EIGHT
WORDS MADE FLESH
Nehru Alexander had felt a little guilty for taking so long to get through college. He knew he was smart and smart people ought to have more ambition. In fact, he’d been afraid of turning into Brad, and Brad had been, for a time, the most confused person he knew. There had been a part of him that wondered what his parents thought of him, still in a junior college, still with two years left of school when he should have been well graduated.
He hadn’t known how strongly these feelings played in him until they no longer did, and he didn’t know they no longer did until that morning, only days ago when he had thought he would spent the night with Cody—which he did—and woke up in Brad’s arms in the apartment over the Noble Red. The logic, he assumed was this: He had been afraid of becoming Brad because Brad was unfinished and unhappy, and even when they were conducting their affair, Nehru had known this. But this new Brad, this confident Brad, this Brad Nehru knew was in love with him, the Brad who was starting a life with him was not a Brad he was afraid of becoming. This Brad was finding his way. They were finding their way together. So he didn’t mind the chance of being Brad at all.
Also, if he thought about it, Brad had been that person who had finished college at twenty-two. Brad had a PhD, so Brad gave the lie to how doing things on time made your life a conventional success.
Nehru did not explain his relationship with Brad to anyone. Those who knew would have always known. Those who did not understand they were anything more than roommates—and this included their parents—did not need to. Marissa did not need to know, and when she finally did know, whenever that would be, it would be long into her relationship with Hale Weathertop.
Midnight Mass had been the most beautiful thing he’d ever attended. Nehru believed in everything, but he didn’t really feel the need to be anywhere. He’d attended his mother’s synagogue, but privately thought it was too bad they didn’t believe in Jesus. It almost seemed like they weren’t sure what they believed in. The Catholic decision to camp down on all sorts of beliefs, not just an incarnate God, was an understandable one to Nehru, and when he was inside of a church, he believed everything too. But as much as he was fine with going to his father’s church and muddling through Catholic school, there had always been a sharp feeling of: this is not me. It wasn’t even that the belief wasn’t his. The place wasn’t his. He did not belong. Tonight though, in the low glow of midnight lamps, close to Brad in his good suit, smelling Brad’s good cologne, so near Anigel and Rob and so near to Cody who looked slightly savage and slightly sexy in a dark brown suit, he felt like this place was his, at least for a time.
Cody had gone to Russell’s house that night, and neither he nor Brad spoke about that. They were a new couple, and a couple where there had almost always been a third. They had come together and solidified their relationship in the midst of a threesome and no sooner had they chosen to be together, than Cody had found his way back to them. None of them had discussed what this meant for their future. Was Cody an interruption? Was he a distraction? They’d decided to spend Christmas morning at Brad’s parents house, and at two o’ clock in the morning, in the old basement apartment where they’d first known each other, as he and Brad made love, Nehru still didn’t have an answer.
They showered together, more because they wanted to than needed to, and Nehru delighted in dressing Brad, in how he looked in a red Christmas sweater and black trousers. He told him to put his glasses on, and they kissed and held onto each other. It made dressing impractical. That morning at breakfast it was hard to stop touching each other, and every question his parents had, everything they said made the two of them laugh with delight. The hard snow had ceased and the sun came up high and yellow. It was that way when they went to visit Marissa and when Marissa asked Nehru if he would be the godfather.
“I would love it if you were,” she told him, and Brad said nothing, but his green eyes, warm and brimming with love said everything.
It was in the early afternoon when they went just down the street from Marissa to the Alexander household that Nehru learned how half of Breckinridge was in a power out and all of Russell’s family had gone to Chayne’s house.
“He’s throwing them out before three,” Nehru’s father said about his cousin. “Going over to LaVelle’s or Pethane’s.”
These were cousins Nehru did not really know. The Wynn family was large. Like at Brad’s parents, the Alexander family gathering was friendly but small. Bill and Melanie didn’t really feel the desire for a large crowd and, of course, Melanie’s family was almost entirely Jewish. Brad and Nehru played with the idea of going out later and seeing what was going on where? Who was at Chayne’s house still? Nehru called Sharonda and learned they would all be at LaVelle’s till about six, and then back on Curtain Street. He helped his mother wash dishes and Brad and Bill put food away.
“Well, now that you’re staying in the apartment, I’ll have to wrap food up for you,” Melanie said to her son.
It’s a Wonderful Life was on, and they all sat down and dozed to it, watching the snow fall, Brad and Nehru thinking they might as well stay here till six and then go to Chayne’s or not go anywhere at all. And then Brad had gone upstairs for a bit, into the bathroom, and he had been at the top of the steps and whispered to Nehru who was in a recliner. His parents were asleep on the couch and Nehru looked up and pushed away his blanket. He came up to Brad who took him by the hand and kissed him. They went into his room, locking the door and Brad took off his sweater so his old white shirt hung loosely, and then he took down his pants and Nehru did the same. In that drunken focused way they tended each others bodies. Brad waxed Nehru until he was hard, and then turned to the window, holding to the sill and pulled Nehru inside of him. In the dim afternoon light of Christmas afternoon, while soap flakes of snow passed by the window and fell in the backyard, Brad pushed his ass out, needing to be filled, and with a gentle, joyful rhythm, Nehru held onto the tall man’s hips, loved the gentle roundness, the dark hairs, the sacred split, the opening of his ass, and fucked him.. Joy arose in him beyond sound, and they moved with a quiet satisfied rhythm. They were musicians and song came to Nehru’s mind as he pressed deeper and deeper into Brad. He wondered if it was a blasphemy, but as orgasm and seed rose in him and he shuddered, shooting his seed he heard:
How silently, how silently,
the wondrous gift is given;
so God imparts to human hearts
the blessings of his heaven.
Brad only let out a little gasp. Nehru moaned slowly as his dick leapt inside of Brad. He collapsed, clinging to his back drunk with orgasm.
No ear may hear his coming,
but in this world of sin,
where meek souls will receive him, still
the dear Christ enters in
Russell had resigned himself to having no private time with Flipper, who was headed out tomorrow, as made sense, to finally go home to see his family. Macy and Jimmy would leave too, and Jimmy would fly out from O’Hare back to Maryland. When things began to wind up at Chayne’s cousins, Russell realized that, at last, he and Flipper could have some time and Flipper must have realized it too. Cody was going home to spend the rest of Christmas with Jill and his mom, and Macy and Jimmy were going back to Chayne’s house. For a while, Russell and Flipper remained with Mark, Gilead, Jason and Ralph. But Russell knew that Gilead was taking Mark home, and Gilead took him aside and said, “Whatever Flipper is to you, he’s a better idea than Jason or Ralph.”
And so Russell was in Flipper’s Volkswagon, and the night was clear after the snowstorm. Russell had not known what they would talk about when they finally had a chance to talk, but now Flipper said, “I hope you like that Ginsberg book. When you get through it, I’d like to borrow it some time.”
“I’d like to borrow your Blake.”
“How much you know about Blake?”
Russell quoted:
“Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
“I love Blake. He’s one of my favorite poets. I don’t understand half of what he’s talking about and I think he’s kind of mad. Nuts mad. Funny thing is, his madness makes me feel sane. When it’s strange to me… it’s like I’m strange to me. I don’t ever want to be the person who’s not a little bit crazy.”
“That’s how I feel about Ginsberg.”
“Maybe we should borrow each other’s presents sometime,” Russell joked.
“Or…” Flipper suggested, “we could just keep them.”
“What?” Russell blinked. “are you serious?”
“It is the thought that counts,” Flipper said. “That’s what they say.”
Russell shook his head and laughed. “I missed you.”
“I thought about you every day,” Flipper said, truthfully.
“I’m too young,” Russell began.
“A little.”
“And I’m a mess.”
“I’m a mess too.”
They drove past Jason Lorry’s house.
“Look,” Russell said, “This part of Breckinridge is back on.”
Coming to Cameron and Russell’s block, they saw the lights on in his house.
“Do you think they know?” Flipper said.
“No,” Russell said. “I think they’re all still at the rectory.”
“Should we go in?”
“Mom may have left the stove on or something.”
When they entered the living room, where the TV was on, and some of the lights too, Russell whispered, “Maybe there’s someone here. The heat is on.”
“There must have been power a while, then.”
Russell moved around the house.
“A hot plate was plugged in,” he reported, turning it off and pulling out the plug. “So that’s taken care of.”
He went upstairs and downstairs and coming back to the kitchen, he called Flipper.
“Down here!” Flipper said from the basement.
Russell had turned off unnecessary lights but left on the few his parents said should always be on to ward against the house looking empty. He left the TV on too, and went down into the finished basement. Flipper was in the spare room they’d given him, going through his bag, and he handed Russell back his Blake book.
“Merry Christmas, Russell.”
Russell laughed and handed him back the Ginsberg.
“And Merry Christmas to you.”
“Andy doesn’t mean anything to me,” Flipper said, quickly.
“What?”
“He’s a friend, but I don’t think it’s more than that. Maybe you are too young for me, but I think about you. I’m no saint. I haven’t been a saint.”
Russell grimaced and put his fingers to Flipper’s mouth.
“I haven’t been a saint either, and… I’m sane with you. I can’t believe you’re leaving in the morning.”
“Yeah,” Flipper said. “In the morning.”
Russell felt stupid and confused for a moment, and then he moved to the door, looking out into the darkness of the rest of the basement. No one was coming back here tonight, and if anyone did they would never come down here. Flipper’s car didn’t even mean Flipper was here. Jackie and John’s car was here too.. Russell closed the door, firmly, locking it.
When he turned to Flip Sanders, the other boy was already undressing.
