A Simple Kindness

Prelude

He moved across the library, his favorite room in the house, and sat in the window seat looking out over the garden. It was early spring, and the flowers were in full bloom creating a riot of color. It never failed to amaze him. The wave of color that seemed to go on forever. He looked back at the envelope sticking out of the novel he was reading and grimaced as he had done every time, he had looked at it. It had arrived the day before and he had been shocked to receive it. How had they even found him, and then to go to the trouble to make the contact. He knew time is supposed to heal, to lessen the pain of past wrongs, but he found it just allowed for a forgetfulness. To pretend it hadn’t happened or wasn’t as bad as remembered.

Ten years; had it been that long? He pulled the envelope out of the book and slipped the card out, reading it once again, still not sure how to respond. He wanted to scrawl ‘no’ across the front, maybe even a ‘fuck you’ and mail it back. Childish, he knew, but…

He read it again, his eyes moving quickly over the familiar words.

Greetings Class of 2009!

Ten Year Reunion

Join us to celebrate ten years

on

Saturday, November 30, 2019

At 6:00 P.M.

The Red Leaf Restaurant & Bar

140 W. Clearing Street

Monroeville, AL  36460

$50.00 per person

Includes dinner and open bar.

Please remit payment to:

Katie Holland

Tunnel Springs High School Reunion Committee

824 Ladson Bridge Road

Repton, AL  36475

He scoffed again, as he had done, every time he had read the invitation. Then he laughed, wondering how many were on this reunion committee and knew it was probably just Katie Reynolds, or it was Reynolds in high school. He thought back to high school and how she was involved in everything. Cheerleader, annual staff, debate club, and evidently the future reunion committee. She had dated Jason Holland since she had been in ninth grade and he in tenth, and evidently, he had been The One. He imagined her now, three or four children and a large SUV in the drive of some ranch style house. Probably some pure breed dog and a couple of cats, too.  But he was being bitter and toward one of the few that really didn’t deserve it, but then again, their silence had been bad enough.

 He slid the card back in the envelope and wondering if he should consider it. Tonight, at dinner he could confess to its arrival and see if they should go. But the memory of high school still made him upset. It had been such a cruelty, the bullying and name calling, but the worst had been the ostracizing. To be alone amongst a crowd of others your own age.  Maybe he’d just throw the damn thing in the recycle bin and forget it ever arrived.

 He felt his heart beating fast and felt ashamed at how he let it get to him. Looking out, he saw the red amaryllis that bordered the azaleas and marveled once again at the vivid color of each bloom. And in the middle of the garden was the small pond he had insisted upon. He had listened to the arguments against it, how it would need a circulation system and a source for water due to evaporation and over time cleaning out. But he wanted it and with a promise to do the maintenance, or at least call someone to do it, he got his little pond. He hadn’t understood it at the time, the importance of this element. This small pond with its Grass Carp, Golden Rudds, and one small turtle. But its significance would reveal itself over time, as he came to terms with his past.

What was it about water? The way wind rippled it surface and life moved within and over it fascinated him. It had been the pond on the Etheridge place that formed his passion for it. Nestled at the back of their property, Mr. Etheridge had kept it up, mowing the grass and removing the plants that tried to take root in its edge. Over the years its upkeep would become difficult, and he would take it over since he had been allowed to fish it.

It had been the summer of 04 when he had stumbled on it. He was thirteen and had just finished the seventh grade. It was the summer he had begun to understand his differences, and it had made him grow lonelier, feel more isolated. He had gotten a bike for Christmas, one that was a little too large for him and it was used, with mix-matched tires and faded paint, but it gave him a freedom he would not appreciate until many years later.

He had ridden into the center of Tunnel Springs, daringly going further than allowed, and he had kept riding till he came to the fire trail off Old Federal Road. It had been recently cut and he had taken it, just to see how far into the pine he could ride.  The trail cut straight in perpendicular to the rows of pine, till the grade began to drop and the trail curved hard to the left dropping down to a creek. He was exploring the creek when he heard a tractor just on the other side, and he waded across and up the bank till he came to a fence. Standing on the bottom stand of wire, he saw Mr. Etheridge riding a small tractor running a bush hog around the small pond. He watched Mr. Etheridge make several passes around it then head back up the hill, till disappearing from view and the sound of the tractor fading leaving just the sound of rustling leaves and bird song.

His curiosity got to him and he climbed over the fence and eased down to the pond. The banks were cut neatly, and the edge was clean. He could see fish moving parallel to the pond’s edge and he followed them till on the opposite side. He hadn’t heard Mr. Etheridge come up behind him or noticed how he was being followed.

"Young man, who are you?” came a gruff voice and he had frozen, afraid to turn around.

“Are you deaf, boy?”

“No, sir…just scared.”

 He had heard Mr. Etheridge laugh and turned to see him standing about fifteen feet away with two cane poles, a tackle box and a small Styrofoam cup. Mr. Etheridge approached him till standing up close.

“I don’t know you. Where do you live?”

“On the other side of Tunnel Springs.”

“And you are?”

“Wesley.”

 “Well, Wesley, how did you get here?”

“My bike. It’s over there by the creek” he replied pointing toward the woods where the creek lay.

“I see. Do your parent know you’ve gone this far?”

“No, sir” he replied looking down, expecting the worst; Mr. Etheridge calling his father. Instead he heard him laugh again, while walking around where he stood.

  “Come on, Wesley, the fish aren’t going to catch themselves.”

 They had sat on the bank of the pond for less than an hour, but the stringer had twenty or more fish on it. He had listened to Mr. Etheridge talk of his own children and how they didn’t care to fish. It had been beneath them and there had been a scoff. There were stories of growing up in the area, the venturing into the woods and playing in the ponds and creeks.

With cane poles wound up, he had followed Mr. Etheridge up to his house and was shocked to see the large two-story house and its three barns. He had never seen such wealth. Nor had he been this close to a home that wasn’t run down with weeds growing up in the yard. After helping Mr. Etheridge clean the fish, refusing to take any of them knowing he’d get in trouble if he had to explain from where they came, he headed back around the pond and down into the woods to where his bike lay waiting.

 It was the start of what he now knew was an unlikely friendship, a poor boy and this older man of modest wealth. And it would last for years, till Mr. Etheridge finally passed in the winter of 2016. Looking back, it had been a salvation, and he wondered if Mr. Etheridge had known to what degree their friendship had been of benefit to him. But it was those years during school, the Saturdays and summers he found himself at the pond or up at one of the barns helping Mr. Etheridge with some project or chore that he felt like a person. Mr. Etheridge didn’t talk down to him or treat him like a child. How many trips his old bike made across the countryside he couldn’t say, but it was frequent. The more his parents fought, took out their lot in life on each other and him, the more he biked his way to Mr. Etheridge’s place.

 But for all Mr. Etheridge had done for him, giving him a place to come, to feel a sense of rebellion then an independence as he grew older, it was not Mr. Etheridge that had been the most important person he would ever meet. That came later, during the summer after graduation, when he had been lazily paddling across the pond in the Jon boat and saw him on the bank watching as he drifted across the small pond.

Summer of 2009

 The water lapped at the front of the Jon boat as Wesley eased the paddle through the water, careful not to be too disruptive. It had been two weeks since the last rain, and the water was clear, too clear and he knew making too much sound would only make it more difficult to catch fish. From the west end he made his way toward the rising sun, his shadow long across the water behind him. As usual, he had left at daybreak, the sun not even up, in order to avoid his parents. The Jon boat was left on the bank during the summer, so he didn’t even have to disturb Mr. Etheridge. He just had to be careful when pulling it down the bank to slide into the pond, for snakes liked to nest underneath it at night and many a time he had been surprised to find one or two coiled up ready to strike after having the boat dragged over them.

 Most Saturdays, he would arrive early, catch enough fish for lunch, which Mr. Etheridge and he would clean and cook. They would sit around the small table in the kitchen and enjoy the fresh catch while Mr. Etheridge told stories of his own youth or inquire if anything had happened worth telling since their last Saturday lunch. Today he knew not to disturb Mr. Etheridge for his family was to have arrived a couple of days ago, staying for a week. It was the son from Atlanta and his family, including his grandchildren from a son who lived in the city too.

 Wesley had an invitation for lunch, but he couldn’t accept, afraid to be among the family. It was like the other offers he turned down. Mr. Etheridge seemed to understand, only pushing a couple to times to give him clothes or a little money, but with refusal after refusal, a truce was reached. He couldn’t take what his father would call ‘charity’ for he’d be punished and if it were money, that would be confiscated and he couldn’t endure how it’d be spent, on the drugs already tearing them apart. So, the two of them didn’t discuss it, letting him pretend for the time he was at Mr. Etheridge’s place that his lot in life was different.

But every time he got dressed, the tattered state of his clothing was remainder. A bigger remainder was seeing his reflection, the poverty evident in every aspect of it. The haircut his father gave him, it never straight. His teeth with the canines out of alignment which caused him to avoid smiling. And he never seemed to be able to keep clean, every surface in his home filthy and his efforts to clean hindered by his parent’s cooking meth in the old mobile home. He always looked dirty, magnified by his clothes being dirty, frayed and torn.

 That morning had arrived with a heat only the south could create. Humid thick air that warmed quickly making one sweat merely by being out in it. Wesley had dressed for the heat with a pair of cut-offs and a t-shirt with the sleeves removed. The shirt was stretched out of shape and hung crooked on his lean frame with its neck frayed and ripped. As usual during warm weather, he was barefooted, the bottoms calloused till he could walk on the hot asphalt roads if he needed.

He eased around the pond, casting his line out in front of the boat as he let it drift across the lake, then he would paddle back to the other side and do it again. By mid-morning the stringer pulled heavily from its loop on the side of boat and he was considering pulling to the bank. The sun was over the treetops and blistering hot. He was halfway across while drifting when he saw movement up on the bank. Pulling up his line, he turned to see if it was Mr. Etheridge. Immediately he realized it was someone else. Someone much younger than Mr. Etheridge; someone closer to his own age. Dressed in a blue dress shirt and khaki shorts, the guy looked out of place, overly dressed for roaming around a fishpond. Then Wesley took measure of him, this guy giving him a wave.

He looked tall, taller than his own five foot ten, and he was blonde and clean looking and…

He fumbled with cane pole trying to capture the empty hook as he struggled not to look at the guy standing twenty-five feet away. The Jon boat rotate with the slight breeze, turning till he was facing the guy who had moved down to the water’s edge.

“Hey; you’re Wesley?”

 “Yep.”

“I’m Rayford…one of the great grandsons.”

 “Rayford” he repeated the name. It sounded so formal to his ears, so above his own lot in life. He saw Rayford take another step closer to the water. “I wouldn’t get too close. The edge is slick and gives way easy.”

 “Oh, thanks” Rayford replied, taking a couple steps back. “You catch anything?”

 “Yes. I was just about to quit and clean them for Mr. Etheridge.”

 “I saw all the frozen fish in the deep freeze when I went for ice earlier. You catch all of them?”

“No…Mr. Etheridge catches his fair share.”

 He rowed up to the bank and Rayford stepped forward and grabbed the handle at the bow and pulled him up on the bank. Stringer, tackle box and the cane pole in hand, he made his way over the middle seat and over the bow. Rayford took the stringer holding it out as if it were going to mess him up. Wesley suppressed a smile at how Rayford wanted to help but didn’t want to get his clothes messed up.

 “I can take those; you’ll get messed up if they brush against your clothes.”

“It’s okay, I got it. You clean them at the old sink at the barn?”

“Yes, so I don’t have the scales and…, well the mess near the house.”

 “You need some help?”

“Nah… I can clean them but…can you go inside and get me one of those plastic dishpans from under the sink. I’d rather not have to go inside.”

 It was an admission Rayford seemed to understand, telling him he’d be just a minute. He watched Rayford head to the house as he angled to the barn. It had been such a long time since he had been around someone around his own age, it seemed odd. He felt flustered, not sure what to say to him. And he didn’t know how to suppress the stirrings he felt. Some attraction that he had long avoided thinking about. It didn’t do to think of it. He had never told anyone how he lay awake at night considering it, thinking about what it could be like if he was somewhere else. Maybe in Mobile or Montgomery or all the way in Atlanta. He knew things would be different there. But Atlanta might as well be on another planet for all the chances he had of getting there.

 There had been a couple of times he had been tempted to tell Mr. Etheridge, just to hear himself say it, but knew that would be mistake. But keeping the secret seemed to keep him painted into a corner, a feeling of isolation worse than the physical isolation he was enduring.

 Watching Rayford walk toward the house, he gave thought to it, this desire toward another that made him utter the word, to say it aloud for the first time in a long time. “Gay” came from him like an exhale, a breath that left him feeling like he was suffocating. As soon as he had stood on the bank of the pond, he had seen it, Rayford’s height that was a few inches taller than his own. And he was perfect. Neat straight haircut, skin smooth and clean, perfect teeth and when a hand came out to take the stringer, he saw the clean nails, each one perfectly trimmed to the same length. Then he saw the blue eyes and wondered if the blue dress shirt made them look more vivid. When Rayford had brushed his blonde hair from his forehead he had stammered, unable to look away from the bulging bicep of his arm and how the dress shirt couldn’t conceal it.

He considered his own appearance, with dark brown hair and brown eyes and skin tone that was dark, and always smudged with dirt and grime. He felt dirty, and he looked dirty to his mind. Poor, the son of drug dealers and alcoholics, he knew the community considered him nothing but white trash. Mr. Etheridge was the only  person who treated him like a person. When Rayford disappeared inside the house he wondered if Rayford was like his great grandfather. Would he see him as another person or in the end just white trash? Dumping the fish into the enameled sink he gave them a quick count while waiting on Rayford to return.

“…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight” he counted and looked up to see Rayford coming his way with a pan.

“Wow, look at the colors on those” said Rayford pointing at a couple of fish on top.

“They’re bluegill. Have you not fished in the pond?”

“No, never.”

He pulled out his pocket knife, the battered knife missing a section of its handle, but the blades were sharp, and he picked up a fish to start cleaning. “You may want to step back. The scales will fly off and stick to your clothes.”

Rayford watched him, eyes squinting when he removed the heads, dumping them into a pail. When he finished, he rinsed the fish again and placed them in the pan and covered them in water.

“Rayford, I don’t want to go inside Mr. Etheridge’s house like this. Can you take then inside?”

“Are you not going to keep any?”

“No, I’ll get some when Mr. Etheridge wants to fry some up. Can you take them inside? I don’t think…”

“Afraid someone will say something to you if you go in? You’re probably right but don’t worry, I’ll take them in.”

“Thanks. I’ll take this and toss it in the pond and clean up then get out of here.”

“Okay” Rayford replied, and he caught just a hint of disappointment. “When are you coming back?”

“Not till after everyone leaves.”

“Oh…okay.”

He watched Rayford walked back inside the house. When the door swung open, he heard laughter from inside. Grabbing up a garden hose he washed down the table and his pocket knife. He dried his knife with his shirt, picked up his bike and pedaled down the drive. He would ride till after dark, circling around the community on the familiar roads, waiting for when he knew his parents would be out of it.

For the next week, Wesley rode his bike for hours at a time. He rode to the logging camp, down to one of the creeks, around the small town and one day he rode all the way to Uriah and back, eating lunch in Frisco City. When Saturday arrived, he felt like he was nearing the end of some trial, a test he had to endure. He knew Mr. Etheridge’s family was leaving the next day and he knew he would be able to visit him and fish in the pond or help with some chore on the old place. He woke feeling more energetic than usual, and he snuck out with his bike and headed out for a ride. It was always odd to come to the end of the drive and just choose a direction without any real purpose to it, and this time he chose to go north.

He rode with a steady rhythm, legs pumping up and down as he rode mile after mile till he covered the thirty-five miles to Camden. He arrived in the morning and found a small soul food restaurant that served breakfast. He parked his bike and went inside where he used the last of his money for a biscuit with an egg on it. Once finished he stood straddling his bike by the highway wondering whether, or not to continue further away from Tunnel Springs or to head back. To the north lay the Alabama River with a campground just off the road. He waited for a pulp wood truck to pass and stood on the pedals getting to speed quickly. Traffic was more frequent, and he was constantly watching out for someone who wasn’t paying attention.

The day grew hot, sweat constantly trickling down in his face as he made his way north. The highway curved to the west and he saw up ahead the bridge that crossed the river, and to his right, the sign for the campground. He’d never been to it, had only passed it when with his father, so he rode slowly along the entrance road then followed the narrow lanes that circled around within the campground. He saw RV’s and smaller campers set up, and some sites with tents. Kids were running around or riding their own bikes and he wondered what it would be like, this ability to be carefree. To just hang out enjoying yourself. He circled back to the beach along the east bank and sat at the edge of the grass watching kids playing in the water.

He had no idea how long he sat there, but the sun passed noon, the day grew hotter and the rumbling of hunger grew louder. He was tempted to remove his shirt and wade out in the water, but compared to the others, with their nice swim trunks, it embarrassed him at his own appearance, so he sat and watched.  He heard a group behind him at a pavilion talking and laughing as they set up for lunch. He heard cars and trucks pull in, and on the river, boats passed going upstream or down. People passed him going down to the beach or coming back and he came to the point of not paying attention. The footfalls became white noise. Same for the sound of children at play. 

“Wesley? What are you doing here?”

The familiar voice startled him, made him jump then look around. Mr. Etheridge and Rayford stood behind him, both with a look of concern.

“I’m…just hanging out.”

“Wesley, if you need to get away from home, why didn’t you come to the farm?” Mr. Etheridge asked coming up closer.

“I didn’t want to intrude while your family was there.”

“I told you” said Rayford, looking at his great grandfather.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m showing Rayford around…”

“He wanted out of the house for some peace and quiet” Rayford interrupted.

“Boy, does that mouth get you into trouble?”

Wesley smiled as he saw the look passed between them, Mr. Etheridge frowning and Rayford smiling mischievously.  Mr. Etheridge looked back at Wesley, “did you ride that old bike all the way up here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dammit boy, you could have gotten hit by a truck riding on that highway out there.”

“I was careful.”

“But they’re not. Grab your bike and come on. You’re riding with us. I assume you haven’t had lunch yet” said Mr. Etheridge, turning back toward the parking lot.

Wesley stood for a moment, frozen in place, wondering what he was supposed to do. He had no money for lunch and could never bring himself to ask Mr. Etheridge to pay for it, although he knew money wasn’t an issue. Rayford stepped up next him.

“Well…come on. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

Wesley walked back toward the parking lot, pushing his bike. He saw the familiar truck with Mr. Etheridge at the driver’s door waiting on Rayford and him. At the tailgate he hoisted the bike over and laid it in the bed, then grabbed the top of the tailgate to climb in.

“What are you doing?” Rayford asked, standing on the passenger side holding the door open.

“I’m getting in the bed.”

“You can’t ride back there. It’s hotter than hell out here.”

“Wesley, get up here” Mr. Etheridge called out from the cab.

How was he going to ride in the cab with Rayford? They would be sitting right next to each other. It was too close. It made him think of it. Those thoughts he fought to suppress, afraid to let them become something more. There was enough in his life without the torment it would bring him. All through school there had been the bullying over his impoverished position in the community, far worse off then many of the others, with parents everyone knew were drug dealers. If they had known about the meth, he didn’t know what would have happened.

Rayford held the door open waiting for him to climb in. “Youngest in the middle.”

“How do you know I’m not older than you?” Wesley asked, suddenly wondering what Mr. Etheridge had told him.

“Yours is April…April…”

“The twenty-fourth” came a reply from the driver’s seat.

“The twenty-fourth, and mine is February, the fifth. I’m older” Rayford finished, swinging the door open wider.

The truck was a plain Chevy, with a bench seat, manual transmission and vinyl flooring. A ‘work truck’ Mr. Etheridge called it. The air conditioning was off, and the windows rolled down. He knew Mr. Etheridge preferred them down, no matter how hot the day grew. Mr. Etheridge eased out the parking space then drove slowly out of the park, following the narrow lanes till they were back at the main road.

“What should we eat? Fish at the dinner club or fried chicken back in Camden?” asked Mr. Etheridge.

“Fish” Rayford responded then looked at Wesley for confirmation of his choice.

Wesley shrugged his shoulders, unable to admit he had no money for lunch. Mr. Etheridge looked from Rayford to him then pulled out on the highway.

“Fish it is” as he shifted into third, then fourth and finally fifth gear, bringing the truck up to speed. Hot air swirled around the cab and Wesley tried to get comfortable, legs held together to not get in the way of the shifter or to touch Rayford’s leg. He saw how comfortable Rayford sat, legs slightly apart, arm resting on the windowsill, and the other over the back of the bench seat running behind him. Then he noticed the white shirt Rayford wore, how the top buttons were undone letting it billow open. And he saw the smooth white skin.

Then a knee touched his own. Rayford’s knee barely rubbed up against his, but it made him feel trapped, unable to shift further away without being noticeable. He felt short of breath, desperately wishing he had just climbed on into the bed. Then something touched his hair at the back of his neck, and he flinched.

“Relax, Wesley” said Rayford and he saw that smile, the one that made him feel uneasy, wondering what was behind it.

“I didn’t know what it was” he mumbled as he sat back and felt Rayford’s fingers twirl strands of hair.

“You could use a haircut. You want to go with me on Monday to get one?”

“Rayford…leave the boy alone.”

“Monday? Aren’t you leaving tomorrow?” asked Wesley, as he looked at Rayford wondering how he could possibly need a haircut. His hair was perfect, even in the way it blew around in the wind.

“He’s going to stay this summer. Help around the farm” said Mr. Etheridge.

“All summer? So, you don’t need me…”

“What? Why would you think that? I expect you to be coming around as before. I understand why you don’t want to be around with all the kids here, but after tomorrow…yep…we’re back to normal” Mr. Etheridge replied, his voice trailing off till he was smiling.

“You have to come over and show me what to do” added Rayford, tapping his left shoulder.

“I trust you boys will get along. And Rayford, you will not be hateful like your…well, nevermind.”

“I promise to be on my best behavior” Rayford replied as he bumped Wesley’s knee. When Wesley looked over at him, there was a wink and a smile that made him feel more nervous than before.

“You never answered me on the haircut” Rayford asked after a few miles of silence.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t? What do you mean?”

“I can’t afford it…okay” Wesley replied, giving Rayford a glare that dared him to make an issue of it.

“Wesley, about that,” Mr. Etheridge cut in, “you’ve not taken any pay for the last months for anything you’ve done around the farm and that stops. From now on, you’ll be paid.”

“But I didn’t ask for payment, I just…”

“Wesley” Mr. Etheridge cut him off. “I know you didn’t and quite frankly I don’t understand why, but everyone has to make money. It how society functions…unfortunately.”

“You’ve not taken any pay?” asked Rayford.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Rayford was pushing him, provoking him in ways he couldn’t understand. This difference that existed between them, Rayford could never understand how wide of a gulf it was. His parents who had sold off some of his things for money to buy drugs, and now that they were making meth, it was worse than ever, this constant need for cash, then more drugs. How do explain to someone your own parents steal from you for their habit.

“There’s our turn; you boys ready to eat something?”

“Yes, sir” Rayford replied as Wesley tried to work out what he was going to do.

They eased down the gravel lane to the restaurant that sat off the road within a group of trees. The parking lot looked full, trucks and SUV’s lining each side of lane. Mr. Etheridge pulled down till he found a space, adding one more truck to the line. Rayford hopped out as soon as the truck stopped, exclaiming how hungry he had gotten. Wesley sat still as Mr. Etheridge shut off the engine then ease out.

“Wesley?”

“Mr. Etheridge…I think I’ll just wait here for ya’ll to eat.”

“What? Oh, hell, Wesley, get out of that truck and come on.”

“But Mr. Etheridge…I don’t have any money.”

“Neither does Rayford and you didn’t see him hesitate to rush inside.”

“But he’s…”

“Wesley, come on. My treat. Give this old man some company.”

“Mr. Etheridge…my clothes…look at…”

“Out; and stop worrying about everything.”

Wesley followed Mr. Etheridge to the door where Rayford was holding it open for them. The restaurant was crowded but it was getting late for lunch. A couple of tables stood to leave as they approached the hostess.

When the waitress approached the table, Wesley had been looking at the menu wondering what he should order as he scanned the cheapest items, sandwiches along the right side of the page.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Let me make it easy for you”, Mr. Etheridge cut in, “bring us sweet tea and we’ll each have the large fish platter with fries and beans… or slaw?”

“Beans” replied Rayford while Wesley shrugged his shoulders.

“Beans for all three” Mr. Etheridge finished. As the waitress went to put in their order he leaned toward Wesley. “ I saw what you were looking at…sandwiches? Not here. We come here to eat fish.”

Rayford and Mr. Etheridge talked back and forth all through lunch while Wesley listened. Through the discussion of the plans for summer he fleshed out how Rayford had asked to stay, promised to help around the farm. There had been parents to convince, Rayford’s parents wanting him to go on vacation with them to Miami Beach, and in the end, they gave in, agreeing to let him stay. He couldn’t fathom it, Rayford turning down an opportunity to vacation in south Florida. And to agree to work on the farm instead made it more implausible.

“Wesley, what do you think?” Mr. Etheridge asked, and he realized he had no idea what they had just been discussing.

“I…huh…”

“Come on, Wesley, we can paint that old barn, right?” asked Rayford.

“Yeah…I guess so” he replied not convinced they could do the job. The barn walls were over twenty feet high and there was an upper section even taller. And he hated ladders.

“Well, the first thing is to help me replace the screening on the back porch” said Mr. Etheridge as he motioned for the check.

 Monday morning Wesley was on his bike as soon as there was light. He pedaled furiously across the countryside till he was coasting down the drive. The house seemed quiet at first, no lights or activity that he could see but when he pulled up to the back porch, Rayford came out, wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey man, how do you get going so early” said Rayford as he held the screen door open.

“I just do” he replied diverting his eyes from bare upper body, afraid they would betray him. The image was stuck, though, the long lean torso and the darker blonde hair under the raised arm. And there was the masculine nature of it, something he understood intrinsically even if he didn’t want to admit the full nature of it.

“Well, come on in; Howard is making breakfast for us.”

“Howard?”

“Yeah…last night we came to an agreement. I don’t have to call him great granddad or whatever and in turn I don’t remind him of his age. So now it’s first names only. You’ll see.”

He entered the kitchen and saw Mr. Etheridge at the range with two cast iron skillets going, one with the sound of bacon cooking and the other, he would soon see, cooking eggs. He slid onto a bar stool to watch when Mr. Etheridge looked over.

“Don’t sit down. Help Rayford set the table.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And it’s Howard from now on.”

“You see” Rayford said as he handed him plates and silverware.

“Wesley, we’re going to remove the screening first. Then we’ll go get some new to put back on” said Howard as he brought a platter with the eggs and bacon. “Rayford, get the grits.”

The toaster sat on the table, because Howard hated cold toast, and he put Wesley in charge of it as he prepared each plate and passed it to them. Rayford and Howard on one side, and he on the other. He focused on what Howard was saying, on the food in his plate or buttering another piece of toast, anything but the bare chest across from him. The one time he dared look, Rayford was smiling at him.

Howard stood from the table first, sliding his chair back in place. “Okay, its time for my morning confessional. You boys get the kitchen cleaned up.”

“Will do, Howard” Rayford replied as he began to stack their plates. “You put the jelly and butter in the frig and I’ll start washing the dishes.”

At the sink, Rayford’s hands down in the sudsy water, Wesley kept diverting his eyes until he realized, right in front of him, he could see their reflections in the window. It was a ghost image of the two of them, the details not clear, but he didn’t need them to be. On one side, a few inches taller, bare chested, stood Rayford. His blonde hair shined golden in the light over the sink and his skin seemed even smoother the way it shined too. And Next to this golden boy from a good family, with the means of a good life, he stood. His brown hair, messy looking even after combing it again. His build, shorter, skinnier than Rayford, and there were his clothes. A reminder of his lot in life with his torn dirty t-shirt and jeans that were worn when he bought them at the charity store down in Monroeville.

He saw the arm move before he could react, a quick flash of white coming his way, then suds stuck to the side of his head and Rayford laughing. He began to react, his hand ready to reach suds that were draining away, when Howard came into the room.

“Rayford, go get dressed.”

“Okay” Rayford replied as he backed out of the kitchen shaking his head at Wesley.

“Wesley, run to the barn and get the toolbox and the flat pry bars hanging on the wall.”

“Yes, sir…Howard.”

Wesley returned to find Howard clearing the porch, setting the furniture in the yard. Rayford came out as he was pulling out the hammers and he glanced up then looked again. Rayford had on a t-shirt that was perfect in its whiteness but it was as ratty as his own, and the jeans he wore were blown out at the knees, frayed and worn as the hems and near the crotch, he saw it, a hole that revealed red boxers underneath.

Rayford stooped down next to him, reaching out for the flat pry bar. “What is this?”

“Pry bar; to pull out nails.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, boys, let’s get to it. Come here and let me show you have the trim is put on. We don’t want to have to replace it unless we have to.”

They worked carefully pulling the trim to release the existing screening. After nearly two hours the screen was removed, and trim laid out across the yard. Howard tossed the keys to Rayford and the three of them climbed into his truck, once again Wesley in the middle. This time, with the gear shift between him and Rayford, the closeness of the cab was not nearly as bad as before.

An hour later they were back to work, installing the new screen.

That afternoon, after lunch, Howard showed Rayford how to operate the small Ford tractor and put him to bush hogging around the fields, the back pond and along the ditches by the fields. He put Wesley on the lawn mower to cut the yard around the house and barns and he got out the weed eater to trim around the house.

Around four Rayford pulled the tractor into the barn where he found Wesley and Howard straightening up the work bench.

“You get it cut?” Howard asked.

“Yep.”

“Well, let’s call it a day on this work and go get cleaned up. I’m beat and there is one more thing I want to do before retiring for the day.”

Wesley headed out the door to leave, assuming he was finished for the day.

“Where are you going?” asked Howard.

“Home; we’re finished, right?” asked Wesley in return.

“You’re going with into town.”

“What for? Mr. Etherid…”

“Howard.”

“Howard…what for? I don’t have clean clothes and…”

“That is something we are going to take care of this evening” replied Howard and Wesley saw Rayford look at him defiantly, daring him to challenge Howard.

“But…”

“No buts. Go inside and get in the shower. Rayford and I will find you something to put on.”

“But I have to get home before dark and…”

“Rayford can take you ho…”

“No!  I mean, I can ride my bike home.”

Howard looked at Wesley knowing there was more to it, as he suspected for some time. “Okay, whatever, we’ll figure it out later. Just get inside and in the shower.”

Wesley was in the shower, self-conscious at how exposed he was with Howard’s clear shower curtain and the lock on the door not working. He rushed to get bathed, but as he feared the door swung open and Rayford strolled into the bathroom, coming all the way to the tub. Wesley turned away from him and watched him set clothes on the back of the toilet.

“We got you something to put on. You’ll have to roll up the pant legs, but…are you listening to me” asked Rayford, noticing how Wesley was turned away from him.

“I hear ya” Wesley replied exasperated. Rayford was the one person he didn’t want in the bathroom, not when he was naked.

When the door closed, he rushed to finish and dried off. He found a bright blue pair of boxers, a blue shirt and jeans he knew had to be Rayford’s. The shirt was a little large, but the jeans were worse. He had to cinch his belt tight and roll up the legs.

When he came out, Rayford was waiting in nothing, but his boxers and he felt flustered once again, keeping his eyes diverted. He heard the chuckle as he raced past. He waited in the family room, listening the sounds of the house. The ticking clock on the mantle, the muffled sound of the shower and Howard rustling around in his bedroom at the back of the house.

An hour later they were in Monroeville at a catfish house, crowded in with all the other patrons. After dinner they went to the discount store, the largest store in town and got Wesley jeans, shirts, underwear, socks, and then Howard realized none of it was suitable for yard work, and went back through the men’s clothing picking up some cheaper jeans and shirts to work in. Wesley stammered and kept telling Howard it was too much, he’d never be able to pay him back. Howard ignored him while Rayford smiled and followed along, seeing how stubborn his great grandfather could be, admiring him more and more because of it.

For Wesley, the thing that scared him the most was what to tell his parents. They would be looking for him to give them money if he was making enough to buy clothes. And he knew what would happen if there was no money to give them.

On the way back to Howard’s, Wesley finally got up the courage to broach the subject.

“Howard, can I leave the clothes at your house and change there when I need to wear them?”

“What?” Rayford asked before Howard could look over Wesley, shaking his head for him to not ask any further.

“Sure, Wesley, whatever you want.”

It was still daylight when Rayford pulled into carport. Wesley jumped out, handed Howard the bags and told them he had to go. He didn’t give them an opportunity to stop him, as he raced inside to change out of Rayford’s clothes, slipping back into his old things.

“Aren’t you going to wear…”

“NO!  I have to go.”

Howard stepped aside while Rayford watched with confusion as Wesley raced back out, grabbed up his bike and headed east to his home.

What Wesley wouldn’t know for a long time after is the conversation that occurred that night. The questions by Rayford, and Howard telling what he knew. How Wesley’s parents were into drugs and possibly making meth, from what the sheriff told him. They also suspected abuse but could never get anything to prove it, especially any confirmation from Wesley. Rayford wanted to know why Wesley didn’t move out, he was eighteen, an adult now and Howard tried to explain how the kind of poverty Wesley lived in made him feel trapped. He was eighteen but rode a bike, for he didn’t even have a driver’s license. It had been amazing Wesley finished high school, and he knew from some of the others in town, Wesley had been bullied there too.

Howard sat Rayford down and told him there were things at play with Wesley that they couldn’t push, not too hard. He admitted he could be wrong, that everything he was doing wasn’t right, but he felt like there would be a time when he could make a difference.

Wesley was back at Howard’s just after daybreak, wearing the same clothes from the day before. Howard didn’t say anything for he suspected Wesley had slipped inside his home and then slipped back out this morning. Rayford came out wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt and bumped Wesley on the arm to help him set the table for breakfast.

“You boys ready for some breakfast?” asked Howard as he came to the table with a platter of fried eggs, country ham and biscuits. “Rayford, grab the honey.”

They took their places around the table and quickly began to eat.

“Are we going to start painting today?” asked Rayford as he pushed back from the table.

“No, I think we should get the inside straightened up first. There is a bunch of junk that can be tossed out. With the two of you to help, I think I’m ready to tackle it” replied Howard as he put the lid on the honey. “You boys get the kitchen cleaned up and we’ll meet at the barn” he added as he stood up to head to the bathroom.

The heat of the day began to infiltrate the interior of the barn. Sweat ran down their faces as they moved implements, toolboxes, and tools outside. Wesley and Rayford worked together on the heavier items while Howard boxed up small tools from the workbench. In the storage rooms built along one side they straightened up the boxes, sweep floors and knocked down spider webs. Rayford started loading up a trailer with scape metal to haul to a recycling center.

“Fuck, it’s hot” Rayford uttered upon returning from taking out an armload of worn cultivator sweeps. Wesley looked over in time to see him pull his t-shirt off, tossing it on the workbench. Skin glistening in the light, it caused Wesley to swallow hard and divert his eyes, afraid to be caught staring.

From that moment on, Rayford was this ghost, an apparition he avoided looking at. He saw him from the corner of his eyes, constantly coming close, so close he thought all his senses were picking him up. That white skin, so smooth, wet with sweat, hovering in his periphery till he felt trapped.

“Hey, Wesley, give me hand” said Rayford and Wesley turned to see him holding one end of a stack of metal screens.

“Okay.”

“What are these, anyway?”

“Screens…for a combine.”

He lifted the other end finding the weight more than he anticipated. He saw Rayford’s arms bulge and chest flex tight with the exertion of lifting, and he felt an attraction toward Rayford he’d been trying to smother all morning. He struggled to keep up as they carried the screens to a storage room where other combine parts were kept. As soon as the screens were leaning against a wall, he darted out to get away from Rayford.

“Hey, boys, how about fried chicken for lunch?” Howard asked, his head poking around the corner of the door.

“Sounds good” Wesley replied.

“Same here” added Rayford.

“I’m going to call it in and go get it. I’ll be back soon. You boys get to a stopping point and go get cleaned up.”

Howard had barely gotten on the highway when Rayford came up behind Wesley and hit him with a white powder.

“What…what is this?”

“Howard used to help with the little league team and that’s some caulk they used to mark the lines” Rayford yelled back as he ran to the back of the barn.

Wesley had it in his hair and covering his back. He brushed some of it off, then gave pursuit. He chased Rayford around grain truck and tractor, circled around and back to the last storage room. Inside he chased Rayford around the stacks of boxes as Rayford taunted him. Rayford wasn’t as quick on his feet and Wesley soon had him cornered.

“Got ya” he uttered as he charged the taller boy. Arms wrapped around Rayford’s waist he tried to bring him down. They wrestled on their feet, pushed each other back and forth across the floor. Wesley tried to twist around, get behind Rayford, but he was outmatched, not as strong and soon Rayford had him on the floor. Lying on his back, Rayford was on top of him. He felt the weight of him, the undulating chest against his own. And he saw, up close, the blue eyes looking at him in a different manner. Sweat poured from Rayford’s hair and dripped on his cheeks and neck as they continued to breathe hard in each other’s face.

“Rayford…”

Rayford leaned down and kissed him, pressing lips against his own. For a second he relaxed into it, kissed Rayford back feeling the heat they shared. Then he realized what they were doing. What he was doing, and he panicked, pushing Rayford over to his side. He jumped up and ran.

“Wesley!  Don’t run” Rayford called out as he raced through the barn. As he ran out, he heard his name again. This time it was softer, the tone almost pleading, but he couldn’t stop.

He was still in the bathroom when Howard finally returned. Rayford had not tried to come in, instead stood at the door asking him to come out, then telling him he thought there was something between them was why he did it, then after a long time, telling him he was sorry.

At lunch Howard sensed there was something between them, repeatedly asking if they had gotten into a fight. Something, each of them denied, but they remained silent as they ate.

During the afternoon, Wesley worked closely with Howard, avoiding Rayford. He saw how Rayford continued to shadow him. Time and time again he saw Rayford watching him with a hurt look. He wanted to tell him it was okay. That they should forget it. Then he wanted to tell him he wanted it. That it was something he thought about all the time but was too scared to act on it. The sun was low in the west when Howard straightened up and stretched his arms.

“Okay boys, this old man has had enough for one day. Let’s go get cleaned up and make some dinner. I’m thinking we grill steaks.”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me” Rayford replied setting another box down.

Wesley looked over at the two of them and he felt trapped. He needed some space. “I need to go.”

“What? Go where?” Howard asked.

“I’m expected at home this evening…that’s all. I’ll see you in the morning.” Wesley didn’t wait for them to ask further, slipping out the door and racing across the yard to his bike.

“Wesley…wait” Rayford’s voice called out as he raced down the drive and out onto the highway.

He rode into Tunnel Springs, cut out eastward then north. He rode till after dark, then made his way home where he sat in the edge of the woods waiting for the lights to go off. He sat for hours, everything that had happened playing over and over in his mind. He dwelled on Rayford hovering over him, those blue eyes looking at him. And the kiss, the physical intimacy of it. He wondered what Howard would say if he knew and imagined being the one told to leave.

After the lights had been off for a long time, he slipped inside to his room, eased the door closed and lay on his bed staring at the window waiting for the first sign of daylight.

He woke with a start, realizing he had overslept. It was nearly nine o’clock. He rolled off the bed and changed into some clothes not as dirty. At the door he listened for any sound and heard only the silence of being alone. He eased out, relieved to see his mom and dad had already left. He rode back across the small community to Howard’s place and found Rayford at the barn washing down implements and Howard coming out of the house with drinks.

“You made it” said Howard as he lay his bike down and fell in beside him.

“I’m sorry. I overslept.”

“It’s okay. Rayford was worried. He kept asking if you would come back.”

“Really?”

“You want to tell me what happened yesterday?”

“Nothing happened…why?”

Okay. I get it. Neither of you are going to tell me.  Come on, let’s get back to his damnable chore I created.”

The two of them circled around Rayford and waited for him to finish rinsing a small garden planter.

“You finally made it” Rayford uttered at him and he caught the hurt tone of it.

“Sorry…I overslept.”

What none of them realized was out on the highway sitting on the shoulder was Wesley’s dad, the old Monte Carlo idling roughly, as he contemplated what to do. He had seen Wesley on his bike when he came out of the Gibson boys’ place after making a deal. He had followed him, keeping his distance, till he saw him turn into Howard’s place.  In the back seat slept his wife, Wesley’s mother.  She would sleep through everything that was to occur.

He wondered what Wesley was up to at Mr. Etheridge’s place, and more importantly, was he working for the old man. If so, that meant Wesley was making money. Money that was rightfully his per his way of thinking.  Putting the car into drive, he pulled back on the road heading toward Mr. Etheridge’s place.

Wesley was heading to the barn, as Howard and Rayford were discussing how to put everything back inside. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he wondered what the day’s plan was going to be. It was hot, back breaking work, but he loved it just the same. It afforded him the ability to avoid his parents and he got to hang out with Howard and Rayford. Howard had become such a father figure to him even though Howard treated him more like a friend than a son. He’d never felt such a kinship to someone before. Then there was Rayford, who scared him in so many ways, but there was their friendship, one that had moments of joy he didn’t know how to describe. He knew the underlining aspect, the one that he struggled to contain. One he almost gave away the day Rayford kissed him.

Nearly to the barn  Wesley heard the rumbling of an approaching car coming from in front of the house. It was rough sounding, an engine not running smoothly, and Wesley turned toward the drive.

“No…no, no, no” he stammered as he headed toward the drive. Howard and Rayford looked up in time to see an old Monte Carlo come around the house. They watched it pull to a stop. Then they saw Wesley running toward it.

“Shit” Howard uttered, then grabbed Rayford by the arm. “Come on. This is not going to be good.”

“Who is that?” asked Rayford.

“It’s Wesley’s father.”

Wesley’s dad climbed out and the accusations began as Wesley lied about what he was doing. There was raised voices, threats, and at one point it appeared a fight might break out. Howard cut in and Rayford stood between Wesley and his dad.

“Don’t bother coming home, you useless piece of shit” Wesley’s dad yelled as he climbed back into his car and slammed the door. He spun around the backyard, wheels spinning, till finally aligned with the drive  where he sped back toward the highway. Wesley stood stunned, staring at the drive where his dad had been standing, making accusations, some of which were true. But he knew he had no choice but to lie. He couldn’t involve Howard and he now knew he couldn’t go home. Howard came up next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Wesley let’s go inside. The barn can wait.”

Wesley sat at the small table in the kitchen, with Howard across from him. Rayford leaned against the counter looking from one to the other, waiting to see what Howard was going to say.

“Wesley, you can’t go back there. You’re eighteen and…”

“Where will I go?”

“Here…you’ll stay here.”

“I can’t stay here. I’m not…”

“Wesley” said Howard, cutting him off. “Rayford has the front bedroom and the other bedroom was a sewing room for Helen but there is a bed in the room, as you know. We just need to get some of the sewing stuff out and you can take that room.”

Wesley sat in silence, looking at Howard, then slowly, he turned to Rayford who was nodding his head.

“And Wesley…”

“Yes, sir?”

“You need to talk to Sheriff Gibbs. Tell him what is going on with your folks.”

“They’ll go to prison…one more arrest for drugs and…”

“And the alternative is someone finds them overdosed or shot. And you can’t live in fear of them either.”

“I know.”

Howard leaned back and uttered ‘damn’ then looked over at Rayford. “What do you say we get the bedroom set up for Wesley, get cleaned up and go do something?”

“What about everything sitting out at the barn?”

“It’s not going to rain anytime soon, and we’ll be back tomorrow. Come on, lets get that room set up.”

By ten o’clock, Wesley was set up in the other bedroom and the three of them cleaned up.  They climbed into Howard’s Buick, a car he rarely used since Helen’s passing. Rayford was behind the wheel, Wesley in the passenger seat and Howard in back. Rayford started the engine and eased out of the carport. Glancing in the mirror he saw Howard pulling up a number on his cell phone.

“Wesley, this is Sheriff Gibb” said Howard holding his cell phone out.

Rayford pulled to the highway as Wesley listened to the Sheriff, nodding his head as he did so.

“Left, or right?” asked Rayford.

“Right. Head to the interstate” replied Howard.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m thinking seafood in Mobile” Howard replied making Rayford smile as he pulled out.

Hesitantly, Wesley spoke to the Sheriff, answering questions that showed the Sheriff already knew a great deal. Rayford eased along the two-lane highway, heading toward the interstate as Howard and he listened to Wesley talk of his parents.

 They arrived in time for a late lunch and afterward the three of them walked the old streets of downtown. Howard talked of his past visits to the city, when he was a teenager and later as an adult. He pointed out places that had not changed in years and others that seem to change between each visit. There was the old restaurant that still had linen tablecloths and wait staff dressed in black even though the place was frayed and worn around the edges. Down the street was a two-story building that had been rebuilt with only a one-story structure within its walls, letting one see the sky through the upper floor window openings.

Eventually they made their way to a hotel in town, and as Rayford went to retrieve the car and Wesley waited in the lobby, Howard got two rooms, one for the boys and one for himself. He thought nothing of it, assuming whatever was between the boys, this was an opportunity to work it out. He’d learn later the repercussions of this arrangement.

After getting the room keys, Howard tucked them into his pocket and headed toward the front door where Rayford sat waiting in the drop-off.

“Come on Wesley, let’s go explore some sites” said Howard as he gestured toward the door.

They spent the afternoon at the park with the battleship and submarine. The battleship was WWII era and they wound their way through it, exploring the various spaces that made up the old ship. Then they went through the submarine, the single file line cutting through the small space within it. By the time they made their way to the parking lot to leave the sun was low in the western sky.

“You boys ready to eat dinner?”

“Yes, sir” Rayford replied quickly, and Wesley nodded his head in agreement.

“Well, let’s go to the Oyster House this time.”

It was nearly ten o’clock by the time they arrived back to the hotel. They entered the lobby dragging their bags behind them making their way to the elevators. On the way up Howard pulled out the plastic cards, handing one to each boy.

“I’m in room 520 and you boys are in room 515.”

“We have our own room?” asked Rayford.

“We’re not all staying together?” asked Wesley at nearly the same time.

Howard heard the difference in tone, the excitement in Rayford’s voice and the anxiousness in Wesley’s. He wondered if there was something he should push to know. If there was something he should be worried about, but he saw Wesley lean against the wall and seem to relax. Maybe he was reading too much into it.

The elevator dinged their floor and Howard stepped out followed by Rayford and Wesley. They strolled down the carpeted corridor till they came to room 515.

“Rayford, let Wesley get cleaned up first. Drop your bags in the room and come down. There is something I want to ask you.”

“Yes, sir” Rayford replied.

Howard saw it, the smile that looked more like relief from Wesley as he fumbled with the card trying to open the door. After two tries, the door clicked open on the third. Wesley went inside followed by Rayford, who came back before the door had a chance to close. He followed Howard to his room. Howard set his suitcase on the table by the television and adjusted the thermostat as Rayford opened the curtains revealing the low skyline of downtown.

“What is it you want to talk about?”

“Wesley and you; what is going on between the two of you? One minute you seem fine and the next, well…there’s something.”

“It’s nothing Howard. Really.”

“Nothing? Look, I may be getting old, but I’m no fool. Come on, what happened? Did you say something about his family or…”

“What? No? I’d never say anything like that to him.”

“Well, what is it, then?”

Rayford sighed, resigned to the fact Howard wasn’t going to let it go. Not this time. He stared out the window, up at the ceiling then back at Howard, trying to figure out what to say, each time coming back to the only thing he knew to say: the truth.

“I kissed him.”

“You…what?”

“I kissed him.”

“Rayford…oh…I see” Howard stammered then looking down shaking his head. He was trying to make sense of Rayford’s confession, but he knew what it meant. “Do your parents know? About you?”

“Are you kidding me? Tell mom. You know what she’s like.”

“That I do. That daughter of mine never could stand for anything that wasn’t considered proper. I don’t know where she got it from. Helen use to chastise her for it” Howard replied, shaking his head.

“You have a problem with it?” Rayford asked in a defiant tone.

“I…I…I don’t know. That’s not true” said Howard looking up at Rayford. “There has been a lot of changes over the years, but in some ways, not so much. There was a guy in the Navy, Curtis, and…well, it doesn’t matter now. No, Rayford, I don’t have a problem with it….with you. But what about Wesley?”

“That’s what I don’t understand. He seemed to…I thought…I mean, for a second he kissed me back, then…”

“Freaked out about it?”

“Yes.”

“You just have to remember he has had no life to speak of. Maybe he kissed you back because you were the first person to show him affection. Or maybe he is gay but unable to accept it. Or maybe this old man doesn’t know what is going on with you young people.” Howard laughed nervously. He saw Rayford lean against the table and uncross his arms, losing the defiant stance.

“Howard, I’m not sure what to do.”

Howard saw the seriousness of Rayford’s expression. “The most important thing is to be his friend. You need to be like a brother to him. I think.”

Rayford nodded his head, then stood. “I best go.”

“Rayford?”

“Yes, sir?”

“No kissing.”

Rayford looked at Howard, smiling mischievously. He swung the door open and replied as he walked out, “Can’t promise that, Howard.”

 Rayford eased into the room and heard the shower running. He was tempted to try to get in it with Wesley but knew that it would be pushing it too far. Kicking off his shoes, then his shirt, he lay back on the bed and stared out the window at the nighttime sky. Absentmindedly he ran a hand down his chest and the sensation of his own touch made him aware of his masculinity. He wondered about Wesley. He had seen him shirtless when changing clothes, but he had not seen him naked.  What would Wesley look like? Cut or uncut, balls that hung long and loose or a sac that held them up close. Physical attributes that he knew didn’t really matter to him. When he thought of Wesley, it was less about his physical appearance, and more to do with the person.

The shower shut off and a quietness settled over the room as he waited on Wesley to come out. He looked at the open suitcase, one borrowed from Howard. It was obvious Wesley had rummaged around in it and he assumed Wesley would come out dressed. Then he saw how a pair of jeans, boxers and t-shirt lay on the open top, separate from all the other items. The door swung open and light from the bathroom spilled out with Wesley’s shadow in the center of it.

Wesley came into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist and stopped when he saw Rayford laying on one bed. Rayford tried not to smile, turning away before letting Wesley see him do so.  

“I thought you’d be in Howard’s room for a while longer” Wesley uttered in a low voice.

“Nah, I’m back. I guess I should shower off too” replied Rayford as he stood at the foot of the bed. Wesley seemed frozen in place, and he moved past him, close as he dared get, smiling, getting a nervous look in return. “Get dressed and we’ll go for a walk around town.”

“Okay” Wesley replied, relieved as Rayford grabbed his toiletry case and went into the bathroom. The door remained opened and Rayford’s shadow moved in the light spilling out. Wesley watched it for a moment, the way it pulled off jeans then boxers, then the shadow of cock protruding out and the turn to the shower. He rushed to his suitcase, feeling a need to dress quickly. Naked, he felt his sex, the beginning of stirrings he was embarrassed to let Rayford see.

A few minutes later Rayford came out, wearing only a towel. He boldly pulled it from his waist and tossed it over a chair. Naked, turned to where Wesley could see him, he took his time getting clothes from his suitcase. He wanted Wesley to see him. He wanted to see the affect of his nudity. He saw the stare, how Wesley looked at him, and he saw the confusion that surrounded it. There was an uncomfortable shift on the bed and the tug on jeans and he turned to his suitcase so Wesley couldn’t see his own expression; one of satisfaction. He pulled on boxers, then a clean pair of jeans. He slipped on a shirt, leaving the top buttons undone.

“Put on your shoes and let’s go walk around.”

They walked blocks in one direction, cut over a few and headed back toward the bay. For a long time, they didn’t talk, but after a while Rayford finally broke the silence.

“You want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Your father; that scene from earlier today.”

“Not really. There’s not much to talk about” Wesley replied, but then he did begin to talk. To tell about his life with two drug addicts only concerned with their next fix. The state of his home, what there was to it. How school had been just as tough, in some ways worse. The bullying and name calling, when all he wanted in the end was to be left alone. He admitted to fantasies of escape, of taking off for some coastal town or one in the mountains. Some place far away.

Rayford stayed quiet, didn’t interrupt, as Wesley talked. They strolled past restaurants closing-up for the night, bars busy with patrons, loud music pouring out when doors were open and they passed storefronts of shops, all dark for the night. Rayford had heard of such impoverished situations, but never firsthand, not in such a personal manner. He winced more than once at descriptions he couldn’t fathom.

Eventually Wesley feel silent and Rayford couldn’t stand it, had to fill the silence with something. He began to talk of growing up in Atlanta, a city boy who attended a private school and a loving family who at times were too concerned with appearances. There was college in the fall, up in Tennessee, where his father was an alumnus. He had initially fought going to the same university but where his father went through law, he wanted medicine and the university had a program.

“You’re going to be a doctor?”

“Geez, you say it like it’d be a miracle or something.”

“No, no, I mean…you never mentioned it before and…to me, it seems so far out of reach, something like that.”

“What would you like to do, if there were no barriers standing in your way?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, tell me.”

“I’d like to design gardens, with ponds and…quiet places you can sit.”

“Landscape Architect. Now you just need to find which colleges have the programs and…”

“What are you saying…I can’t go to college.”

“Why not? I know there is a program in the state and…”

“Rayford, you just don’t get it” Wesley cut him off, speeding up his pace.

“Wait up. I’m sorry, I won’t bring it up again” Rayford called out, telling himself he’d wait till the time was right, knowing too much had happened for one day. “The hotel is up and over one block.”

They were silent in the ride up the elevator, in the walk to their room and even when they first came in, kicking off shoes and falling back on the beds. Rayford turned on the television and began to flip through the channels, not stopping on any one of them long.

“Wesley?”

“Yeah, Rayford, what is it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“The kiss.”

“Oh…”

“It’s just…I like you; you know? I shouldn’t have done it, but I wanted to let you know how I felt, to show you I care about you.”

“Rayford.”

“Wesley, I didn’t mean to insinuate you were gay. I know that may seem like such an insult but…”

“Rayford.”

“…it’s not.  What?”

“It’s okay. The kiss. I didn’t not like it. It’s just...”

“It’s just, what?”

“We’re too different. Our backgrounds, you have so much to look forward to in life and…”

“And what? How can you say that?” replied Rayford climbing up off his bed. He jumped Wesley, held each arm down as he straddled his waist. Leaning down close, only inches between their noses, “What does it matter where we came from. Isn’t the only thing that matters is where we are headed? What’s out in front of us, not behind us.”

“Maybe…” Wesley stammered.

For Wesley, it was frightening, how Rayford wanted him to confess, to admit something he had yet to be able to even say aloud. He felt the firm grip of each wrist as Rayford held him down. The weight sitting on him. The stare of those blue eyes. His heart raced. He didn’t feel so much afraid as confused. It was obvious Rayford wasn’t afraid. Could he lose some of his own fear, if only for this one night?

“Wesley” said Rayford, leaning down even closer, “are you gay? Please tell me.”

Wesley nodded.

“Say it.”

Wesley looked into those blue eyes, pleading with him to say it.

“I’m…gay.”

“Can you look at me as someone who is more than a friend?”

Wesley nodded.

And Rayford leaned down, kissing him on the lips once again.

Wesley tried to push back, to get Rayford to stop but the fight went out of him. He no longer could do it; deny his own feelings. He so desired to feel like he was wanted. And Rayford had given him that feeling, often in little ways and like now, in a very big way.  He relaxed, letting the kiss linger. Rayford let his wrists go, one hand coming to his chin, holding it gently. The other moved to his chest, slid downward making him breathe hard. He wanted it to continue but feared for it to do so, for he was getting hard already. He wanted Rayford to feel it but still clung to his old fears of being afraid to show someone their affect on him. The hand moved over his stomach till fingers raked under the waistband of his jeans.  He felt their movement, the way they moved over his abdomen. They pulled out then slipped back in, this time beneath the waistband of his boxers. The bare touch of those fingers caused him to gasp for breath.

Rayford kissed along his jaw, then his left ear, tonguing its curved shape till he was pushing up against those fingers, moaning uncontrollably. They moved downward, rubbing over his abdomen, then raking through pubic hair, so close to his cock it flexed with his arousal.

“OH!” Wesley cried out as those fingers touched him, raked along the thickening shaft. Rayford pushed into his jeans further till able to grasp him. He felt a squeeze then a manipulation he didn’t think he could endure. When Rayford rubbed the head of his cock, so sensitive to any touch, he shuddered beneath him.

When the hand let go, he became aware of Rayford undoing his shirt. It fell open revealing his torso. As hands fumbled with his jeans and boxers, Rayford kissed his chest, dragged a tongue over the smooth skin till manipulating the right nipple. Wesley struggled for control of himself as he felt the suction on his nipple and his cock being freed of its confines. He felt naked even with his clothes still on. The shirt slipped down from his shoulders and Rayford pushed his jeans and boxers down till he was fully exposed. Twisted in his clothes he squirmed beneath Rayford as lips and tongue traveled down his chest, over his stomach then to his cock. He nearly cried out when he felt the hot wetness of Rayford’s tongue swirling around the head and he shuddered as those lips encircled it then pushed down its length.

Head thrown back, eyes closed, the only thing he was aware of was the heat of Rayford’s mouth on his cock. The way it enveloped it, time and time again. He heard Rayford’s oral manipulations and he fought the urge to push upward. Rayford settled into a rhythm, moving up and down on his cock and he didn’t know how long he could hold out. Leaning up on elbows he opened his eyes and watched. Rayford’s head moved up and down with lips stretched around his cock. He watched as Rayford’s pace increased. Eyes cut upwards and looked at him with a lust he’d never seen before. A desire he couldn’t control, and with each swallowing of his cock, this anxiousness about controlling himself slipped away till he didn’t want to control it anymore. He pushed upward and Rayford slipped hands under his ass. As he pumped his hips, he felt the firm hold on each cheek, fingers digging into the firm flesh.

He couldn’t hold back any longer and he thrust upward, crying out with release. His cock flexed with every ejaculation as Rayford’s mouth firmly held onto it. He came and came till he felt a spent satisfaction. Rayford sucked on his cock, tongued the head as fingers milked the shaft for every drop. He shuddered and begged Rayford to stop.

Rayford moved up his body and kissed him. With tongues dueling he tasted it, his own cum and he was aware of how aroused he still felt. His erection was pinned between them, pushing into the soft fabric of Rayford’s jeans.

“Rayford…please…” he begged as Rayford kissed his neck.

“I want you inside me” Rayford whispered in his ear.

Rayford sat up and helped Wesley out of his shirt. He slipped to the foot of the bed and tugged off Wesley’s jeans and boxers. He ran his hands up each leg till they framed Wesley’s erection. He tightened his grip around it till it thickened, turned dark red and flexed in his face. A bead of liquid pooled in the slit and he licked it off, making Wesley shudder. Then he removed his own clothes as Wesley watched.

Naked, on his knees hovering above him, he watched Wesley reach out, hand shaking as it came toward his growing erection. He watched, waited, wanting him to take it. He wanted to feel another’s touch, one that would drive his arousal. The hand stopped only inches away and for a moment he saw the old fear, causing Wesley to hesitate. He reached out quickly, grabbing Wesley by the wrist and pulled till he felt fingers touching his cock. The fingers rubbed along the shaft, then touched he flared head. He let go and the hand grasped his cock, stroked it till he was erect. He reached back and took Wesley in hand, feeling the thick shaft fill it. He moved back to it.

“Don’t move, okay? Just hold still” said Rayford as he held Wesley up and eased down.

Wesley lay still, almost afraid to breath, as he watched Rayford sit down on his cock. He felt the press against the head, then the tightness, squeezing it. Rayford eased down further, and he felt the tightness slide down his cock. He struggled to hold still, hands clutching at the bed as Rayford took inch after inch it.

“Fuck…” Rayford uttered as he settled all the way down. “Give me a minute.”

Wesley closed his eyes and lay back, afraid to open them. The pleasure was too great. It couldn’t be real. But he felt the tightness slide upward, then back down, slowly at first. Up and down his cock. His cock flexed when buried in Rayford, and he wanted to push upward in a desperate attempt to sink deeper into him.

Finally, there was a rhythm that stroked him, made him so aroused he began to push upward. Rayford rode his cock faster and faster till they were rocking the bed. Moans and cries echoed in the room, Rayford and his own.

“Fuck me…fuck me Wesley.”

Rayford lifted him up, bearhugged their bodies together and rolled over till he was on his back and Wesley was on top. “Fuck me…come on…please…” Rayford pleaded, and Wesley rose up and began to fuck, to drive into Rayford’s depths. He didn’t know if he could keep it up, the sensation of pushing into Rayford was too hot, too stimulating. But he couldn’t hold back. He drove inward harder and harder, till hips smacked against ass. The bed began to squeak and rock as he fell into a rhythm.

The exertion was unlike anything before. His entire body was burning up. Sweat beaded up on his skin, trickled down his face and chest, but he didn’t slow down. Hands held his waist, then slipped around to his back and rubbed upward, gliding slickly over his wet skin.

“Yeah…yeah…fuck…fuck me…hard…harder…” Rayford stammered as he clung to Wesley.

Wesley leaned down and kissed Rayford, the first time he initiated a kiss. He pressed their lips together as he drove into Rayford’s depths. Rayford’s cock pushed into his stomach and he let his body weigh down on it, undulating his hips, keeping up their fuck. The contact between them was hot and slick, flesh sliding over flesh.

Rayford cried out and his body shivered beneath Wesley, as cum pooled between them. His cock flexed with each ejaculation as Wesley’s cock piston in his hole. The smell of it filled the room, mixed with the scent of their sweaty bodies. It pushed Wesley over the edge, and he bore into Rayford’s depths and came.

Rolled over onto his back, Wesley was still heaving for breath. He became aware of his body’s heat as it now cooled. Looking at his stomach he saw Rayford’s cum smeared over it and traced a finger through it, making circles till this finger was coated. He licked it off finding the taste familiar to his own, but different. He heard Rayford chuckle and looked over to see him watching.

“Let’s shower” said Rayford as he eased up in a sitting position.

They bathed each other under the hot spray, the small bathroom turning into a sauna. They felt their bodies relax as hands moved over them. Suds cascaded down rinsing sweat and cum from their skin. Rayford looked at Wesley, smiling with a naughty expression, then pushed him against the wall, arms held up over his head as he kissed him.

Rayford pushed his cock against Wesley’s and soon both were erect again. Rayford pushed his cock down below Wesley’s balls and pumped his hips. Wesley moaned with the feel of it, this rubbing along his body so near his hole. When Rayford pulled back and guided him to turn, and he turned willingly. He wanted Rayford. He wanted to feel Rayford inside him. He leaned against the wall; ass pushed back. Rayford held him by the waist with one hand and he felt the insistent nudge at his hole. The push for penetration. He pushed back and shuddered as Rayford breached his tightness and penetrated him. Holding his head down while Rayford pushed inward, he felt this penetration as inch after inch sank into his hole till their bodies were pressed together.

“Fuck…you’re tight” Rayford uttered as he held Wesley by the waist with both hands and began to pull outward.

Rayford worked through Wesley’s tightness till it loosened, let him pump through it easily till he increased his pace, began to fuck, to drive into Wesley’s depths. He heated up, felt like he was burning from within as he hammered his cock inside Wesley. Their moans and grunts echoed in the shower mixed with the sound of bodies slapping together.

Rayford wanted to feel Wesley against his body, and he slid a hand up along Wesley’s spine till he could lean forward and wrap his arm around Wesley’s neck. He stood bringing Wesley up with him. Bearhugging him against his chest, as he pumped cock into him. Using his other hand, he reached around and took Wesley in hand. Stroked him in rhythm to his own pace, one increasing rapidly with his need for release.

Wesley cried out, shuddered within Rayford’s arms, as cum spattered against the wall. Rayford felt Wesley spasm around his cock, and he thrust harder, rougher, too close to release to slow. As Wesley ejaculated over and over, he pushed inward all the way and came.

Rayford’s cell phone rang out waking the two of them. They were intertwined on one bed, the covers pulled and twisted around them. Rayford reached out blindly, fumbling around the nightstand in search of the disturbance.  Finding it, he slid a finger across ‘accept’ and held it to his ear.

“Rayford? Do you know what time it is?” said Howard through the phone.

“No?”

“It’s nearly ten. You boys get up and dressed. I’ll be in the lobby waiting.”

Rayford ended the call and bolted up. “Shit…we overslept.”

“I told you to set the alarm” came Wesley’s muffled reply.

They quickly showered together, dressed, threw their things into the suitcases and headed out. Howard was reading a newspaper, shaking his head, when they walked up.

“How late did you boys stay up?”

“I’m not sure” Rayford replied, trying hard not to smile at the memory of the night before. Their initial sex, then the showering together. They had intended to go to sleep after the shower but spent half the night fucking each other till neither one could take anymore.

Howard looked at Rayford, knowing something was up. He looked at Wesley who couldn’t look him in the eye, instead turned to look across the lobby.

“I see” Howard replied, taking a deep breath. “Well, I’m hungry and know this little diner that serves breakfast late.”

They returned to the small farm by late afternoon. During the drive Howard talked about how he met Helen, the courtship that ensued. The good times and the few bad, and ultimately the wedding in the small chapel. He talked in a slow casual way, of one not in a hurry. Time didn’t matter anymore. Rayford knew what brought about this talk, this storyline of a relationship that lasted for decades. He glanced in the mirror and saw Howard looking back, smiling and shaking his head.

As they neared home, driving along the narrow two-lane road through pine and past farms, Howard fell silent for a moment, then began talking again.

“I don’t presume to know everything, especially about relationships between other people…”

Wesley looked over Rayford, suddenly shocked at the realization of where Howard was heading. Rayford winked back. Howard talked till the farm came into view.

“…I’m not one to judge. Have no right, as far as I’m concerned. Live and let live, but there are those who want to…dictate how others are to live and…well…you boys be careful. Okay?”

“Okay” Rayford replied as Wesley blushed red in the passenger seat.

The summer was just another summer. Hot and humid, with the constant hum of mowers and tractors doing small tasks around the small farm place. Howard played guardian to Wesley, helped him to find a job and enroll in the local community college, all in preparation of entering college the next year. Rayford taught him to drive and took him to get his license. When some of the family arrived for the Fourth of July, they found Wesley in his room and Rayford in the other, with no clue to the actual arrangement that existed between them.

When the middle of August arrived, Howard knew it would be the toughest for Wesley, having Rayford leave for a stay at his home before starting college that fall. He kept Wesley busy, and encouraged him to call Rayford whenever he was down. A couple of times each semester, Howard flew Wesley to Nashville to spend time with Rayford.

Each break brought Rayford to the small farm, and Howard made himself scarce for the first day. He could see it, this relationship that formed. It reminded him of the one he had with Helen. Wesley the quiet one, like he had been, and Rayford, so outgoing, bringing out the best in Wesley, so like his Helen.

The next fall and Howard found himself living alone again, and it was difficult. Wesley got into college only a little over two hours away and Rayford back in Nashville. But the boys called frequently, sent him cards and mementos, and in the fall, he went to a football game with Wesley and in the winter, he flew to Nashville for a basketball game with the boys, Wesley having rode up with some friends. 

Howard watched the boys become men, finding their own way. He felt a satisfaction as before when he had watched his children leave for their own lives. Many a day, late in the afternoon, he found himself in the Jon boat drifting across the pond fishing as Wesley and he had done. It gave him a feeling of accomplishment, this guidance and support he had provided. He knew the boys would be alright. He seen the signs.

November 2019

 The plane landed in Mobile and looking out the window, Wesley could see it was raining. The plane taxied to the gate and after getting set up and door open, Wesley and Rayford made their way into the terminal. It had been a few months since their last visit, one spent at the small farm, now a place of solitude. Howard had left other properties and assets to his surviving children or the grandchildren, with instructions for them to share with their children or grandchildren, help those that needed it and use it for college or helping someone start their business. But the farm, the sixty acres with the barns, house and small pond, he left for Rayford. Rayford had received it with a letter, one of the few he had seen written by Howard. In it, he told Rayford the farm was Wesley’s and his, the deed written as such, and he hoped they could hold on to it, but told them to sell if there was a need.

They had to cut corners, scrimp and save, for Rayford was still in residency. Wesley was working with a small firm in the city while Rayford worked long hours at the hospital. But when they got time off, a chance to leave the city for a few days, they traveled back to the farm. This trip was different, and Rayford put his arm around Wesley’s neck and gave him a hug as they made their way through the airport. Wesley had replied he would attend his class reunion, unsure why even as he had dropped the reply in the mail with the check months ago.

“We can still blow off that reunion, you know. Just stay at the farm all weekend” Rayford whispered in his ear.

“It’s tempting.”

They arrived at the farm late in the night. The security light in the backyard cut through the gloomy darkness. Rayford pulled under the carport and they made their way inside.

“You want anything to eat?” asked Rayford when they made their way back into the kitchen.

“Just some water. I’m still full from dinner.”

On the screen porch they sat in the swing and rocked back and forth lazily, listening to the soft drizzle of rain. Rayford reached over and slipped his hand into Wesley’s, giving it squeeze.

“I miss him, ya know” said Wesley.

“Me too. Can’t believe its been nearly three years since…”

Rayford didn’t finish and they sat silent for a long time, the only light coming through the kitchen window.

Wesley was lost in thought, the reunion bringing back memories he wished he could forget, but knew those bad times led to the good, this search by a thirteen-year old boy for a safe place that led to this place. A search that led to Howard, then Rayford. He gripped Rayford’s hand tighter and pulled as he stood.

“Let’s go inside.”

Wesley was never as vocal about what he wanted, especially when it came to sex, instead, always showing Rayford by some gesture or leading him to the bedroom, as he was doing now.

There was no rush to undress, no longer the clumsily fumbling around to get into bed as fast as possible. They took their time undressing each other. The reveal of familiar bodies to the other. The caress of hands over bare skin. The kisses of lips on lips, or against chests, nipples or stomachs. The oral manipulations, the touches that aroused, made cocks grow hard.

Wesley laid back on the bed, guiding Rayford to follow. He wrapped his legs around Rayford’s waist and felt the rub along his ass, the aroused state of Rayford evident by how quickly he was wet from it. They kissed as Rayford penetrated him, pushed in slowly, inch by inch, till he had all of him. They fucked slowly, gently; a pace unhurried.

Rayford’s hips rose and fell rhythmically, pushing into Wesley’s depths then pull outward. Over and over till Wesley clung to Rayford and pleaded for their fuck to be faster. The old bed squeaked and rocked, and Wesley’s cries echoed in the room as Rayford kissed his neck and tongued the right ear. Wesley shivered from Rayford’s ministrations, and he pushed his body toward him, back arched, reacting to his increased aroused state.

Rayford pumped inside him till he felt the shuddering, the cock jamming inward and knew Rayford was releasing within him.

They rolled over and Wesley moved to penetrate Rayford. He knew what Rayford liked, the position that fueled his desires. Legs resting on each shoulder, Wesley moved over Rayford, folding him in half, ass lifting in the alignment he needed, and he pushed into him, all the way, till their bodies were pressed together.

“Fuck…” Rayford exclaimed, always the more vocal of the two of them. “Fuck me, Wesley…fuck…me…”

Friday arrived with clear skies and temperatures dropping. They mowed the grass and picked up around the house. After lunch in Monroeville, they pulled out the Jon boat and floated around the pond. There were like kids again, just playing around on the water, letting the boat drift across, then paddling back to the other side. There was the usual talk of Christmas plans that involved flying to Atlanta to be with Rayford’s family, most of whom had long since accepted Wesley, but Rayford’s mother struggled with it and Wesley knew it. That evening they grilled steaks and retired early to the bedroom as they had done the night before.

Saturday morning began with temperatures near freezing. The old house was chilly, and they lounged in bed till nearly noon. They drove down to Atmore for a late lunch, walked around the small town then drove back to the farm.

When the time came, they showered and dressed for the reunion.

“Are you sure you still want me to go too?” Rayford asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Yes. Even though they treated me like shit. I still can’t believe they invited me, and…so…I guess I’m going to find out why.”

“I’m sure they believe they were not that bad. I bet they’ll pretend you were all the best of friends.”

“That might piss me off more.”

Rayford laughed, shaking his head. Picking up the rental car keys, wallet and phone he looked over at Wesley putting on his coat. “Well, we’re going to get a meal out of it, so let’s go have dinner.

They drove along the familiar roads, Rayford keeping to the speed limit, in no hurry, always willing to be late. Monroeville hadn’t changed much over the years, only a few businesses in town. The restaurant was in the center of it and cars were parked on both sides of the street near its location. Rayford pulled around the corner and parked. They sat for a minute, just staring out the window. Wesley glanced at his watch, smirked at how Rayford was always thirty minutes late to every engagement.

They walked along the sidewalk side by side till standing at the entrance. The interior was dimly lit, with people standing around a bar and in small groups across the dining room. A sign on the door announced the restaurant was closed for a private party and Wesley considered turning around even as he reached out and swung the door open. He held it open for Rayford and for the first time in a few days considered what a figure Rayford cut when dressed up. The white banded collar shirt with black jacket and pants looked alien compared to the attire of the others. He wore a black shirt, coat and pants and knew the two of them would stand out, but there was something about these costumes, this attire, that he hoped would keep the wolves at bay.

There was a table set up next to the hostess station with two women behind it. Katie Reynolds, now Holland, and another woman. He glanced at her name tag, reading the name, Cynthia Mills, then he remembered. She wasn’t a Mills in school, but he remembered her dating some football jock from Evergreen by the name of Mills, and assumed it was the same.

“Wesley?” Katie asked and he could see the shock in her expression, and he wasn’t sure if it was seeing Rayford actually, by his side, even though his reply listed him, or if it was the way he was dressed. No longer the white trash from their school days.

“Yeah, it’s me. What do I need to do?”

“J-just write your name on a tag and go on in” Katie replied.

He saw the questioning looks from the two of them and he felt himself blush. He wrote his name on a tag, neat, each letter perfect as he learned in college and stuck it to the front of his coat. He handed the marker to Rayford.

“Katie, this is Rayford. He’s with me.”

“Yeah…right” Katie responded, and he saw how the two women looked at Rayford. Their eyes going up and up and up, looking at his tall, lean body, so neatly accentuated with his clothes. He smiled at the blatant way they looked at Rayford.

They strolled across the dining room, Rayford leading the way, heading to the bar. Faces still familiar watched them, some staring openly. The group at the bar parted and let the two of them approach. Rayford moved up to the bar, then looked back at Wesley.

“Your usual?”

“Yeah.”

“Bartender…Bombay and tonic, and a Woodford on the rocks.”

There was an eerie silence around them, no one talking as the bartender made their drinks. Rayford paid the bartender for the premium drinks and handed Wesley the one with the dark golden liquor. The elixir of life they jokingly called it. Drink in hand, they toasted each other. “Cheers to the madness” and sipped their first of the night, Wesley letting the warmth of the whiskey course through him.

“Let’s go find a place to sit” said Wesley.

Before they could leave the bar, Wesley heard a familiar voice, one he had not heard in ten years.

“Wesley?”

He turned to see Jordan, someone who had always been on the periphery of the gangs. Someone he never really knew, even less than his tormentors.

“Jordan?”

“Yeah, hey…wow…I heard you were coming and…well, kind of surprised you showed up.”

“After all the shit that occurred? Yeah, I debated it, but it let Rayford and I come to the farm and relax for a few days.”

“The farm? You mean Mr. Etheridge’s old place?”

“Yes. Howard was Rayford’s great granddad.”

“Howard?”

“Mr. Etheridge” replied Wesley. “What is the seating arrangement? Can we just pick a place or did this committee of one do it for us?”

Jordan smiled and glanced over at Katie. “I guess its obvious who is in charge, and yeah, she put place cards at each seat, and you guys are at my table. Follow me.”

The table was in the back corner, the worst one, which didn’t surprise Wesley. In fact, he was glad to be anywhere away from the center of attention. Looking around the room he saw the looks. Those that leaned in close to whisper amongst themselves while cutting their eyes toward him.

“You guys are creating a bit of excitement” said Jordan as he took his seat.

Wesley and Rayford took their places to the right of Jordan and wondered if it had been a mistake to come.

Katie came into the center of the room, tapping a spoon to the side of an empty wine glass. She spoke for a few minutes then asked everyone to take their seats. It was obvious to Wesley their table was the class outcasts, and it comforted him, let him relax, knowing those he wished to avoid were seated elsewhere.

There had been an awkward silence at first, then Jordan making small talk. Eventually the usual questions began to circulate the table. ‘What are you doing now?’, ‘Where do you live?’ and the small talk that went along with them. Rayford, always the host, made a couple of trips to the bar for everyone, and Wesley saw the others relax around them. By the time dessert was served, their conversations were more honest, less formal. How school had sucked for them, how things were better afterward, and within this conversation, there was the surprise at how Wesley escaped the area, made a better life for himself.

“How did you get out of here?” Jordan asked after they had been skirting around the question for a while.

“It was meeting Howard, then Rayford. They saved me” Wesley replied, taking Rayford’s hand under the table giving it a small, familiar squeeze.