23

WHEN IT CAME TIME FOR Jack to leave on Monday morning, Neil wouldn’t let him go.

“We’ve just spent maybe thirty hours wrapped around each other.”

“I want thirty more.”

“I’ve got to go to work.”

“Couldn’t I walk you to your car?”

“It’s down at the end of Avery in that used car lot and I can run to it in probably less than a minute. Why don’t you let me have the pleasure of imagining you curled up in our bed, stinking of sex? I’ll be back tonight.”

“You promise?”

“I say what I mean. I’ll be back every night but Wednesday. It’s the anniversary of my mother’s death and Father’s arranged some kind of memorial Mass in the evening. I’m going to show fraternal solidarity.” Jack grinned as he slipped on his briefs. “I knew you were a crazy sex fiend.”

Neil was pleased with that image of himself. It recurred over and over again during the days that followed, especially when he was alone, but it didn’t always bring with it a sense of pleasure. Sometimes, as he moved through those long, sultry afternoons — he rarely got up before noon — he had a very strong sense that what he had done in embracing Jack was not only forbidden, but maybe even dangerous, bringing with it the threat of harsh punishment. This prospect terrified him and to escape it he threw himself into a nearly obsessive care and feeding of his father’s lawn.

On Wednesday afternoon, the anxiety of knowing he was to face a long night without Jack was so keen he even undertook to trim his father’s hedge, a job he normally loathed. He had only just finished when Mrs. Knight turned the corner of Howard Street into Dominion carrying shopping bags.

Neil dropped the clippers and ran to help her. “It’s awfully hot, Mrs. K.”

She surrendered one of her bags. “I’m a country girl, Neil. I can deal with weather.”

To Neil, she looked anything but a country girl in her yellow sundress with its wide white belt and her white star-shaped clip-on earrings. She was the queen of composure. The heat seemed to have hardly made an impression on her.

“But you, you’re perspiring, and without a hat,” Vera Knight said, a delicate frown wrinkling her forehead. “You know you could get sunstroke.”

In her spotless kitchen, Neil placed the bag of groceries on a gleaming arborite table.

“Would you like a soft drink, Neil? I have 7-Up.”

“I’m okay, Mrs. Knight. I should finish up. I’ll see you for supper.”

Unlike Mona Gordon, Vera Knight was rarely demonstrative, but today, she reached out to touch Neil lightly on the cheek. “You’re a good boy.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” he countered quickly and guiltily.

“Yes, you are. Mr. Knight and I are very impressed. You take such good care of us all. We look forward to seeing you for supper.” She touched his cheek again. “One day soon, you know, your worries will be over.”

Even though he had no clear idea what she meant by “your worries,” Neil left, feeling strangely lighter.

By the time he’d returned the clippers to their shelf in the garage and turned on the sprinklers, however, his mood was crumbling like meringue. Nervously, he wandered the streets till suppertime, searching for some sign of hope or reassurance. Nothing was offered except the vision of a hot and bulky Marge Hamilton returning from work.

“You look lost, Neil,” she said, in her abrupt, but friendly way.

“I feel lost, Mrs. H.” He looked at her, surprised by the directness of his words. “Everything seems so unreal today. It’s like I’m in another country.”

She put her hand to his forehead. “Too much sun. Inside with you, silly boy.”

But it was the same at home. Nothing there seemed to make sense either. The pin-up board, the wardrobe with its secret compartment, the turntable, the bed, the Chinese brass lamp — they were all the same as before, but somehow unrecognizable since that first flurry of lovemaking. Without Jack’s presence, he wasn’t sure how to inhabit his room anymore.

That was another source of anxiety. Once his parents returned, how would he manage to sleep in his bedroom alone? Frightening as the implications of his love for Jack were, even more frightening was the prospect of endless solitary nights, nights without Jack. It was almost too much to even consider. The very thought made him nauseous.

That evening he stayed at the Knights’ later than usual, playing gin rummy and laughing at Mr. Knight’s jokes. When it came time to leave, Mrs. Knight said, “Are you all right over there alone?”

“Of course he’s all right, Duchess. Come on, Neil.” Offering the need for a breath of air as his excuse, he accompanied his guest across the street, watched him unlock the front door and then waited, while Neil turned on the big living room fan. When Neil returned to the porch, he said, “Look here, son, just call us, if you get scared. We do understand, you know.”

Inside, the first thing Neil did was put his Tchaikovsky waltzes on the stereo. He cranked up the sound and waited until the first waltz filled the room to overflowing. Then he closed the drapes, pushed the portable furniture into corners out of danger, and, stripping naked, began to dance. The rooms were thick with heat, and very soon his body was streaming with sweat. This only made him attempt even greater swoops, spirals, and flourishes.

When the record played itself out, he put it on again, telling himself that he would dance all night if he had to. He wanted to feel too tired even to reflect. On the return of the big Swan Lake waltz, Neil dove onto his mother’s pale green broadloom like a surfer into a luxurious wave. Lifting his arms out and back, he raised his upper body to make what he hoped was the gracefully arching shape of the swan.

Just as his neck had stretched as far as it could go, he heard a voice behind him say, “My Swan Prince.”

He jumped in terror.

Jack was immediately on the floor beside him. “I’m sorry, Neil, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked at the back door, but the music is so loud, you couldn’t hear me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t want to lose a night with you.”

Neil felt suddenly stupid, but he couldn’t stop shaking. He tried to get up. “I should turn it down. It’s deafening.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get it. Don’t move.” Jack turned down the music. “You make such a ravishing Swan Prince. Absolutely ravishing.” He knelt again beside Neil on the carpet. “Your beauty’s rescued me from one of the darkest days of my life, my lord, and I will always be grateful, so grateful to you, my Swan Prince.” He spoke crooningly, his mouth pressed lightly against Neil’s ear, holding him with one arm and undressing himself with the other, which, given that he wore only shorts and a sleeveless shirt, he accomplished very quickly. Then, cradling the boy in his arms, he rocked and kissed him for a while before laying him back down on the rug. “Let me show you how grateful I am, my lord, how very grateful. If you’ll let me … let your humble servant in …”

Neil’s moans were barely muffled by the waltz from Eugen Onegin.

*

ONLY THE CHINESE lamp was lit. They lay on their sides facing each other, with just enough space between them for hands to explore freely. They spoke little and kissed often. Eventually Jack described the memorial service.

“It actually had nothing whatsoever to do with my mother, and everything to do with Father and his cronies at the Cathedral. ‘See our deep concern for her troubled soul.’ Crap, all crap. It made me crazy. Larry, too. If Larry’s eyes had been daggers … I tell you, he would have murdered them all. Only Bernie, happy-go-lucky Bernie, seemed to think it had any merit. I almost got in my Pontiac and drove off into the sunset, but then I realized I had a better place to go than the sunset, and, man, was I right! You should do your swan dance more often.” Jack let a finger skim over Neil’s moist chest, pausing momentarily to gently pinch a nipple. “You know, it’d be great to pack you up and take you with me to Montreal.”

“You’re going then?”

Jack shrugged. Neil read it as uncertainty and moved to close the gap, small as it was, between them. “I’ve been thinking about you going a lot,” he said.

“That’s nice! Can’t wait to see the back of me, eh?”

“Thing is, I feel so safe with you. I’ve been scared most of my life. Not just here, with my dad. Outside, too. Greasers at school. Like Archie Ross. He lives down the street. Number nine.”

“Know it well.”

Neil described his history with the bully, ending by saying, “In the last few years, I’m always a ’mo to him. Just before I met you, he and a buddy, a guy who’s been in jail, got me one night just outside the Knights’ place, and pulled my belt off and unzipped my pants.”

Jack pushed Neil back. “Hold on a minute!”

“They were going to ‘cornhole’ me — that was the other guy’s word. I don’t really think they were serious, ’cause it was right there on the corner, but the other guy almost choked me and tore my shirt.”

“And what did you do?”

“Shouted. That’s when he choked me. But the Knights came and they took off.”

“The other guy live around here?”

“He apologized.”

“Apologized!” Jack was staring the same way he did the night Rob Neville made his scene in the library. An icy anger coloured his eyes.

Neil pulled himself closer to Jack, seeking the now-familiar comfort of his firm arms. “Yeah, several times, told me he didn’t know what he was doing and that he was really sorry, and he’s tried to be friendly when I see him.”

“And Archie?”

“No apology from Archie.”

Jack caressed Neil’s back and ass. “Well, it sounds to me as if Archie deserves a visit from one of the break-in brigade.”

Neil leaned back. “No, Jack! Don’t.”

“You think it’s okay for him to keep on tormenting you?”

“No, but I can’t fight him. He’s a big guy, a sports guy.”

“So, if the big sports hero came home to find everything he owns smashed, he’d have something to think about. But maybe you like being pushed around.”

Shocked by Jack’s harshness, Neil shut his eyes. His disappointment was so keen that, for just a second, he wished with all his heart that Jack would just get up and leave and that everything that had happened since Friday night would turn out to be a dream. He turned away.

Jack realized he had gone too far. “Forget what I just said.”

“Wrecking Archie’s stuff’s not going to make him nicer, you know. Probably the opposite. I bet Caldwell and the Chards just get meaner.”

Jack started to protest, but the sight of the boy’s gentle determination, so clear in the lines of his long back, forced him to swallow whatever counter-argument was arising. He opened his arms. “You may be right about all this.”

“I am right. There’s probably something awful going on in every house on this block. You and your heroes could spend the rest of your lives getting even. And what’s it going to prove? Education’s the only thing that’s going to change things. Education and example.”

“You’re like a dog with a bone, boy.”

“No, sir, that’s you. You and these stupid break-ins. You won’t let it go.”

“You told me I was like Robin Hood.”

“Well, now you’re the Sherriff of Nottingham.”

Jack went for Neil’s ribs, but he was unmoved.

Neil’s gaze fell into Jack’s lap. His hand followed, fishing. “My being right gets to you, eh?” he said.

*

FRIDAY NIGHT, JACK was later than usual. Neil had thought to greet him with another dance, maybe to “Waltz of the Flowers.” He concocted a little pouch of a costume out of one of his sister’s silk scarves; it barely covered anything but felt wonderfully cool and soft against his skin. But when eleven thirty and then eleven fifty passed and there was no Jack, Neil changed back into his shorts and stepped out onto the front porch to survey the streets.

The heat had abated slightly with the sunset. The song of the cricket serenaded a violet sky flecked with gold. There has to be a storm soon, he thought.

Two of his father’s bats swooped by.

They were followed by the Edsel, slowly purring its way along Dominion towards Avery.

Shyly, Neil waved.

The Edsel slowed down, stopped.

Shirtless and shoeless, Neil approached him.

Jim was shirtless, too.

“What’s up?”

“Waiting for a friend. You?”

“Cruising,” Edsel-man answered. “Good friend?”

“Yeah.” Neil felt proud.

“Some guys are lucky, I guess.”

Neil felt bold, too. “You’re really good-looking, you know.”

“Fat lot o’ good it does me.” Jim smiled.

“I’m sorry about the last time,” Neil said. “I should have come for a ride.”

“Well, maybe next time we meet … I should get going. I told my mom I’d help her move an old sofa to the sidewalk for pick-up.”

“Where do you live?”

Jim’s smile turned sexy. “You wanna come home with me?”

Neil laughed. “Not tonight I can’t.”

“Barry’s the last name. 49 Lilac. We’re in the phone book. If he doesn’t show.”

He drove off in the same slow purring way he had arrived.

Neil felt excited by him. Excited and guilty. He climbed the porch steps, opened the front door.

A smiling Jack was sitting on the sofa, nude, running his sister’s scarf through his hands.

“Should I be jealous?”

“No. That’s the guy I told you about.”

“The one who tore your clothes off?”

Neil knelt on the floor between Jack’s knees. “Where’d you come from?”

“I came up Dominion. Through an assortment of back gardens actually. You know the Nearys have a beautiful rose garden. Dozens of different kinds of roses. The perfume is indescribable. I saw you come out on the porch, looking sexy, and while you were staring at the moon or whatever, I hightailed it across the street and came in through the back door. Then your boyfriend drove up —”

“Stop.” Neil leaned in until his lips could brush Jack’s chest. The scent from his groin mixed with the heat to make Neil feel almost weak with desire.

Jack laughed. “Hungry, eh?”

Neil reached for Jack’s cock.

“I’ve got something for you.” Jack reached back and handed him a photo.

Neil turned it over, expecting to find a picture of Jack, but what looked back at him was the face of Archie Ross. Round, smiling a large, uneven smile that, instead of making him look friendly or jovial, only made him seem dishonest.

“Where’d you get this?”

“From his lordship’s dresser.”

“Jack!”

“I didn’t touch a thing except the picture frame. It suffered a little damage, and he’ll have to pick the glass out of his bed, but that’s it. I got out just in time, too. He was coming in the front door as I was crawling out his bedroom window. It’s good that Mrs. Ross has all those flowering vines. They make great cover.”

“Jack!” Neil stood, holding the photo out in front of him like something potentially toxic that must not be breathed in.

“I’m sorry, Neil. I couldn’t help it. I had to do something.”

Neil sat in his mother’s gold-striped armchair.

“But I promise you, nothing was touched but the frame.”

“And you were almost caught.”

“Don’t rub it in. I need a lot more practice, I guess.”

“You’re going to end up in jail. Maybe you’ll get blamed for all the break-ins.”

Jack ignored him. “Looking around that room of his, I’d say Archie’s not the brightest light. Lots of trophies. Bowling trophies. Some sports hero. How I wanted to rearrange things. But I didn’t. The room smelled, too. He must whack off a lot.” Jack attempted a small smile, like a boy sensing his sweetness will win another reprieve from his parents. “His underwear is Fruit of the Loom. That’s worth scrawling on his walls, but I didn’t. And he has a magazine under his mattress. You want to know what it was?”

Neil struggled not to smile.

“It was a black guy with a huge dick plowing this little blonde with perky tits. Talk about capacity. I thought, I know someone who’d like to trade places with her.”

“You’re bad!” Neil was up, towering over Jack on the sofa.

“I didn’t mean you. I meant Archie.” He pulled an innocent face, then leaned forward and unzipped Neil’s shorts. “Whoa, jackpot! No underwear and a hard-on!”

Neil dropped to his knees again. “Jack, what am I supposed to do with this photo? I don’t want it.”

“I didn’t think you would. Let’s go into the kitchen.”

Jack placed the photo face down on the kitchen table.

“If you could say anything in the world to this goon, what would you say?”

Neil stared at the white page. “I don’t know.”

“Anything.”

“I don’t know.” Neil squirmed.

“Say it.”

“‘You’ll pay.’”

“Just that?”

“‘You’re going to pay.’”

“Okay.” Jack reached for the pen that sat on a little shelf beside the hall phone. “I’ll write it. YOU’RE. GOING. TO. PAY.” He inscribed the words in capital letters on the back of the photo. He stood back to admire his penmanship. “You have scissors?”

Neil fetched them.

“Okay. So cut the photo into four pieces. But look at his face while you do it.”

Neil did what he was bid, cutting the photo into four almost equal rectangles. As he dropped the final quadrant onto the table, he felt an overwhelming urge to use the scissors to gouge out the eyes of his quartered nemesis. He hesitated.

“Go on,” Jack whispered.

Neil took one of the pieces containing an eye and, setting it on the breadboard he had left on the table that morning, he jabbed the twin points of the scissors into the eye.

“The other?”

Neil brought the points down again with such force that he embedded the scissors’ point in the wood.

“Where are your envelopes? Stamps, too.”

Neil rummaged in the carved writing desk near the front door for the requisitioned items.

“I’ll address them. You put the stamps on.”

Neil watched Jack write, again in block letters, Mr. Archie Ross. Applying the stamps, he felt strangely exhilarated.

“Okay. Now you stuff the envelopes and seal them. I’ll stand here and admire your neatness and precision.” When he was done, Jack said, “Now you’re going to cover your pretty ass and walk down to the mailbox on Orion and post one of them. Tomorrow, when I go to move the Pontiac, I’ll post another and then on Monday and Tuesday we’ll send the remaining two. I’ll take one and mail it over at your mall there, you take the fourth and mail it at the Jane Loop.”

Neil put on his shorts and looked around for his shirt.

“You don’t need a shirt. Just tell your friend in the Edsel you’re off limits. When you get back, you’ll have to show me what you were going to do with this.” Jack dangled the scarf playfully in Neil’s face.

But Neil’s focus was Archie’s name on the envelope. “Promise me you didn’t do anything else.”

Jack crossed his heart. “I probably need to get some lessons before I try it again. You think those other guys might teach me?”