Afterword

Okay ... well over a year down the road, now, and I rather wistfully have to report that Tony and I did not last. The reason being, it was inevitable, I suppose ... he had a relapse, and went back to girls. Which at the time, of course, was crushing, devastating, actually, however even then, even in the midst of my daily sobbing misery and fury, I was thankful that at least he hadn't cheated on me with a boy.

It was bad, though ... really fucking bad, particularly after seven months of what felt to me like paradise. It was just so horrid and awful to feel hatred for someone whom I had grown almost to worship ... but ... the good and happy news is ... I'm down in London now, living with my boyfriend, John, whom I love to pieces and who, yes, works for the local dance company (though not as a dancer) ... and I'm even happier to report that Tony and I have made up and are actually quite great friends again (he's pretty much my best friend, in truth), in fact he was just here - he stayed with us last weekend for a visit. He's come and stayed with us a few times, actually, (as has Anwar, even), and there has been no awkwardness or tension at all. He's with a new girl now, Marta, a Polish exchange student studying chemistry of all things, and I can honestly say I'm genuinely happy for them both.

I have a lot of great memories of our time together and wouldn't have exchanged it for anything, but there is still, at times, this bittersweet feeling about it in my heart, his having been my first true, and great love. Still, though, again, I have no regrets. Realistically, it's not like people who hook up at age 17 are going to be together forever – that sort of thing really barely ever happens, outside of old movies, and with uni looming for him in Cardiff, and me having my sights on London, it was inevitable, I suppose, that we would have split. I was happy, at least, that we got to celebrate our 18th birthdays together.

Overall, I learned a lot from Tony, and I like to think, vice versa. I certainly learned about things such as spontaneity and throwing caution to the wind. I learned too, what an amazing person he was (still is), how exceptionally bright and talented he was (is), and I know I was happy every single day to make him happy, or to at least try. We learned and grew and matured a lot during our brief time together; I like to think, because we were together.

But anyway, I sound like an old frigging man, which I am not. At present, I am 19 and a half years old, dancing almost for a living (can't yet afford to quit my day job at the local corner grocery), John and I are active in the London gay rights community, and we not only have a pretty decent (if tiny and fiercely overpriced) North London flat, but a new puppy, called 'Boo'.

So ya, I'm doing okay, and John is cool, and lovely, and not even bothered that Tony and I still talk and/or text nearly every day. He sends me ridiculous long-winded two part filthy gay jokes by email, always signing them "Antonio", and I turn round, tell him to go fuck himself, and fire off endless cute photos of Boo.

Life is a strange thing, no ? It throws all kinds of inexplicable shit at you, and then sits back and expects you to adjust. Sometimes, it allows your wildest, most insane dreams to come true, things that to you, are miracles. And then it will turn round, some months later, and make you pay very dearly for those miracles. The key, I suppose, is to learn to accept that you oftentimes can't have one without the other - just the laws of nature, or some such shit. So it's left to you to decide if the miracle was worth having at all, if it was one day, and too soon (in your opinion), going to cease.

In my case, the obvious and often bittersweet but ultimately very happy answer would be, absolutely yes.

THE END,

(thank you)

Author's (final) note:

Okay, well it is with no small amount of bittersweet wistfulness of my own that I finally end this tale.

I think it's realistic that Maxxie would look back and see that knowing and loving Tony was a bit of a miracle, but that it 'ceasing' was also something terribly costly to him. The hope there is that with time and a bit of maturity, he would recognize that in life you do sometimes have to take the good with the bad. At any rate, I am pleased and honored and tickled to have had Tony and Maxxie make up and become friends again, to the point of Tony spending weekends at Maxxie's place in London (I mean, what a sweet idea), and the two of them communicating just about every day. (One has to wonder if this same wistfulness that Maxxie feels is possibly shared by Tony, especially when he sees him living and making a life with another man.) I'm mostly pleased that Maxxie is happy and has made peace with it all, and that he realizes that, particularly with loving people as complex and difficult and emotionally costly as Tony, that you do pay a price, but you are also ultimately rewarded and enriched that much more simply for having known them, than you would with just mister ordinary boring average uncomplicated 'joe'.

At any rate, I sincerely hope this proves a pleasing ending for readers, more sweet than bitter, and worthy of the their time as well as the rest of this story. It's nothing brilliant, but I like it and am genuinely pleased with it, I have to admit. A good, (if bittersweet, but then I've always been fond of bittersweet) note, I think, to end the story on, and a neat tie-in, obviously with the title.

This chapter was completed late last night, when, up til maybe the last 10 minutes, I had been getting frigging absolutely goddamn nowhere, and was struggling mightily to put a wrap on this voluminous tale, which btw should be measured not just by it's 1 million odd words, but in the many, many ounces of sweat and bouts of hair-pulling and wall-punching, as one straight American adult woman struggled once again, to, as much as humanly possible, accurately, genuinely and respectfully portray (meaning living with and getting deep inside of the mind and soul of) a 17 year old gay English boy - something I've been doing as a way more than part time job (unpaid, though yes, a labor of love, on top of my real full time job), since July, and it's frigging October. I knew that Maxxie and Tony would not last (realistically and statistically, there was just about zero chance), and I knew I wanted Maxxie to be looking back with mixed feelings over the whole thing, but, beyond that, it wasn't really happening. And, honestly, after ALL of the time and fucking hard work I have put into this thing, I was damned if I was going to let it end on a less than (hopefully) perfect note. Only problem being ... nothing was coming. I call this "concrete brain", those moments when your effing left brain is in charge and fighting you on visuals, free association, passion, feeling, play, and most importantly, hearing the music and rhythm inside the language. In this state, when nothing flows, you are caused to overthink (almost always resulting in trite, dullass, cliche and 'concrete' ideas and images) rather than to allow the nice, colorful, spinning whirlwind to explode inside your head.

I had the idea that I'd love it to end a la the way the legendary/infamous American baseball diary, Ball Four ends - with the writer, a baseball pitcher on his last legs, saying that he has spent a good deal of his life gripping a baseball, and in the end it turns out it was the other way around all along. Simple, but lovely. Bittersweet, without the bitter. That's what I was going for.

Anyway, so the inspiration came suddenly and simply (and obviously and rather unromantically), after I'd given up and while I was brushing my teeth, from my own damned story's subtitle Miracles Never Cease ... Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I suppose there are times when you need not look further than your own backyard ...

But, okay, enough of my blathering ...

Fare thee well, dear readers, and fare thee well, my dearest lovely Tony and Maxxie - I have enjoyed your company immensely these last few months, having lived with and felt your pains and anguish as well as your triumphs and joys ... Allow me to wish you great happiness in your young lives. Stay safe, take care and write home once in a while.

Acknowledgements and general thank you's :

To everyone who took the time to read and review - the funny thing is, someone warned me off of posting to FF telling me that it had a supposed 'de facto bias' against slash, of all things. So when I somewhat nervously put up my first chapter back in July, and then immediately had two or three review alerts popping up in my inbox, prior to reading them, I was actually afraid I was getting flamed. So thanks to all of you for your exceedingly kind and encouraging words, and for not flaming me ! As mentioned in my profile, I have had a slash blog up on Wordpress since last fall which has had virtually no traffic (which, believe me, is depressing!), so to come here and end up with dozens of readers and reviews from some 42 different countries (believe it or not) is absolutely staggering!

To Lizzy384 thanks for so damned much editorial help and support - this is a writer's dream, folks - long, unflinching reviews and PMs that tell it to you straight when you fuck up and support and encourage you otherwise - absolute dream, I tell you! Here is an Australian woman who went so far as to enlist the help of friends in England re proper British slang words or substitutes for American terms such as 'guys', for an American writer she's never met. Thank you- you absolutely kick ass/arse.

To Anastasis, my unbelievably sweet young Polish reader, who started off with chapter one, and then (I'm tickled to report) got so caught up in the Wordpress blog that she hasn't been back, but promises she will ! In the meantime, she provides me with great critical feedback on about a weekly basis (it's a long blog, folks, and she can only get to about 2 or 3 chapters a week). I can't wait for her to finish over there and return here to Taxxie-land !

To my best friend Dian, who has had the unenviable task of hearing, on a near daily basis, my moans and struggles and hopes and squirmings with regards to not only the Taxxie story, but all of my writings, for two + years now. She is the only person in my non-online world ie my real life who is aware of this quite strange writing habit of mine, and who is patient enough to put up with it and read and even provide what she calls 'book reports' ie very detailed constructive reviews. One million thank you's.

To the many dozens of lurkers out there:

You know who you are ! Goddamit - it's your last chance ... get off yer arses and write me a review !

Please ? :)

Pretty please ?

Thank you !

:)