Willie is driving us to the movie complex after we had great sex together. He can't help me with my Saturday night Joel problem, and I don't know why I ever thought he would, or could. He'll be in Maine, for one thing. All Willie offered was a lot of Larry-speak bullshit about dominant/submissive relationships and blah, blah, blah. We had a mini fight about it and then made up with great sex, so we're okay. No, we really are. He apologized and is sorry he can't help, and I'm very sexually satisfied, which counts for a lot.
Neither of us has much to say, just some polite small talk. Then, in the theater, Willie bought the tickets, a large popcorn, and a large Pepsi we'll share. He handed me the big round container of popcorn and the Pepsi to carry, so he can show his cell phone ticket purchase to the pimple-faced usher at the entrance to theater number six.
In our seats, I held the popcorn on my lap and put the Pepsi in the drink holder between us. Willie put his arm across my shoulders and squeezed with his hand on my bicep, which seemed to me to be an even further indicator he was in a better mood now.
As people talked all around us, we remained silent eating popcorn and watched the previews. When he still didn't talk, I leaned over so my lips brushed his ear and whispered, "Are you mad at me, Willie?" He shook his head and quietly said, "Not mad, Dylan; I'm disappointed that I can't help you with that maniac, that's all. I want to be your man, um, you know; I should be able to protect you."
I felt bad that I laid that problem on him. What did I think he could do? He's blowing it out of proportion, though, so I gave him a quizzical look. He squeezed my shoulder again, then leaned over to kiss the side of my forehead, people sitting all around us. I heard two different people mutter, 'Hey, did you see that boy kissing the other one?" Willie heard it, too, and whispered, "Don't get that worried look on your cute face. Enjoy the movie, baby; everything is good between us."
I nodded because what else could I do? Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I let myself drift into the Hollywood world of make-believe. The movie was a thrill ride for almost two-and-a-half hours. Awesome! During this action-packed kind of movie, there isn't much of an opportunity to think about anything except the movie. Walking out when it was over, Willie was more upbeat and liked it, too.
We drove directly to my condo, and, for the first time, he didn't even ask to come in. I was sure Willie would want to come in and fuck me one last time before he headed off to Maine. I would have said okay if he had asked. Then, he didn't even kiss me goodnight, saying instead, "I know you don't want anyone to see us kissing, so I'll just say goodnight like we're just buddies instead of boyfriends." I mumbled, "Oh, thanks, Willie. I'll miss you."
He said, "Will you miss me, Dylan?" I'm like, "What? I love you. Of course, I'll miss you. Um, don't you love me anymore?" He said yes, he loved me, but he's worried about my Saturday night when he'd be in Maine, and he's confused about what he should do. He'll have a shitty time worrying about me.
I got out of the car and said, "Goodnight, and enjoy your time in Maine! I'll be okay." Going up the front steps, I wondered where my relationship with Willie stood. I love being gay, but it's awfully confusing and illogical the way Carl, Larry, Willie, the guys in Cambridge, and especially the asshole from Prep school, Charles, play at being gay. There must be a gay sector somewhere that doesn't believe in all this dominant/submissive stuff; there has to be! If not, maybe I'll start my sector. Me and Robby can be charter members.
Mom was still working at the restaurant, so, using my key to get into the condo, I got a bottle of pink Gatorade from the refrigerator and plopped down on the sofa, imagining Willie coming in and giving me one of those hot fucks. Why didn't he? I wondered about that for a few minutes, staring into space and mad at myself for not inviting Willie in. That would have been a more positive ending to our date. I thought I was sexually satisfied, but now that I think about it, the sex we'd had at his place before the movie had been good, but our argument detracted from the full sexiness of it, and a nice fuck in my bed right now would have gone a long way toward putting my mind at ease that he still loves me.
I won't see him for a week or two. Thinking wistful thoughts like that, I went into my bathroom and washed up, took off my clothes, and then crawled into bed. It was hard for me to believe, but Willie appeared to want me to be abused by Joel so that I'd learn to be a more submissive boyfriend for him, and then he said he was sorry he ever thought it would be a good idea. That was pretty shifty, pretending to agree, knowing I'd need to be with Joel. I'll bet Willie's thinking when he sees me a week or two from now, I'll have spent the weekend with Joel getting my ass beat in any number of ways, and I'll be properly submissive. This train of thought was getting me royally pissed off again. But what to do about it?
A new strategy: I'll talk to Robbie about Joel. Maybe there is a way Robby can think of for me to avoid going to Joel's without causing a huge disruption to the Dickers Landscape & Design Company. Perhaps Robby can have a discrete discussion, no threats or ultimatums that might piss Joel off, just discussions about it. Hmmm, oh, sure. Real easy solution, right? I can't see how that will work. I've already tried talking to Joel and was lucky not to get another slap across my face.
Telling Robby about Joel will at least explain to him why I need to get an absurdly short haircut again. Thinking about all of this is depressing, and I let that feeling sorry for myself drift through my head. Why does this shit always happen to me? The more I thought about this sad situation, the more disappointed I felt about Willie. The problem with that is, I miss him already, and I saw him only an hour ago. I've bonded with him, and no one will ever fuck me like he does. When I think about it, we argue about mostly little things, while everything else is excellent! I can certainly give in some more on that submissive dumb-ass stuff for him if I really need to; what's the big deal?
Then, I'm waking to this bright, sunny, and hot August morning. It's a Wednesday, so I'm looking forward to the Dickers barbecue and pool party after work. The first thing I did after my morning bathroom ritual was to get Chubby's and my swimming stuff together; the second thing was to remember my promise of last night, the one where I'm confiding in Robby about my problem with Joel. I have only one major problem, in my life, and it's Joel. When that's resolved, I can think about my dilemma of being a two-timing boyfriend and what to do about that. As regards my real major problem, I can't believe Robby will think it's a good idea for me to spend a night with Joel! Unlike Willie...
I haven't been right about too much recently, so I probably shouldn't try to predict what Robby will say or do. During the bus ride to work, I was going back and forth, first thinking Robby would come up with a solution and then changing my mind and thinking he obviously wouldn't because there isn't a solution. After pondering these thoughts, my mind changed to believing I should go with Joel and make the best of it. I mean, he's not going to kill me or maim me or anything. Other guys do Joel's kind of dominant stuff regularly. Not that I actually know what Joel's kind of stuff consists of. I should do it and not get Robby involved.
Wearing a Dicker's Landscape & Design baseball cap, T-shirt, and shorts, I hurriedly walked through the locker room, avoiding Joel completely by using the side door. Hopefully, I'll also be able to sneak by the college guys, too. My goal was to avoid their mock inspection. Those guys are so outrageous I have to laugh, but I don't feel like laughing right now. Everything they say or do is done for humor, so they're clowns, but Robby told me that despite that, they're still the best commercial lawn workers Mr. Dickers ever hired.
Actually, I feel a little flattered that they are paying so much attention to me. I turned the corner and saw Robby. He was busy with something inside his locker. I snuck up on him and goosed his ass big time! He goes, "Ooooh, that felt awesome, Dylan!" and I'm like, "How'd you know it was me?" Robby flips his hand at me like it's obvious and says, "I can tell because I love how you smell." I smelled the back of my wrist, "I don't smell anything." He gets right beside me and whispers, "I dreamed about you last night. I dreamed you said you loved me."
Clearing my throat, I mumbled, "I do love you, dude. Hey, I need to talk to you about something very troubling and potentially dangerous, and I need you to promise you won't take any action unless we both think it's a good idea. Can you do that? Promise me?"
Robby says very quietly, "I'd do anything for you." Then, because I could feel myself getting all choked up, I hugged him and said, "You are so fucking special, Robby! I hate myself for laying this problem on you, but I'm at a loss what to do." Then, like a couple of idiots, we kissed right out in the open again. I couldn't help myself. His full, bowed lips feel so good on my lips. Our three-second kiss ended with Robby blowing his moist, fresh-smelling breath in my face as he tried not to hyperventilate. I said, "Come on, let's sit down, I got to tell you something."
Robby stared at me with big, shiny eyes as I outlined my experience from day one with Joel, ending with the beating he gave me. Robby reached out and held my hand at one point, which made me talk faster for fear someone would wander by and see us holding hands. I detailed, as best I could, the overnight thing Joel insisted I do with him, ending with, "I'm not really sure what he'll do to me, but I'll need to get a boot camp type haircut."
Robby looked pale as I asked, "Do you have an idea what I can do to get out of this?" Before he could answer, I pulled my hand away from his and held it up to say, "Oh, before you say anything," and then I outlined all the ways this situation could come back to reflect terribly on his parent's company if Joel blew-up and the police got involved. Joel, working here, would come out and maybe get in the newspaper or, much worse, get online. Then I emphasized that it complicates things that I'm gay, and all of it could put a bad reputation on Dicker's Landscaping & Design, and his parents didn't deserve that.
I say, "Robby, it needs to be some action between just you, me, and Joel. Something that doesn't result in him killing me, or you, or both of us." Then I told Robby about the times I'd already tried to reason with Joel and how that went nowhere fast. Throughout my dissertation, Robby was a good listener, occasionally making tortured facial expressions at some gruesome details. I know he's smart, smarter than me for sure, so I hoped upon hope that he'd have a suggestion.
When I finished talking, Robby took my hand again, and a single tear came down his face as he bit his bottom lip and made a face like he was trying to control his emotions. I swallowed hard because seeing another boy crying is contagious, I started with the tears too, but I didn't want us bawling about this, and, frankly, I thought he'd be pissed off, not weepy.
Robby mumbled, "I'm so sorry, Dylan." He stood up to hug my head against his stomach, knocking my baseball hat off my head in the process. This is awkward, but I thought it didn't look like Robby would be any more helpful than Willie was. After patting my head a few times, in a voice that sounded very different from any other I'd heard him use, Robby said, "It's almost beyond belief. I've known Joel for two years, and he's seemed aloof, but the stuff you told me means he's crazy, insane. I'll take care of it for you. I'm so furious that he did that stuff to you, Dylan. Don't worry; you won't need to go anywhere with him!"
What? Just like that? I said, "Omigod, Robby. Um, how, ah..." He shook his head, mumbling, "Don't ask. Consider it taken care of. That fucker, doing that shit to you! No way is he getting away with that shit!" His level of anger was off the charts and took me by surprise because he's always so under control. The edge to his voice was nothing like the sweet, shy, innocent Robby I'm used to.
His reassuring me that he'll take care of it also surprised me. While I liked the sound of it, I needed to be sure Robby wasn't unrealistically underestimating the pitfall possibilities here. I wanted to know what he was planning to do or say. He told me he didn't know exactly, but he and Joel had an okay relationship, and Robby felt he'd explain the situation to Joel from a third party's viewpoint. The third party is the number one son of the company's owner.
Balls! That won't do any good, and it might make matters worse. Trying to keep skepticism out of my voice, I asked, "So you're just going to talk with him, and that will be the end of it?" Robby mumbled, "Nah, I'll try it, but don't expect that will be enough. You know what? Taking care of this for you makes me feel soooo good!" His tone of voice was back to normal; that sweet-sounding way he talked was not girlish at all. It's just that he has a young, boyish-sounding voice.
"Oh, Robby, you're fantastic!" I was still doubtful, but we hugged, and I said again, "So, you're just talking to him, right? We don't want to threaten him or get him fired or anything because that's what could lead to problems. Just talk, right Robby?" Robby got a cute look on his face when he said, "You worry too much. I'll take care of it one way or another," and then he stage-whispered, "Let's go check out the old locker section and see if we can figure where they'll install the showers next year, or maybe make out instead."
I wondered what he was thinking as we walked back for a make-out session. He's going to get himself and maybe everyone in trouble. I shouldn't have said anything! Why am I such a coward? I should have just done it with Joel and gotten it over with. This is so fucked!
All day I avoided being alone with Joel and kept expecting to see Robby and him have a conversation, but it never happened. After work, while sneaking with Robby back to the old locker section, I asked if he'd talked with Joel, and he said the chance was never right to do that. He said he was going to take care of it, no sweat. I really wanted to believe that, except it seemed too easy, so I kept my mind open to the fact that I'd probably be with Joel Saturday night.
I'd changed my mind again and decided if I needed to go with him, I would because there just wasn't any way I would give up this job. What would I tell people if I did? It'd be just as bad as telling Joel to drop dead. Putting that out of my mind temporarily, Robby and I got all hot and bothered with our make-out. For some reason, he turned me on more than normal this afternoon, which is saying something. I almost creamed my shorts a couple of times. It's so sexy to make out after work, all hot and sweaty and slippery and nasty, spit all over our sweaty faces and our hot breath coming out in bursts.
He was squeezing my ass and humping my crotch as I sucked on his neck, giving him a tiny hickey. Robby murmured, "You've got to fuck me sometime tonight, Dylan. You have to! You and I are the best thing that ever happened in my life!" I nodded, out of breath and overwhelmed by his sweet sentiment. Both of us groped our boners as we walked up to the front of the locker room. Robby yelled out to his Dad, "We'll be in the truck," as we went out the same side door I'd come in this morning.
After climbing up into the backseat of the pickup, we leaned together, and Robby felt around my crotch until he got hold of my cock to stroke it from outside my shorts. I said, "Whoa, that's awesome, but let's not get caught. We need to be a little more careful." This time, it was Robby who nodded, and then we heard, "I'm ready, Robert," from Robby's mom outside the truck, talking to Robby's dad. His parents got in the truck, and off we went.
It was a short ride, and as soon as we got out, Dodger hit us with a burst of water from the garden hose. Chubby said, "Oh, my, how darling," as Robby and I chased Dodger around the side of the garage. Mr. and Mrs. Dickers shook their heads, smiling at our childish behavior as Chubby snickers and follows us. We went inside the garage and smoked cigarettes, drinking Mr. Dickers' Beck's beers from the overflow refrigerator there. I could only drink one beer slowly, and I don't think Robby even finished one beer. He kept making head movements at me like he and I should take off for his bedroom. That would be way too obvious, so I kept shaking my head... No.
Dodger and Chubby were having a drinking contest about how fast they could drink beer number two. Eventually, we all went inside the little bathroom off the garage to change into our swimsuits. I had the pleasure of inconspicuously observing three less-than-four-inch penises swinging between the legs of my three friends, and that's an unusual sight for anyone to see.
Never mind that they all had undersized dicks; I wanted to suck them all one by one and compare cum tastes for scientific purposes only. The three penises were quickly covered, and out we went to do cannonballs into the pool. Dodger did his usual showing off by swimming underwater around the entire four sides of the pool as sleek as a seal and almost as fast. This week, it was hamburgers, hotdogs, and potato chips, which were simple foods compared to Mr. and Mrs. Dickers' barbecues, but it was really good, just the same.
Mr. and Mrs. Dickers were next door having cocktails. Chubby and Dodger are going next door to challenge neighborhood kids in a game of badminton. I grinned because Chubby kept saying, "Who's shuttlecock are we using?" Dodger called to Robby, "Are you guys coming?" Robby said, "In a minute. We want to do another swim and then check on the Red Sox game."
We went right upstairs. I didn't think we'd be safe for long because you never know what Dodger and/or Chubby might do. They were unpredictable, so we went directly into Robby's bathroom and locked the door. I reached over and pulled his swimsuit down to his knees, then mine. "We'll do it like this so, if we have to, we can pull them right up and be out of here in fifteen seconds." Robby was biting his lower lip, nodding in agreement as he played with his smallish dick, his face already slightly flushed.
He handed me the horrid Vaseline, and I used it on toilet paper to rub on my cock, and then on Robby's anus. I kept staring at his pecker, which was shriveled up from swimming. I mumbled, "I better get your pecker started for you," and got down on my knees, picked up his dick, and sucked it into my mouth. Robby goes, "Mmmmmm..."
Sucking guys' cocks is addictive. His dick had the pool taste again, but that didn't last long; then it's all Robby's penis taste, which is neutral. His cock and my cock got hard at the same rate because I get aroused sucking dick and gently squeezing balls, and Robby enjoyed having his cock sucked, and his nuts gently squeezed. As I sucked him off, Robby made a humming sound and continually went up on his toes with one foot and then the other, holding my head with both hands.
Soon he squeaked, "I'm going to cum" so I stopped for a minute, and holding his dick in my hand, bending my head back, I lapped under his scrotum, up and over it, and then up his boner. I did it three times, and then I got as far under his crack as I could and managed to lick his asshole a few times. My neck felt like it would crack, so I didn't try that again, but soon I wanted to do a full rimming on Robby's ass. I tongued up his cock a couple more times and then sucked on the head, swallowing precum.
He was whining, "I'm going to cum, wait...." I couldn't stop, though. Using a lot of quick tongue on the head of his boner, I started squeezing his nuts harder again until he squawked out a muffled, "Nooooo, oh..." as a lot of cum flowed into my mouth, some sliding out the sides and down my chin. I'd swallowed quickly, but not quickly enough to catch it all. My dick was so hard it was sticking straight out from my shaved groin. I got to my feet, turned Robby to face the sink, said, "Hold on, Rob," and pushed my boner fully up his ass in one motion. He did a muffled cry, but it felt good on my boner, so good I left it there and hugged around his waist, pulling him back into me so my cock could get a little further up his ass.
I'd gotten Robby's cock back to its full four-plus inches, sucking it, and he blew his load. Now I reached around him to grab his cock; it was back to its maximum size, a hard, throbbing boner with a nice fat diameter and a full rosy head. He has a great cock, and I'm quite fond of it. I held his boner in my fist as I humped his hole ten times fast. Robby was exhaling little puffs of air, making whimpering sounds.
I thought about smacking his bare ass but didn't do it this time. Instead, I stopped fucking his ass and just held him tight while I caught my breath; then, keeping my boner fully inserted in that great ass of his, I rotated my hips, increasing the fantastic sensations from the head of my boner down the shaft, and into my balls. I had to blow out a long exhale. When I started thrusting again, I did it with lazy, six-inch strokes. Oh my God, that felt good; my toes were tingling.
Robby laid his head back against my shoulder with his eyes closed and whispered, "Fuck me, Dylan, fuck me, fuck me..." with every hump he made more of those whimpering sounds. My boner was tingling now, along with my toes, and I was getting ready to blow. Robby rolled the back of his head on my shoulder, over to my neck, back and forth, then he moaned, "Oh, it feels so wonderful; make it last, Dylan, please... Ahhhh ahh." I was right on the verge of blowing a major cum load up his ass, but I somehow slowed down and stopped for a few seconds.
Stroking Robby's latest boner slowly until the urge to climax abated slightly, and then I started fucking him again. It was great, but finally, ignoring h his plea to drag it out, I rabbit-humped him fast and furious, squealed, and blew my load up into his bowels. I was shuddering and shaking like I was having a convulsion. I held onto him until I calmed down, leaving my pecker inside him because it was feeling so good up there. Shortly, though, we chickened out, worried someone would pound on the bedroom door, so I pulled out of him with both of us sucking air noisily in through clenched teeth.
We took deep breaths and then looked at one another, grinning as we pulled up our swimsuits. Out of the bedroom, Robby padded over to the stairwell and saw no one. I looked out the window and could see just the tops of Chubby and Dodger's heads playing badminton against youngish-looking adult guys, one of them with short red hair looked a little like Jake Rollins, but no, that's not possible, is it?
We went downstairs and walked over to watch Chubby and Dodger throwing themselves around the lawn, making ridiculously impossible hits on the shuttlecock, to the raves of the other neighbors. The redhead wasn't Jake. We returned to the pool with Robby and me complimenting Chubby and Dodger on their two straight victories. We swam and wrestled until the mosquitos once again drove us inside. It was a spectacular night!
The next morning, my Joel problem hadn't gone anywhere, so I was doing my best to prepare myself to go with him Saturday and to do whatever I needed to get through it. One small hope remained, Robby. On the bus, I thought about reminding him to talk to Joel since neither of us had mentioned it after that first discussion. Saturday was getting awfully close, though. I'd decided not to say anything today, but if Robby hadn't talked with Joel by the end of today, then on Friday, I'd need to nag. him about it.
The closer Saturday got, the more, if I'm honest with myself, I want to get out of going with Joel. I'm scared and sick to my stomach at the thought of sleeping with him, or making out with him, or doing anything with him. As I approached Robby at his locker, it was quickly obvious from just saying "Hi" that he was very much on edge about something. I asked, "Anything wrong, Robby?" He said, "No, why' did you ask that?" I dropped it, and since neither of us was as "hot" for a make-out as usual, we just did the massages and cut them short, too.
Checking his watch every thirty seconds, he finally said, "I need to check on something." Halfway to the main aisle, he stopped, came back to me, and kissed my lips, saying, like it amazed even him, "I can't believe how much I love you. It scares me a little," and he was gone again before I could think of something to say.
Changing at my locker ten minutes later, I see Robby hurrying back to his locker. He didn't acknowledge me as he passed. It was like I wasn't even there, so I sauntered down to see what was what. Could it be he talked to Joel? Robby wasn't at his locker; he was in the lavatory trying to get some dirty grease or something off his fingers. I asked him what was up, and he jumped a foot off the ground, grunting, "Jesus, Dylan, you scared the shit out of me."
He seemed very jittery, so I asked, "Are you okay, Rob?" He said, "I like it when you call me Robby; almost everyone else calls me Rob." What? He was not like himself at all. I hugged him from behind as he continued washing his hands, and I mumbled, "You're always saying to me that you love me, and I want to say it to you too, Robby. I love you." I thought he was going to cry. He became seriously emotional and hugged me like his life depended on it.
I could hardly hear him when he said, "I really needed to hear that right now, Dylan. Thank you for saying it." Then, the bell sounded for the start of work, and we broke apart. Robby grabbed some paper towels, drying his hands as we went outside to hop on the pickup truck for another day's work.
Today was called bitch day because the early morning lawns were all on the side of hills, big expansive areas out in the open, so we baked in the sun. The first job was the worst. We clambered out of the trucks, pumping each other up, saying, "Let's knock this bitch out and get it behind us, guys. Safety first on those slopes!"
I didn't see him walk from behind the other pickup, but Joel grabbed the back of my neck, saying, "Have you been avoiding me, Newman?" I looked startled and said, "Huh? No Joel! I'm getting my haircut after work." He sneered at me, breathing as if he couldn't catch his breath. He gives me the creeps!
I stood tall, hoping he wouldn't do one of his head-splitting slaps across my face. I half expected it because I didn't get my haircut, but he said, "Your posture has been much better since I corrected you last time," and he pinched my left nipple real hard through my T-shirt, saying, "Just take the pain. No sound." Breathing noisily, suppressing the pain until he let go. He patted my cheek, acting smug; he muttered, "I'm looking forward to this Saturday night when you'll be screaming, begging, and stuff. Heh, heh." To show how scary and weird he is, he stops talking, does an about-face, and walks in the opposite direction like a robot without saying anything else.
I had that feeling again, the one I got around him. It feels like I'm going to pee my pants. Alright, that's it; it's definite! I can't go with him. I changed my mind for the tenth time. I can't do it, so if I need to, I'll be a coward and quit this job even though I'll let Chubby down with the car money, but I'm not strong enough to do it. That's it!
Forcing Joel from my mind, I hauled the grass-clipping bins off the truck, hauled down the weed-whacker, and then a large cooler to lug to a central location for both teams to use.
I'm responsible for all the rookie shit-detail duties because I'm the newest kid on the crew: first-aid kit, a coffee urn, and Styrofoam cups for the morning break. When I had that station set up, I heard the ride-on mowers start up, so I began lugging my weed whacker to the furthest brick walkway to begin whacking the grass along the edges of the walk. I was pulling the cord to start the little gas engine on my machine when I heard the scream.
In retrospect, I'd first heard a strange, dull, "clump" sound that turned out to be Joel's ride-on mower rolling over on him. It eventually rolled down the hill. His one scream was like nothing I've ever heard before. It was so high-pitched that I didn't initially connect it to a human sound, but I looked toward the scream anyway and saw Joel on the ground with his mower still pin-wheeling down the slope. There was a continuous red spray coming from around Joel's ankle, which I knew was, of course, blood.
I ran and got there first without thinking about doing it, being the closest to him. The rotary blade of the mower had put a terrible, slicing cut above Joel's ankle as it rolled over him. I saw some white in the cut that I subconsciously knew was his ankle bone. He was fortunately unconscious now; after that scream, he'd passed out. The bleeding was serious, though, so I went right to him and twisted my handkerchief around his leg just above the cut. I couldn't twist it tight enough with my fingers to stem the bleeding, so I looked around on the ground and found a three-inch-long metal bolt just lying there.
It was greased and new-looking, and, in a fog, I was wondering what the fuck this was doing in the middle of this pristine lawn. Oh, well, I used the bolt to twirl my handkerchief tighter and tighter around his leg. When the material seemed to be almost cutting into his skin, the bleeding slowed to barely a drool. Only then did I hear all the noise around me.
People were yelling, "I already called 911," and cursing. Toby was there saying something, and one of the quiet Hispanic guys, Raul, said, "Good, Dylan. Let me hold that for you now," and he held the bolt that maintained the pressure on the tourniquet as someone else guided me up the hill to get under a tree and out of the sun. It was the other Hispanic guy, an older man I always called Mr. R., the only name I knew for him; he asked, "You okay, boy?"
I started to say, "Of course I am," but instead, I threw up my morning coffee. He told me my face was as white as a sheet, which was why Raulquet. insisted I let him hold the tourniquet. Someone said I may have saved Joel's life, and then they handed Mr. R. a bottle of cold water, which he opened, poured some in my mouth, and some on the back of my neck as I sat on the grass in a daze.
In a minute or so, I was feeling better, but the sight of the blood spurting up in a fountain and the white ankle bone I saw in the gash wouldn't leave my mind. From the scream till now, it wasn't a three-minute interval, but I had already heard the sirens announcing the EMT's arrival. They drove the ambulance right up the slope next to the group around Joel, got out to do some stuff for a couple of minutes, left my handkerchief tourniquet in place, and got Joel onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. And then they were gone. Someone had called Mr. Dickers, who arrived right after the ambulance left. He followed the ambulance to the hospital. Everything was quiet then.
There was a group conference forming, so drinking the rest of the cold water, I went to see if anyone knew what caused the accident. Out of nowhere, Robby appeared next to me, looking pale and worried. "Robby, where have you been? Did you see it? He mumbles, "I was over at the truck throwing up. You're a hero, Dylan." As I got my pack of cigarettes out, I noticed the grease on my fingertips where I'd touched the steel bolt, or whatever it was called, when I'd used it in the tourniquet.
When Robby took a cigarette, I noticed the remnants of the same grease on his fingers. He hadn't been able to clean it off completely earlier this morning. How'd it get on his fingers this morning in the first place? Looking at him as I lit his cigarette, I bit my lip, trying to think straight. Robby goes, "That was awful, wasn't it? A real shame something happened to Joel. I guess I won't need to talk to him now, huh?" He raises his eyes to look into mine.
A chill went through me, and I averted my eyes because I didn't want to think about anything right then.
To be continued...
