“This is all my doing.” True or not, it is something Nikko firmly believes. People who spend any time with him hear that refrain over and over. Another thing Nikko says a lot: “What’s wrong with me? Why am I living like this? What did I do wrong? Am I being punished for something?” Nikko seems to think so. On the surface, Nikko had an uneventful, even privileged childhood. His father was a respected bank manager; his mother, a housewife who volunteered at the local hospital thrift shop. But the truth is Nikko’s childhood was one terrible event after another. The most memorable for Nikko was his sister Faith’s attempted suicide. Faith survived but insisted on leaving home after they discharged her from psychiatric evaluation, returning only when she had no other choice. Another memorable event for Nikko was his brother Rodney’s car crash. Roddy still limps badly from his injuries. And, then, there was his mother’s sudden death from falling down a set of stairs. And through it all, there were his father’s unpredictable episodes of extreme rage. One happened when Nikko was sitting out in the backyard with a couple of friends and his father came out with a belt and began whipping Nikko for leaving his room a mess. Another involved Nikko playing music his father thought too loud. And there was the time Nikko was doing homework with one of the girls in his class in the family dining room. Without warning, Nikko’s father came in screaming, grabbed him by the hair and smashed his head on the table, called the young lady he was studying with a whore, and ripped up their homework. When talking about these things, Nikko will – by way of explaining his current situation – go on and on about people who did him in and destroyed his life. “They had it in for me. That’s for sure. What choice did I have?” By the time he was 13, Nikko was showing signs of trouble ahead. He became very quiet, avoided friendships, and went from being a good student to one that had to be held back. His guidance counselor recommended psychotherapy. The first referral did not work well. A middle-aged, former physical education teacher whose chief therapy was push-ups and admonitions to “straighten up and be a man” did not sit well with Nikko. In the middle of the first therapy session, Nikko got up, mumbled something about a bus being late, and left. The guidance counselor was very upset with Nikko about this “resistance” and against her better judgement referred Nikko to Mrs. Marsh, a new therapist who seemed too attractive to assign to adolescent boys. And that’s when Nikko seemed to have a bit of lucky. She was patient, cheery, and always had a piece of candy. Nikko loved her, not just because she was young and female and he was an adolescent boy, but because she listened, took him seriously, and seemed to understand him. His grades picked up. He seemed to have a penchant for math and was soon in an advanced placement class, learning calculus and differential equations. But he was still skittish about friendships. And was miserable at home, never knowing when his father might fly into a rage. After he graduated high school, he went to a local commuter college on a partial scholarship. After graduation, he got a job as a junior actuary which gave him the chance to move away from home. And for a while, things were more peaceful in his life than they had ever been. He was back seeing his favorite therapist, began having a bit of a social life, and was thinking about taking a vacation. But one night, his sister, Faith, called and asked to visit. She was still living at home and had just dropped out of junior college. She said she was depressed. Faith showed up looking a wreck. Underweight, unkempt, and strangely jumpy. She had a bruise on her left cheek. She went right to Nikko’s new couch sat down with her arms wrapped tightly around her, shivering and saying nothing. Nikko gave her one of his favorite donuts. After a while, she began to talk. And the more she talked, the angrier Nikko got. He began to understand what had gone on in his family home since Faith was five years old. She stayed for a month, maybe two before she went to live with a boyfriend. At least, that’s what Nikko thinks she did. Nikko says most of his memories from that time are hazy. Nonetheless, he claims to recall three things vividly. During the first week his sister stayed with him, his father showed up, demanding to take her home. There was a fight. Nikko says he remembers grabbing the old man, calling him a child molesting pervert, and pushing him out of the apartment. He also recalls how his father lost his balance, fell over a garbage can, and ended up sprawled on the sidewalk before getting up and storming off. A second thing Nikko remembers from that time is his father’s death – a heart attack they said. Nikko says he went to the memorial service but when people stood up and began describing his father as deeply religious, caring, and generous, Nikko couldn’t take it and left. And the last thing Nikko remembers about that time is cocaine. Back then, Faith was a serious user. Nikko tried it and liked it. And, Nikko says, everything came apart after that. He’s been on the streets now for maybe fifteen years.

Dennis might seem a bit of a chucklehead, at least at first. He started working beach concessions at 13 years old for his cousin, Sammy. They rented little sailboats to people visiting the beach for the day. Only a few knew how to sail. So, Dennis started to give sailing lessons. He learned by doing and by 15 he was pretty good. At least, he knew more than the people he was teaching. He was not such a good learner in school. He hated school. He loved to talk to people, but he couldn’t talk in class. He loved being outside. But he couldn’t be outside during school, except during gym class which he hated most of all. He did not care for kickball, baseball, or touch football. And in junior high and high school, there was something about taking a shower with other boys that creeped him out. So, as soon as he was old enough to drive, he figured he’d start a business that got him outside, let him be with other people and, most of all, was away from school. The sailboat business – and the sailing lesson tips especially – gave him a small pile of money. He knew how to save. Even though, teaching girls in skimpy bathing suits how to sail would be a dream job for a lot of guys his age, he didn’t date. “Too busy getting rich,” is how he explained it. While he loved working the sailboat concession and doing the sailing lessons. He didn’t own the business. And it was only for a couple of months a year. He needed something of his own. And pretty much year-round. So, right after he got his driver’s license at 16, he quit school and put all his savings into a food truck. His parents went nuts. They knew he wasn’t going to make their dreams come true by going to college and getting a “real” job. Fortunately for Dennis, his sister, Claire, would give them that pleasure. But this food truck thing – everyone agreed, that was crazy! And, just as his parents and everyone else predicted, Dennis’s first two months with the food truck were a disaster. He got a few summonses for speeding and for selling food without a license. He almost burned the truck down at least once. And had no idea how to handle food. But he learned. He took cooking classes at night and became a first-rate short-order cook. And more important, a pretty good businessman. But, by the time he was 18, Dennis began to see that the food truck business had its limits. Repairs were expensive. The hours were long and backbreaking. Fine when you are a kid. Not so good a few years later. And you could only make so much money. It was that kind of thinking that got him into franchising and into becoming a millionaire by the time he was 28. It also got his parents thinking maybe Dennis is not such a loser after all. The thing is they really didn’t get it until Dennis was written up in the local newspaper as the entrepreneur of the year. They were as surprised as anyone. Dennis didn’t go into fancy clothes. He dressed pretty much like the beachbum he was in high school. He lived in a small apartment in a commercial part of town. And he drove an old pickup. So, now seeing Dennis as a successful adult, they wanted to know why Dennis wasn’t married. His sister, Claire, who had a very nice accounting job, already had two kids. Dennis didn’t really have a good answer. Not for them. Not for himself either. “I just never seemed to get around to dating much,” is all he could say. That is, until one evening about a year ago, down at the beach. He had been visiting his old haunts, seeing how the guys at the sailboat concession were doing and just wandering around. He ended up sitting by himself on a bench, looking at the surf, when a guy sat down next to him and started to talk. It was dark. Dennis really didn’t know what happened next or how it happened, but he ended up back at this guy’s apartment and he was never the same again. Dennis still hasn’t told his parents that he is gay. He doesn’t really quite get it himself. But he’s learning. He’s been back to that bench on the beach more than once over the past few months.