“Thom, I’m glad you took off work today, cause I know I wasn’t going to be able to go in,” David Armstrong said when he came over that afternoon.
“Dave, I could have just driven myself, like I used to.”
“True, but the carpool saves the environment, and quite frankly, it’s good having you around.”
The tall man with his round black glasses and shaven blond head always carried a nervous energy, but now he looked flat out distracted.
“Dave,” Thom said, “you need to talk?”
“That’s suppose to be my line,” Dave said.
Then he said, “Thom, it was awful. I… I fought with Bill. Bill and me never fight. But if you had been there Saturday night… The things he said to Niall. The way he was… And Dena’s left him. And Cameron. Thanks for keeping her.”
Thom made a face, but only said, “You’re welcome.”
“Yeah,” Dave continued, trying to wave everything off with one of his long hands. “This is terrible. It’s just terrible.”
David shook his head as he folded his large hands together and Patti, entering the kitchen, said, “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Ah, no. Thanks, Patricia. I mean, I need to talk to my brother. Well, brother-in-law, but Bill is a brother to me. Did he ever get home? Do you know?”
Thom spread his hands out and shrugged and Patti said, “Sorry, David. We haven’t seen anyone go in that house except Cameron stopped for a few things.”
Dave nodded his head and said, “It’s almost Christmas and everything’s wrong. Well, maybe they’ll be some good news soon.
“Uh,” Thom volunteered. “Over the weekend I got a son.”
Bill left his office and went through the large area of cubicles until he was past the coffee machine and the water cooler and then he walked past the restrooms and the elevator and pushed open the door to the stairwell. Here, the concrete steps and the blue painted metal railings took him down to a landing almost hidden in darkness that led to the next floor. He had barely gotten there when Lynn pulled him to her, and he lifted her up, kissing her.
Her legs were about his waist and she lifted her throat for his bite.
And then, while he sucked on her throat, she reached for his belt and he blinked at her, surprised for only a moment. She undid his belt and pushed down his trousers and he pulled her panties away and in a moment, he was inside of her. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the feeling of entry, at the incredible badness of what they were doing. Bill Dwyer from a year ago would never have done this, not even Bill from a week ago. When he came it wasn’t violent, but it was in a sudden umph, as if he were a tube of toothpaste and someone had simply come along and pushed something out of him. It happened all together, in one surprising spurt, and he lay against Lynn, his head on her shoulder.
As Cameron placed her head on Chris’s shoulder, she said, “So, are we together or not?”
“Huh?”
“I mean people must be asking,” Cameron said.
He looked down at her. He was in a grey sweatshirt, his hair sticking up, and they were in the den of his family’s house not paying attention to the television.
“But are you asking?” he said.
“I guess I am,” she said.
“Well, I mean. We could be. It’s a good idea. I just didn’t want to force anything.”
“Great,” Cameron said. “I mean, I didn’t want to force anything either. I just like being with you, and—”
“I love being with you,” Chris said, sincerely, turning so that Cameron had to lift her head.
“I like it a lot. And I like being there for you, and I don’t need anything else. Like, I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think I’d pressure you into, you know… stuff.”
“Sex.”
“Yes,” Chris said lamely. “Yeah, that.. stuff. I know people say stuff about me, and… I didn’t want you to think I was like that.”
People did say stuff, or rather they raised eyebrows. Chris Knapp was one of those people who you knew there was a story floating around about, but you weren’t quite sure what the story was. He was fast. He was a bad boy. He knew his way around the girls, though Cameron couldn’t remember knowing a girl who had dated him. Or anything elsed him.
“I didn’t really think about it,” Cameron said. And she was almost serious.
“Besides, you hang out with Mark Young. How bad could you be?”
“You drunk yet?” Mark urged.
Gilead took another sip from the bottle and shook his head though his mouth was burning and his eyes had bulged out.
“Not as drunk as I wanna be.”
“Drink some more.”
Gilead swigged from the brandy bottle again and passed it to Mark, who took a huge gulp.
“We’re not going home tonight, are we?” Gilead said.
“Well, now, I’m not driving,” Mark said, holding the bottle aloft, “and I feel like you aren’t either. So I’m going to camp down on a no.”
Mark had stopped in the liquor store on a dare, and when the man at the counter had asked them, “You strapping lads home from college?” Mark had said they were and ordered two bottles of bourbon and one of honey brandy. They had no time for beer, and they might never have this kind of luck again. All the way back to the motel they had laughed, Mark honking on his horn and then rolling down the window to yell at the dunes.
“Let me,” Mark held out his hand for a cigarette once they were back in the motel room.
“What about track?”
“Fuck you. What about it?”
Gilead handed him one and tossed him the lighter, and while Gilead watched the orange glow against Mark’s face, Mark said, “You’re just trying to hog your fucking cigarettes.”
He sat back against the wall, his knees apart and exhaled smoke, merrily.
He had thought of saying, “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” but he didn’t. They just drank themselves silly.
“Now,” Gilead lifted a finger, “I want to drink till I’m silly, but not till I’m sick, cause that shit isn’t fun.”
“Hey, Gil.”
“Yeah?”
“Hey, Gil.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, Gil.”
“Goddamnit, Mark.
Mark chuckled, reached for Gilead, trying to hook one of his fingers with his own fingers.
“Don’t be so fucking far away from me.”
“You mean knee to knee?”
“Get closer.”
Gilead scooted so that he was side by side with Mark, and Mark touched his chin and pulled him down and kissed him.
“You feeling what I’m feeling?” Mark said.
The things about Mark that should have sexually excited him, which did sexually excite him, also moved him on a deeper level. Now, Gilead Story’s body was buzzing with alcohol and he slipped his hand between Mark’s legs and Mark laughed, his eyes lighting up as Gilead held him.
“Yes… I think I do know how you’re feeling.”
Under the covers, was a haven for them where they did what they dared not do in day light. For the first time Gilead looked at Mark while he touched him, while he undid his jeans. Mark sighed, and putting down the bottle lifted his tee shirt with something between a laugh and a moan. Gilead leaned forward to kiss him, and Mark’s arm hooked him in so that they stumbled and fell together, catching the bourbon before it spilled. As they undressed, making love in the midst of liquor, Gilead realized he did not feel like an adult. He had felt adult all of his life. Right now he felt, and realized he’d been feeling that way since he’d begun his life with Mark, light as a child.
