"Tommy, this is Harold," his mother said, beckoning to the man standing beside her. "He's going to be moving in with us! Won't it be great to have a man around the house?"
Tommy shrugged his shoulders, trying to look like he didn't care. "Whatever," he said, sizing up this new man. He didn't look much different than any of the other men that his mother brought home. Last month it had been John, who sat around and drank all day. Before that it was Larry, with his oily smile, who really gave Tommy the creeps. A year ago it had been Karl; the police had come for him, and it turned out that Karl's mame was actually Mike, and he was wanted in three states. Some other winners had been Alfonse the druggie, and Terry the traveling salesman, who had actually been kind of cool, except for the fact that he had a wife and three kids in Texas.
In his thirteen years, more men than Tommy could count had moved into and out of his mother's bedroom. Of his own father he knew nothing, had never seen so much as a picture. Tommy doubted his mom even knew who he was.
"Nice to meet you, Tommy," said the new guy. He was fairly tall and built, with black hair that was just beginning to turn gray. He was wearing jeans and a button shirt that was open at the top, with another shirt underneath.
"Yeah," Tommy grunted, wondering how long this guy was going to last. If he was lucky, maybe this guy could beat Fernando's record. Fernando hadn't even lasted a week. Neither Tommy nor his mother knew where he had gone.
Harold looked over at the sullen young man standing in front of him. His brown eyes were almost hidden beneath his unruly brown hair that hung into his eyes and nearly touched his shoulders.
"So how old are you, son?" Harold asked
"13. And I'm not your son," Tommy said, glaring. "Can I upstairs mom?"
"OK, honey. Dinner will be in an hour."
Tommy shrugged his shoulders again and headed upstairs.
Jenny looked apologetically over at Harold and said, "Sorry for the attitude. He's 13, you know how boys are...."
"Yes, I do," Harold said, but inside he was thinking about just how much of a pain this kid was going to be to live with. Instantly, he felt guilty for that thought. His own mother had been married three different times, so he knew what it was like to have men move in and out of the house, none staying for too long.
As he was moving his things in from his car, he wondered again why he had agreed to move in with Jenny. They had only gone out a few times, and she wasn't a particularly interesting conversationalist, or a world-class beauty. He supposed he was tired of being alone, but more than that, it had just seemed the right thing to do for some reason he couldn't quite verbalize.
Two weeks later.....
As Tommy snuck quietly up to the house, planning to climb in the window he had snuck out of several hours before, he was surprised to see lights on downstairs. It was after 2 in the morning; what the hell was his mother doing up? Moving on tiptoes around the house, Tommy looked through a living room window. His mother was seated on the couch, crying. Harold was next to her, with his arm around her. Tommy groaned. Not only was he going to have to put up with his stupid mother, but that asshole too. Tommy couldn't imagine why Harold hadn't moved away yet. He had done everything he could to piss him off. He had been disrespectful; he had refused to eat meals with him, making his mother bring him food to his bedroom. He had even thrown a red shirt into the washer when his mom was washing Harold's underwear so they would all come out pink. Nothing had worked, Harold was still there. Not only that, Harold had kept completely calm, unlike Jonas who had yelled "That _d_a_m_n_ kid!" over and over as he was packing his things.
Figuring there was no point in sneaking in the window and pretending he had been in bed all along, Tommy came in through the front door. He waved at his mom as he went past, said "g'night" and started to head upstairs.
"Oh my god! Tommy! Thank god! Where were you!" his mom jumped up and ran towards him. "I was so worried."
His mom tried to hug him, but he wiggled around until he was out of her grasp. "Chill mom, I was just out with Joe and Jon." He neglected to mention, of course, that they had been hiding in the park, sharing a six pack. Joe and Jon were twins, and they had an older brother who would get beer for them whenever they wanted.
"Chill mom, I was just out with Joe and Jon," Tommy answered his mother insolently. Harold did his best to keep a calm expression on his face and stay out of it. This wasn't his son, or any of his business.
"Tommy, I was worried, I don't want you staying out so late. And sneaking out! I didn't even know you were gone until I checked when I went to the bathroom."
"If you had just kept your nose out of it, I would've been back and you never would've known I'd snuck out. Can I go to bed now?"
"OK, honey, but just don't stay out so late any more."
"Yeah, whatever," Tommy said, looking at his mom with disgust.
Harold shook his head, seething. Jenny was such a pathetic parent. She set no guidelines for Tommy, no boundaries whatsoever. 13-year-old boys always test the boundaries and go as far as responsible adults will let them. When the adult in charge is irresponsible and sets no boundaries....Harold shuddered to think what would happen when Tommy was older. Most likely, he'd end up on drugs or in jail, a total burden to society.
By then Jenny had returned to her spot on the couch. "Oh Harry, I just don't know what to do. I'm glad he's safe, but what if he does this again."
"It's a matter of WHEN, not IF," Harry thought to himself. "If I don't take action here, this boy will be lost through no real fault of his own." He said nothing though, merely taking Jenny by the hand and guiding her up to bed. The boy's mother may have no idea what to do, but Harry certainly did.
When Tommy woke the next morning, which was Sunday, he smelled bacon cooking downstairs. Pulling on a t-shirt and sweat pants over his briefs, he went downstairs to find Harold cooking pancakes in addition to the bacon.
"Where's my mom?" he asked Harold.
"Out shopping. I gave her my credit card, so she'll likely be gone all morning. Do you want some breakfast?"
"Whatever," Tommy said. "Does this idiot really think that cooking me breakfast is going to make me like him?" Tommy thought to himself. Harold put pancakes and bacon on a plate and handed it to Tommy. After he put some butter and syrup on the pancakes, Tommy moved to head up to his bedroom.
"The kitchen table is down here," Harold said pleasantly.
"Really? I never knew," Tommy said sarcastically. "And my bedroom is upstairs, which is where I'll be."
"That's fine," Harold replied with a big smile, "but the pancakes stay here. If you want to eat you will eat at the table."
"Whatever," Tommy said, plunking the plate on the table. He sat down and started eating, ignoring Harold when he sat down next to him with his own plate of food.
"We need to talk about last night," Harold said, still pleasantly, but with a sharper tone to his voice.
"WE don't need to do anything," Tommy said, looking at Harold with disdain.
"Your mother was worried about you."
"Well, I'm fine, so she got her panties in a pinch for nothing. I can take care of myself."
"You're thirteen, son,..." Harold began.
"I'm not your _f_u_c_k_ing son!" Tommy screamed, jumping up from the table. "Why don't you just _f_u_c_k_ing leave! My mom and I can do fine without you! We don't need you!"
"Sit down, Tommy, we need to talk," Harold said, the smile leaving his face.
"I don't want to talk. I'm going to my room," Tommy said, trying to push past Harold and get to the stairs. Just as he was almost through, Tommy felt Harold grab him by the arm. "Get your hands off me!" Tommy yelled, trying to free himself from Harold's grip. He had nowhere near Harold's strength, though, so he couldn't break free.
Harold held tight as the boy struggled in his grip. "I said, get your _f_u_c_k_ing hands off me." Harold was truly tired of hearing that word.
"We ARE going to talk, Tommy, and I will ask you not to use the f-word any more."
"_f_u_c_k_ YOU!!!" Tommy screamed in Harold's face. That sealed the deal in Harold's mind. What he was about to do would probably mean the end of his and Jenny's relationship. Hell, he may even get arrested, but he was beyond caring. Scooting his chair away from the table, Harold gave a yank, and Tommy stumbled. That was all the opening Harold needed. Reaching around to Tommy's other side, Harold hauled Tommy across his lap.
"What the hell?" Tommy shouted. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to give you a spanking. You've needed one for some time, and since your dad isn't here to give it to you, I'm going to do it."
"You can't give me a spanking!" Tommy yelled.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!!! Harold brought his hand down hard across Tommy's upturned rear end. Tommy screamed, but it was obvious to Harold that it was more in anger than in pain.
"Apparently I can give you a spanking," Harold said calmly, continuing to bring his hand down on Tommy's butt. "I'm giving you one right now."
"Lemme go! OW! Lemme go, _d_a_m_n_ you!" Tommy squirmed and kicked, trying to get off Harold's lap.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Not until you apologize and promise not to sneak out any more," Harold said.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Tommy kicked his legs and squirmed furiously, trying to get away from Harold. This was really starting to hurt. "I'm never going to apologize, you asshole!" Tommy yelled. "You can't make me apologize. Nothing you can do will make me apologize."
He couldn't believe what was happening. No one had ever done anything like this at all before. "I'm telling my mother!!" Tommy yelled in desperation. "She'll have you arrested for assault!"
"I'm not assaulting you, I'm spanking you," Harold said. But he did stop spanking Tommy. Tommy felt triumphant. He had won! He hadn't apologized and he wasn't going to. But then....
"When you tell your mother, make sure you tell her that I pulled your pants down too," Harold said, and Tommy felt a hand on the inside of the waistband of his sweats.
"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Tommy yelled, louder than ever. But less than a second later, Tommy felt his sweats sliding down, revealing his underpants. Harold bounced him around on his lap for a few seconds, until his sweatpants were at his knees, then at his ankles.
SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!!
With his sweatpants down, the swats that were pummeling his ass felt three times as hard. Tommy yelled, threatened, and kicked so hard his sweats went flying across the room.
SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!!
But nothing he said, nothing he did, stopped Harold from spanking him. Before long, Tommy felt tears coming into his eyes. "Oh god, I'm going to cry, I don't want to cry...please don't let me cry! Please don't let me cry..."
"PLEASE!! Stop!" he yelled in agony. "I'm sorry, I'll be good! I'm SORRREEE!!!" Tommy broke down in sobs; it took him almost a minute to realize that Harold had stopped spanking him.
Slowly, as Harold rubbed Tommy's back, his sobbing stopped, then his tears, and eventually his shaking. When he was all cried out, Harold lifted him off his lap and stood him on his feet, standing up next to him.
Now that the spanking was done, Harold was unsure of what to do next. Awkwardly he put a hand on Tommy's shoulder. To his amazement, Tommy leaned into him, burying his head on his chest. Harold wrapped his arms around Tommy and held him close. Eventually, Tommy pulled back, and Harold let him go. They looked uncertainly at each other.
"I suppose you'll be needing these back," Harold said, picking Tommy's sweats off the floor and handing them to him. Tommy turned red, seeming to notice for the first time that he was still only wearing his briefs and T-shirt. He quickly pulled his sweats back on, wincing a little.
"Should we have that talk now?" Harold asked.
"I guess," Tommy said, rubbing his eyes. "Can we sit on the couch in the living room though? These chairs are kind of hard."
Chuckling, Harold led the way into the living room. When they were both seated on the couch (Tommy with several pillows!), Harold said, "Do you know why I did this?"
"'Cause I worried my mom and was mean to you," Tommy said. It was clear that he like the idea of having boundaries defined, even if he had hated the spanking.
"Partly, yes, but it's also because I'm worried about you. So is your mother, but she has no idea what to do with a 13-year-old boy."
"My mother doesn't know anything about anything," Tommy said angrily.
"What do you mean?" Harold asked.
"Well, for one thing...."
An hour later, Harold's head was spinning. This poor boy had had an endless stream of losers paraded through his house, none who stayed for long or cared about anything other than freeloading and free pussy. Not only that, but his mother had often been out till all hours of the night, leaving Tommy alone in the house. With no responsible adult around, and no stability at all, it was no wonder Tommy was acting out.
By the time he had told Harold everything, but butt no longer hurt as much, butt his throat was raw from all the yelling, crying, and talking.
Tommy looked up to see if he could tell what Harold was thinking, but Harold just wrapped him into another hug. Tommy felt an odd affection for this man that he couldn't explain. He barely knew him, and had just had his ass beat by him, yet he felt comforted hugging him all the same. Suddenly, to his surprise, he started crying again.
"What is it, Tommmy? Harold asked, and suddenly Tommy realized why he was crying.
"What's going to ha-happen when you leave? You're going to. The men always do."
Harold hugged him tighter. "Not me. I'm going to stay around. I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen, Tommy. I promise."
For some reason, Tommy believed him. He had no reason to, and in fact had seen many many reasons not to trust the guys that had lived in his house. He hoped that Harold meant it. He really did.