent road trips to the beach. On this particular trip it was myself and five fraternity brothers looking for a little fun and sun down on the gulf coast. We arrived Thursday afternoon around 2: PM and checked into our hotel. Typical collage guys on a budget, we were jamming the room.
Chapter One: Stranded in the Big Apple.
Everything had gone so well up to the point when I took out my wallet to get my bus ticket. It was a small grey stub that was going to get me on the bus for my return home to Plattsburgh, New York, and when I didn't find it right away, I didn't panic but merely stepped out of the line to allow the more organized travelers to get on the bus.