Chapter 8 #2
“The point is, Harvey”—he sits up in the Adirondack chair—“all we have is now. If you spend it worrying about hypotheticals, or fantasizing about the eulogy at your funeral, you’ll miss it.
This moment. And then this one. And now this one.
Then you’ll be my age, and all those moments add up.
They blend together and you wish you’d been more aware of them while they were happening. ”
“How do you know it’s a moment, though?” I say, looking around us. “If nothing changes? If everything stays the same?”
“You were breaking blades of grass. That was a moment a few moments ago. You could do it again, but it won’t be the same. We’re talking now. You’re a different person than you were when you were tearing apart that grass, like it or not.”
“Do you have kids?”
He doesn’t seem surprised by the question. “A son and a daughter.”
“Were either of them a mistake?”
He stares at me for a few seconds, then out at the river. “I prefer calling it unplanned. And my daughter certainly was. She’s a little older than you. A registered nurse.”
“So it runs in the family.”
“My son is a plumber.”
“Everybody has something they do. Something that contributes. They’re useful.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“That’s their identity. You said what they do. Not who they are. Not, like, my daughter is kind. Or my son is funny. It’s what they do with themselves that’s important. And I don’t do anything.” I can’t seem to stop blabbing. “I can’t do anything.”
Jack is silent for a time before he says, “That’s only true if you’re dead and someone reads a shitty eulogy at your funeral.”
I huff out a laugh. “Funny.”
“And you made a good point. We should focus more on who people are and not necessarily what they do. Perhaps it’s time we change that.
You’ve got a lot of time to figure out both.
To try things. In the meantime, don’t let the moments pass you by.
They all count. You’ll get older and wish for even the most mundane ones again. Trust me on that.”
I leave my session with Jack and walk along the trail beside the river toward the sheds.
It’s hot in the sun but a little cooler in the shade.
I expect to find Austin resting under the pavilion, staying out of it.
Cloud gave him some kind of sunblock that smells faintly like coconuts.
He smears it on in the mornings, over his arms and shoulders, his neck and face, all those freckles.
It seems to work; he hasn’t gotten burned in a while.
But when I approach, he’s standing by one of the canoes, wiping sweat from his face with the hem of his T-shirt.
I don’t miss the flash of his pale stomach and the dark red line of hair under his navel.
He sees me and points. “Can you get that side? This thing is heavy as shit.”
I don’t get that side. I walk toward him, getting closer and closer until he’s backed up against the wooden shed. His brown eyes are wide. His fists clench. Old habits die hard.
Maybe it’s time for new ones.
I place one hand on the wall beside his head, the other around his neck, and kiss him.
He doesn’t react. He’s still, his body flat against the side of the building like a statue, but then his head tilts.
He makes a noise deep in his chest, shoves his tongue in my mouth, and then we’re kissing each other like we’re in a porno, about ready to fuck in that canoe.
It’s not a bad idea. I make a mental note.
His fingers grip my hair. An arm wraps around me.
I inhale the faint scent of coconuts and slide my tongue in and out of his mouth the way I’d slide my cock in and out of his ass, and damn, he kisses good.
It makes me mad. Of course he’s a good kisser; just another thing he’s good at.
I should’ve done this a long time ago, not thrown punches or hurled insults.
Just pressed him against something solid so we could fuck each other’s mouths with our tongues.
All I wanted was you.
I’m against him, so tight and close, I feel an erection, and it’s not just mine.
I want to hold him here. I want to be nothing but weight.
I want to keep him from flying away, like angels are apt to do.
A bird squawks nearby, and the part of me that did this crawls back into its hiding place, leaving the rest of me to break the kiss and the moment.
I tried to hold onto it, and now it’s gone.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Light lashes fluttering. I think I really will get him a halo and wings.
His eyes dart between mine and my mouth. When he speaks, his voice is husky. “Why’d you do that?”
I step back and swipe my thumb over the moisture on my lips. “I just wanted to see.”
“See what?”
“What it would feel like.”
Before he can reply, Timber’s truck tires crunch on the gravel. We move away from each other as Timber parks the truck. When he gets out, he has a smile pasted on behind his beard.
“How’s it going, fellas?”
We both mutter that it’s fine.
Timber rests his hands on his hips, looking at all the stuff on the ground. “Got any recycling?”
“I don’t think so,” Austin replies. “Not right now.”
Timber studies the two of us. It’s hard to tell if he saw anything. He’s always wearing that smile. “Canyon’s got a guy coming out. Maybe tomorrow. A locksmith.” He nods to the metal shed.
I nod, and Austin mutters, “That’s good.”
Timber nods along with me, looking between us as if he’s waiting for something. Then he says, “Want a ride to lunch?”
Austin and I climb into the back, sitting on opposite sides of the truck bed. I watch him as we ride along, bouncing over ruts in the road and listening to Timber through the back window as he sings off-key to Crosby, Stills & Nash.
I started wondering what it would be like to kiss him when we were stuck in the shed. After what he said, one of us would have to do it. I thought I would hate it, that it wouldn’t feel right, and I could get it out of my system. We beat each other up, what, a couple of weeks ago now?
So what we just did seems absurd. It seems… wrong.
Maybe that’s why I liked it so much.
Timber stops the truck, and we get out. I head to lunch while Austin goes to meet Jack. Carl sits with me, smelling like dirt and grass from the garden.
“I thought about it,” he says, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth. “And I think I’d do it.”
“Do what?”
“You asked me”—he looks around real quick and lowers his voice—“if I’d blow somebody. What it would take.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I’d forgotten about that conversation.
“And I think if you got me a Hot Night album, autographed by your old man, we’d be set.”
“We?”
He shrugs. “If you needed a little help. I’d let you do it to me. I don’t really have anything valuable, but I’ve got money. I could give you, like, five hundred.”
“You want to give me five hundred bucks to suck your dick?”
He grins. “Sounds sleazy.”
“It does.”
“I like sleaze.”
I take a sip of mineral water. “What about Austin? Would you go down on him?”
“The guy who’s house you burned down?”
“Jesus, give it up, Carl.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“I doubt that.”
Carl continues. “Anyway, I guess. If he had something good to give me for it.”
“What if it was just to return the favor?”
Carl laughs. “Man, you sound like a pimp.”
I laugh too. “I dunno. Maybe we should just forget the whole thing. I don’t even know why I thought of it.”
“’Cause you’re backed up. There aren’t any girls here. What else are we gonna do? Guys in prison do it like it’s no big deal.”
“We’re not in jail. And I have a hand.”
“Me too, but you know that’s not the same thing.”
I shake my head. “Nah. Let’s just forget it.”
Carl shrugs. “All right. Suit yourself.”
After lunch, I find Austin already there, tossing life jackets out of the wooden shed onto the grass. He hears me approach and turns. I stand next to him in the doorway, surveying another mess.
“I think this one’s worse than the other one,” he says.
“Oh well. We’ll get it done.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice he’s watching me.
“What did Jack have to say?” I ask him.
Austin sighs. “He just talks to me about addictions and stuff. I don’t really listen.”
“Why not?”
“I just want to get on a TV show.” He nudges a life preserver with his foot. “I don’t need any of that other stuff.” His eyes meet mine, and he studies me for a few moments. “So, how did it feel?”
My heart starts racing. We are absolutely in a parallel universe. I look behind him. “Is that the one you wanted to move?” I point to a canoe.
“Yeah.”
I grab one end and drag it over to the edge of the river.
“What are you doing?” Austin asks.
“We should test these babies out,” I reply, picking up a wooden oar.
I step inside and use the oar to push the boat into the water.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to get in them,” Austin says.
“So don’t then,” I reply. “Just stay there.”
Before the boat is fully in the water, Austin grabs the other oar and jumps inside. We row it out into the middle of the river, where it’s calm. A bug with long, skinny legs skims over the surface of the water. A couple of squirrels run up a tree. We might as well be in a storybook.
“What are you smiling at?” Austin says.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Are you on something?”
“No.”
“Did Cloud give you some kind of herbal remedy?”
“I’m just a different person than I was before.”
“What?”
I shake my head again. “Never mind.” I look around us at the scenery. It’s… nice. “I wonder how much it would cost to live out here.”
“Out here?”
“Probably close to nothing. Compared to LA.”
“You want to be some kind of hick?”
I turn to him, squinting slightly in the sunshine. “There’s no smog. It’s quiet.”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Lots of things.”
He doesn’t look away for a few moments. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip. “You didn’t answer me.”
I peer over the edge of the canoe into the water. It’s hard to see the bottom, but I know it’s there. I untie my shoes. “About what?”
“For fuck’s sake.”
I remove my shoes and push them under the bench. I stand up. “It felt like this.”
Before he can answer, I jump into the water.