Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This story is copyright 2007 by the author who retains all rights.
Warning: This story concerns adult and teenage gay males who may be involved in sexual situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do not like to read such stories, please leave now.
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A Sunny Day
Dear Jeff,
I don’t know what day it is. I don’t know who I am. I’m in a hospital. I think this is California, but I’m not certain.
I told them my name isn’t Conrad, that it is what Frank called me. I don’t remember my name. I remembered your real name, though.
I told the psychiatrist who is helping that my best friend’s name is Geoff, with a G-E-O, Johnson and we live in North Park, Washington. He kind of nodded, but I don’t think he believed me. I’m beginning to think he thinks my name is Geoff Johnson.
+ + + + +
September 19, 1965
Dear Jeff,
I had to go to court today. It wasn’t because I killed Father Frank. They know that he was keeping me a prisoner and had brainwashed me into thinking my name was Conrad.
The judge asked me if my name was Geoff Johnson. I told him no. I told him he could call my sister Nanci Chambers in North Park, Washington, and she would know what my name was.
The judge asked the psychiatrist what was going on. He said that it was unusual for someone like me to focus on some name and to come up with a complete life based on a fictional person.
The judge looked at me and asked if I knew how I came to be in Father Frank’s house. I told him a whorehouse near Reno, Nevada, sold me to him.
My lawyer said something like, “Has anyone looked into what this boy is saying or are you just assuming he’s insane?”
The psychiatrist said, “You can’t talk to me like that.”
The judge said, “Put the boy in a different facility and find out who he is.”
I’m not in the hospital anymore. I gave my lawyer the diary.
+ + + + +
September 21, 1965
Dear Jeff,
I spoke to Nancy today. She’s driving down to pick me up and take me home. Well, to her apartment. I asked her about Geoff, but she doesn’t know. She called his home, but the phone’s been disconnected.
I’m beginning to remember some things. Not everything, though.
My lawyer says he knows who I am and that he’s going to do a lot of things to help me. They found the money Little Johnny gave me. He said it’s mine and I should have it.
I miss Geoff, but I don’t quite know why.
+ + + + +
September 28, 1965
Dear Jeff,
Well, I arrived home today. I’ll be living with Nanci, now. I guess all the bad stuff my parents were involved in is over as far as I’m concerned. The North Park police weren’t too helpful, but the State Police were very interested. I guess the North Park police are somewhat known in Washington as being worthless.
I don’t know where Geoff is. We drove by his home, but someone else lives there now. They said they don’t know who lived there before. I asked next door and they said Mrs. Johnson moved away. They said something about Geoff living in California with his uncle.
I’m going to school Monday morning. I guess because of all the shit that happened to me, the school is going to help me catch up.
I miss Geoff very much now and I know why. I remembered that part last
night in a dream.