The Gulf Between Us

Chapter 11

Fine Thin Line

I'd survived my first day at school. Both feet were seriously blistered, but I didn't walk out of my boots even once. Dragging them around on my feet wore me out. Once home, I retired the cowboy boots to John-Henry's closet, after putting a coat of black polish on them, which was our deal.

I thanked John-Henry and told him I wouldn't need them again.

Putting on my cutoffs as quick as I came in the door, I was on my way to Ivan's once the boots got what was coming to them. As I headed for the kitchen door, I heard a basketball bouncing at the side of the house. Ivan was shooting a basketball at a hoop that had no net.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he said.

He shot the ball from twenty-five feet away, following it to the hoop, making a layup, after the ball dropped through the hoop. Dribbling back to the end of the concrete, he turned, arching in another shot.

“Thanks,” I said, having had all afternoon to think about it.

“For what,” he asked, dribbling back toward me, abruptly turning to shoot.

He'd been at it a while. His tan skin was covered with sweat. It was a hot and humid afternoon.

Once again he dribbled toward the outer edges of the concrete. I moved under the basket and began tossing the ball back to him, once it dropped through the hoop. I couldn't hit the side of the house from ten feet away. I was amazed by his skill with the ball. He was good at everything he did.

“For saving my ass from the ox,” I said. “I wanted you to know I appreciated it. You didn't have to do that, you know.”

“Sure I did. He bothered you. If he bothers you again, get right in his face. Always call him Leslie. He hates it. We go way back, Leslie and me. He's all hot air. I've never seen him throw a punch. He thinks he's tough. He's only fat,” Ivan said, stopping to shoot. “I knew him before he became a blimp.”

The basketball went through the hoop and dropped at my feet.

“You're good,” I said, tossing the ball back.

“You don't know the half of it. I don't take much seriously,” Ivan explained for no reason. “This relaxes me. I need to relax after my daily dose of programming and indoctrination. We are the proletariat after all.”

“We're pro what?”

“We're the worker bees, Clay. We're here to service the queen,” he panted, turning to shoot, sounding serious about something.

“What queen?” I asked, lost in his allegory again. “Isn't that England?”

“School isn't so much to educate as it is to indoctrinate. Lord's Prayer, The Pledge, God Bless America, that old school spirit, what does it teach us, repeating it each day? Repetition makes an impression even on the dullest minds.”

He dribbled in to make a layup, bumping me with his hip, before he laid the ball in the hoop.

“You don't like school?” I asked.

He shot from the farthest corner of the cement. The ball hit the hoop, bounced straight up, and dropped through the hoop. He jogged up, taking the ball from me.

“Come on. I need a soda. Thirsty, cowboy?”

“Sure,” I said, watching the fine lines in his body as he walked in front of me.

His skin shined. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him. I wondered if he was good at everything or if he only did things he was good at? I wasn't good at anything. I had two left feet and my fingers were all thumbs. Ivan looked good no matter what he did. Why did he even notice a klutz like me?

“You ever had a cream soda?” he asked, getting two bottles of tan liquid out of the fridge. “Here. Try this. Tell me what you think.”

Popping off the bottle caps, he handed me the cold soda, taking a long swig out of his.

“I hadn't thought of it in years. I found this at Piggly Wiggly last week. I remember how my grandfather enjoyed his cream soda. I like it more now than I did then. It's not too sweet or tangy.”

I took a sip and then I took another. It was different. There was nothing about it I disliked. I liked Coke, as did most of my family. I rarely tried anything else. I decided cream soda was OK. Mine was half gone before we spoke again.

“My grandfather was from Lithuania. It's part of the Soviet Union. My father was born there.”

“I know,” I said. “You mentioned your grandfather before. That he was from there.”

“A lot of the Soviet sailors are Lithuanian. Lithuanian men are well acquainted with the sea. My grandfather was from Vilnius. It opens onto the Baltic. He was a fisherman before the Soviets came to stay, after the Russian Revolution.”

“The Soviet Union is Russia?” I asked, being clear on nothing, except they were the bad guys.

“Russia is at the center of the Soviet Union. They took over Lithuania. It has ports opening onto the Baltic Sea. The Soviet navy anchors ships there. My grandfather was fished. The Soviets made fishing harder. The Soviets made life hard. He began planning his escape in the early 30s. He installed an extra fuel tank and began saving diesel fuel in it.

“What was the fuel for?”

“One day Pop Pop, my grandfather, sailed out to go fishing, like he did every day of his life. During the night my grandmother, father, and Aunt Catherine slipped aboard. They used the extra fuel to come to America, where I was born, Boris too. He's my brother. He lives with my mother in Tampa.”

“I'm glad they came here,” I said.

“Me too. I'd like to go to Lithuania one day. See where my people are from. Maybe fish there, because Aleksa's are fisherman. They've fished the Baltic since the beginning of time, until now.”

“My family is from northern Europe. Sweden, maybe. No one talks about it. We're just Americans now. I don't know my father knows anything about the old country.”

“I get we're American, Clay. My people had a culture and a history in Lithuania. I need to have some sense of it for me to have a better understanding of who I am. I have curiosity about my ancestors. The Soviet Union is new. They'll leave one day. My people lived and fished there long before the Soviets came. I want to learn about it and go there after the Soviets leave.”

“You think they'll leave?” I asked.

“All empires die. The people go on.”

“I don't think we have a history,” I said, having never thought about it. “My father has only had this job a few weeks. I'm not sure what he did before we came here. He went to work every day. He had weekends off. Sometimes we went to Joplin. That's in Missouri. A couple hours from Tulsa.”

“There's a tradition to the sea. My father couldn't fish with my grandfather. That's another story, but until he became a fisherman, he couldn't keep a regular job. Since Pop Pop died, Dad took over the fishing boat and we moved here. It undid my parents' marriage. My mother didn't last two months on the beach. One day she left and didn't come back. I was almost nine. Boris was eleven.”

“Your mother didn't like the beach?” I asked.

“It wasn't the beach. It was the isolation. My mother likes a party, dancing, nice clothes. Tampa is a long way to commute. It's over two hours if you don't doddle. My mother doesn't doddle.”

“You and Boris lived here alone?”

“Dad started coming in every night at first. Once Boris was twelve, he'd go over night twice a week. We had each other and we aren't the type to get into trouble. We'd have to work at it to find trouble around here,” Ivan said.

“Your grandfather sounds neat,” I said. “He came here in a boat, like Columbus?”

“No, Columbus went to the Caribbean to take whatever he could find of value back to Europe. Pop Pop came to breathe free. He is one of the tired, the poor, the huddled masses.”

“He is!” I said, thinking I recognize the words, but I wondered what it meant. “He had courage to go against the Soviets.”

“He wanted to fish and be left alone to live his life. The Soviets didn't want that. He left. I was here with him his last two summers. I hated Tampa. Too big, too fast, too far from Pop Pop. I love it here. Boris liked the beach in those days. When my mother moved back to Tampa, Boris was here with me until he turned sixteen. We're a lot a like,” Ivan said with fondness in his voice.

“I think I have too many brothers to be like any of them. John-Henry is a man. Brian... well, Brian'll never be a man. Teddy is easy to get along with. He's always gone, working somewhere. Teddy has worked as far back as I have a memory. He's two years older than me, Brian three, and John-Henry is nearly five years older than me. Coleen was first born, Lucy last, and all boys in between. I'm not like any of them. We get along okay, I guess.”

“Just me and Boris,” Ivan said.

“How'd your grandfather and father get to Florida?” I asked. “America's big.”

“One day my grandfather sailed out of the harbor and he kept going. He stopped in Iceland to trade fish for fuel, and he left for the United States. He landed in Gloucester, Massachusetts. It was the only place on the sea he knew by name. He could fish there, while getting asylum for his family. The fisherman in Gloucester had a tight alliance. It wasn't easy to earn a living if you didn't join. My grandfather said he'd already been controlled by the Soviets. He'd go where he could fish on his own.”

“He sounds like John Wayne,” I said. “He wanted what he wanted and that's all there was to it.”

“Except for him having a boat instead of a horse, that's probably about it. This was in the Great Depression here. Times were hard. He sailed to Maine first and then to Newfoundland. It was tough all over. My grandmother was sick and she died just before they got to Cape Hatteras. The fishing was good but the markets were limited to local fisherman. My Aunt Catherine met a local fisherman, fell in love, left her father's boat. She's still in North Carolina for all I know.

“They tried the East Coast of Florida for a year, migrating here after fishing in the Keys for a year. They found the fish warehouse in the cove where we dock the boat now. There was no marina then. Pop Pop made a deal to bring his fish to the fish warehouse. One day he saw the house you're living in while on his way to unload at the warehouse. He was directed to the conservancy and made arrangements to buy the land next to the river. He built this house, and here we are,” Ivan said happily.

“That's a great story,” I said. “It must have been quite an adventure. Leaving his home to come here. That took guts. My father lost his job. He heard about the one here. It included the house. That sealed the deal. We had no choice.”

“Sounds courageous to me, Clay. Your parents didn't know what would be here. They came halfway across the country to start over. Starting over is gutsy no matter how it happens.”

“Yeah, I guess for them it did take guts. I was just a kid. I went with them,” I explained.

“We were living in Tampa, when Pop Pop died. I'd spent the summer with him, until school started. He died in September. We moved here right after the funeral. My father loved it. He began fishing right away. My father was always a fisherman. It's in his blood. It's in my blood.”

“You have history. I was born in Tulsa and we moved here in June. End of story.”

“Short and sweet,” Ivan said. “I bet you're leaving something out.”

“How'd you learn all that?” I asked. “Who told you what happened to your family?”

“Pop Pop thought it was important for me to know our history, our culture. He taught me the language and told me what it was like before the Soviets came. Boris and I went out on the boat with Pop Pop. He taught us everything he knew about fishing, reading the stars, and finding fish. We can never get lost on a clear night,” Ivan bragged.

“I liked it here right away,” I said. “I was lonely though.”

“Lonely?” Ivan said, turning to look at me. “You aren't alone any more.”

He threw his arms around me and gave me the biggest hug I can remember. The image of Ivan hugging and kissing his father flashed into my brain. I'd never been kissed by anyone but by Mama. I didn't want it to change now. It was a big worry about nothing. It was totally cool.

“We're friends, Clay. I'm here for you no matter what,” he said without doubt in his voice. “I wouldn't care even if you told me you were a Baptist.”

The hug ended but he stood close, letting his arm rest on my shoulders as he turned his attention back to the gulf. It gave me a warm feeling. I felt like I belonged there.

“Like today,” I said, suddenly seeing the ox in the cafeteria at school.

“You can handle Leslie without me,” he said, knowing what I meant. “You haven't learned to own the ground you stand on,” Ivan said. “You can't let a boy like Leslie muscle you. You can't back up. You need to get close to his face. Ask him what he wants. A bully wants you scared. If you don't act scared, it throws him off.”

“What if he hits me?” I asked, thinking of how bad that would look.

“Hit him back, Clay. Stand your ground. A punch is no big deal. The fear of being punched is way greater than the punch. A bully doesn't want to fight you. He wants to see your fear. Don't let him see it. Face him and stand up for yourself. A bully feeds on fear. If he can't get what he wants from you, he'll look for easier prey.”

“I've never hit anyone before. No one's ever hit me,” I said. “I always had friends with me.”

“When you hang with me, no one is going to bother you,” he said. “I'm not easily intimidated by another kid and only rarely by an adult.”

“Why doesn't anyone mess with you?” I asked.

“Hard to say. I'm not scared of anyone. Boris used to beat the hell out of me when we were little. The boy has a temper. After he learned to box, he taught me. We do all our fighting in the boxing ring now, but I'm not scared of him. If he knocks me down, I get up, and then I make him pay for it. I've got a temper too. I save it for Boris, because he gives me a run for my money.”

“Do they know at school that you box?”

“They know Boris boxes. Most guys put two and two together. Until Boris moved to Tampa, he was my best friend. We were always together, except when I spent the summers with Pop Pop. Boris wanted to go home after a couple of weeks. I stayed with Pop Pop whenever I could. No one at school messed with Boris. They don't mess with me. I don't give them a reason to mess with me. You push me. I push back. The trouble makers don't want to be pushed back.”

“Boris toughened you up,” I observed. “You said he beat you up.”

“I suppose he did. I didn't like him hitting me. I don't like it now. I hit back. Didn't do much good when I was a shrimp. I got in enough good licks growing up that he stopped beating on me.”

“Staying with your grandfather toughened you up, I bet. He sounds tough,” I said.

“He was tough enough to live life on his own terms. The Soviets tried to indoctrinate him. It only made him mad. He sailed right out of their reach. He encouraged me to find things I liked and not let anyone discourage. He told me, 'Talent and time create art, whether it's laying bricks or brain surgery. Life is about the art of living.' Fishing was his art.”

“That's smart, but I still don't want to fight anyone,” I said.

“Neither do I, Clay. The best way to avoid a fight is to be ready to fight if you need to.”

When Ivan spoke, his steady black eyes were on my less convincing blue version. He spoke firmly and with confidence. I pictured him doing that dive. How he made his body twist and turn in midair. It took strength as well as grace. His physical skills were impressive.

“Like I said, Boris boxes. He taught me how to take care of myself. We've got these long arms, and he's built his arms up. When he knocks me down, and he still can, I get up. I don't stand there and match him punch for punch. He's stronger than me. That's his game. I get inside those long arms. I get into his body and jab him over and over again. He hates it when I do that. I don't care much for being knocked down, so I do something about it.”

“I don't know if I could do that,” I said, never having faced that kind of problem.

“You were halfway there with Leslie, Clay. You didn't back up. All you need to remember is to get even closer to someone like him. Get in his face so he feels threatened. It's not what he wants.”

“I couldn't back up,” I confessed. “I had two pounds of newspaper in each boot. I was afraid I'd fall down if I backed up.”

Ivan laughed. I laughed. It felt good. The fear had left me, but I still didn't want to fight Leslie.

“You're not like everyone else, Clay. It's why I like you. You took a shot today. That's cool, but I like you the way you are, here on my beach. This is no place for a cowboy. At school, it's cool.”

When Ivan first put his arm on my shoulders, it weighed a ton. Now I barely felt it. He didn't move it as we stood looking at the pleasant water. Had it been another boy, I'd have been made nervous being touched by another boy. With Ivan, I liked it. I liked being with him.

Neither of us spoke as we surveyed the water for activity. In the afternoon anything might rise out of the depths or fly overhead. We were excited by such sightings. I couldn't begin to imagine what was beyond the horizon. Watching the sun slip out of sight beyond the gulf was the best of all, and if there weren't too many clouds, we could see it most days. We were always on the deck at sunset. I had to be home fifteen minutes later. I wasn't allowed out after dark.

I didn't understand how we became best friends. I was just glad we did.

*****

When I wasn't at school, or called to duty to babysit Lucy, I was at Ivan's. After dinner, when I took my plate to the kitchen, I began saying, “I'm going to Ivan's, Mama.”

“Be home at nine,” Mama would say. “You've got school tomorrow.”

Everything was better in my life that fall. It was October when my father came in with a radio under his arm. He set it up in the hallway beside the dining room. John-Henry took the antenna up through the attic and onto the roof, where he secured it near the trapdoor. It could easily be reached and brought in during storms.

“I talked to Ivan's dad this afternoon. I took him over to the conservancy to show him the pictures of his father with their boat and the picture of his house, when it was first built. Nice fellow,” Pop said, “He's going to instruct Ivan to keep their radio on while you're up there, which is most of the time these days. That way you can reach us without coming home to do it,” Pop said. “He's delighted that Ivan has found a friend so close. I've assured him we'd be up there at a moments notice, should Ivan need help.”

Everyone at the dinner table looked at Pop as he spoke and then they looked at me.

“He worries about Ivan being alone so much. With you two being as thick as thieves, we worry about both of you. This lets you be at Ivan's as much as you like, but you still are in contact with us. He calls Ivan each evening at a predetermined time to make sure all is well. Now we're a radio call away should something come up, or if we want to hear your voice to remind us what you sound like.”

I failed to see what was in this for me. My freedom was at stake. I'd been given it and now it sounded like it was being taken away. Luckily I kept my mouth shut.

“You've been asking to spend the night at Ivan's. Your mother and I aren't comfortable with you two being up there alone. This will allow you to do that so we aren't worried about you. It also takes a considerable amount of worry off Mr. Aleksa. We try to get you and you don't answer, John-Henry will be on his way up there to check on you. So the radio stays on while you're up there. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, seeing the proposition more favorably.

“Yes, and that's only on the weekend, young man,” Mama said. “Ask Ivan to come to dinner tomorrow night. We're having ham, squash, tomatoes, and biscuits. I think he favors those.”

“He loves your ham, Mama. I won't need to do much talking. I love your ham.”

A little buttering up never hurt, but it was true.

“There won't be any convincing. Ivan's father will tell him to come for dinner tomorrow. We'll lay out the rules to him in order for you to stay over night. We won't bother you if it isn't important. You're going on fifteen now, and when Teddy was fifteen, he was Lord knows where every day, looking for work. Having you at the house next door isn't a problem,” Pop said.

I agreed instantly to the terms. I wasn't happy they'd have communications with me at all times. I loved the freedom of being out of contact with my family. After nearly fifteen years, not being at my house was a real summer vacation. It lasted all year around.

As happy as I acted to make this deal, I was immediately looking for a way to fudge on it.

Brian decided to help as only a lamebrain brother could.

“The boy stands out beside his house and shoots baskets, naked!” Brian blurted with alarm in his voice.

'Oh no,' I thought, my face almost ending up in my mashed potatoes. 'He's going to screw everything up. I won't be able to see Ivan at all.'

Once more I stayed silent, praying for help. John-Henry came to the rescue, seeing through Brian's unusual concern.

“You're telling us you stand up there watching a naked boy, Brian? It's Florida. Everyone goes naked,” John-Henry said, disputing Brian's version.

“He shoots baskets when he comes out of the water,” I said, making it up as I went along. “He takes off his wet trunks to let them dry and he shoots baskets. It relaxes him. There's no one around.”

What the two had to do with each other, I didn't know, but I liked the way it sounded.

“What trunks?” Brian asked. “I see him come out of the water buck naked.”

“A lot like when you come out of the water when we swim after dinner,” John-Henry said in rebuttal. “It's Florida Brian. Wake up. We all swim naked when there's no reason to wear a suit.”

“That's a nice excuse, but people need to be more modest, not less,” Mama observed.

“Don't worry, Mama. I doubt he comes to dinner naked,” Coleen said, sounding disappointed.

This was not going too well. My friendship with Ivan was suddenly in jeopardy. Mama would cast a deciding vote if she felt obliged to.

“You certain do watch Ivan a lot, Brian. You a little sweet on him?” John-Henry said.

“I just said what I saw,” Brian said with a Puritanical air in his voice.

“There's a section of beach at the tip of the island. When I drive down to pick up trash, a half dozen women are out there sunbathing naked. It's not once in a while. It's every time I go there.”

“What?” Brian said. “I never saw no naked ladies. You're making that up.”

“Why do you think I always volunteered for that section of beach?” John-Henry said. “A good way to run those fine ladies off is to send you down there to drool on them..”

“You're a skunk, you know that, John-Henry,” Brian blurted. “We should alternate that beach from now on. Why do you get to look at naked women and I get to look at Ivan's naked butt?”

“I get to watch naked ladies sunbathe, shorty. You haven't got beyond playing with yourself.”

“Don't call me that,” Brian yelped.

“John-Henry Olson, what are you doing looking at naked women?” Mama asked. “We didn't raise you to be a heathen. Those women are heathens.”

“Mama, if you didn't think I noticed the difference between men and women, I figured that out when I was nine. Women are way more interesting if you ask me, but that's only my opinion. Brian's obviously found Ivan nice to look at. I'll stick to women, but he's my brother, and I love him anyway. I'd warn Ivan if I were you, Clay. Hard to tell what's on Brian's mind.”

'Go John-Henry,' I thought.

This wasn't going as badly as it could have.

“I was just saying he shoots baskets naked,” Brian explained. “As skinny as he is, no one wants to see his skinny butt.”

“If it's so skinny, why do you keep looking at it?” John-Henry asked. “Must be love.”

“It's Florida,” Pop said. “John-Henry isn't the only one to run up on naked folks on the beach. Can't say I approve, but who am I to tell the locals how to dress?”

“Or not,” John-Henry said. “Brian only brought it up to cause trouble for Clay. He's jealous because he can't make friends. You don't fool anyone, shorty. We ain't in Tulsa no more. Leave Clay and Ivan alone or you'll need to deal with me. You don't want that.”

“John Olson, I bet you and I have a discussion about you running up on naked folks,'” Mama said with great displeasure in her voice.

“You tell them, Mama. If God wanted us to run around naked, we'd be born that way.”

“Coleen Olson, I bet you aren't too old to have your mouth washed out,” Mama retorted.

My initial fear over Brian's off-hand remark had released a torrent of support for Ivan. What Ivan was doing was the least of it, when nudity became an issue at my house. I smiled and enjoyed the rhubarb. When the heated discussion cooled, Pop put it into perspective.

“Mother, I have a job to do. This is one of the many strange goings on, going on, on Sanibel. Believe me when I say, I only have eyes for you, my lovely. When would I have time for anyone else?”

“John!” Mama said, breaking out into full blush. “The kids.”

“Mother, if our children don't know how much I love you by now, well, I do love you, and all the naked ladies in Florida won't change it.”

We applauded Pop's confession and Mama's stunning reversal. It was Florida. She'd clearly capitulated under a barrage of marvelous words from her husband turned poet. I wondered if Pop listened to Dylan on the radio in his truck.

“You're worried about people being naked on a beach? I don't pay much attention, because I'm there to do my job. At work I was told right off, 'Be discreet, John. You aren't in the morality police business. The folks on the island come here for privacy. You see to it you don't bother them.'

“If that doesn't put a man in his place, well, I ignore what I see. John-Henry is of an age he isn't able to ignore it. Our sons are fast becoming men. We've taught them to be gentlemen. We've got to go with that, Mother. We've done our job and we've got to trust our children.”

“I don't want to ignore it. I want to see naked women,” Brian said with his usual disregard for decorum.

“You'd be like the dog catching a car he chased, Brian. You wouldn't know what to do with it,” Coleen said coolly, and Mama's mouth dropped open.

“Mama!” Brian protested, knowing he'd been cut deep.

“Coleen, don't talk about your brother's short comings that way,” Mama said.

“You told me to always tell the truth, Mother,” Coleen said. “I take pride in it around here.”

“Ouch!” John-Henry said. “Put down by your own mother. That hurts.”

Everyone laughed including Mama.

Well, Brian didn't laugh. The joke was on him whether or not he realized it. He'd managed to take the heat off of Ivan and me. His nudity had worried me from the first moment I saw him.

“It wasn't that funny,” Brian complained in a rare response to being put down.

We all laughed again. It was pretty funny.

“It's not fair I get to look at Ivan's skinny butt and John-Henry is out there with naked woman,” Brian said.

“Stop looking at Ivan's butt would be my advice, little brother,” John-Henry said. “We'll all feel better if you do.”

“Ivan, isn't skinny, Brian. He's built thin. There may be a fine line between thin and skinny, but Ivan is not skinny. He's quite a handsome and well put together young man,” Mama said, defending Ivan in the matter.

“You should look so good,” Coleen said.

“Mama,” Brian said, sounding like a broken record.

“You ask for it,” Teddy said amazed at how often Brian put his foot in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “Ivan's cute. You leave him and Clay alone. I'm with John-Henry.”

I listened to my family discuss my friend's nudity. By the time they were done, I was holding back a belly laugh. It was all out in the open. No one but Brian had an issue with it, and his objection was strange to say the least.

My family wasn't given to in-depth conversation, especially at the dinner table, where getting enough food required your full attention. In Tulsa things were just there and life was nothing to write home about. We knew what was going on and little that went on required comment.

Florida was a different world. My family was beginning to notice and talk about it. Nudity would once have gotten instant rejection. It wouldn't have been talked over. Mama would have shut it down with an almighty admonition, 'God is listening.'”

If that's all God had to do, he must have been one really bored sucker.

The radio communication created times when I didn't go home at all. This allowed Ivan and me to grow closer with a reduction in outside interference.

I loved the freedom Florida gave me. I never wanted to live anywhere else.

I'd never need another friend.

*****

Chapter 12

Huggers and Mothers

In the spring the weather turned back to being pleasant every day instead of only six nice days a week. Winter as I'd known it until then, didn't exist in Florida. The endless bitter cold days in Tulsa, were replaced by far milder long sleeve shirt weather in Florida. It did keep us in clothes during the winter, but a minimum was required. We were free spirits not stupid.

With the warmer weather came thoughts of turning fifteen and my coming birthday signaled the end of school, my best present each year. Ivan's birthday marked the beginning of spring. Mine marked the endless days of summer. We'd turned our friendship into a partnership of discovery on our beach and the Vilnius Two.

Each week we managed to be together more than the week before. We began summer as friends this year. Our job was to stretch our boundaries as far as we could get them, hoping they didn't rebound on us.

Time had a way of slipping past me at Ivan's. In Tulsa every day was like the day before. Winters were unending affairs. Many days we couldn't be outside. All the fresh air we got was inhaled while running to and from the car at school. Even bundled up it could be brutal. Time stood still in the winter in Oklahoma.

I admit summer days could become harsh in Florida, but those days were rare. Afternoon thunderstorms cooled the worst days. On Ivan's deck there was always a breeze, warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Whoever thought up Florida, made it next to perfect, and that's not bad.

Ivan and I had been together nearly a year when spring came in 1965. We liked being together. No planning was required. Any spare time I had was spent with Ivan. When I would leave my house, there were fewer and fewer questions when I said, “I'm going to Ivan's.”

If change was in the air, after our quick departure from Tulsa the year before, I didn't notice, but we were aware of a wider world being out there. No matter how hard we tried to avoid it, that world impeded the peace and tranquility of ours. I could ignore it. Ivan couldn't. As much as I didn't care, Ivan insisted I know the facts.

After coming in from school, when the weather wasn't to our liking, a record or two might begin playing on his record player. We listened to music together a few times on wet days, or when something new came our way. Most days we roamed the beach, or headed out in his flat bottom boat for fishing, once we'd finished raiding the fridge.

Emptying the fridge was our best thing according to Mr. Aleksa.

Once the tedious part of our day was done, we dove into Dylan on days we weren't able to be outside. Ivan put the music on low volume, which meant we could talk or get lost in what was going on in the gulf beyond his deck. These records were new Dylan to me. A year ago I didn't know who Dylan was, but Ivan explained him as his songs played in the rain, Dylan had his way with us on bad days.

Without Ivan, Dylan would be lost on me. One day he could be heard singing, about what I wasn't sure, but Ivan was going to rectify that little factoid.

“Come you masters of war. You that build all the guns. You that build the death planes. You that build the big bombs.”

“What's he singing about now?” I asked. “This is new.”

“No. This is an album from last year. Boris gave it to me.”

“Who are the masters of war?” I asked, knowing Ivan knew.

“Who do you think?” Ivan asked, forcing me to think again.

He turned his head to look at me. He waited, offering no hints this time. I was on my own.

“How do I know? You're the Dylan expert. I asked you first,” I said, always getting good mileage out of that appeal.

“You sure pulled that out of your butt. Answer the question, Clay. Use your brain a little. It's not even complicated.”

“Soviet Union. Aren't they always screwing with people? Don't they have the bomb? I vote for the commies as the masters of war.”

“Yeah, they have the bomb. Lots of them. Not as many as we do. Not as accurate, but they could put a hurting on us if they shot them at us.”

“We aren't masters of war. We only fight when necessary,” I said. “We can take care of ourselves.”

“You ever hear of Vietnam.”

“No, not since the last time you brought it up. We talked about it in geography class. The teacher pointed it out on the map. I don't remember why. He called it 'French Indochina.' I remembered that because we have a French uncle somewhere or other. The teacher said, 'This is Vietnam. You'll need to know that soon.' It looked small.”

“The masters of war are heading there,” Ivan said, confusing me.

“Who is heading there?”

“We are, Clay. We are at war with Vietnam. You ever here of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution?”

“No, that one slipped by me. I can point out the Gulf of Mexico.”

“Very funny. Our warships were attacked by the North Vietnamese navy. Johnson declared our right to respond to this attack as needed,” Ivan said.

“What were our warships doing in Vietnam? That's a ways,” I said, remembering it was half way around the world from America.

“Someone should have asked Johnson that. Our warships go where they please. Who is going to stop them, the Vietnamese navy, two fishing boats and a life raft. They attacked the U. S. Navy.”

“Why haven't I heard we're at war?” I asked. “We're at war with that little country? I don't get it.”

“I gave you an article on it. You didn't read it?”

“I browsed it, I think. I read slow.”

I'd used that excise before too.

“You can say that again. That was three months ago,” Ivan said.

“Not the words. I think I looked at the picture,” I said, not being able to tell him it bored me.

“We have advisers there. There was a presidential election a couple of months later. Johnson needed a good war to be extra sure he got reelected. War is good politics. Can't change horses in the middle of the stream, you know?” Ivan said. “Might get all wet.”

“What stream? Could be Oklahoma. They have horses in Vietnam?” I asked, being confused by the details.

“The Vietnam stream. You can't put Johnson out of office while he's defending the country from communists, can you?”

“No! You can't,” I said alarmed. “We aren't at war with the communists. I'd have heard about that. That's the Soviet Union.”

“The Vietnamese are engaged in a great civil war. We're fighting a war to make sure the right side wins. Think George Washington.”

“Against Vietnam?” I laughed hysterically. “It's tiny. We're huge. You and Dylan are making this stuff up.

“It's politics,” Ivan assured me.

“Politics are bad news then,” I calculated.

“Exactly,” he said.

“I don't know anything about politics,” I said. “This makes me happy about that little factoid. Who starts all the wars anyway.”

“That's probably why your ass will end up over there defending freedom.”

“Me! I didn't lose anything over there. I'm not going anywhere.”

“No, but Johnson got himself a war and it's going to take warm bodies to fight it. Yours, John-Henry's, Teddy's, and Brian's will do. Got to protect America. We've got to show them who's in charge.”

“You're making this up,” I said. “My brothers aren't going anywhere. They have plenty to do here. Maybe Brian will go.”

“You'll see,” he said, not making an effort to convince me.

This meant I'd find out for myself.

“You came this close to being born in the Soviet Union,” I said, holding up my thumb and index finger an inch a part to show close.

“No, I didn't,” Ivan laughed, shaking his head at my ignorance.

“Your father and grandfather escaped from Lithuania. They were under the communists. You'd have been a commie if they hadn't left.”

I called them the way I saw them, even when I was all wet.

“Do you think about the things you say, Clay? My father was born in Lithuania. My mother was born in Ocala, Florida. I wouldn't have been born at all if my father hadn't come to the States. I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't know me,” he said, giving me his version.

“Oh!” I said, seeing my mistake.

“I'm as American as you are. I love my country. I don't care for the fat old politicians sending kids like us into harms way for reasons known only to them. Vietnam indeed! We could go after Newfoundland. It's way closer.”

When Ivan talked fast, he had an ever so slight lilt to his voice. It made him sound like his father. I noticed everything about Ivan. I wouldn't care if he was a commie, as long as he was my friend.

In Oklahoma we all sounded the same. There wasn't a distinct accent. In Florida there were all kinds of accents. Even at the dinner table, our accents were changing. My brothers and I had become southerners. I never knew one, until I became one.

Mama and Pop were pretty much set in their ways. John-Henry had begun saying 'y’all'. Brian still talked like a muscle head, and Coleen sounded even more sophisticated, but we knew the truth.

My drawl was obvious, even to me. It was like something I caught at school. Ivan laughed at how I began sounding like a local..

Oklahoma was becoming a vague memory. A letter I was writing to my friends had only the one paragraph I wrote the first day of school. I hadn't heard a word from Oklahoma, since the second letter that they all signed. I tried to remember their faces but couldn't.

Letting go of the past was probably the best idea, but those guys represented fourteen years of my life. Can you walk away from that much of your history?

I had more freedom than I'd known before. Except for the radio in Ivan's bedroom, I could be at Ivan's for days and no one bothered us. I wasn't certain what had changed, but my life was better. I was no longer on guard or under the constant watch of adults.

From time to time we'd be called to dinner if we'd been absent for too long. The ground rules weren't completely clear at the end of the first year of our friendship. We pushed our luck as far as it would go, and then our presence would be mandatory.

We knew how to handle it. It was easy hiding being wild around adults. An hour of showering and grooming was enough to fool untrained eyes. My parents were looking for serious signs we needed to be reined in, but a little water and taking time to dress did the trick.

When we entered the kitchen, we were given the once over by Mama, who checked for haircuts, and while we left a little to be desired, we passed for typical teenage boys. We got well fed for our trouble. This is where we'd gone wrong. Later, as my absences stretched into weeks, we'd go to dinner often, fake being civilized, and that way we never had to stand inspection again.

By the time we got back to Ivan's house after the first successful checkup, we were carrying our uncomfortable clothes. They'd go back in the closet for the next time we needed to wear them for effect, or in case of an emergency. We pulled it off slick as a whistle, this time, and we were good to go until next time. It's how it was done early on.

We long ago went wild, totally wild, and we were insanely happy. The drills were part of our lives. At nearly fifteen we spent a considerable amount of time doing what would appear to be civilized and acceptable to parents.

While Mr. Aleksa was a lot closer to the truth, he didn't object to boys feeling their oats. He believed that all things should be free, and we were as free as we could be. There had been and would be change, as we stretched our freedom as far as it would go our second year together.

The summers required the most caution. We were on our own most of the time, and it was easy to forget to put away our wild child nature, when we went to face my parents. During the school year, we couldn't get too far out of line. We were watched daily for any sign we were straying beyond acceptable norms.

There were always bad kids. That was a good kid who needed an attitude adjustment. What we did was slip beyond the indoctrination and we refused to follow the person in front of us, because they were the person in front of us. We'd discovered life beyond what was prescribed as the official way to do things.

I was always at home Sunday night for the trip to school Monday. Friday afternoon I went to Ivan's and stayed until dinner on Sunday. It was that summer I was allowed to stay at Ivan's without a need to report regularly to the conservancy house.

That spring John-Henry came up to talk to Ivan about fishing. Two or three times in the late afternoon, when Ivan shot baskets, Brian would stand just off the cement, watching the smooth motion that accounted for about nine out of ten shots going through the hoop.

I was never sure why Brian watched Ivan so closely. The nudity deal confused Brian. He didn't think nudity was natural. I checked to see if he was aroused by Ivan's beautiful body, but I couldn't tell, because he always wore extra clothes, just in case. It didn't bother Ivan, but it bothered me. Brian was trouble looking for a place to land.

I wasn't good at much. I wasn't smart. Besides going to school, I spent my time with Ivan. I never stopped wondering, 'Why did a kid like him, want to hang around with a klutz like me?'

Ivan turned his head to examine my eyes as he considered me when I wondered it out loud. With one long forearm resting on the railing that went around the deck, he slipped the other arm over my shoulders before he smiled his warmest smile.

“This is about you not being able to shoot a basketball?” he asked, after thinking over my insecurities another time.

“I can't. I can't do anything,” I said, frustration in my voice.

“Remember those clown shoes you wore to school the first day?”

“John-Henry's boots? Yeah! I'm such a bozo,” I said exasperated. “I bet they were laughing at me behind my back.”

“You aren't like everyone else. The first time I saw you, I knew you weren't like everyone else, Clay,” he said. “You were cool.”

He'd said it before, but what did that mean? I was still a klutz.

“I can't shoot a basketball. I'm stupid. I'm fat. I can't do anything you can do, Ivan. I'm afraid you'll figure it out and drop me.”

His eyes stayed in mine for a long time. The heat coming from his body made the day seem hot, and it wasn't hot. I was hot.

“You aren't me. You are Clayton Olson. When I decide to do something, Clay, I'm going to do it until I'm good at it. It's what makes me Ivan Aleksa. It's what I do.”

“You can do stuff. I can't do anything,” I said unhappily.

“I did the dive for years before I could do the dive you saw. I looked for a friend for years before I found you. I picked you, Clay. Why are you looking for a reason to undo that? As you say, I'm good at what I do, and I picked you.”

“Boris was only gone a year when you got stuck with me,” I reminded him, remembering the story about his brother leaving.

“Why do you think he was my only friend? I didn't like anyone else until I met you. I don't settle for second best, Clay. If I have a friend, he's going to be the best there is. You are the best. You don't need to compete with me. That's not why we're friends.”

I started crying and couldn't stop. He took his forearm off the railing and hugged me to his body. I cried harder. I was hot. He was smooth and close. The feelings inside me were intense.

“You aren't stupid. You aren't fat. You're fourteen, Clay. Give it time and you'll soon be the most beautiful butterfly of all,” he whispered in my ear.

I cried. He held me until I stopped.

I have kept crying so he'd keep holding me. I usually didn't return Ivan's hugs, but I had wrapped my arms around him. I leaned on him to feel his body touching mine.

Because of the height difference, my hands ended up on his butt. Once there, I couldn't not feel his silky warm skin. It was the most physical our contact had been. No other hug he gave me was this intense. I didn't want it to stop. I needed him to hold me.

Ivan reacted to me in a way that indicated his feelings might not be that different from mine. As open as he was, and he hid nothing, I'd never seen him aroused until now. I was aroused about half the time when I was with Ivan. In my cutoffs, it was no big thing.

On Ivan's deck, with our bodies pressed together, I feared the seams containing my erection would burst and he'd find me out, but he was erect and made no attempt to hide it. He didn't break the contact that led to his condition.

Did he feel the way I felt? Is that what he meant by different?

Obviously his feelings were growing in the same direction as mine. I could draw my own conclusions. We weren't going to talk about our erections. At fourteen we were having a sexual experience that wasn't easy to end.

I felt his hot breath on my neck. His breathing became more determined. Our hearts pounded out the Anvil Chorus as our hot skin touched in as many places as we could manage to make contact.

When he finally let go of the hug, he was facing me, making sure I was okay with him. I was better than okay. I was in love. The hug changed everything. We weren't moving right into romance, but our feelings were out in the open. We hid nothing.

We could talk about Vietnam but not about being in love.

I felt the warmth between us growing. We touched each other more often, after the big hug. We no longer needed reason to hug.

*****

Ivan turned fifteen more than two months before me. I wanted to be with him. I bought him a card and I gave him my favorite shells. It was the first time we spent his birthday together and we ended up holding hands on the deck, after three bowls of Sugar Crisp.

His mother arrived downstairs before noon. She yelled for him to come down. He returned despondent.

“What did she say?” I asked, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I've got to go with her. She has plans. I said I had plans. She said my plans could wait. Her plans were more important. She wanted to take me out on my birthday.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

He had tears in his eyes when he said, “I've got to go or she'll find a way to hurt Dad. I'm sorry, Clay. I wanted this to be our day.”

“You'll be back. I'll be here when you come home. We'll pick up where we left off. We'll pretend she never came. She can't ruin what we have,” I assured him.

He smiled, wiped his eyes, got dressed, and left through the door that led to the stairs that went to the kitchen.

I was lost without him. There was no telling when his mother would bring him back. Being spring break, we'd made plans. His mother didn't care about our plans. I didn't like her much.

I went home because I needed to be around people. His father called on the radio a few hours later. He came in with gifts, cake, and Ivan's favorite fresh churned butter pecan ice cream.

He asked if Ivan was at my house. He was disappointed when I told Pop to tell him that his mother picking him up a few hours before. Ivan didn't know she was coming and he went with her.

“I have a half gallon of his favorite ice cream had it churned at the dairy a little bit ago. Why don't send Clay to get it, John. The cake is from the bakery. Nothing as wonderful as your wife makes. I wouldn't insult you with it, but I have no appetite for ice cream. It's not as good after it's stored. I think you'd like it.”

My father invited Mr. Aleksa to dinner, but he declined, saying he'd just come off the gulf and wasn't fit to be with decent folks. He'd go back out in the morning, since no one was home.

Pop and Mr. Aleksa talked for a few minutes. Mama made him a plate of fried chicken, potato salad, cucumber salad, and biscuits, sending it with me. Besides the butter pecan ice cream, he gave me a package of fish. I wanted to give him a hug, but I wasn't a big hugger.

*****

These events ran together between the time Ivan was fifteen and I was fifteen. We shared the big hug and shortly afterward, Ivan was in Tampa. I really missed him after about fifteen minutes. When he was gone, I began going to his house and I slept in his bed. That's where his smell was strongest. It was where I pictured us together.

I felt better being in that bed. It being the most comfortable bed I'd ever been in didn't hurt, but it was because it was Ivan's bed that I went there. I missed him every bit as much while I was in his bed, but it was easier to miss him there. I had no trouble going to sleep at Ivan's. I felt more at home there than I did in the conservancy house.

I expected him back Sunday afternoon, and I went to sleep dreaming of us being together. It was late. I don't know what time. I heard the door open at the head of the stairs into the bedroom. We kept it closed because noises from downstairs climbed the stairs like smoke in a chimney, scaring the hell out of us when that happened.

I was close to being awake, or half asleep, or somewhere in between when I felt someone in the bed with me. My first instinct was fear, because I wasn't awake, but there was nothing to fear.

When the body kept moving closer to my body, I smelled Ivan before I felt him. He didn't stay a fair distance away. He was on my side of the bed. He wrapped his arms around me.

He was hugging me from behind now. It was fine. After being without him for two days, being hugged by him was wonderful. He was aroused and so was I, but that's not what the hug was about. It was the result of our bodies touching that way. It was the result of feelings, and fears, and being alone, and being together now.

I had no knowledge about affection then. I was denied what other boys received, because it was okay for them to hug and kiss and hold hands with the girl they fancied that week.

I fancied no one. I touched no one. No one touched me, until Ivan touched me as deeply as I could be touched. He touched me in a place where our skin didn't come together. He touched me in a spot so deep inside me, I needed to think about where it was to locate it.

If I'd slept well in Ivan's bed, once he started holding me, thrust himself against me that way, I never slept better. I tried to stay awake so I didn't miss a minute of this new hugging, but it so comforted me, I fell asleep every time.

Having Ivan wrapped around me that way was fine by me. Hearing him breathe, feeling his lips on my neck, and his erection pressed against my backside, made me feel as good as I ever felt.

I woke myself from time to time to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

I'd never been closer to anyone and the closeness had become physical. This had to be the ultimate way to be friends.

I wasn't aware I had feelings when I lived in Tulsa, but since I'd met Ivan, there was a feast of feelings released from inside me. I was no fool. I knew many of my thoughts about Ivan were sexual. I didn't know what to do about that, but Ivan's affection for me was enough for now.

Chapter 13

Changing

Ivan was on the freshman basketball team that year. It ate a big hole in our time together. I stayed to watch practice and the coach who drove Ivan home drove me there too.

When I got into the car the first time, Ivan said, “He's with me.”

Being with Ivan was always good for me. The coach didn't object as long as Ivan was with him, and he was, and if the freshman team had a star, Ivan qualified.

Besides sitting in the gym for practices, I went to the home games. I couldn't figure out a way to get on the team bus for the away games, or explain my absences if I did, beyond, ''I'm with Ivan.'

Ivan was the second tallest boy on the team and the deadliest shot. The hours he spent on the concrete slab at the corner of his house paid off in his being poise and accurate. The basketball court was wood, but the basket and the distances were the same as at the corner of Ivan's house. He didn't need instruction on how to shoot.

As home games came to the end, if Madison was still in it and the score was close, the crowd would begin to chant, “Ivan! Ivan! Ivan.” The ball went to Ivan by the time he reached half court. He controlled Madison's fate. Dribbling, one eye on the clock, as the final seconds ticked off. This clock didn't tell the time but everyone in the gym knew what time it was.

It was the time Ivan owned in the close games.

At times his job was to run out the clock and take the win. If we were within two points, Ivan needed to use the clock and take a shot before it ran out. Ivan was an expert at both options. That's why he got the ball.

Twice his final shot won a game. Once he got the ball at half court, a point behind, time running out, and you could hear a pin drop.

He dribbled a couple of times, looking like he has all the time in the world. Five seconds, four seconds, three seconds, and he comes to a stop, launching a jump shot at the basket as the buzzer sounded.

'Swish,' was the only sound, until the crowd went wild.

A couple of games later with the situation being similar, Ivan took the ball at half court and drove to the basket to make a lay-up. The other team had read about his last second thirty foot jump shot against Fort Myers. They were defensing that shot, but Ivan was more than a one shot wonder and he out foxed them.

The crowd went nuts both times. Ivan had the kind of timing that allowed him to be in the right place at the right time. He had a way of doing something students and teachers remembered. While I wanted Ivan to succeed, his popularity was threatening to me.

I felt like I was in the way during basketball season.

These last second heroics by the man I loved brought back memories of the first time I saw him. I watched him do his dive. The boys on the riverbank chanted, “Ivan! Ivan! Ivan!” It's how I learned his name. Everyone at school knew his name.

I wondered if they all loved him the first time they saw him.

You could say I was jealous of Ivan's popularity. After home games he was surrounded by admirers, girls and boys alike. Everyone liked Ivan. I didn't get in the way.

Watching from a distance, I was surprised to see how easily he moved among his fans. In spite of his confession, 'I don't like anyone,' he was completely charming to everyone who wanted to speak to him. Ivan was a sweet guy and the other kids knew who he was.

When he came out of the locker room, I'd be waiting in the hall.

“Why not come in, Clay. No one bites. You've seen naked boys before, haven't you?” he said, smiling his big smile at me.

“You're the one I want to see,” I said. “That's your turf, Ivan. I won't crowd you, but I can't wait for you at home. I don't like being away from you every afternoon. We always spent that time together.”

“Crowd me? I love it when you crowd me,” he said in a low sexy voice.

Heading out to the parking lot, sensing my insecurity, he put his hand on my shoulder, purposely walking too close to me. People passed, calling Ivan by name. The hand stayed right where it was. Ivan was telling me that I was important to him.

“Thanks, Clay,” he said in a soft voice.

“For what?” I asked.

“For being there. For being here. For being my friend.”

“It doesn't take a lot of work. I want to be with you,” I said, wishing I'd used different words.

“I'm only doing this once. I wanted to know if I could compete. I can. It bores me now. Reminds me of what butt-heads boys our age are. Sure, I have fans. They don't know who I am. You know me and you're no butt-head.”

Ivan spent a lot of time reassuring me. I didn't want Ivan to give up sports for me. I just didn't want him to be away from me all the time it took to be on an athletic team.

Ivan wasn't in the habit of doing anything he didn't want to do. I doubt his decisions on sports had a lot to do with me. If Ivan decided sports were important to him, who was I to argue? Time was the issue for me, and Ivan knew what time it was.

Ivan was accustomed to my insecurity. We were together all the time, except for basketball, and even then, I was nearby. He played and practiced for a total of three month. It was the most time we spent apart since we'd met.

*****

I felt older than fifteen on my birthday. More had happened in the past year than all the years that came before. I was more alive than I'd ever been. Finishing ninth grade and turning fifteen made me feel more mature. We weren't kids any more. I didn't feel like a kid.

We didn't swim every day from December until March. In March the water became warmer and it was almost always smooth in the early morning. Once Ivan approved of the water temperature, he got up at first light to swim. As the weather warmed, I swam with him on weekends, when I was allowed to stay at his house.

Dragging myself out of bed at the crack of dawn couldn't be healthy. It didn't feel healthy. It made me feel like crap. After telling me to get up a dozen times, I did. Once I was in the water and took that first stroke, I didn't want to come out. On weekends we swam to my house and back when we were feeling ambitious.

It was usually after eight before we got back inside. It was usually our hunger that forced us out of the water and speeding toward the kitchen to empty the cereal boxes we could find. Before Ivan got me swimming with him in the morning, I don't know I'd seen first light anywhere but in the middle of the gulf on the Vilnius Two. The fishing nets were out before the sun began to light the day.

I was totally content with my life, especially once the school year ended. As Ivan and I considered our summer, it was the first time I realized there were two more summers left in high school. I was growing up. I was changing. I knew what I wanted. I was happy.

At my house the amount of time I was with Ivan wasn't mentioned. My parents were happy I was happy. They saw our friendship as being good for me. I couldn't argue with that. They remembered how I suffered, how lonely I was, after we left Tulsa.

I wasn't suffering any more. I was where I wanted to be. I was doing what I wanted to do. My life mostly belonged to me the summer I turned fifteen.

*****

Coleen turned twenty and moved to Tampa with two girls from work. John-Henry met Patricia and they were getting serious. I considered this to be blazing new territory. She was the first girl he'd gone with who only had one first name.

John-Henry didn't necessarily agree with my assessment. He was 'Playing the field.' Mama remembered all the names of girls who made the first cut, making it to our dinner table.

She had a better memory than I did, but my hunch, she wrote the names down so she could remind John-Henry how many there were. She didn't mark down which ones he met on the nude beach, but I remembered those girls best.

Mama asked John-Henry about the girls she liked, after they got as far as our table and shared our food. I doubt John-Henry remembered all the names, but Mama liked to remind him.

Brian became less talkative that summer. This meant he wasn't as rude or annoying, which made dinner easier on all of us. He graduated from high school the day before my birthday, but he had no job prospects beyond working for Pop three days a week. Even when he did work for Pop, he never, not ever, got to patrol the nude beach.

John-Henry didn't let Brian near that beach. It was where he met his women. Meeting them on there answered most of the questions that were important to him at nineteen.

Teddy would be a senior when school started. He had two jobs and a car of his own. I rarely saw Teddy. It was the same in Tulsa. Teddy was a hard worker and always had been. We didn't knew what his life was like away from us. Like me, he was gone a lot.

I would be a sophomore when school started. Lucy was entering sixth grade and was the most mature member of the family, and always would be. She turned eleven the month after I turned fifteen.

In spite of Lucy's intellect, she loved me best. With all the candor Lucy felt comfortable sharing, she told me, “I love you best, Clay, but I'm going to marry Ivan.”

I knew how she felt.

I'd never considered marriage to Ivan, not until Lucy brought it up. She could marry him, once she got older. I was in love with Ivan, but I couldn't marry him no matter how old I was.

How stupid would you have to be to believe that one day I could marry the man I loved? I didn't think it might be possible one day, but I'm sure Lucy did. I realized how limited our options were, not that Ivan had given thought to us getting married.

Mama sent enough food up to Ivan's to feed an army that summer. Unfortunately we weren't an army and we were always in search of food.

Mr. Aleksa saved us from starvation. He came in twice a week to fill the fridge. He rarely ate much, but he loved Mama's meatloaf and fried chicken. We made sure he got plenty, because Mr. Aleksa bought the food that got us through until the next dinner at my house.

Sharing leftovers with Ivan's father was instrumental to our survival.

Mr. Aleksa was a shy man who preferred work over people. I got it. When I was out on the sea, it was a new experience each time. The gulf was forever changing. It had nothing on me.

Working on the Vilnius Two was something I looked forward to doing, and our time on board was also changing. We'd begun to go out more often. We enjoyed the work and were as good as any hands who'd want twice the money we got. It was still more than I was worth. I'd have paid him to take me on his boat.

Ivan and I went to dinner twice a week most weeks. It's the only way we could assure we didn't go hungry. We'd eat our fill and by the time we reached Ivan's, after dinner, we'd eaten half the food Mama sent home with us. No one could eat as much as we ate, but we did. I knew I'd be a blimp one day. I hadn't forgotten the Leslie look.

Ivan's mother insisted he make his usual June visit, after school let out. He did it to keep the peace, but it made him angry. Ivan did angry well. He'd banged and slammed things, while getting ready to leave with her. He wasn't happy, and he let her know it. She didn't care. She was exercising her ownership over him.

He held onto that anger the entire time he was in Tampa. He told me about it once he came home. Boris drove Ivan home in his new convertible, after two days of him being rude. Ivan no longer needed to wait until his mother was ready to drive him.

Boris was happy to drive him. He had a car and driving was fun. Ivan was sure his mother wouldn't come after him any time soon, but she would come after him sooner or later.

If she was waiting for Ivan to stay for good, she had a long wait.

He was fifteen and no longer willing to let his mother run his life. He told me later that he thought of me the entire time he was gone. He wasn't alone. We liked being together and we didn't like being separated. It was something else Ivan held against his mother.

Our bond was well established and growing stronger. We'd survived basketball season and his obligatory visit to his mothers.

*****

My family was beginning its second year in the conservancy house. Ivan and I drew closer, but his devotion to Dylan and concern with 'American Imperialism' was of concern for one of us.

He handed me an article on the American advisers in Vietnam.

I could no longer fake read, but I rarely read an entire article, but he watched my eyes to make sure they were moving back and forth.

“They're doing what advisers do, Ivan. They're training the Vietnamese to fight is all,” I said, thinking it sounded good.

“Fight who?” Ivan asked, searching for some hidden truth that wasn't revealed in the Time magazine article.

I read some more as he watched. With fake reading out, I had to read it. There had to be a pretty good reason for us being in Vietnam. I just didn't know what it was and the article didn't say anything we didn't already know.

“It says here they are defending themselves from the... North Vietnamese,” I read, thinking I must have read it wrong. “They're fighting each other?” I asked myself.

“Yes, North against South. How original,” Ivan blurted. “Good thing we've never had to do that. Maybe the Swedes would come over to show us how to fight if we ever do.”

“The North are commies,” I said, suddenly seeing the answer in black and white.

“How convenient for us,” Ivan said. “So happens we hate commies. That's a fine reason to go to Vietnam to kill... Vietnamese?” Ivan said, suspiciously sounding less than convinced about that deal.

The American general had requested a few thousand troops to defend the advisers who have come under fire. A couple of Americans were killed.

'A thousand troops? That was no big deal,' I thought.

“The masters of war are working overtime to get us knee deep in the weeds,” Ivan told me. “They're running the country and are arming the entire world, just in case.”

By that time a few thousand more troops had been sent a half dozen times, and they weren't coming home. They were being attacked by someone called the Viet Cong. That sounded bad. No wonder we needed more troops.

I immediately thought of King Kong. That was one bad dude.

“What's the Viet Cong?” I asked Ivan.

“Viet is a big clue. It's Vietnamese who don't necessarily like foreign troops being inside their country. Think British,” he said.

“They commies?”

“I think they're whatever they need to be to get rid of the foreign troops we keep sending into their country,” Ivan explained.

The number of troops in Vietnam kept going up an article Ivan handed me mentioned. Ivan let things like that excite him. I didn't. I trusted my country and our leaders. There had to be a good reason to be in Vietnam. I'd wait until they came up with one. I didn't want to rush my government.

I remembered the story of Ivan's grandfather escaping after the Soviets entered Lithuania to help them. The Soviets were bad guys. America was the good guys. We were trying to help the Vietnamese. Both things sounded similar, but we had our reasons. I was sure of it.

I heard President Johnson promise to protect the free people of Vietnam, which didn't make a lot of sense to me, but he probably left something out. He was a busy man. He'd explain it later.

I believed people should treat each other respectfully and stop trying to run other people's lives. If you didn't like something, avoid it. If you didn't like someone, avoid them. It wasn't complicated to me.

Why did people want to get into the middle of other people's lives anyway? Did they want people telling them how to live their lives? I thought it would be way better when we left each other alone.

When folks attended to their own business, they didn't have so much time to mess with other people. That made sense to me. Vietnam didn't. What was so different about them that they couldn't take care of their own business? Maybe they didn't want to fight. No amount of training would change that.

I didn't want to fight. I wasn't mad at anyone. I wasn't mad.

Why not let people solve their own problems? Didn't they let us solve ours? People in other countries can figure out what is best for them. It was 1965 after all. We were allowed to figure out what was best for us and no one came to America to show us how to think.

*****

I lived at Ivan's the summer I was fifteen. We swam, fished, and explored the river, the gulf, and our beach. I felt like Huck Finn to his Tom Sawyer each time we made a new discovery. We were beach boys and beachcombers.

Then there was our work on the Vilnius Two. Once a way for Ivan to spend more time with his father, we were now deckhands. Our labor went a long way to taking some of the weight off Mr. Aleksa's shoulders. He was having a very good year, and he credited Ivan and me for much of his success.

Telling me this would have had me doubting him about my value, but when he told my father, and I heard about it at the dinner table, it was the kind of credit that made me feel comfortable with the work.

I'd never been darker or happier than I was that summer. This was the summer we began going out once a week with Mr. Aleksa on the Vilnius Two. We went for three days and two nights. It was just enough to enjoy the adventure and not so often that I wasn't looking forward to it.

The gulf fascinated me in a way nothing had before.

This was the summer when I was no longer round to Ivan's tall. I grew four inches by summer's end and I was five nine to Ivan's five eleven. The swimming, hiking, exploring, and work on the Vilnius Two contributed to the changes in me.

Being in constant motion from sunrise, until long after sundown, had Mama asking, as I picked food off whatever dish she was trying to get to the dinner table, “Are you sure you feel okay. You look thin to me, Clayton.”

Mama knew how to make me feel good, but I do believe she thought I wasn't getting enough to eat. It seemed to me that I spent all my time eating or in search of food. I couldn't get enough.

My baby fat burned up in the Florida sun and people called me thin.

I was made stronger and more confident as my body matured. I didn't become good at anything besides being Clay, but there was hope. Not that much interested me if it didn't involve Ivan Aleksa, the son of my boss. His being my boss bought me a lot of freedom.

Ivan gained weight and got more handsome each day. We weren't boys any more. We would enter high school in the fall. We were on the final leg of our formal education.

I saw school as a necessary evil to keep my parents and educators happy. Ivan saw it as brainwashing with a few helpful hints tossed in to make you think you were thinking for yourself.

Ivan listened to Dylan a lot? I'm sure Dylan felt the same way Ivan did about school.

Chapter 14

Visitation

The acceptable summer routine was to appear at dinner at irregular intervals. Since we were gon Friday and Saturday nights, that left Sunday afternoon and Monday through Thursday. Any more visit than that cut into our adventuresom natures. Any less and my parents became uneasy.

After making excuses for two days, we needed good food more than we wanted to avoid the cleanup necessary for us to pass the inspection that went with the meal. We hated to come inside while the sun was up, but after a fishing trip and a couple of days on the beach, it took some scrubbing to get clean.

It was hard to find time for primping. We were busy boys. Not to mention we needed to dig out clothes that didn't make us look like street urchins. I did anyway. Ivan had a closet full of new clothes he hung there after one of his mother's showings in Tampa. I had no such reserved clothing, relying on my spruced up cutoffs and the last t-shirt I wore up to Ivan's.

I could use the outside stairs to go up to my room to get clean clothes, but I didn't like to remind my parents that the stairs were conveniently placed for me to enter or leave my room without entering the house.

Getting prepared for my house wasn't easy, but it was even harder to turn down an invitation to enjoy Mama's home cooking. We could hold out for a day or two with lame excuses, but they lost their luster in relationship to how hungry we were for one of Mama's meals.

Once I got into the shower I couldn't get out, and the benefit of this was Ivan got tired of waiting and got into the shower with me. We did everything else together, why not shower together?

I heard it saved water and who couldn't get behind that? It didn't save any time however, once we began lathering one another up. It was a clean way of exercising the many impure thoughts I was having about Ivan in those days.

We did manage to accomplish the man goal with only modest diversions created by the hardest parts of our anatomy we spent lots of time washing. As we made our entrance, mother gave us her immediate endorsement. I think she was just glad to see we still had our arms and legs, but dirty ears or greasy hair were cause for worry. I'm sure Tom and Huck worried that they'd be found insufficiently clean from time to time, but we had no worries that day.

“I've never seen two more handsome young men,” Mama said as she filled a bowl with the ingredients in one of the sauce pans. “I'm a little slow this evening. Glad you weren't early. It's almost ready.”

I hugged Mama, pinching a piece off the pot roast and handing it to Ivan. When I moved back from the hug, I pinched a nice hunk for myself. Mama smiled as she watched me chewing the meaty feast.

“You boys look like you spent the day in the shower,” Mama said. “I've never seen you shine before. I can't get over how Clay has grown.”

“Cleanliness is next to Godliness, Mama,” I said, and Ivan choked on the meat as he remembered our hour in the shower together.

“Yeah, I love a hot shower,” Ivan said, and it was my turn to choke. “Clay uses all the hot water if I don't keep an eye on him.”

Mama knew we talked in code. We were happy and that was okay by her.

Whenever I was with Ivan, I'm sure I beamed.

At dinner Pop couldn't stop talking about me working for Ivan's father. I wasn't sure why this made him proud of me. I was glad it did. Therein was the source of my freedom, no matter how much I worried about losing it.

We sat in the TV room and watched Gunsmoke. Mama brought rice pudding and a hunk of angel food cake for each of us. Lucy sat on Ivan's lap and broke off pieces of her cake to feed it to him. She was getting a little big for this, but Ivan didn't mind. He thought Lucy was the cat's meow.

We left carrying what we didn't eat. There were enough provisions to feed us for a couple of days, and that matched up with Mr. Aleksa's next time home.

It was a rough life but we weren't about to change anything.

*****

Ivan was home most of that week before he wanted to talk about what he did at his mother's on summer vacation. He usually came out with it shortly after he came home, but this time he didn't want to talk abut it, until he did. Sitting on the deck the morning after pot roast, glazed carrots, and boiled potatoes, while eating our Sugar Crisp, he wanted to talk.

“I hate being in Tampa with you here alone. I don't like leaving you. I don't want to be away from you. It wasn't like that before. I have to go when she comes. We'd never have any peace if I didn't. This was the first time I resented being there.”

“Don't ask me to go with you. I don't like your mother and I've never met her. You say you need to go when she comes for you, and if that keeps her off your back the rest of the time, it's only a few days, Ivan.”

I wasn't accustomed to seeing Ivan agitated over something he was powerless to change. Once he turned sixteen there would be less chance his mother would seek custody of him. They didn't get along when he was in Tampa, the idea she would want him full time didn't add up, but Ivan's concern was for his father.

“Boris?” I asked, changing the subject only a little.

“He took me to box at the gymnasium on my first day there. He's in love with Betty Sue Sourgrapes. She's got a set of bodacious tatas, I'll give him that. 'Oh, Boris, can't we.... Oh, Boris, I want to....' It's a small apartment and I knew what she wanted when she guided him toward the bedroom. It wasn't like they didn't go to bed at seven thirty because of how tired she was after wolfing down most of the pizza and bread sticks,” Ivan said, no sympathy for Betty's appetite. “She ate so fast I worried she might pass out from lack of oxygen.”

“Where was your mother?” I asked.

“She was there. She ordered two pizzas, thinking that was plenty. Betty Sue got one and the rest of us got one. 'She has to keep up here strength,' Boris said to us. They screw all night. Even on the couch I could hear them.”

“Your mother doesn't say anything?”

“She doesn't care. She goes into her room and watches television. I get to do anything I want. It's the only time I watch television. There's nothing on TV.”

“Why does she come and get you. Does she take you anywhere?”

“Company picnic. There's a dinner from time to time and she takes Boris and me. Wants them to see her show ponies. That's where the new clothes come from. When she shows us off, she dresses us up first. It would be cheaper for her to just show off Boris, but I guess two ponies are better than one.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “It was quiet here. Glad you didn't stay too long. I don't know what to do with myself when you're away.”

“I think about you a lot, once it gets quiet. It isn't that they're like a couple of rabbits, but Boris usually spends a little time with me. I was on my own most of the time I was there. I have to admit Betty Sue was funny. 'Boris, I want...,' she'd say. I knew what she wanted. Boris wasn't that way before. He made time for me and he's had girls in the apartment since he moved there. None like this.”

“It'll go back to the way it was when the novelty wears off,” I said. “How old is Boris now?”

“He's seventeen, eighteen in January. He's my brother. He's had girlfriends before. We've always spent time together while I'm there. Boxing, playing pool, and bowling. Now he has a nice convertible we can cruise around in. Quite the chick magnet. Not to mention my brother is an Adonis. He's my brother and I think he's gorgeous. How weird is that?”

“Considering how gorgeous you are, not weird at all. So Betty Sue is the one?” I asked. “He's found true love?”

“She's easy is all. When we do go out, girls are always hugging and kissing on Boris. He's not going to go with just one, but Betty Sue would clamp hold of him every time we were ready to go out the door.

“'Boris, I want to...,' and he'd look at me and shrug like it was his job to service her. I bet she's been giving it up since she was nine.”

“Good looking guys are popular,” I said. “when someone is waving it in your face, a red blooded American boy isn't supposed to turn it down,” I said, thinking about John-Henry, who was only a little older than Boris.

“We're brothers. Where does she get off coming between us? She can't leave him alone for a couple of hours? We'd get up to go and she'd be whispering in his ear, holding onto his arm.”

“I'm sorry, Ivan. Boris is wrong for ditching you for her,” I said. “He was letting her do it. He went along with it.”

“He'd tell me, 'Give me five minutes, little brother. I'll speed this up so we can get going.' Two hours later I was tired of waiting. I'd be back in front of the television. That's why I couldn't wait to get home. We couldn't even go out. She knew what she was doing. She didn't want Boris spending time with me.”

“You sound angry,” I said, hearing it in his words.

“He's my brother. He's always spent time with me when I was there. I know he isn't coming back here to stay, but he could act like I'm his brother. It's the only reason I have to go to Tampa. I am angry with him. I know that she won't be there the next time I go. He'll have another girlfriend. He's got one brother and he ignored me so he could get laid.”

“It takes two to tango, handsome. Boris knows what he's doing. You don't want to be there anyway. It motivated you to come home that much sooner. How cool is that?”

Ivan turned his head to glare at me. He did that from time to time when I was off base or I said something that defied his logic. We weren't arguing. I was glad he came home. I got that he wanted to spend time with Boris.

“If I've got to go there, I want Boris to pay a little attention to me. We spent all our time together when he lived here. Now he ignores me.”

I'd never seen Ivan that upset before. I wasn't close to any of my brothers and I didn't know Boris. I knew Ivan and I hated seeing him agitated. Up until that morning, Boris was golden as far as I knew. The anger with him didn't suddenly appear in one visit. I wasn't sure what was really eating at Ivan.

It was obvious his relationship with Boris was important to him. I remembered they were once best friends. I wanted to help. I figured changing the subject might get his mind off Boris.

“I'll spend all my time with you. We can do anything you want,” I said.

He turned his head and watched me for a few seconds before he spoke.

“I missed you. I mean really missed you. I couldn't wait to get home.”

“Glad you came home. I expected you to stay another day or two,” I said. “Glad you didn't. I get lonely without you to hang around with.”

“I'm glad you were here, Clay. No matter how aggravated I am, once I see you, I feel better. Thank you for being here. I mean that.”

“Oh, I didn't mind. I was going to wait no matter how long it took.”

I giggled, made happy by his comment. I was happy. In spite of my mind playing with my head, I'd never been happier. I loved my life. I loved Ivan, and I felt no guilt over caring so much about him. In time my feelings might change, but I didn't know how I could love anyone more than I loved him. Telling him didn't sound like a good idea. I didn't want to run him off by saying something stupid.

Once again, he looked at me as we leaned on the railing. This was an investigative look. He wanted to see what it was that brought us so close together. I'd looked for the same thing. I don't think it was something he could see. It went beyond looks and mere presence. When we were together, it created something very special. That's what I came to believe.

I got good vibes from Ivan. I hope he got them from me.

“You're not the same insecure kid I met last year, Clay. You've grown up in the last year. You're developing into a nice looking man,” he said, turning his head to look at me.

“That's what you see when you look at me?” I asked.

“I do. I know you're self-conscious and don't have enough confidence in yourself, but you're as good on the boat as me, maybe better. That's what I see when I look at you. In you I see someone as passionate about the world we live in as I am. You express it differently. You're introspective. I'm made angry by it.”

“Thank you, Ivan. That's a nice thing for you to say,” I said. “I didn't know you knew how much I love being on the Vilnius Two.”

“It's true. My Pop Pop would say, 'You're destined to be on the sea, Clay.'”

Like so many of our conversations, this one had texture and layers. I wanted to hear how handsome and muscular I'd become, but passionate was good too. Hearing he respected what I did was even better in some ways. We didn't talk about the boat when we were home. We worked on the boat and I took that seriously.

He looked at me before looking back at the gulf. He held his hands together in front of him. His eyes scanned the horizon. The rough edge the conversation about Boris created had disappeared.

I moved close enough to slide my arm over his shoulders. It was the first time I initiated such contact. I feared returning most of Ivan's displays of affection for me. I wanted him to know how much I cared for him without knowing how deep my feelings ran. I didn't know words to express it.

Without taking his eyes off the water, he intertwined his arm with mine and his arm rested across my shoulders as mine rested across his. It joined us together in quite an amazing way. The contact was electric for me.

Our mutual affection for one another was clear, as our eyes scanned the horizon as I stood beside the man I loved. I struggled with the feelings I had for him. I knew he cared for me, but did we love each other in the same way? If I told him I was in love with him, would he like the idea?

“I was so mad at Boris, I wanted in get him into the boxing ring,” Ivan said, revealing what he hadn't told me before. “I wanted to hurt him. He didn't treat me fair. He calls when he left here, 'Ancient history.' It made the deal with Betty Sue Sourgrapes worse for me. He spent time with her, even when we had plans to go out. I didn't like it.”

“I don't know what to say. Did you tell him that?” I asked.

“No. He won't talk about how I feel. I want to talk about it, but he won't. We argue about it every time I go there. That makes boxing really important to me. He's stronger than me, but he can't beat me. I let up when I know I'm hurting him, but I feel like I want to hurt him.”

“Like he hurt you,” I said, finally putting it all together.

As close as we stood, he still turned his head to see my eyes. He smiled as if I'd made a discovery about him. He didn't like what he'd revealed to me and he was glad I understood how he felt.

“Like he hurt me,” he said. “He just hurt me again. He senses I want to hurt him in the ring. He stays away from me. Uses those long arms to jab at me, keep me from getting in on his body, but I let him hit me so I slip a punch to get inside. Then I punish his ribs and stomach. He can't take that. I always let up though. I hurt him but I never hurt him bad, not yet.”

There was nothing I could do but stay close and be there. No one could hurt you like family could. I remembered Russel and the physical beatings he took in Tulsa. He was always at my house because he was afraid to be at his house. I didn't know it then, but I'd figured it out over time.

“Don't forget. We'll grow up and get married one day. Have kids of our own, but our friendship, this friendship, will always be part of us, Clay. Remember that in case you don't think I care.”

This was more than I wanted to hear. It made me think. There was a model for growing up male. You have boyfriends as a boy. You're closest to them as you mature. Then you have girlfriends, wives, and kids follow. The boyfriends disappear. The girlfriends, wives, and kids take up your time, along with the job that supports your family.

It may have been the accepted model, but I had no feelings for girls approaching my feelings for Ivan. I thought I was in a phase I'd heard about somewhere. My attraction to boys being a passing fancy. Then I met Ivan. What I felt was no phase. These were the most intense feelings I'd ever had.

Most boys were closest to other boys. Most boys would transitioned to being closest to girls while still in school. I wasn't most boys and there would be no transition. The accepted model didn't fit me and it never would. I'd love Ivan no matter what he did, I didn't think I would ever love anyone as much as I loved him. I didn't see how I could.

We didn't perceive marriage as a possibility because men didn't marry each other, but if they were in love, and I was in love with Ivan, why shouldn't we be able to get married? I wasn't one to spend a lot of time on what if, but what if it was different? What if Ivan loved me in the same way I loved him?

A model could be flawed if it's the only one. Not everyone was the same.

Forcing yourself into a model that doesn't fit didn't sound like much of a plan to me. I didn't know anyone like me, except Ivan. He obviously knew the model and it sounded like he intended to fit into it one day. I didn't think I could. I had no interest in girls, but I didn't get to decide what Ivan wanted.

Ivan and I were together and there was no end in sight. Being together until the end of high school was a long time from now. Our lives were filled with things that kept us together. There was no indication we might be pulled apart.

My feelings were growing. I feared I'd scare Ivan away. After what he told me about marriage and kids, I was no longer sure we felt the same way about each other. We had time. Being with Ivan was the most important thing now.

*****

Dylan and the world he commented on were out of reach if we stayed on our beach. Hearing his lyrics alerted us to the danger in a world where we didn't live. It still excited Ivan without making a big impression on me. We were safe. We were together. I couldn't ask for more than that.

I wished Dylan well and I hoped the masters of war couldn't get his address.

*****

The work on the Vilnius Two was hard but the pay was more than I deserved. New discoveries were the order of most days. Seeing the sails of distant ships drove my imagination to bold possibilities. Could it be a galleon of old, on a voyage of infinity, seen but never there, lost on the endless seas of time?

Great creatures that could only have come out of the depths, surfaced, teased us while we did all we could to get a closer look, returning to where they came from before we could reach them.

These discoveries always sank too fast and too soon, keeping their mystery to themselves. Huge birds flew near the sun, gliding like aircraft from an age yet lived, and we were helplessly bound to the Vilnius Two.

Adventure chased us and excited me like few things could.

We had the perfect days that never ended, until there was a storm that tossed, turned, twisted, and then released us to fish another day. The first time I'd sailed with Mr. Aleksa, seeing the last of land scared me. I couldn't be sure I'd ever see land again.

I lived to be at sea the summer I was fifteen. I lived to work and to see the fruits of my labor on deck and filling the holds. We worked hard. We played hard, and Kenny and Mr. Aleksa never thought anything was odd. We were free to be ourselves and I loved it. I was living the life I wanted to live.

Kenny was thinner than me, but not by much. His years of working added layers of muscles to a frame similar to my own. His shoulders and arms had the muscular sinew of a very strong young man. He was a quiet guy. I liked Kenny but no one knew anything about him before Mr. Aleksa gave him his job.

I was most intrigued by the things that came up in our nets and didn't make it into one of the holds. There were sea creates the likes of which I'd never imagined. At times they died in the net, not having the resilience of most fish. I was sad they died, but it gave me time to look them over. Nothing in a sci-fi movies equaled their ugliness, or beauty in some cases.

Each new discovery amazed me. The gulf was slowly giving up her secrets. No one cared that I poked or prodded something I'd never seen before. The first manta-ray to come up in the net was spread out on deck for me to check from the mouth under it and in between its wings to the wicked barb on its tail.

“Don't lose yourself, Clay,” Mr. Aleksa warned. “Dead creatures have a way of striking one last time. That barb could ruin you.”

I lacked the skill and ability to detect life in the seemingly dead things I checked out. Hearing his caution made me more careful. If something showed a scintilla of life, it went back into the gulf right away. The sturdy gloves I wore to pull the nets were perfect for examining something that might bite or sting me.

A Portuguese Man of War was something Mr. Aleksa pointed out to me. It was one of the times a huge creature allowed us to come along side it.

“Clay, come to the bridge,” the intercom said, and I was there in a flash. “Off starboard. We're about to pass a Portuguese Man of War. I just spotted it and brought us around so you'll see it up close. Can't bring that baby on deck.”

I leaned over the starboard side and Kenny grabbed my waistband to be certain I didn't make a nosedive into the slimy dangerous creature.

“If you're going for a closeup, you may as well get a good look. I got you, Clay,” Kenny said.

It had red and blue veins running through the translucent body that made it look like an extra large jelly fish. Our speed slowed and I can only estimate that it was over twenty feet long, considering the tentacles spreading out behind it.

How do you measure a Portuguese man of war? Very carefully.

It's why I was anxious to get on the boat. Pulling nets was easy, once I got the hang of it. The first few days I thought my arms would fall off and my back was done for. The third time I went out with Mr. Aleksa, I knew what to do and how best to do it, and I never had stiff muscles again.

Kenny took the time to show me, stressing I should use my legs and not my back to pull with. It was so new to me. I didn't catch on right away, but when my back got tired enough, I figured out what Kenny was telling me. My back didn't get sore after that.

We didn't go out that often when we were fourteen. Mr. Aleksa knew we were mostly boys and the experience was good for us, but a little went a long way. A year later we went out with him once a week, and if I missed a week, I felt like I was loafing. I was much happier when I got out on the gulf to be part of what the Vilnius Two did.

In a year Kenny went from a big kid to a full grown man. The summer I was fifteen he had put on weight and his arms, chest, and shoulders had become manly. He was friendlier once he was accustomed to Ivan and me. He no longer feared we might take his job. Instead we were complimenting the crew and taking some of the labor off him. I think he liked that part of it.

Mr. Aleksa seemed to mind my need to see and understand the creatures we dredged up from the deep. Some to this day I haven't identified, and the only time I saw one was when they fell out of the net onto the deck of the Vilnius Two. It was possible I might see one again over those summers I was a fisherman, but there are those creatures I saw only once.

I did not record or write out the details of those encounters, having no idea they might become important to me one day. At the time they were individual encounters that proved how diverse and unknown our world could be.

In this floating laboratory that gave me more to think about than I'd ever thought about before, I was getting paid to be mesmerized by the wonders in my world and the grandeur of the Gulf of Mexico. I'd never found anything that could match its beauty.

u *****

Ivan and I were rarely out of each others sight for long.

On the boat we would collapse into one of the four forward bunks, after the frenzy of pulling nets and getting the fish where they belonged was over. Sleep was something you did when there was nothing else to do. Weariness came upon you suddenly and left as quickly, when it was time to get the nets into the sea.

We could be up all night star gazing and tracking the shooting stars that crossed the sky, wondering where they came down. We were putting the nets out the hour before dawn, as the stars began blinking out. An hour after the dawn, the nets were folded back at the stern and ready to drop overboard again.

We'd be in the galley drinking the super strong brew we got on the Vilnius Two. It was when there was nothing to do that fatigue caught up with us, and we might fall asleep where we sat or go and drop into one of the bunks.

There wasn't a lot to experience once the sun was high in the sky and the day was beginning to heat up. There would be more coffee to drink and the picnic basket to raid, but these things could be done any time and at any speed. We slept, swam, and scanned the horizon as the day passed.

I didn't eat all that much while on the Vilnius Two. When we were at Ivan's, we went on binges when we ate everything and anything we could find. On the boat the food was in the picnic basket in one of the coolers and we took a sandwich out now and then. There were always small containers of goodies and awesome desserts, but they weren't all that appealing.

Sometimes it was too hot to eat. Sometimes we were too busy to eat. Then there were the times we were too tired to eat. It wasn't like on land, when we were always hungry.

When we swam off the boat, we didn't swim far. It felt safer staying along side the boat. When we dove off the boat, we climbed the boom to dive. This helped us burn off our excess energy during the lulls between work.

It was never dull and the days slowly became night, and we did a lot of the same things over again, but it was never routine. I never got tired of being on the water. I was left to wonder if there were fishermen in the Olson family.

Did my ancestors go to sea?

Chapter 15

Tom & Huck Build A Raft

Looking back on the summer I was fifteen, it may well have been the best summer of my life. I was still relatively innocent and my days were filled with soft warm breezes, endless beaches, and the most mellow waters one could conceive. My nights were spent in Ivan's arms, which kept me safe and free from worry.

Ivan and I were the best of friends. We were together most of the time we could getaway with it. Once we sprang free of the school house doors for the summer, the fun began. We drew closer as we lived lives I couldn't have dreamed up the year before, when we left the only life I knew behind.

Now the things we did each day led to happy carefree lives.

In a year I'd gone from a fat dumb kid to a rather sleek and more intelligent young man. I did things men didn't get to do. The experience of living had taught me to be a man. Being told I did a man's work did wonders for my confidence.

I felt good about myself.

After coming in from a fishing trip, I headed for my house. Mama was usually working in the kitchen on Sunday afternoon. I continuing stuffing the bills Mr. Aleksa stuffed into my hand into the jar on the fridge.

I didn't spend any money. There were no mom and pop shops on the beach and I didn't go anywhere but to sea. In my mind I was being paid to have a good time with my best friend. I left the money alone. It was there to backup my family during hard times. Mama insisted it was my college fund.

It didn't pay to argue with Mama. Whatever it was, it was on the fridge and only Mama and I knew it was there. If Pop lost his job again, it might buy the Olson family a little time. Anything to avoid being uprooted again.

Little did Mama know that this wild child wanted nothing more to do with more school. Once the final bell rang in high school, I was out of school forever. I had no interest in being inside during the day ever again.

I lived in paradise. Why would I want to be indoors and in class?

When I came in on Sundays, Mama would say, “The fisherman is home from the sea.”

It had a nice ring to it and it was a fair assessment. Mama said it proudly, so it was good to hear. On some days there were two twenties in my pocket, but usually there was one. I never counted it when Mr. Aleksa gave it to me. Mama counted the money in the jar from time to time. It was gravy to me. I'd have paid to go out with Mr. Aleksa. Now I had money to pay him with.

“I've always pictured you being the most like John-Henry, Clay. Now I think you're more like Teddy. I never saw a dime he made, but make it he does. I think he was nine the first time he went out on his own and earned money. I've never known him to let a week go by without working since then. He'll soon be eighteen. You seem to have his need to be a working man.”

“I'm lucky, Mama. The job fell on me and I love it. Had I not met Ivan, I'd be more like Brian,” I said.

“Oh, Lord help me, I don't know I could handle another child like Brian. I've waited for him to grab hold of something. I don't know why he can't find his way.”

“He's a muscle head, Mama,” I said. “He loves being at home where there are plenty of mirrors.”

“What is a... muscle head?” she asked, unsure about the term.

“That's Brian,” I said.

She looked puzzled at first, smiled, and then she began to laugh.

I was a working man and I could pay my way if asked, but telling my parents to take money out of that jar wasn't a risk I'd take. Mama knew it was there and she'd use it reluctantly.

This Sunday ritual bought me more freedom and I wanted all I could get.

*****

After coming back from our latest fishing trip, Ivan told me, “Boris is coming. We'll take him fishing with us while he's here.”

“Cool,” I said. “I'm finally going to meet Boris.”

“Yes. Dad says he's staying a week. That's if my mother leaves him alone for that long. She's going away for a few days and he'll drive down once she's gone. My mother won't like it. If we keep him on the boat, she can't reach him.

“Cool,” I said.

“Dad's really looking forward to his visit. Boris went out on the boat a lot when he was fourteen and fifteen, before he moved to Tampa.”

“We didn't go out that much when we were fourteen,” I remembered. “It's only this year we're going out every week.”

“Boris is the oldest son. Dad assumed he'd follow in his footsteps. Not so much now. You'll like Boris. We're a lot alike.”

“Then I'll like him,” I said, believing I would. “Betty Sue Sourgrapes?”

I remembered Ivan's displeasure after returning from Tampa the last time.

“She's not allowed on the boat. There is always danger that too much rocking can sink us. Besides, the point of going fishing is fishing. Screwing too much scares off the fish.”

I laughed without thinking it was funny. His words were painful to hear and it had nothing to do with Betty Sue Sourgrapes.

“You're okay with Boris coming? I mean you're not angry any more?”

“I can't say I'm not angry. He's my brother. It doesn't do any good to stay angry with him. Boris is Boris and as much as I'd like him to come home, he isn't coming home. His life is in Tampa now. We were once close. Now we're long distance brothers.”

A visit from the beloved Boris couldn't hurt anything. I'd been hearing about him for a year. Ivan and I were into our second summer together and Boris hadn't come to the house once. I didn't give it much thought until I heard he was coming. Having a face to go with the name would be good.

We'd be going sport fishing or big game fishing. It sounded like fun. We weren't sure when Boris was coming, because his mother hadn't decided when she was going away.

Learning this was the first time Boris would be in the house since he left it, didn't mean much to me. He'd lived there with Ivan for over four years. Then Ivan's mother came to get him.

I could read concern in Ivan's voice as he mentioned the family history. He wasn't sure his mother wouldn't come to get Boris, but Boris was seventeen and old enough to tell his mother no.

Ivan's family had complication mine didn't, if you didn't count Brian. I don't think we did.

*****

I gave no thought to the type of fishing we'd be doing. I gave no thought to needing a personal invitation from the captain of the Vilnius Two. Ivan and I were always together. I thought that meant when Boris came, we'd be together.

I never consider my services might not be needed on a special fishing trip for Mr. Aleksa's oldest son. I didn't feel like a deckhand but that's what I was. The only reason I was a deckhand on Mr. Aleksa's boat was because Ivan was my best friend. It still never registered that I was an employee.

Sometimes seemingly meaningless gestures can become important in ways that aren't apparent at the time. That was the case when Mr. Aleksa took me aside to ask me to come on the sport fishing trip.

“Clay, you know about the fishing trip for Boris?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We'll going game fishing. I want you to come along. I want you boys to have fun. This won't be work. Kenny will handle preparations and the cleanup. You boys will fish as much as you like. Kenny too. It'll be a relaxing trip.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Thank you. It sounds like fun.”

“I wanted to invite you in case you thought it was just for my sons.”

“Thank you,” I said, thinking I'd planned to go all along.

I wondered why he wanted to invite me himself. Didn't being Ivan's constant companion indicate I'd think I was invited? It confused me at first.

Mr. Aleksa was happy when we talked. I don't think I'd seen him happy before. Maybe it was the idea of having his sons together on the boat, but there was a twinkle in Mr. Aleksa's eye I hadn't seen before.

I wondered if Ivan realized the favorite son was coming for a visit? Ivan had told me that Boris was the center of attention no matter where he went. I didn't see anyone being the center of attention but Ivan if he was there, but I accepted Boris likely had Ivan's poise and charm.

These were trivial details leading up to a special trip. It was a trip I'd never forget. I read nothing into these preliminaries. I had the invitation in my pocket and that was cool too.

How could I know that invitation would be the difference between Ivan and me staying friends and going our separate ways. This is how I learned that small stuff is important. I learned how smart Mama was in the meantime. The invitation and her advice gave Ivan and me the time to repair the damage done the day Boris came. Even then, it was a close call. I've never forgotten that either.

Why Boris hadn't returned in over two years didn't seem important. It was important to the brothers in a way I couldn't see. It had been a long time since they both lived in the house next to the river. It proves that when you know someone as well as I knew Ivan, you can't know everything, or which thing could come close to bringing a friendship to an end.

I was not a great thinker at the time, and with Ivan's help, I thought more often, but no thoughts would prepare me for the day Boris came to visit.

*****

+ At dinner later that week, we heard a fish story from my father.

“I was talking to your father today, Ivan. He tells me Boris is coming to go big game fishing in a week or two. He didn't have a date yet, but he's coming soon. I've never seen Mr. Aleksa so happy.”

Mama perked right up. Ivan had mentioned he had a brother.

“While your brother is here, you must have him come to dinner,” Mama said to Ivan.

It wouldn't be the last time Ivan would be informed of Mama's guest list. Boris was coming to dinner whether or not he liked the idea, but I didn't know anyone who didn't like one of Mama's meals.

Mama, on the other hand, began planning for Boris to come to dinner immediately. He hadn't even shown up yet and she was planning a dinner for him.

Roast beef, baked potatoes, and a green bean casserole with mushrooms and chunks of savory ham were the main dishes. Desert would be strawberry shortcake and a three layer strawberry cake with chocolate melted between layers and walnuts sunk into the chocolate. It was alive with flavor and strawberries were cheap and plentiful.

Mama knew how to bait her hook. She didn't intend to let Boris getaway without getting a closeup look at him. At sixty-nine cents a pound at Piggly Wiggly roast beef was a luxury at the Olson house. We saw it on Easter and maybe on New Years Day, but seldom when an occasion wasn't attached to it.

“Your father too,” Pop said. “Your mother hasn't met Mr. Aleksa, and it would be a perfect time for him to come to dinner with his two fine sons.”

“Dad's so tired when he comes in, Mrs. Olson, he doesn't feel like doing much but sleep. I'll ask him, but don't get your hopes up. He thinks he smells like fish and he wouldn't think of eating at a table as fine as this with that handicap.”

“You tell him he's an honest working man. He doesn't need to apologize for wearing the smell of his labor. It's honorable work,” Pop said with conviction.

“I'm saying I doubt he'll take you up on it, but I'll tell him,” Ivan said.

“Yes, by all means. He's welcome at our table any time he feels comfortable coming down,” Mama said with no qualifiers.

That was the ultimate compliment for Mama. He smiled when Ivan relayed the invitation to him.

“That's a powerful offer. I'll give it some thought, but you know how tired I am when I come home,” he said. “I don't go anywhere except to the market.”

“I explained that, Dad,” Ivan said. “They understand.”

****

When Mr. Aleksa came in for a day or two, he rarely asked about what we were up to. We were supervised at a distance from my house. We understood that appearing at dinner two nights a week was a small price to pay for our freedom.

We were better fed than we had a right to expect and getting fed took the heat off us. Showing up with our parts in good working order reassured my parents. When Pop and Mr. Aleksa compared notes, there were no complaints. We'd never been a bad influence on each other and we were working men.

What I did was seen no differently than the work John-Henry or Teddy did. Mr. Aleksa's approval of my performance was the gold standard at my house. I put in a hard days work on his boat and him saying so pleased Pop.

*****

When the radio crackled unexpectedly during the day, my fear was it was my parents calling for me to come home, but that didn't happen. As time went on, the radio interrupted our flow a lot less. The first year it reminded me that my parents were never more than a radio call away.

Mr. Aleksa called each evening when he was on the gulf. He reported his position to Ivan and gave him news on how the fish were running. He'd ask if all was well at the house and if we needed anything he could pick up on his way in.

There were days we weren't near the radio when he called and days when he didn't call at all, but it was fairly predictable. Not making contact for a day or two wasn't cause for alarm. This would soon be important to our future.

If someone told me I wasn't living at Ivan's the summer I was fifteen, it would have been news to me. I was comfortable at Ivan's. Living in the big conservancy house again didn't interest me. We went there plenty and I stretched my absences to the max.

Every day I felt older, more mature. I was growing closer to the ultimate freedom.

One day it occurred to me, 'I might never grow any older.'

*****

Dylan was ever present that summer. He both entertained and warned us. I laughed the first time I heard “Like a Rolling Stone.” That was so us. We rolled from dawn to dusk, day after day, depending on each other for adventure.

I saw everything in a similar way to how Ivan saw them. I had no opinions before that, not beyond Pepsi or Coke. Adopting the same opinions as Ivan was easy. He explained how he saw things and he made a believer out of me.

Ivan dusted off old Dylan, and played 'It's All Over Now, Baby Blue.' We were waiting for Boris to come, and Ivan claimed it was his song.

“That's Boris' song. Pop Pop called him Baby Blue.”

“Your grandfather called Boris Baby Blue?”

“Yeah, Pop Pop called him that up until he died. He called him Boris too.”

I didn't like the song. I didn't tell Ivan that. There was a foreboding I felt when linking his brother to it. That's how it made me feel. I smiled and nodded when he explained the connection to Boris.

Each time it played, and it played a lot before Boris came, I kept my opinion to myself. Ivan sang along seeming not to realize what Dylan told us about his 'Baby Blue.'

Maybe it was just me. I didn't agree with Ivan on some things. I liked some Dylan and I was neutral on some. That song made me uneasy.

*****

Time didn't exist for Ivan and me, except when it was time to get to my house for dinner. When we were on the boat there were two times, a time to work and a time to relax. The best fishing was before dawn and after sunset. The boat went quiet in the heat of the day. Ivan, Kenny, and I might swim or nod off in the shade on deck.

To fit out the boat for sport fishing, Mr. Aleksa would take a week, which left Ivan and me high and dry, until Boris arrived. We didn't take to shore duty all that well. We concluded that there was more than one way to skin a cat.

We struggled to set the raft in the water, but after that, on a most pleasant afternoon, we didn't have a care in the world. We also weren't paying attention.

As we floated free “We'll build a raft and let the current take us places,” Ivan informed me, while we sat on the deck and watched the gulf. “We can fish, swim, and lounge like Tom and Huck. That'll give us something to do until Boris comes.”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking it sounded great. “How do we build a raft?”

What could possibly go wrong with this plan?

It took almost three days to build a raft out of small logs left beside his house. Using Ivan's grandfather's tools to fit the logs into place, we smoothed an area where we'd ride the raft to adventure.

Ivan dug out an old sheet to use for the sail, grooving the mast to slip between the logs at the center of the raft. We were sailors in action.

It took all the strength we had to carry it from beside the house to the gulf. It was a heavy sucker. It took to the water surprisingly well. The weight of the thing made it sit low in the water, which created a stable surface for us.

The raft reacted nicely to the rolling nature of the water.

*****

There was nothing better than resting the back of my head against Ivan's chest as the raft floated us away from our lives and our beach. We'd ordinarily be fishing with Mr. Aleksa starting that afternoon. He'd been in the house and restocked the fridge the day before. He'd come in late and left early. We hadn't seen him since the refitting of the boat and selection of the gear began.

I can't say how much Pop knew about the plans for Boris. I can't say if he knew Ivan and I weren't going out with Mr. Aleksa on the usual days. If things didn't come up at the dinner table, I assumed all was well, but our absence was likely not to be noticed right away.

When Mr. Aleksa came to the house and found none of the groceries he'd bought had been eaten, it would be the first time someone realized we were gone. The question would then be asked, “Where are they?”

We might miss a week of dinners and then show up two or three nights one week. We'd slipped into a comfortable way of doing things, so on those hot and humid summer evenings, no one missed us or came to the house next to the river to check on our condition. We had always been fine up until then. We were now floating aimlessly in the Gulf of Mexico. of our beach, Ivan prepared me for his brother's arrival, telling me stories about their childhood together. He couldn't hide his excitement over having Boris back in the house next to the river, but there was always the agitation that came when he got to the part about his mother coming to get Boris, but like the gentle breeze and slow moving clouds, I let it pass.

It was the part about Boris leaving him alone that I didn't understand. Ivan did quite well alone, or so it seemed to me. When his Pop Pop was alive, both Ivan and Boris stayed when school let out.

They were both fascinated by his stories, his beach, and the life he had.

Love for Boris had a short shelf-life when he visited his grandfather. His mother would come after him two weeks into the summer. Boris happily left Ivan with Pop Pop, and returned to Tampa. Even at ten, Boris was leaving his brother. Ivan had his grandfather, not to mention the beach, to sooth thoughts of his brother's absence in those days. Ivan adapted to being without Boris.

Ordinarily the details in the life and times of Ivan and Boris wouldn't have been a problem, but this part of the story filled in the blanks for me. Ivan was careful with his words, which wasn't unusual.

We paid no attention to our new lives as Tom and Huck. This wasn't the Mississippi. The shore wasn't right over there.

“Where are we?” I asked, when I could find nothing I recognized.

Ivan sat straight up and sprang onto his knees to take a good look around.

“Where'd the beach go?” I asked, loving the gulf but not liking all that water all around us..

“I didn't expect to get more than a few hundred yards from the beach,” he explained, trying to move the sail to catch the nonexistent wind that would take us... which way did we need to go?

I was slow on the uptake in most cases, but I could see how ole' Tom and Huck got themselves into a passel of trouble without doing anything. We were being true to Twain's duo. If only Jim had come to row us back to... wherever our beach was, but he hadn't, and we were surrounded by an endless sea.

I could read Ivan like a book by then. I knew we were in trouble. We were lost and had no idea where shore was. I pretended I didn't understand how serious our situation was. He pretended it wasn't all that serious, just a minor miscalculation that might kill us.

“We'll wait until the stars come out. That'll tell us which was is home.”

He had to see the stars to read them and we'd wait until he could.

We had no idea in which way we needed to go to get home.

We'd decided to go rafting on the night of the worst storm that summer. There were no stars to read. We were lucky we didn't drown. While our food and the sail were victims of the unruly gulf, we held on until calmer waters arrived.

There was no sleep if we intended to stay with the raft. Near morning Ivan spoke in a hoarse scratchy voice.

“There's the North Star,” he said softly. “The beach is there,” he said, pointing to the right.

He didn't sound all that excited to know which way was home.

“Why don't you sound happy about knowing that?” I asked, unable to muster the strength to pretend any longer.

“We can't steer and we have no way of propelling this thing. We're going where the currents take us, and no one knows where we are.”

“I appreciate you telling me that. I'd started to worry. That makes me feel a lot better, Tom,” I said, my stomach growling as we drifted aimlessly in a direction that wasn't going to take us to our beach.

“I'm sorry,” he said, sounding distraught.

“Haint all yur doin', Tom. I gets a passel a de blame fer bein' out chere,” I said, as I imagined Huck might. “You din't do no draggin' me. That's fer shur.”

Ivan smiled a troubled smile, appreciating my attempt to bring human to a situation that wasn't going to end well no matter what happened.

We had a sandwich each before losing the bag of food. Once we realized the afternoon on a raft was entering its second day, we wished we'd pigged out while we still had food.

I'd swallowed salt water during the storm and my throat and mouth were burning by the time the sun began beating down on the raft. We took turns holding onto the edge of the raft to submerge our bodies in the cool water. It was the only time we escaped the blazing sun that day.

One of us stayed on the raft to help the other one up. Our strength had begun to fail us and with both of us in the water, we might not be able to get back on the raft after a while longer.

By mid-afternoon it was as hot as it had been that summer. The night before we'd had the worst storms of the season. Nothing was working in our favor. We were lost and no one even knew we'd left the house next to the river.

We'd neglected to bring fresh water, which would have washed overboard with everything else, but it was a point to remember later, if there was one. We picked a poor time to get stupid.

We were fifteen and stupid was relatively easy for us.

The freedom we'd cultivated was going to be the death of us. What I wouldn't have given to wake up in the bed in the conservancy house to find out it was a dream. I'd never been so hungry or thirsty in a dream before.

It couldn't get much worse, I thought, as I slipped off the raft in the cooling waters to hide from the sun, after helping Ivan back up.

“Come back on the raft,” Ivan said in a soft commanding voice.

I'd just begun cooling off. I wasn't getting out. He hadn't said a thing in hours. He spends a half hour in the water and I get a minute and a half?

“I have more time,” I finally had the energy to say. “You spent a long time in the water. I just got in,” I complained, not liking him cutting me short.

“Get the fuck out of the water. Now!” he said.

Ivan had never talked to me that way before. I climbed up onto the raft, struggling as he pulled on my naked body to get me on board.

Ivan got on his knees and stared out at the water. When I looked, I saw the dorsal fin. At first I thought it was a dolphin. When the second fin appeared near the first, there was no doubt what they were. Mr. Aleksa could spot a shark a mile away.

“Sharks!” he'd yell, pointing the direction out to us.

I laid on my back as the sun boiled me alive. Ivan kept watching our lovely visitors. He said nothing. When it began getting dark they were within a hundred yards of the raft. They were still there. Did they sense an easy meal?

I was starving.

I was too hungry to move. My skin was burned and burning. I felt like a breathing boil. We stayed in the middle of the raft where it was most stable. There would be no sleep tonight. As the dark covered everything, the water became rougher. The raft was stable but it gave us a rough ride. We both held onto the spot we shaped to hold the mast.

It was late when the storms returned. First the sky was alive with lightning flashes. It was pretty spectacular from where we were. Lightning went in all directions. It was like the fourth of July, crisscrossing the sky.

“Electrical storm,” Ivan said after an hour, speaking of the fire in the sky.

It's the first thing he said since pulling me onto the raft.

The key word was storm, and it did. The undulating gulf turned wicked. We were tossed and turned as we held on for dear life. I wanted to let go and end this misery, but then I remembered the sharks. I didn't want to end up shark food.

“We need to get into the water. If we hold onto the side, we might ride it out. This thing might flip with us on it. We'll lose it if it does and we're done for.”

Ivan slid off one side and I slid off across from him. I could only see his shadow when there was a flash of lightning, but it was mostly rain and waves now. I didn't know if the sharks were lurking close by, but if they were, we'd make a nice breakfast.

Sometime that night the storm let up. Somehow we ended up back on the raft. I didn't remember climbing up. I was holding on and the next thing I knew I was laying on my back and light had begun to appear around us. I couldn't move.

I suppose I fell asleep or lost track of who and where I was. The violent gulf once more melded into the placid gulf I knew. Ivan shook me out of my fog with a question I didn't understand and was too tired to answer.

“Clay, can you swim?”

“Huh?” I said at least once. “You taught me to swim. Remember, Tom?”

“Snap out of it, Huck. Can you swim a few hundred yards right now?”

“Sure, Tom,” I said, still unable to focus or move.

He shook me to make me look. When he got my attention where he wanted it, I was looking at our beach and his house. We were back where we started.

“I saw this movie,” I said. “It's the Wizard of Oz.”

“Snap out of it, Clay,” he pleaded. “Can you swim to shore or not? I'll go for help if you can't.”

I shook my head and looked again. It was still there. I was probably dreaming part of this. Maybe I dreamed the entire raft deal. Except for being on a raft and burned to a crisp, that could have been true.

Ivan slipped into the water, giving up on me. I slipped in behind him.

We began swimming toward the beach. Then my burning skin was on the cool cool sand. It was solid ground. It was wonderful.

I don't know how long I was there. Once my stomach wouldn't allow me to stay there any longer, I went into the house and ate a box of cereal. I climbed the stairs and feel into the bed beside Ivan, who was asleep.

*****

I woke myself up thinking my parents might have tried to get a hold of us. We were gone two days. I sprang up and went to the radio.

“Just checking in, Pop. We hadn't heard anything,” I said. “We thought maybe you'd heard from Ivan's father.”

“All's quiet, kiddo. Meatloaf for dinner. Mama says to come down. Banana pudding for dessert.”

Oh did he know how to hurt a guy. What I wouldn't have given for a passel of Mama's meatloaf.

“Just ate, Pop. We'll be down in a couple of days. Base out,” I said, having hot flashes and feeling like I might throw up.

We'd pulled it off and escaped being found out as the idiots we were. All this time I'd convinced myself we were pretty smart. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

I didn't wake up again until the next afternoon. My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and I was burned to the bone. I glowed like a neon sign. If my mother saw me, I'd be grounded until I was fifty. I hadn't burned since the first month I was on the beach, and now I was red as a beet.

We ate everything and anything in the house. We were even more ravenous than usual. Our punishment was self-imposed. We couldn't go to dinner until my glowing became less obvious, but we talked about the meals we were missing.

“I'm sorry, Clay,” Ivan said as our voices began to come back.

“No one dragged me onto that raft, Tom.”

“Yeah, but I was raised around the water. I know better. What was I ever thinking, Huck? This hain't the Mississippi.”

“You weren't. We're fifteen. We don't think. That's why we're called kids.”

Ivan looked at me with that look. He looked like he was accepting that I knew as much as he did about doing stupid stuff. He looked resigned to our shortcomings and didn't act as confident as I knew him to be.

“Look,” I said, as Ivan remained silent.

“We were out there two days. I didn't think we'd make it back, Clay. It's fifty yards from where we put the damn thing in the water.”

The raft washed onto the beach to the south of Ivan's house over night. It was mocking us for our ignorance. Dumb luck saved our asses. We were always coming back home. We only thought we were going to die.

Life threatening events, this was the first time I thought I might die, have a way of changing your perspective. There was less distance between where Ivan stood and where I found myself after that. His previous infallibility was set aside. He'd nearly gotten us drowned. I trusted Ivan completely until then.

It would be a few days before I linked the incident on the raft to Boris. Looking back on it, all roads led to Boris the week before I met him. Once I could see this, it was easy to put the rest into perspective.

Events needed to unfold before the picture became clear, and after our raft trip, I was happy to be alive, and excited when I could finally go home to eat.

I'd discovered how some teenagers ended up dead. Going without Mama's meals was deserved. Ivan could hardly go there alone because his burned skin became a tan in an hour and a half, but not mine. We had time to think over what we'd done.

After four days and some suspicious calls from my father, I turned a color that could pass for fishing boat brown. It was pork chop night.

I loved Mama's pork chops.

*****

Chapter 16

House Warming

There were no leftovers the night Ivan and I finally went to my house for dinner, after the great raft trip. Mama noticed that I'd turned a strange color of orange on my way to tanning after being burnt to the bone. She wasn't more than a little suspicious about my new color.

Mama saved a big container of spaghetti, a dozen cheese sandwiches ready to grill, and a container of bean soup. It was great food to make up for the missed meals.

The nice part about rafting, it ate up time. We were closing in on the day Boris said he'd come. We weren't going to wait around for him. He was coming from Tampa and there was no telling what time he'd get started.

If he didn't come soon it would be time for school to start.

*****

I couldn't imagine being without Ivan. By the second summer of my Florida life, he filled my days and he filled my dreams. I felt like I was where I belonged. I couldn't imagine ever needing another friend. I'd never find one as cool as Ivan.

Being at Ivan's was the best way to be. Not having a schedule or marking time was growing on me. The summer was over in a little more than a month and we intended to make the most of the time that was left.

We dared to take the raft out, but we didn't get out of sight of land. It didn't scare me. It taught us a valuable lesson. We had fun while being vigilant. We could be adventurous while keeping an eye on our beach.

We located the current that carried us too far and we avoided it.

*****

Looking back on the summer I was fifteen, there was something about Boris the first time I saw him. His smile told you he knew something you wanted him to tell you. His charm was smooth and practiced. These things didn't strike me as authentic. They weren't standard issue for seventeen year old boys. My brothers had all been seventeen by then and none were nearly as polished as Boris.

Boris dressed in a way that made him look like a man. He sounded like a man. I knew he boxed and once I examined his face, I saw the scars to prove it, but Boris didn't look tough to me. He dressed to look good. His hair was perfectly styled. He worked at looking good.

Working on the boat gave me a rough edge as I rushed toward manhood. I was independent in most respects, even if I was expected to report in to my parents. My hair style was long and more blond every day. I wouldn't call myself muscular, but my body took shape while pulling the heavy fishing nets on the Vilnius Two that summer.

Boris was tan. Not the all over tan Ivan and I had. He was more golden, but I could see where a small bathing suit covered the essentials. There was just enough bathing suit to leave you wondering, but he didn't bring it with him.

He wasn't what I expected but I didn't know what to expect. The brothers were accustomed to each other. Boris was new to me. Ivan spoke of their competition and their activities, but he didn't tell me that when I looked at Boris, I'd be seeing him. It seemed like an important omission to me. I wasn't prepared to see Ivan's duplicate?

What had Ivan told him about me?

*****

We knew Boris wouldn't come early. He had to get up, get ready, and drive several hours. We went about our daily business. We swam out to the logjam to lie in the sun. It was peaceful and was all that hot for August.

“The seals haven't been here in a while,” I said. “I wonder where they go.”

“Seals aren't native to Florida,” Ivan told me. “A Barnum & Bailey circus train derailed ten or twelve miles up river. A car with the seals and two African lions split open. The animals escaped. The furor over the cats being loose got all the attention. We're talking man eaters here. I suspect they ate out of the trainer's hand. They were circus animals. They stayed free for nearly a week.”

“Good for them,” I said, feeling a kinship with the wild cats.

“Pop Pop woke up one morning a week or so later and the seals were out here barking. They'd laid claim to the logs. He thought all living creatures deserved to be free. When no one came for the seals, they were free.”

“What a great story,” I said, liking his grandfather more all the time, but I only knew him through Ivan's stories.

“I don't know where they go, when they aren't here,” Ivan said. “I suppose they've found other places where the fishing is good after twenty years.”

We dove into the pleasant green water, swimming back to the beach. We needed to reinforce our earlier nourishment.

Boris stood as we burst into the kitchen. He'd been sitting at the kitchen table. They embraced. Seeing them together had me seeing double. I didn't need to wonder why girls liked Boris. They were drawn to Ivan, but so were boys, and me of course. Boris may have been even more handsome than Ivan.

They hugged, kissed, hugged, and kissed again. Seeing Ivan kiss his father threw me for a minute. Ivan kissing Boris, and Boris looking like he did, was an entirely different deal. I wasn't much of a kisser but they made it look like fun.

Boris had on a baby blue tapered polo shirt with tailored brown slacks and penny loafers. They fit him like a fine pair of gloves fit your hand. His mama didn't shop at Sears.

I stood with a chair in front of me. The only style I had was the style in my smile. Letting Boris see me naked before we were introduced seemed like a major breach in etiquette.

“Boris, this is my good friend, Clay. Clay, this is my brother.”

I did not pucker up.

I'd checked Boris out and it was his turn to give me the once over, as my handshaking hand deserted it's new roll as family jewel protector. He didn't miss a thing, except I was too embarrassed to smile. I wanted to get back behind the chair before the swelling reached its peak.

Boris was polite, even friendly, but I'd never been introduced to someone when so much about me was revealed. His smile was dazzling. I'm sure it had something to do with my partial erection that went with our handshake.

“You look different,” Ivan said, looking at Boris.

“You look the same,” Boris said. “Still can't find a bathing suit you like?”

“I like this one fine. Where's, 'Oh, Boris, I want to...?'” Ivan asked in less than a flattering voice.

Boris laughed. Ivan laughed. I laughed.

“It was like having a tumor removed,” Boris said. “She wouldn't leave me alone. You were there. You saw how she was. I never imagined a girl could wear me out. I was glad when she left,” Boris said. “I hated ditching you for her, Ivan, but you don't know how pissy she got when I didn't give into her.”

“Doesn't sound like you, Boris,” Ivan said. “No girls waiting in the wings? I was certain we'd need to make room for four in the bed tonight.”

“Too much of a good thing is still too much, little brother. You'll see. We timed this perfectly so I rest up a few days.”

“No, I don't think I will,” Ivan said. “Glad you could pull yourself away.”

“I couldn't keep saying no to Dad. I owe him some time.”

“You'll never meet a nice girl at this rate, Boris,” Ivan said.

“No future in nice girls. You'll see. You'll be a man soon, little brother. Then you'll know what it's like trying to get enough of a good thing. You keep your options open. Most girls are more fun than Betty Sue. She was a one trick pony.”

“Sex for the sake of sex doesn't sound like much fun to me. Thinking that you left here to get laid is lame. You could move back. Find some girls here,” Ivan suggested. “We'd be together again. Like it was before.”

That was a plan I wasn't up to date on. It took me off guard. Boris was Ivan's old best friend. It kind of left me out in the cold if he came back home.

“What girls? The chicks at school? They're nowhere, man. I like Tampa girls. I do miss the beach and all. I miss being with you, little brother, but Boris doesn't live here any more.”

“I noticed that right after you left me here alone,” Ivan hissed. “Did I thank you for that? I learned to go it alone once you left.”

“I'm here now. Let's enjoy ourselves with your friend. We'll have fun, like old times. We'll go fishing with Dad. It's what we've got, little brother,” Boris said. “And when it's time to go back to your harem, you go,” Ivan said coolly. “I don't need you any more. I've got friends now. I'm doing fine without you, but you're my brother. It's good you finally came home. It's nice seeing you.”

“What I wanted was elsewhere. We all grow up one day, Ivan.”

I was ready to duck by the time they put away the gloves. The words all came out with a sharp edge on them. They went from hugs and kisses to open warfare over Boris leaving Ivan. It sounded ugly. I knew Ivan loved Boris. I didn't expect this to be how his homecoming went..

Boris didn't look like it bothered him. He was done explaining himself.

I hadn't been certain Ivan wasn't going to throw a punch. Brotherly love wasn't all it was cracked up to be at the Aleksa house. Just when I was waiting for a brawl, Boris moved over to Ivan and embraced him.

“I still love you, Ivan,” he said to close the distance between them.

“I love you, Boris. That doesn't erase what you did to me. Love means trust and dependability. Trust means not walking out on your brother. You'll need me one day, Boris. I might not be there when you do. I might have a girl like Betty Sue hanging on me, and you know how that is?”

“I want to be here with you,” Boris said, hugging Ivan once the tension was back. “We fight about this every time you come to Tampa. I'm not coming back.”

All the sass went out of Ivan and he wrapped his arms around his brother. I was glad Boris did live here. I couldn't take much of this.

“I'm sorry. I can't help it,” Ivan said. “I miss you. We had fun here. It wasn't easy staying here with Dad once you were gone. I couldn't leave him alone.”

My appetite left through the bottom of my stomach. If Boris was here, I wouldn't be. If Boris returned to be Ivan's best friend, Ivan wouldn't need me. If Ivan was happy, I'd be happy for him, but I wouldn't be happy for me.

Boris did try to comfort his brother. Watching them left me feeling like I ate too much. I still had half a bowl of cereal.

None of my brothers would hug me to comfort me.

“You haven't been swimming yet. Race you to the water,” Ivan said, moving out of Boris' grasp to dart out of the kitchen door.

Boris looked at me and shrugged. I sat with my bowl in front of me and no interest in digging up any more cereal. I was afraid to follow Ivan outside. I was kind of mystified by their battle of wills. I didn't know who won but I knew I didn't even get an honorable mention.

Ivan and I had been having a nice day. Why did he want Boris to come anyway?

I sat with the cereal I'd lost interest in as Boris took off his shirt. He folded it and placed it on the chair next to him. He weighed a little more than Ivan. I could see Boris was slightly larger when they hugged. His chest, shoulders, and arms were well defined. His stomach was flat. A line of bunny tracks grew below his belly button.

I'm sure my mouth was open as he slipped out of his pants, adding them and then his blue boxers to the pile of folded clothes, pulling off his socks, he put them in his shoes.

He stood facing me for at least a minute. I had the full view. The idea he was a man was confirmed by his well formed pubes and ample penis. He turned his back on me to check the folded clothes. It was the only few I hadn't had yet. I had no doubt he knew exactly what he was doing. The show was free and it was for me.

He was a lot like Ivan but there was a little more of Boris. I felt like he'd just evened the score. Neither of us had anything to hide. I watched until he was gone. I was a kid. I was curious. So sue me.

“Come on, Clay,” he yelled from some distance away.

I waited to calm down before I went outside. Boris was wading into the water, moving toward Ivan. I walked to be sure I'd relaxed when I got into the water. I wasn't sure what came next but I was wading into new territory.

It didn't matter how many girlfriends he had, I shouldn't be alone with him.

Ivan and I were careful not to complicate what we felt for each other by getting in over our heads. I felt relatively innocent until the day Boris came.

What he made me feel had nothing to do with innocence. It was nothing like what I felt for Ivan. It was as confusing as it was exhilarating. Why did I feel like that about someone I didn't even know?

It scared me.

Going swimming seemed like the thing to do to cool off. I wanted to be there for Ivan. How much trouble could we get into going swimming?

Maybe I'd sleep at home tonight to let the brothers have time to themselves. We were likely to end up in bed together and turning my back on Boris wasn't in the cards. I'd make an excuse. Ivan would understand.

They were already swimming, wrestling, yelling, and having a good time trying to drown each other. Boris wasn't as quick or as agile as his brother. Ivan was like a fish in water. If Boris was, he wasn't now.

I liked seeing them play. Boris was more like a boy. That made him easier to digest. I ended up in the middle and was nearly drowned when they ganged up on me. The giggling and laughter had no relationship to the amount of the Gulf of Mexico I swallowed.

There had been a time the poor Oklahoma kid would be let up easy, because I was a flat lander, but not any longer. I was fair game and two against one was a bit much to swallow. They were having a good time.

Once Ivan let up on me, I had Boris to deal with. I ducked, slipping his grasp. I ended up with my arms around him from behind. Like the dog who chased the car, now that I had him, what did I do with him?

He used his ass to try to dislodge me and he nearly got lodged big time. I just wanted to let loose and stop the swelling. Boris was one difficult guy to let loose of. When I hesitated, he manage to turn in my arms so that we were face to face. He drove me backward.

Boris was having a great time and I knew I had my hands full. I was willing to let go but he was having none of it. He kept hugging himself against me. He rubbed his chin on my skin and kept himself glued to me.

“I give. I give,” I said, thinking that might work.

Ivan stood a few feet away and took it all in. Once he'd seen enough, he came charging back into the fray, wedging himself between us to set me free of Boris' grip. He could have missed we were both totally aroused.

“He said he gave, Boris. Leave him alone. What are you trying to do?”

I withdrew to cough out of the wrestlers reach. It wasn't my idea of fun. Ivan and I played at wrestling in the water. We had a good time. We might have let it get to the point where the contact excited us, but we didn't need to conquer the world quite yet. We were fifteen and we'd already found each other. We had plenty of time to go around the world.

Boris was one serious dude. This time Boris got the best of Ivan, having the leverage he lacked in the first round. Dunking him and holding him for a second more than Ivan had held him under water. Ivan struggled against his bigger brother, who kept his weight pinning him under.

I began moved toward Boris. I was prepared to knock him off Ivan. These two scared the hell out of me. Ivan could hold his breathe forever, but forever was running out as far as I was concerned.

As I charged back for more, Ivan slipped free. I stopped rather than get between those two. Ivan coughed, more barked a couple of times. Ivan launched himself onto Boris' back, forcing his face under. Ivan grunted and struggled to get a better hold on his brother.

Boris struggled for a few minutes and then stopped. Ivan held on with no sign he was going to let Boris breath. Ivan held him tight. He had the leverage now. Boris was already under for too long. Ivan's face was contorted.

“Let him breathe Ivan,” I pleaded, now charging to rescue Boris. “You're going to drown him. Let him up.”

Boris still had a slight bit of struggle left, but he was trapped under Ivan.

“Ivan!” I yelled, closing in so I could knock him off his brother's back.

Ivan looked at me. He saw the panic on my face. He let Boris breath. I felt like I was drowning.

“You two play too rough,” I said disapprovingly to Ivan. “Leave me out of it. You're crazy around Boris.”

I heard Boris barking up water this time.

“We're playing, little brother. What's wrong with you?”

“It wasn't playing when you were on top,” Ivan reminded him in an unfriendly voice.

Ivan looked at Boris and then he looked at me with fury in his eyes. He began wading toward the house. He turned and went backwards as he watched Boris move over beside me.

“Okay, truce. I was bad. You got me back. Why go in already, Ivan?” Boris inquired.

His eyes were on me and then Boris. He looked calm now. He was backing up, moving away from us. I didn't know who this Ivan was.

“That's for leaving me alone, big brother,” he taunted. “Just so you know, I'd drown your ass if you weren't my brother. You want to remember that, big brother.”

Ivan turned his back on us, walking out of the water, heading for the house.

Boris came toward me, still spitting out the gulf. He watched Ivan leave.

“You started this,” I yelped. “Why did you come here? We were fine until you showed up. I've never seen him like this. He scared me,” I said, giving Boris all the blame. “I should have let him drown you.”

Boris stopped coming toward me. He smiled and shrugged like he knew he was a jerk but there wasn't much he could do about it.

“Sorry,” Boris said after a minute. “He's always had a temper. I didn't know he'd react that way. It's not about you, Clay. Sorry you ended up in the middle.”

“I'm not in the middle of nothing. I'm with Ivan,” I informed him.

Boris followed Ivan with his eyes. He looked sorry. I wasn't sure about his sincerity in the matter. Boris broke something the two of them had. I didn't think it could be repaired. Boris grew up too soon. He'd be grown up for a long time. His time as a boy was done, even if he came back to play like a boy played. I liked Boris and I hated what he made me feel.

I stood with my back to Boris, watching Ivan climb the stairs into the kitchen.

Coming up behind me, Boris picked me up like I was weightless. He was strong. His muscles tightened around me. We were locked together with his body tight against me.

The fear came back. What did he want from me? I feared him and yet his hold on me was thrilling. I remembered how repulsive Purdy was with his green teeth, and how thrilled I was to have him hold me against his naked body, telling me the sexual things he had planned for me. This was the same kind of thrill.

Feeling him grind against my backside, I wiggle and wriggled to escape his grasp. I was dizzy with some kind of flesh to flesh intoxication. He had my arms trapped under his. I kicked my legs and forced my weight up toward his shoulders. I wanted to get away from him. I wanted him to hold on to me.

“Let go,” I screamed, not being able to think of anything else. “I'm no girl. Get your dick away from my ass.”

“What?” he said, dropping me like a hot rock. “We're playing.”

I sprang up to face him in the knee deep water.

“I don't play that game. Who do you think you are,” I yelled at him and he looked genuinely confused.

His body was still close enough for me to feel him.

“You're too serious when you play,” I said. “Save it for your girlfriend.”

“Sorry, I guess it isn't my day.”

“No, I don't think it is. You should have stayed in Tampa,” I snapped, still upset by Ivan losing control of himself and now I was doing the same thing.

That's when I realized the truth about Boris and me. Boris knew plenty about me. He smiled at me. I wanted to slug him.

He wasn't so much as slightly aroused and mine was standing straight up. How did being excited become mixed up with so much anger?

I turned my back and then I had to turn back around. I didn't trust him. There was no where to hide from the truth. He was still smiling. He was amused by my dilemma. I'd made a fool out of myself.

Was I crazy? Being crazy was a possibility. I always felt a little off kilter. Ivan was the most in control person I knew. Maybe we were all crazy? Boris didn't seem to react to being at the center of the trouble. How could he not know?

“You think he's pissed off at me?” he asked. “Or did we just get out of hand?”

“I think maybe,” I said incredulous. “You tried to drown each other. You were his best friend. You left him alone. What kind of friend does that?”

“You don't know anything, Clay. I know everything about him.”

It was cruel but he'd made me mad. Wanting to touch him made me mad. Wanting him to touch me made me really mad. He was too cocky.

He eased closer to me without aggression. I watched him closely.

“I appreciate that you stay with him. You're all he talks about at home, you know. 'Clay is funny. Clay is cool. Clay and I do everything together.' I'm a little jealous of you. I was a bit afraid to meet you,” Boris said. “I'm glad you turned out to be cool. I wasn't trying to upset you. I feel like I know you. Let's be friends. Ivan's going to get over this and we'll be fine in a little while.”

When I looked at Boris, he was just another kid who wished he hadn't done what he did. I remembered the kisses, the hugs, knowing I could never do that with Ivan made me jealous of Boris. They were brothers and they were practically making out. I didn't have enough courage to kiss Ivan.

I was less than comfortable on the beach behind Ivan's house.

“What do you have to be jealous about?” I asked, looking at him. “I'm a kid. I'm Ivan's friend. That's all.”

There was the queasiness in my stomach again. What was wrong with me?

“You're a good friend. He needs you. I just want to thank you for that. This is why I don't come here, Clay. He gets angry when he comes to Tampa. I knew coming here would set him off.”

“I better go see if he's OK. I've never seen him like this,” I said.

I was afraid now. I was afraid for Ivan.

“Give him a few minutes. He'll cool off. He doesn't stay mad for long. It's best to give him space when he's mad.”

“Leave him alone?” I asked in an unfriendly way. “Like you left him?”

“You're his friend, Clay. I'm his brother,” Boris said. “Let him cool off. He's angry with me, not you. Don't get in the middle. You won't like it if you do.”

“Yeah, well, I won't leave him,” I insisted.

He took my insults without calling me a little twit. I was going to do what I thought was best in spite of his warning. Why should I trust Boris?

I was the first one through the kitchen door. Boris wasn't far behind. There was a bowl with maybe three Sugar Crisp in it and the rest of them were all over the table, the floor, and under my bare feet.

Crunch!

What was this? What was going on?

“I'll get a broom. It's how he blows off steam,” Boris said as I stood with my mouth wide open, trying to get my brain to figure this out.

“You knew he'd do this?” I asked, reprocessing his warning.

“You're his friend for what, a year? I'm his brother. You think you know, Ivan, but you don't know Ivan like I know him. It's my fault, Clay. I set him off. He will get over it.”

I heard Ivan on the stairs before he appeared. A loud crunch came from under his foot once he stepped onto the kitchen floor. He grabbed the broom out of Boris' hand. Boris backed up. Ivan got the dust pan and began cleaning up the cereal angrily sweeping it.

Ivan sat the empty Sugar Crisp box on the table with authority. He threw the polo shirt and slacks at his brother, grabbing them off the floor as he swept.

“They're expensive, Ivan,” Boris said, shaking the Sugar Crisp out of them.

“Why not take your ass and your expensive clothes back to Tampa where you belong? This seemed like a good idea, but it wasn't, Boris. Go back where you belong. I don't need you here. I don't want you here.”

My mouth was open again.

“Can't. Promised Dad I'd go fishing with him. I'll stay for that. You can either pretend we're brothers or continue make a horses ass out of yourself. That's up to you,” Boris said. “It's your friend you're showing off for.”

Ivan turned to where I stood like a dufus. He took a second to consider me through tight narrow eyes.

“Go home, Clay. This is none of your business. Go home,” he barked like the seals on the logjam.

I was stunned. I'd never been hit so hard as Ivan hit me that day. It took the wind out of me. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I wasn't sure it was Ivan. Did they have a third brother? Were they playing games with me? Why would Ivan talk to me that way?

“I just.... I only...,” I said, unable to gather my senses.

“Go home now, Clay,” Ivan ordered.

“He's mad at me, not you, Clay. He'll be fine in a little while,” Boris said. “But you need to go home. Let him cool off.”

“I don't need you to tell my friend anything. Go home, Clay.”

It stung no less the last time as it did the first. What had I done?

I backed up until I felt the door against my back. I turned and left. I felt disoriented and confused. What happened?

“Fishing tomorrow, Clay,” Boris yelled. “My father is expecting you.”

*****

I went to the side of the house to retrieve my cutoffs. I left them hanging near the concrete slab after returning from the last fishing trip. I wondered if there would be a next fishing trip.

I wondered a lot of things.

Ivan and I were fine. Then we weren't.

I'd finally jettisoned the cutoffs, not because I had some great desire to join the nudists, but because I hated the way they hung on me when they got wet. They were uncomfortable.

By this time they barely contained the parts they were there to hide. I had to be careful not to lose them. If my hips hadn't grown, there was no way they'd stay up. I had to get Mama to fix me another pair and take in the waist.

Taking them off after coming in off the Vilnius Two, I put them on when we went fishing again or for trips to my house.

I took my time shaking them out in case something had crawled into them as they hung there. I took my time putting them on. I kept looking at the corner of the house. I expected Ivan to come running out to get me and apologies for being a butt-head.

Once on, I took my time moving down the beach. I knew Ivan was going to have a change of heart and come after me. I was his best friend after all.

He'd come after me before I reached my house, so I walked really slow.

*****

Chapter 17

Distance, Mothers, & Time

Over a year ago my life was sliced and diced. Walking away from Ivan's, I felt sliced and diced all over again. I'd vowed not to make another friend, because of how painful it was to lose one.

My mind couldn't make sense of it. It didn't make sense, except for the guilt involving Boris. What did I do? I tried not to do anything but part of me said everything that I'd get to say. I was guilty while still remaining innocent. My biology betrayed me.

It took a long time to get down that beach. I walked slow and then slower. I finally turned to look behind me, certain Ivan would be there, running after me. The beach was as empty as my insides.

Why did the visit by Boris set him off? One minute they'd been playing and the next minute, it was all out war. How could a boy so completely under control, lose control?

After dallying for five minutes near my house, I realized there was going to be no apology, no reprieve. I spent a minute brushing and wiping the sand off my feet, thinking this was Ivan's last chance to dash up to tell me it was all a misunderstanding.

I'd gone numb at his backdoor. At my backdoor I got mad. Screw Ivan. I was a big boy now. I'd figure out a way to go on. I wasn't quitting because Ivan decided to loose his cool. I'd show him I didn't need him.

Opening the door, I went in, closing it quietly behind me, leaning my weight against the door. Now, I felt like I was going to start crying.

Mama looked back at me. She wasn't sure why I hadn't come crashing into her kitchen to grab the first food I came to.

“My son is home from the sea,” Mama said happily, as I turned and tried to smile? Why the long face, dear. You're coming out of those cutoffs, Mr. Olson. Pull up your pants, dear. No one wants to see any more of you than that.”

“I'm not in the mood, Mama,” I said, sounding as if my life was over.

“Oh, a working man hasn't time to be kidded by his mama? The woman who just happened to give him life.”

“My life isn't all that hot right now, Mama. Boris is up there. They're having a battle royal. I was invited to scram before the main event started,” I said sadly, barely holding back my sob. “Ivan told me to get out of his house. My best friend told me to go home. I thought I was home.”

The magnitude of the events overcame me. I was determined to be Ivan's friend. I wasn't sure I was, or ever could be again. He told me to get out.

“Sounds like brothers I know only too well, Clayton,” Mama said, failing to grasp the depth of my depression. “He'll be gone in a few days.”

“One can only hope,” I said, hoping I would see Boris again.

“You two aren't joined at the hip in spite of what you think. A friendship can't rest on a few words uttered in anger. Taking a day off from Ivan isn't as tragic as it seems right now. You two are always together.”

“He snapped at me, Mama. He told me to get out. He hurt me,” I said, unable to stop the tears.

Knowing I'd rather eat flies than cry in front of her, Mama came to embrace her youngest son.

“Brothers bring out the worst in each other, dear. John-Henry and Brian go at it all the time, but heaven help he who harms Brian. John-Henry would be the first one there to defend him. Relationships between brothers defies logic. No way for you to know what's going on between Ivan and Boris.”

“Why did he take it out on me? I didn't do anything. He had Boris to yell at.”

“He's embarrassed. Same as you'd be if your brothers went at it in front of Ivan,” Mama said.

“Yeah!” I said as my tears stopped.

“Boris will leave. Things will go back to the way they were,” Mama said.

“It doesn't feel like it will, Mama,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I want to believe that. I can't right now. I feel too bad to think about it any more.”

“That's natural. You don't know their history. You know Ivan's side, but once feelings and emotions are involved, all bets are off. When Ivan is away from Boris, he no doubt misses him. They see each other and old complaints surface.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said.

“You need to let it go, Clay. If Ivan came down here and your brothers are having a knock down drag out brawl, you'd tell Ivan to scram. You'd be embarrassed and you know you would.”

“No! I wouldn't be mean to him. He was mean to me, Mama,” I protested.

“You sleep on that tonight, dear. I'd imagine by tomorrow, by the time you're going out with Mr. Aleksa, the boys will have ironed out their differences. If they haven't, Mr. Aleksa will set them straight.”

“I won't go. I know when I'm not wanted,” I said.

“I've made the food for this trip. You will go, young man, if only to make sure my hard work isn't wasted. You won't be the one who makes this fishing trip go bad,” Mama said.

“I'm not a kid, Mama. I know what I want to do. I'm not going. That's final,” I dared to say to my mother.

Then Mama played dirty pool, using logic on me.

“You think about it, Clayton. If you don't go tomorrow, and you let one incident come between you and Ivan, well, I've been rather pleased with how you made such a wonderful friend, after what we went through last year. Ivan and his father have been a good influence on you. You shouldn't let that come to an end.

“Right now it's up to you if the friendship continues. You can't let one stupid incident ruin it. You stay home tomorrow and your friendship won't recover. He's embarrassed by letting you see him at his worst. You're bigger than that, Clayton. Allow him to find a way to make it up to you. My bet he's more upset than you are about this. Swallow your pride and go tomorrow.”

“You think so?” I said, listening to this line of thought.

“I think so. You are boys. You're at an age when emotions can get the best of you. It's part of growing up, Clay. Ivan's a wonderful boy and you aren't half bad most of the time. The problem is your mind is saying that you're a man, and your body hasn't quite caught up.”

“Like when I shot my mouth off at the dinner table when I knew better?”

“That's one example. Go up there in the morning. Deal with Mr. Aleksa. He's your boss. He values you. He won't put up with shenanigans from his boys. By showing up you are refusing to play a role in their emotional battles. You will be the adult in the room.”

“There are no rooms on a boat, Mama,” I explained to her.

“And you aren't too old to be spanked,” she said.

“That's what you think I should do?”

“That's what I think, Clayton. For once, listen to your mother. I'm not as square as you think I am.”

“We usually don't have this much to say to each other, Mama,” I said, remembering our quick one sentence communications most days.

“You've usually smarter about the things you do.”

“Ivan's pretty cool,” I said, knowing it in spite of my anger with him.

“Ivan is the coolest, dude,” Mama said in an uncharacteristic hip comment. “You'll never forgive yourself if you let your friendship go. Your feelings are hurt. In time you'll remember that you could have saved your friendship, but you didn't. Friendships like yours are rare. You'll never find a better friend, Clay.”

“I'm not very happy with him,” I said angrily. “Ivan hurt me, Mama.”

“Next time you see signs those two are going to tangle, come home. Let them work it out. Getting in the middle isn't wise.”

“I think you have that right. I still feel bad,” I said, feeling better.

“I'm glad I didn't rent out your room,” Mama said with concern.

“Mama!” I said,

“Pull your pants up, dear. We're going to have to get you new clothes before school starts. You're growing like a weed,” Mama said, kissing my cheek before rushing to the stove to stir one of the pots. “There's fruit by the door. Give me a couple of minutes and the barbeque will be ready to put on two hamburger buns. That should hold you until dinner.”

“I'm not hungry, Mama,” I said, heading for the door to the dinning room.

Mama got there before me, feeling my forehead.

“You feel OK, hon? You feel warm. If you get sick you can't go tomorrow.”

“That's not funny, Mama. I'm fine,” I said. “I'm not hungry is all. I'm going to get a shower. I think I'll lay down.”

“Pull up your pants, dear. Put out that new pair of jeans we got you last fall. I'll have to cut those off for you. Lord knows they're four inches to short for those legs now. I'll bring the waist in a couple of inches. You're so thin.”

*****

I stood in the shower for a while. I'd been standing under a hose for the entire summer. It was very very nice.

I felt super clean and I don't remember feeling more tired. I put on a pair of Teddy's boxers and I plopped on my bed. My mind was running in circles and I let it go without getting involved. I fell asleep right away.

I may not have paid any attention to my speeding brain, but it got back at me by thinking up the most confusing dream I'd ever dreamed. It was about Ivan. We were close together, but he couldn't hear me or see me. No matter how hard I tried to tell him I was right there, he kept calling my name.

I couldn't stop crying.

When I woke up, Pop was sitting on the edge of my bed, speaking to me.

“Your mother is worried about you, Clayton. Are you coming down to dinner? We're ready to sit down. John-Henry said he woke you ten minutes ago. I want you to come downstairs for dinner, son.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, sitting up beside him. “How's work, Pop?”

Getting his attention off my difficulties was often the best way to go.

“Nice. Very nice. I have more responsibility these days, but nothing I can't handle. They treat me nice. Like I'm important to the conservancy. I like it a lot.”

“I'm glad, Pop. You're a good man. You deserve to be treated well. No matter what they're paying you, it's a good deal for them, you know.”

“Thank you, Clay. What a fine thing to say. You coming down to eat, son?”

“Yeah, give me a minute and I'll find something that still fits. Don't wait. I'll catch up.”

My father stopped at the door and took a long look at his youngest son. I pretended I didn't notice.

Mama fussed over me as quick as I arrived in the kitchen, giving me more than I could eat.

“Mr. Aleksa is certain you'll have fun on this trip,” Pop said. “The man says you are an important part of his operation, Clay. I'm one proud daddy,” Pop said.

*****

I wondered how he'd feel if he knew about the feelings I had running around inside me? The feelings I had for Ivan? As confusing as it felt to me, telling anyone about it was a sure cure for growing up safe. When I thought about what I felt for Ivan, I didn't feel safe.

I wouldn't stop caring about Ivan. I didn't think I could. He hurt me and when things settled down, I'd say that to his face. I wasn't taking that, especially not from the boy I loved. I deserved better and I'd tell him that too.

*****

I was a hit at the dinner table. I was in a funk but my hunger didn't stop. I loved barbeque. Everyone introduced themselves and I did my best not to act amused by my families insanity. Mostly my brothers had no sense anyway. But I couldn't equate them with Ivan and Boris.

John-Henry was as girl crazy as anyone, but he was closing in on twenty. Brian would have been girl crazy if he could figure out what to do about it. Teddy was Teddy. He was too busy to be girl crazy.

It was strange how good I felt about not being close to my brothers. We didn't hate each other but we had nothing in common. I was most like John-Henry, but he was the oldest and we hardly saw each other. He made more of an effort to talk to me, but he couldn't remember being fifteen. I'm not sure he ever knew he was fifteen, because he was the eldest.

Lucy was always happy to see me. Then there were complaints about missing our games.

“He works for Mr. Aleksa,” Mama said. “Your big brother is growing up.”

“He still could stop by for a game of rummy when he isn't fishing,” she said.

I could, but I didn't. I wanted to be with Ivan every minute I could, and now that I couldn't, I still wanted to be with him. I could go up there and confront Ivan now, but I wouldn't. I was obligated to go in the morning because I told Mr. Aleksa I would.

After three barbeque sandwiches, slaw, and a pound of Mama's incredible onion rings, I decided I wasn't that hungry after all. Barbeque stored well and I envisioned sandwiches Brian would bring to Ivan and me. Then again, there might not be an Ivan and me in a couple of days.

*****

Mama got me up at four thirty. She tried to get me to eat but my stomach wasn't up yet. I put on my new cutoffs and grabbed the picnic basket.

It felt like one of Brian's weights was in the bottom of the basket. There were five of us this time. I hoped Boris was hungry. I walked the basket around to put it in the truck before going into the house.

There was a light on inside the truck. Someone had left the door open. I worried the battery might run down. I put the basket in the bed and I was ready to go make sure the door of the truck was closed, when Mr. Aleksa stood up.

“Oh, Clay, I'm glad to see you,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I put Mama's basket in the back.”

“Your Mama is a special woman. We catch a fish for her, OK.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, as he came around the truck and put an arm over my shoulder.

This wasn't his usual demeanor. He'd never been overly friendly.

“Boris told me what happened yesterday. I don't want to loose you, son. You're a born fisherman. I've never seen anyone as curious about the sea as you.”

“I'm not going anywhere, unless you tell me to get lost. You're my boss, until you tell me I don't work for you any more.”
“This is good. We're A-OK then.”

“I worry about Ivan. He's a smart boy, Clay, but he is a boy. What is going on between my sons, I don't know, but what I do know is Ivan depends on you. I depend on you. I want you to know that.”

“I know it now. Thank you.”

“Until you came, after Boris left us, Ivan was lonely boy. They'd been together all their lives, those two. Boris' head is too full of the girls now.”

“Ivan mentioned that,” I said.

“These two have the temper. This has nothing to do with you. Boys are good for working, but way too ready to fight too.”

“Yes, sir.”

You're Ivan's only real friend. Besides Boris Ivan doesn't care for most boys.”

He said what he had to say. Mr. Aleksa wanted to set things right according to his needs. He wasn't the one who needed to set things right.

“Come on in, we'll get a cup of coffee,” Mr. Aleksa said. “The boys should be up. We leave in a few minutes.”

“I've been looking forward to it,” I said, as Mr. Aleksa led me into the house.

Ivan sat at the table with a cereal bowl in front of him. When our eyes met, he quickly looked down into the cereal bowl.

“Hey, Clay. Glad you showed up. I hoped the Aleksa boys' feuding didn't run you off.”

“I work for your father. You can feud all you want. No sweat off my balls.”

“Sports fishing isn't anything like what we usually do, Clay. This is more a pleasure trip. We don't get Boris on the boat too often,” Mr. Aleksa explained. “He's never caught the big fish.”

“How big?” I asked.

Mr. Aleksa shook me by the shoulders lightly, saying, “Big fish like you.”

“Aren't you going to say hello, Ivan,” Mr. Aleksa said, as Ivan refused to look at me.

“Hi,” Ivan said, his eyes met mine for a second before he looked away.

“Hi, back,” I said, being willing to let this drama run its course. “Nice outfit.”

*****

Kenny released the bow line and the Vilnius Two, engines purring, eased out of the harbor and into the fresh new morning. There was the slightest bit of light as we turned toward the southwest and by the time we were leaving land behind, the horizon appeared with a ridge of low moderately dark clouds.

Overhead was clear. We had fair skies and following seas. The air carried the fragrance of the gulf. The smell of salt was in it. On my first trip out into the gulf, I was apprehensive once I could no longer see land. Now I lived to be deep out in the gulf. This was where I worked. We were going where the big fish were.

The boat remained quiet. Kenny went about doing his morning chores.

Four seats had been bolted to the Vilnius Two's decking. Two faced aft(rear), and one each faced starboard(right) and port(left). Each seat had its own harness.

Ivan was in the starboard seat facing aft. His feet were propped up on the boat's side. Boris sat in the seat next to him. Both looked to where the Vilnius Two had been. They didn't speak to or look at each other.

Getting a cup of coffee, I stood inside the bridge next to Mr. Aleksa. He smiled as he piloted his boat toward the fishing grounds he'd decided upon. We might change spots from time to time, depending on our success. I was anxious to know what sport fishing was. Big game fishing gave me a better idea of what we were going to do, but big was subjective in most cases.

Kenny took some time showing us the rods and reels Mr. Aleksa picked for us. I liked one of the smaller rigs. Embarrassing myself was always a concern for me. I could handle the rod and reel I picked out.

Ivan, Boris, and I listened to Kenny without needing to speak. Kenny was deckhand on all of Mr. Aleksa's sport fishing adventures, since four businessman from Seattle paid him to outfit his boat to take them where the big fish lived.

It created another stream of income for Mr. Aleksa. The fishermen paid for the boat, the captain's time, and for the use of the equipment. It didn't matter how good they were at fishing. That made it a money making proposition.

When I sat in one of the side facing seats, Kenny came over and immediately showed me the proper way to strap into the harness.

“Here,” he said, handing me a dangling strap. “Pull it.”

When I pulled it the awkward harness tightened around my body.

“Take this line,” he said, showing me a line on the opposite side of the harness.

When I pulled it, the harness eased up if I moved around in the seat.

“Why do I need all this stuff?”

“I'd let you find out for yourself, but I wouldn't want to lose you overboard. I think Mr. Aleksa might not appreciate that.”

“Lose me overboard?”

“Wait and see, Clay. Me describing it won't really explain it. You'll be happy to have that harness if you hook into something bigger than you.”

“Bigger than me?” I asked him, watching his face.

“Way bigger than you, Clay.”

“I'll let you catch that one, OK?” I said and Kenny laughed.

I wasn't afraid of water. Being yanked overboard by a fish sounded like something to avoid.

As daylight took over, the great expansive sea was pleasantly mellow. It was plenty warm when I sat down in front of the bridge, leading back on a spot just below the glass where Mr. Aleksa stood to steer the boat. I sipped coffee and looked at how broad Kenny's shoulders had become, as he sat on the bow in front of me.

He looked back over his shoulder as if he felt my eyes on him. He scooted up beside me, leaning his back against the outside of the bridge.

“You OK?” he asked.

“Fine. You?” I asked.

“Isn't this great. I love it up here. I like getting where we're going first. I say a prayer that the fish will be biting. Stupid huh?”

“No, sweet,” I said. “I didn't know what to make of you when we first met, Kenny. You're OK.”

“I don't know what to make of me either. I do the best I can.”

You never had to tell Kenny to do something twice. Sometimes you didn't have to tell him once. I wasn't sure how Kenny would get along if not for Mr. Aleksa, but Mr. Aleksa would be lost without Kenny.

*****

The Vilnius Two slowed and I felt the boat go into neutral.

“When you hook something, I'll be beside you,” Kenny said reassuringly. “I'll give you some basic tips to help you reel in a fish.”

Kenny knew what we were there for. He was soft spoken and friendly.

I watched Ivan and Boris as they picked out big and bigger rigs. I returned to the one I'd decided on when Kenny opened the closet where they were stored.

Instead of casting the big rigs, which would have been a joke for Ivan and Boris, because of the size of the things. When the lines were in the water, the boat moved forward to let the line out.

Kenny put 'chum' in the water before the boat moved forward. It was a gooey bloody mix of fish heads, tails, and fishy innards. I suspected there was a ton of the stuff at the fish warehouse.

“When you want to cast, let me show you the first time,” Kenny said. “I like that rig. I've used it. You won't catch no fish giganticus, but twenty or thirty pound fish bite on it. Anything bigger than that and you need to let me handle it.”

“The harness?” I asked, as Ivan and Boris sat facing behind us, watching their line disappear into the gulf.

“Nah! I like standing. You'll see how I do it. My rigs about that size. Watch me a few minutes and you'll pick it right up. Believe me, if I can do something well, it isn't hard.”

“I think you do everything well, Kenny. I don't know of anyone who knows their job as well as you do,” I said.

Ivan turned his head to look at where I stood five feet behind his seat. I turned to face Kenny.

“You're just saying that, Clay. You're just being nice to me.”

“I don't say things I don't believe, Kenny. I'm nice to you because you're a nice guy.”

“Cool. I like you,” he said. “Most guys don't like me.”

“I like you fine,” I said.

*****

The boat drifted between ten that morning and noon.

One time Ivan's reel began to click.

Click! ...Click! ...Click.

This was significant because Mr. Aleksa and Kenny both turned right to that sound, moving toward Ivan's seat.

The clicking stopped and they relaxed. My rod and reel still leaned against my seat. I watched the brothers Aleksa from a spot where it wasn't easy for them to see me.

If standing on the beach or on Ivan's deck offered a spectacular view, bobbing in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico wasn't all that shabby either.

There were birds. Some landed on the top and the bow of the boat. A pelican landed where Kenny usually sat, standing on one leg. It was a funny looking bird. I'd seen pictures but I'd never seen a pelican up close. A face only a mother could love.

Kenny used a rig smaller than the one I picked out and over a half an hour he caught a snapper, a grouper, and a blue fish. He did this by pacing back and forth with his rig. He put his rig down to get his catch into the holds and he came back with an orange Tru Ade. “How often do you guys fish like this?” I asked, only fishing with nets until then.

“Five or six times a year. Men come looking to go sport fishing. They pay big bucks to go out for a day or overnight. This trip is for Boris. The boss wants him to catch his first big fish,” Kenny said.

Ivan caught a cobia that was about two feet long. It took him a little time to finally have the fish on deck where we could inspect it before it went into the holds.

After watching for a while, I fished for an hour or so. I caught a moderate sized amberjack and a red snapper. Boris caught a flounder that was the biggest catch so far.

Boris caught two red snappers in a row to equal the number of fish Kenny caught before deciding Tru Ade was more fun.

Ivan and I ate one of the sandwiches my mother fixed for us. Now I leaned against the backside of the bridge, unwrapping my lunch. Ivan slid down beside me, leaving plenty of room between us, as he carefully unwrapped his egg salad sandwich.

Nothing was said.

We didn't look at each other.

“Want a root beer?” Ivan asked. “I'm thirsty.”

“Coke, please,” I said.

“Pepsi,” he said. “Dad caught a good sale on Pepsi. He's a sucker for a sale. Saved a nickel a bottle.”

“Pepsi's fine,” I said.

He brought me back the cold soda.

“They're ice cold,” Ivan said, looking at me as if he wanted to say more.

“That's Good. Cold is good. Thank you,” I said, taking a long refreshing swig of soda.

It was early afternoon and the gulf was calm. The temperature was mild. The boat bobbed easily in the water.

Boris stayed seated and waited for his big fish.

Kenny remained close to Boris.

Mr. Aleksa drank coffee and stood near the bridge.

*****

Chapter 18

Big Fish

Kenny took Boris a sandwich, as he waited for a fish to bite his bait. Nothing we caught so far could be considered big. It was routine to have forty pound fish and bigger in the fishing nets.

“We've put in enough time here. We're moving,” Mr. Aleksa advised us.

The reels whirled as the line came in. We were underway much of the afternoon. The sun sank from high in the sky to much lower in the sky behind us. Our heading was south by southeast. We traveled at ten knots for four hours.

Arriving at a spot Mr. Aleksa liked, his sons let out their line. Then the engines were shut down. I calculating we were somewhere near the bottom of the Florida peninsula west of the Florida Keys.

With the sun lower in the western sky, the heat wasn't as intense, and we had found an offshore breeze. The water had more of a chop as tides and winds shifted at the end of the day.

We began to drift. I stayed glued to my seat behind where Ivan sat. I didn't cast my line again. By swiveling my seat I could watch the brothers Aleksa wait.

The gentle motion of the boat had me close to falling asleep. I didn't sleep the night before. While watching was more interesting than fishing, it did nothing to keep me awake.

Kenny stood in between the two stern seats, ready to serve either brother. Mr. Aleksa stood in the door to the bridge. No one had anything to say. It was all about what the fish did now.

We waited. We drifted. The light of day faded.

The clouds thickened as we drifted toward the south. The clear sky had filled with clouds until the sun was gone before it set. In August you couldn't usually buy a cool breeze. The humidity was sky high. Sweating was the order of the day. Even with the sun blocked completely, we sweat.

After an hour in the new spot, Boris unstrapped, leaned his rig against the stern, “Got to pee, Dad. Got to stretch my legs. I'm not accustomed to being still for so long.”

He stood beside my seat and relieved himself with gusto. It was impossible to miss his process of elimination. I'd seen more and had a better view yesterday but I still didn't want to miss anything. He either didn't know or didn't care where my eyes were.

After getting relief, I watched him and Kenny stand near the galley door, eating the sandwiches they'd taken from Mama's picnic basket. They put their heads together, shoulders gently rubbing, as they spoke softly. One laughed and then the other one did.

It occurred to me that Boris touched base with all the boys, me, his own brother, and now Kenny was delighted to serve Boris. Their posture was more than friendly. These two knew each other and they looked comfortable together.

The jury was still out for me. Forget yesterday and I might like Boris. I suppose I did like him in a way that wasn't comfortable. I didn't trust Boris. He'd done nothing to show me I could. He knew Ivan and I were close friends, and yet he had no difficulty coming between us, or did Ivan and I do it ourselves? I didn't know anything, but I didn't like how casually he disregarded his brother and me.

I remembered Ivan telling me that Kenny was on the boat when Boris worked for his father, before his move to Tampa. I judged Kenny and Boris to be the same age.

Ivan remained seated with his back to me. His harness was on but hung loosely off his shoulders. The sweat beaded near where his hair stopped on his neck. The rivulets of sweat ran from his neck over his shoulders. Ivan didn't move a muscle while I watched him.

When I looked back to Kenny and Boris, they were facing each other and smiling. Boris' rig sat with its line stretched far beyond the boat's stern, where it disappeared into the water.

Mr. Aleksa spoke from the door of the bridge.

“Boris, you shouldn't leave your rod and reel for too long. You get something on your line and a two hundred dollar reel is lost overboard. Kenny, you know better than to distract the fishermen.”

“Sorry, boss. Wasn't paying attention,” Kenny said, dodging straight to the rod and reel as if it might leap overboard any second.

This was the strongest rebuke I'd heard come from Mr. Aleksa. It took Boris to get the dependable Kenny into trouble. I'm sure I didn't need to point this out to Mr. Aleksa.

Kenny wasn't the distraction.

After another hour or so, Mr. Aleksa was back in the bridge doorway saying, “May as well bring in your line. There's a place near here where we took two marlin out. Not to mention the biggest damn swordfish I ever seen. You remember that swordfish, Kenny?”

“Sure do. We got the marlin on two different trips, but we got a marlin and that swordfish on the same trip.”

“That's right,” Mr. Aleksa said. “We're heading there. Not far from the Gulf Stream. Those buggers get in the stream and cruise. That's a better spot to spend the night. This will be our last move of the day.”

As the engines awoke, Ivan leaned his rig on the stern and joined Boris and Kenny near the galley entryway. They'd discovered the treats in the picnic basket, as evening appetites kicked in. My appetite remained unenthusiastic. It was too hot for me to eat, but I wanted a cold soda.

*****

The picnic basket ended up on deck between Kenny and Boris as they picked through it to find what appealed to them.

“Wish there was a candy bar,” Kenny said, rummaging. “I knew there was something I forgot to tell the skipper to buy me.”

“This potato salad is good,” Boris said. “I don't like potato salad. Your mother must be some cook, Clay.”

“A lot like your mother, huh, Boris?”

The brothers got a belly laugh out of that joke.

Even with the engines at half throttle and the three of them cutting up, Mr. Aleksa could be heard, “Ivan!”

“Sorry, Daddy. It's the truth.”

“Ivan!” Mr. Aleksa said.

“Yes, sir,” Ivan said, feeling his father's displeasure with him.

“Any more potato salad?” Ivan asked. “I like your mother's potato salad.”

“Hold up, Kenny,” I said, and Kenny dropped what was in his hand, moving back from the picnic basket.

“This cake is like a candy bar. You'll like it,” I said, handing it to Kenny. “Here's a potato salad. It's down to the right near the bottom. There's slaw and macaroni salad too.”

“Cool,” Ivan said, taking the container and a spoon I handed him.

“Any other requests? There's plenty of food. If you turn it upside down you won't be able to find anything. I know how Mama packs.”

“Cool,” Boris said. “Got more of that cake? Sounds good.”

“Ten pieces enough?” I asked.

“One will do, thank you,” Boris said, taking the cake.

“Can I have another potato salad? I love that stuff,” Ivan said. I carried a container over to his seat.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and looking at my face for the first time since we'd left the harbor.

“You're welcome,” I said.

“I'm going to get a root beer. You want a Coke?” Ivan asked, glancing toward my eyes for an instant before he looked down at his hands.

“Pepsi. Your daddy got a deal on Pepsi,” I reminded him.

“Oh yeah. I heard that somewhere,” Ivan said.

I didn't move. A minute later he handed me the Pepsi and took his seat to finish eating.

“Can I have a sip of your Pepsi? I forgot what it tastes like,” he said, looking up from his potato salad.

“Do you think you deserve some of my Pepsi?” I asked, as if I expected him to say he was sorry and it would never happen again.

He looked away from my face again.

I held out the Pepsi so he could see it. He took a single swig and handed it back. He brightened ever so slightly, but he felt what I felt. There was a distance between us that hadn't been there bore.

“Your mother is a thoughtful lady,” Ivan said to his food. “Not to mention a fantastic cook.”

He didn't look up to tell me this.

“She's also responsible for me being on this fishing trip. I wasn't coming after what you had to say to me yesterday,” I said without reservation or hesitation. “She told me to think about it. I was likely to lose something very special if I didn't come today.”

He looked at me wide eyed but said nothing. I could see the wheels turning. My anger with him wanted to explode out of me. I didn't let it happen. Whatever came of this fishing trip, it would dictate how Ivan and I related to each other from then on.

I didn't want a friend who could turn on me the way he had.

*****

I fell asleep on deck, leaning against the bridge, once we got to our overnight fishing spot. The water was a little rougher and the night cooled off enough for sleep to be possible.

Something woke me from a sound sleep. It was daylight. I'd heard something that alerted me. I didn't know what. Without being completely awake, I realized I'd heard a sound, but the deck was quiet. I listened carefully, eyes closed, still half asleep. I wanted to disregard the sound and fall back to sleep.

Then, with the cobwebs clearing, I heard the sound again.

Click! ...Click! ...Click!

Kenny and Mr. Aleksa moved on the deck. Ivan yawning in the seat next to Boris. Boris was strapped into his seat, waiting for his shot at catching a big fish. He was sitting rigid in his seat.

Every eye was on Boris. He literally sat on the edge of his seat. The harness was on his shoulders but the straps hung loose. I wanted to yell at him to pull his straps tight, but I didn't. He had plenty of advisers. I was a watcher.

Click! ...Click came right together.

I moved to my seat, swiveling it so I could see the reel that Boris held.

“Sit back son. Pull your harness tight. This fish is about to take the bait,” Mr. Aleksa advised softly.

Kenny pulled the harness tight around Boris, checking the straps.

The click..., click, click, came even faster the next time.

Then a sudden shrill whirling sound followed, as line left the reel at an incredible rate of speed.

The fish had the bait and he was running with it. The question in my mind was did Boris have the fish or did the fish have him?

The reel was smoking a few minutes after the fish began to run. Kenny, apparently expecting this, stepped between the stern seats to spill fresh water on the reel to cool it off as the line left it.

Kenny knew his job all right. He'd seen a reel smoke before. I calculated friction created the heat that could set the reel, or the line, on fire.

Mr. Aleksa stood behind Boris' seat and put his hands on his son's shoulders as if to steady him.

“Relax, Boris,” Mr. Aleksa said soothingly. “Let him run. He'll get tired. Don't put on more drag until he stops. Then we give him drag. We wear this fish out, Boris. Than you catch him.”

“How much line have I got, Daddy?” Boris asked, sounding more like an uncertain little boy.

“Plenty. Don't worry about the line. This fish will stop to think in a minute. That's when we make it harder for him to run.”

It was the longest damn minute in history. The line kept feeding out into the gulf. The gigantic reel was beginning to look empty. If he didn't stop to rest soon, there wouldn't be any line left.

As quickly as the piercing unwinding started, it stopped.

We all checked the reel for line. You could have heard a pin drop on deck. Every ear was tuned to the stunning absence of sound.

“Okay, put on a little drag, son. Get the tip of your rod up, and now we wait,” Mr. Aleksa said.

If any of us knew what was coming, we'd have cut that line. The sun was starting to rise and the little bit of cool air we'd found overnight was gone. It was so still that there seemed to be no life beyond the boat.

“What do I have, Daddy?” Boris asked, taking a quick look over his shoulder at his father.

“Hard to say until he comes up. He's thinking now. He might take more line. He'll most likely come back toward us. Running hasn't worked. He's likely to try another tactic to throw that hook. The added drag will bring him up sooner.”

Boris looked away from his father and back to the reel.

We waited.

“How long, Daddy?” Boris asked, after ten minutes. “What's he doing?”

Mr. Aleksa stared at the water like he could see the fish.

“Last fish we caught here took six hours, boss?” Kenny said.

“Five or six. They don't just jump onto the boat. We wait for him, Boris. He's in charge for now. Take the line he gives you. Let him do the work. He's got extra drag now. Running against the drag wears him out that much faster and he won't do that for long. He should turn back toward us. When he does, you take the line he gives you, and, when you get back all your line, son, you'll catch this big fish.”

Boris listened to his father. Kenny centered Boris' feet on the seat's bottom plate. It gave Boris leverage, once the fight began.

“You think he broke the line, Daddy?” Boris asked after five minutes.

“No,” Mr. Aleksa said calmly. “Be ready. He'll talk to you in a minute. It's going to take all you have to land this fish, Boris. I've seen grown men break before they could land their big fish.”

It was another one of Mr. Aleksa's endless minutes. In the meantime Ivan cranked in his line, leaning his rig against the stern. He swiveled his seat so he faced his brother.

Kenny stood to Boris' right, his hand on Boris' shoulder. Mr. Aleksa stood center deck, watching the water behind the boat. He looked like a man who had done this many times.

Tired of the seat I was in, I leaned on the bridge while sitting on top of the starboard side rail, using the boom for support. It gave me a clear view of Boris and Ivan. I had no interest in being in the middle of the fray. Keeping my distance was OK.

*****

The unwinding sound started anew after maybe fifteen minutes, but it didn't last long. The drag did what Mr. Aleksa said it would do. The fish didn't like it. The running produced the clicking sound. As the fish felt the extra drag, he slowed and then stopped.

“What's he doing, Daddy. He stopped again.”

“Keep your tip up and start reeling in your line. He's coming back this way now.”

Sure enough, as Boris cranked in line, it was effortless. Kenny coached Boris into a rhythm for cranking in the line.

“Drag?” Kenny asked Mr. Aleksa.

“One click up. We don't want him breaking the line if he decided to run again. He likes this better than having the drag on him, but he can change directions and start running again in an instant.”

I could hear Boris breathing hard from twenty feet away. His father and Kenny were breathing hard too. Ivan looked relaxed but he didn't take his eyes off his brother. The heat was on in more ways than one.

An occasional squawk from a seagull broke into the quiet. The loudest noise was our breathing and the sound of Boris cranking his reel as he added line back to it.

Boris continued cranking in line for at least as long as the fish's original run. He stopped to catch his breath from time to time, and then he began cranking again. There was nothing to be said. This was how you played a big fish, or how he played you, depending on the outcome.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the heat increased. We all sweat without needing to move. Boris was soaked. His t-shirt was sopping wet and his sweat wet the deck around his seat, after an hour of big game fishing.

“How much longer, Daddy?” Boris asked, almost panting.

I suspected we'd reached the two hour mark.

“As long as he gives you line, take it. He's not done running yet, Boris. We are maybe half way home. He takes line. You take line. It's his turn. Get as much line as he gives you, or until you feel him. Then he's going to fight you. That's when the work begins.”

“The work?” Boris said, sounding exhausted.

It was hot.

Kenny left Boris' side for the first time. He came back with an orange Tru Ade, handing it to Boris.

“Yuk! You know I drink root beer,” Boris complained.

“Forgot. It's been a while, Boris,” Kenny explained.

“I'll get one,” Ivan said, jumping up and heading into the galley.

When he returned, he handed me a Pepsi, he had a root beer for himself and one for Boris, who almost drank it dry before going back to cranking on the reel.

Boris came up short five minutes later.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Tell me what you feel,” Mr. Aleksa said. “You're the man with the fish.”

“I feel like he stopped. He's right on the end of my line. I feel his weight pulling against the line.”

“Lift your rod smoothly and keep cranking. You and the fish just met each other. He'll run in a minute but crank him in as much as you can. He isn't going to like that. The hook has got his attention now.”

Boris lifted the tip of the rod twice, cranking in a half dozen turns of the reel each time, and then he stopped.

“He's too heavy, Daddy. I can't crank him in any farther. He's not moving as far as I can tell.”

“That's fine. He knows he's caught now. He still has some tricks, but he's going to jump soon. That's when we know what you've got.”

Mr. Aleksa sounded confident. Boris looked beat. I was tired from just watching. Boris did begin to crank on the line again. This time the effort took all his strength. It didn't take long for him to need a rest.

After a few minutes, Boris dipped the tip of the rod, cranking the reel a half dozen more times. Then he stopped again.

The fish might have been right there, but that was a long way from the boat.

“He's going to come up to see if he can't throw the hook. Just wait for him to do that, Boris. You still have a ways to go. You don't want to wear yourself out in the first couple of hours.”

As long as his minutes were, I didn't want to live through too many of Mr. Aleksa's hours. There was nothing to do but wait.

The sun moved higher and the heat of the day increased. There was no breeze. The water stayed still. The Vilnius Two drifted.

“It's all the line he's going to give up,” Boris said. “I still feel him. What do I do, Daddy?”

“You're doing fine, son. He's resting. Keep lifting your rod and winding in line. You'll force him to come up that way. He'll take off soon,” Mr. Aleksa said. “Then we'll get a look at him. He'll come up to look around soon.”

I took off my wet shirt as the heat started getting to me. It was going to be a long day, and the fight hadn't started yet. They were just toying with each other so far. Round one was a draw.

By the time the fish began to run again, Boris had rested, re-hydrated, and looked better prepared for a fight.

“Keep an eye out two hundred yards or so. That's where he is,” Mr. Aleksa said. “He'll only be out of the water a few seconds, but you don't want to miss it.

I watched the horizon for any sign of a jumping fish. The increased drag made each run shorter and then Boris claimed back the line. The fish was fighting a losing battle. I wasn't sure I shouldn't root for the fish.

“Once he figures out he can't unhook himself, he'll come up. It's been over two hours and we haven't seen him yet,” Mr. Aleksa explained to me as I stood behind the man with the fish on the line. I felt stiff from lack of motion. There was no where to go.

“Give me a sip of that,” Boris said to Kenny.

Kenny handed over his orange Tru Ade. Boris took a couple of swigs, made a face, and handed it back. You need to switch brands.

Only Mr. Aleksa kept his shirt on. The tan shorts Ivan wore looked like he'd just come out of the water. Sweat rolled down his chest and off his shoulders. He stayed in the seat beside his brother.

The fish wasn't baking in the sun, but that was his only advantage. Boris' shoulders had slumped from expending so much energy trying to get back his line. The weight was on Boris' well developed arms and shoulders. He looked tired.

After the latest run of two or three minutes, we all watched the horizon. No one wanted to miss the fish rising out of the sea to fly. The one thing I was sure of, he couldn't fly for long.

Sea birds circled, watching the battle. Boris dipped his rod, winding up line, and stopped, pulling the tip of the rod back up with some effort. He got back a minimum amount of line.

“That's it. Work him, Boris. He's coming up any minute.”

“It's gone,” Boris said alarmed, cranking in line as easy as you pleased. “I broke the line. He's gone,” Boris yelled.

“He's there,” Mr. Aleksa reassured him. “Stay with him, son. He's coming up. He's just about run out of tricks, this smart fish of yours. You've got him now.”

Ivan offered Boris his root beer. Boris drank it straight down.

“Thanks!” Boris said, taking a half sandwich from Kenny. “I've got to piss like a race horse. This damn thing needs to hurry up.”

“No shame in peeing yourself, boy,” Mr. Aleksa said. “Don't leave the fish.”

“He's moving, Daddy,” Boris said alarmed. “I feel him pulling on the line, but he isn't taking any. What's he up to?”

Boris was cranking furiously. All residence ceased. The rod rested on the stern of the boat as he brought in more and more line.

“The lines broke. He was there and now I've got all this line.”

“He's coming up,” Mr. Aleksa warned. “Get as much line as he'll give you. He'll run once he jumps. The real fight is about to begin.”

I stared to where I thought the fish was. That's when I saw it coming straight out of the water. it arched its back when it was ten feet in the air, and dove for the bottom. Boris kept winding the line. The fish was a couple of hundred yards from the boat.

“Must be eight foot,” Ivan said. “That's a big fish!”

“Ten,” Kenny said. “That's a ten foot marlin.”

“Four to five hundred pounds, I'd guess. You've got yourself a marlin, Boris,” Mr. Aleksa said proudly. “It's been a little over three hours. The last one we caught out here took six hours.”

“Six hours!” Boris cried in anguish. “I don't know I can last, Daddy. I'm beat now. My arms ache. I got to piss.”

“It's your fish. It's up to you to catch him,” Mr. Aleksa ordained. “They don't make trophies out of them because they're easy to catch, Boris.”

“My arms feel like they're asleep,” Boris said. “I can't do this, Daddy. I got to piss.”

I don't know I could have done it, but I wasn't a fisherman's son.

“Get up. I'll catch him for you,” Ivan said to Boris. “If you're too tired, let me do it. I'll bring that sucker in. Let me, Dad.”

Boris was already unstrapping and getting out of the seat. Kenny used the container of water to wash away the sweat and dirt before Ivan sat down and slipped into the harness.

Mr. Aleksa shrugged his indifference to the switch. He retired to the bridge, leaving his sons to deal with the marlin.

I figured it to be between nine and ten when Ivan tightened the harness, taking up the fight.

It could have been later. I was no longer sure what time it was.

*****

Chapter 19

Tender Trap

I slipped into the seat Ivan vacated. It faced in his direction and would give me a closeup of the action. I wanted to be close in case Ivan needed something. At the same time I didn't have anything to say, as I watched him put on the harness Boris left empty.

The fish cooperated with the shift change. I kept my eye on the rig Boris leaned against the stern, not knowing what I'd do if it began to move. Ivan kept glancing at it as he prepared himself to do battle.

I had kept an eye on Ivan the last few hours. He'd kept an eye on Boris after the fish was hooked. I wondered if he calculated his turn was coming. He knew Boris better than anyone.

Watching Boris told Ivan a lot about what to do with a big fish.

Ivan's motions were smooth after he picked up the rig and began reeling in line. He'd seen what Boris did. He'd heard his father's instructions to Boris.

It was only the two of us on the stern of the boat at first. Kenny followed Boris into the galley. It would be cooler there, and that's where the food was. Mr. Aleksa walked away rather than participate in what he must have seen as a total capitulation by his eldest son. I'd seen him go back to the bridge, although the engines were off and we'd been drifting all morning.

The heir apparent to the Vilnius Two walked away from his chance to catch one of the big fish. Mr. Aleksa returned to coach Ivan as enthusiastically as he'd coached Boris. First he had to rid himself of the disappointment I'd seen on his face, when Boris gave up the fight.

Boris was happy to be rid of the fish. He'd walked out on his father once before, I didn't see this as being much different from that, but I guess there is hope until there is none left.

I didn't see pretty boy Boris taking over the helm of the Vilnius Two. Ivan and I worked the boat all that summer and Boris wasn't the type to be knee deep in fish twice a day. I could be wrong, but I didn't think so.

In no time at all Mr. Aleksa returned to take his place behind Ivan. Kenny also reappeared. He stood close to Ivan's seat, but far enough away not to block my view. I didn't know what I could do for Ivan, but I wanted to stay close just in case.

Boris returned from below deck and sat in the seat where I'd been sitting. With the second stern seat turned in Ivan's direction, I could see Boris out of the corner of my eye four feet away.

I could see his sleek sweaty body without looking at him and I marveled at the perfection he'd achieved in developing his body, but at the same time I wondered what it was good for.

Boris sat with a root beer in his right hand and one of my mother's sandwiches on his stomach. He leaned back with his eyes closed, unaware of my inspection of him. His knees were bent and his feet were flat on the deck as he rested.

I wondered what was going through his head. Even I wouldn't have quit in the middle of a fight, unless I was in way over my head. Boris simply quit when faced with another three hours of doing battle with his big fish. What did he believed in? I knew nothing except what Ivan told me about his brother. What Ivan told me was now suspect.

My attention was quickly back on Ivan. He dipped his rod, reeling in line. Bringing the rod up, he reeled in more line. The fish was testing him now. The strain in Ivan's arms, chest, and shoulders was obvious. He found the fish by then. What would he do with it?

Each time Ivan got the rod back up, he stopped cranking, letting the rod dip before he reeled in more line. It's what Mr. Aleksa was trying to get Boris to do. Boris struggled to do it. Ivan didn't struggle.

Boris didn't like using the muscles he'd built. They were for show, but as of yet, he hadn't shown me much.

“That's it. Let him know you've got him, Ivan,” Mr. Aleksa said, buoyed by Ivan's effort at controlling the fish. I resented that merely looking at him made me feel things I wasn't sure I wanted to feel. This is what kept me confused about Ivan's brother.

It wasn't long before the marlin rose from the depths, becoming airborne again. It did this three times in a row and each time it arched its body, wriggling to free himself of the hook.

It was a majestic sight and the hook stayed where it was.

What I wouldn't give to have a movie camera. It was a rare sight I was seeing. I envied Ivan for having such a fish on his line, but I was sad for the fish. More confusion toyed with my brain. Why was I so full of so many feelings.

“That's it, son. That's how it's done,” Mr. Aleksa said.

Boris and Kenny watched from near the seat I'd given up to get my closeup of the action. Kenny seemed drawn to Boris. Were we all drawn to his flame like moths unable to resist the light? Boris liked the attention Kenny paid to him. No expectations came with Kenny.

Ivan didn't so much think about doing something. He mostly did it. His muscles weren't as impressive as Boris', but he knew how to get the most out of them.

The first hour it looked like Ivan had everything under control. I thought at most, in another hour, Ivan would have his fish. I'd never been sport fishing and I was about to find out that this fish wasn't so easily convinced as I was.

The reel began whirling, making the shrill pitched sound again, and all bets were off. The fish was strong. He ran in spite of the drag.

“I've never seen a fish with so much reserve strength,” Mr. Aleksa said to himself. “It's over four hours and he's running again!”

*****

For the next hour Ivan sat motionless, waiting for the marlin to tire. The fish was running for his life. He wasn't ready to give up yet. The line Boris and Ivan took from the fish, belonged to the fish again.

The shrill sound turned to clicking and the clicks became more labored, and then the fish stopped moving.

“Little more drag, Ivan. I can't tell you he won't run again. More drag will discourage him. He's got to be exhausted. I've never seen a fish run this late in the game.”

“It won't break the line?” Ivan asked with concern.

“Can't say it won't. Can't say he won't keep running. We're coming to the end of the line, son. The yellow line you see is the final hundred yards. It's how I know when a reel is running out. We've got to get him coming back this was or he'll be gone if he runs for a few more minutes.”

Ivan listened to his father, moving the drag up one click.

“We had him right behind the boat, Daddy,” Ivan said. “What happened?”

“This is a clever fish. Maybe he let us get him behind the boat. Maybe he thought if we got a look at him, we'd give up the idea of trying to catch him.”

*****

The heat was relentless. We all drank soda and Mr. Aleksa drank coffee. Ivan relaxed long enough to drink the root beer I brought him. When our eyes met, he nodded his appreciation. I handed him half the sandwich I brought for myself, thinking he just might eat it. When he gobbled it down, I gave him the other half. He gladly took it.

I settled back into the second stern seat. I wasn't that hungry. I'd get a sandwich later. I noticed Boris going into the galley. Kenny was two paces behind him. They'd been eating for an hour. There was plenty of food. I didn't think they could eat it all, but I was going to get a sandwich before long just in case.

It was still cool below deck this time of day, but I couldn't watch Ivan and be cool at the same time. There wasn't a cloud in the sky.

I focused on Ivan as he began taking back line. He took his time. There was a lot of line out there.

It looked like the fish had run as far as he could go. As he came back toward us, Ivan reeled in line. For now the fish was cooperating. I was worn out watching.

Mr. Aleksa stood behind Ivan, looking beyond the stern of the boat. He seemed to be seeing the marlin, thinking and swimming.

“Did you set up the drag when he stopped?” Mr. Aleksa asked.

“Yes, sir. I set it up one notch. I've already got a lot of drag, Daddy,” Ivan said. “I'm getting line now. Maybe give him a click of drag back?”

“Yes, do that. His last run had to tire him. Too much drag is risky.”

I calculated Ivan was in his third hour of the fight. It was the hottest part of the day. Ivan was resting and so was the fish. I decided to go to the galley and rescue a sandwiches for myself. This time I'd eat it.

No one was in the galley. I took a couple of sandwiches and put the basket back in the cooler, retrieving a Pepsi and a root beer. I stopped at the door, listening for the other two boys, but I heard nothing. They'd probably gone to the bridge while I was focused on Ivan.

Mr. Aleksa took the sandwich I couldn't get Ivan to take. It was ham and cheese. It was the first food I'd seen him take that day. It had to be well after three in the afternoon. He'd hardly left either of his sons as they fished.

I ate the wonderful creamy egg salad, letting the soothing soda cool my throat. I wasn't hungry but I knew better than to bake in the sun and not eat something.

Sitting in the second stern seat, taking up my watch. I had no idea what would come next. For the last hour Ivan reeled in line and the fish offered no hint of his whereabouts.

*****

The marlin shot out of the sea like a rocket an hour after I had my sandwich. Speaking of discouraging. The marlin was a small fish on the horizon, but what an impressive jump. If that sucker was worn out, he sure fooled me.

Once again he was demonstrating he might be hooked but he wasn't caught yet. Ivan was immediately reeling in line. The fish was moving closer. A few hundred yards were easy to reel in, but when the fish settled on the bottom, he became hard to move.

Ivan continued to reel in line. It took a lot of effort. He stopped after fifteen minutes of fighting the dead weight. The energy he was expending wasn't worth the little bit of line the fish gave him. The wait was on, but gradually the fish was coming back to us.

The fatigue began to show on Ivan. The stiff back had bent. His motions were labored. He panted to get enough air. Luckily clouds began to fill the sky, filtering the sun's rays. The heat of the day passed and a slight breeze helped.

Ivan was well into his fourth hour. He'd surpassed the time Boris spent trying to catch the fish.

He let the rod dip, hesitated, reeled in line, lifting the rod, hesitating before letting the rod dip again. He was continually reeling in line now. The reel was filling up with line. The fish was close.

There was nothing I could do. I admired Ivan's stamina. I'd have given up a long time ago. I never thought Ivan was weak or lacked courage. He was still all the things he'd been to me but we had a distance between us that wasn't there before.

He'd hurt me and the jury was still out on how that was going to go. I wanted to touch him, say encouraging words, but I had none. In this arena Ivan was on his own.

By the amount of line on the reel, the fish wasn't far off by the middle of the fifth hour, but he remained invisible. Ivan kept reeling in line a few yards at a time. He would hesitate when he felt the fish. Then he'd struggle to reel in a few more feet of line. The fish kept coming closer.

He'd been at it for a long time. He had to be exhausted. A heavy overcast blocked the sun completely by then. It had cooled off from the upper nineties to the middle eighties. The breeze had picked up.

The marlin jumped near the place where we'd first seen him, but the jumps were weak, not nearly as impressive. Sightings of the marlin were exhilarating.

It was a shame to take such a magnificent creature out of the sea, but he seemed to be resigned to being caught now. He intended to stay free as long as he could, but his time was running out.

“You've got him now,” Mr. Aleksa said. “He's worn himself out. He can't get completely out of the water when he jumps.”

“Not to mention me, Dad,” Ivan said, working the reel and sounding tired.

“He used too much energy thinking he can outrun the hook that has him. Take as much line as you can. He might be done running but he isn't done fighting. He's close now. It won't be long.”

“I'll get him,” Ivan assured his father.

Ivan hadn't gotten up for over five hours. He was getting the fish closer without more than a little resistance. Each time he was making headway, the fish stopped, making him work for any line he got, but then he swam closer to the boat.

Ivan kept working the rod, cranking the reel, and when going got really slow, he'd hesitate to breathe and wait for the fish to begin swimming again. He always swam closer now. The pressure stayed on the hook he'd swallowed.

The sun was on its downward arc. Even with the clouds and an increasing breeze, it was hot. The fight had gone on all day.

The marlin ran maybe a hundred yards. Then he jumped once. I could see the disappointment on Ivan's face, but then the line was there for him to reel in. There was no resistance. The fish was swimming toward the boat again.

As disheartening as that last run was, it was over fast. Ivan reeled in line without resistance. He got back that hundred yards of line and more.

“What's he doing, Daddy?” Ivan asked.

“He's getting the pressure off that hook. Running doesn't work.”

The fish was tired and Ivan seemed like he was working on his final reserve of energy. He wasn't going to quit until that fish was on the deck, or he was. When he let the rod dip, it rested on the stern rail. It didn't come back up for a minute or more.

I waited for the rod to dip and stay on the rail, with Ivan not being able to life it again. Mr. Aleksa's eyes were on where the rod and the line rested against the railing. The line could snag and break on something.

The marlin jumped a few hundred feet behind the boat. He couldn't dive. He swam on the surface. The fish was marking time. He had been beaten, but we still had to get him on the boat..

That marlin intended to stay free as long as he could but his time was running out. Ivan, as tired as he looked, kept reeling in line. The fish swam closer as we all stood to watch the fight end.

“Want me to take it, Ivan?” Kenny asked. “He's almost to the boat. He's finished. You've beat him. I can get him into position so we can bring him on board. I'll need the rod and reel.”

Kenny stood close without moving the extra few feet to take the rig. This was his fish and no one could intercede until Ivan allowed it.

“I've got him,” Ivan said, reeling in more line. I'll get him to the boat and then you take over.”

“We're going to need the rod and reel so it doesn't snag on the stern, Ivan. When you're ready, we'll get him on the deck,” Mr. Aleksa said, staying out of Ivan's sight. His voice was reassuring.

“OK, when I get him to the boat. You say when,” Ivan said, seeing the wisdom in his father's words.

Each time he dipped the rod, it stayed dipped for minutes instead of seconds, before he could begin lifting it, pulling that huge weight closer to the boat.

The fish struggled, splashed, swam in circles twenty yards behind the boat. Looking down, as Ivan leaned back to bring in the final few feet of line, I saw blood on the foot plate under his feet. I was made a little queasy by this. Ivan used his feet for leverage to gain an advantage, but it was taking its toll.

The fish was out of moves. It had run out of time as it swam on the surface, making smaller and smaller circles as it came to the boat.

Yesterday the marlin owned the sea. It was down to its last few feet of life. I was just glad the fight was over. Kenny and Boris scrambled to be ready to bring the marlin onto the deck.

“OK, Ivan. Let me take it so I can guide him along the side.”

Mr. Aleksa's hand reached for the center of the rod as it leaned on the stern railing. Ivan hadn't moved for a couple of minutes. He'd dipped the rod as he'd done a thousand times that day, but it never came back up. I was thankful when Mr. Aleksa reached for the rig.

“We'll get him on the sling and let the boom do the work of lifting him onto the deck. Nice job, son. Fine job.”

Ivan watched his father moving toward the starboard side of the boat. He reeled in line as he went so the fish stayed tight against the line. Ivan leaned forward and rested his hands on his thighs, looking a bit shell shocked now that the fight was over.

Kenny gave Boris a gaff and they both leaned to hold the marlin against the side of the boat while the sling was brought to the fish.

“Great job, son. A beautiful fish,” Mr. Aleksa said, as Kenny and Boris arranged the sling around the marlin..

I went to the galley and brought back a root beer for Ivan. They were still positioning the marlin to lift onto the deck.

When I handed Ivan the cold drink, he looked up at me. His eyes were glass. I don't think he saw me, but he had no trouble turning the bottle of root beer up to drain it.

“OK, let's get him on deck,” Mr. Aleksa said. “The slings tight. Move back.”

The boom lifted the marlin straight out of the gulf, easing him onto the deck. The sling dropped away, giving us a full view. The marlin took up half the length of the deck.

I'd never seen a blue like the blue in that fish. There was gray and silver blended in a rainbow pattern that made the fish more beautiful close up.

His tail slapped the deck, making a substantial sound. It slapped one more time with almost no force left in it. The fish was caught. He understood that his time in the sea was done. There was no fight left, but he let us know he wasn't dead yet.

“Quarter of a ton,” Mr. Aleksa said. “Five hundred pounds of marlin. That's one hell of a fish, son.”

“Nine hours,” Kenny said. “The two of you fought it for over nine hours.”

“Never heard of one taking nine hours. A hell of a fish,” Mr. Aleksa bragged.

Ivan reached down to swivel his seat to get a good look. He showed no interest in getting up or getting any closer. You didn't need to get close to be able to appreciate the size of the thing. It was huge.

The fight was over and Ivan looked like he'd gone fifteen rounds with Mohammed Ali.

I was tired. I put my shirt on as the breeze became a wind that whipped around us. This made the water rougher and the boat moved around in the chop.

I took the container of water Kenny set behind Ivan's seat and poured it over the foot plate where Ivan's footprints were outlined in blood. Ivan watched me do it and he seemed to appreciate the removal of the evidence that he was hurt by the fish. You didn't take such a creature out of the sea without paying some price.

That marlin owned the sea a few hours ago. Now he decorated the deck of the Vilnius Two. It was a sad ending for a magnificent beast. I hated seeing the final bit of life drain out of him.

It had been a marlin's last hurrah. The fish had been beaten. He expended the last of his energy struggling to be free, but man prevailed as he usually did.

I looked away from it, having seen enough. There was nothing to say now. The rod with the huge reel was leaned against the starboard side. The marlin accepted its fate as its life ebbed away.

Ivan painstakingly released himself from the harness, but he didn't get up. He flexed his hands. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

“Nine foot, nine inches,” Mr. Aleksa said, holding a measuring tape.

“Trophy fish for certain,” Kenny said. “That's bigger than the one two years ago.”

“I believe so,” Mr. Aleksa said. “That went five hundred and eighty pounds. We'll need to get this one on the scale at the fish warehouse. Not bad for your first marlin, Ivan.”

“It's not mine.” Ivan immediately corrected. “I caught it for Boris. I just reeled in his line. It's his fish.”

He put Boris in the spotlight. He'd hooked the fish but lacked the will to catch it.

“You caught it. I didn't,” Boris said. “I don't want it. It's your fish.”

As they argued over the ownership of the fish, its tale flopped two feeble times. It clung to life as the brothers argued. I thought this was where I'd come in.

What a waste to take a beautiful living thing out of its element and no one wanted it. For the first time I didn't like fishing.

Ivan looked straight into my eyes as I watched the dying fish. I'm sure my sadness over this showed.

“Can we put it back?” Ivan asked out of the blue. “I don't take trophies. He belongs in the sea so he can make little marlin.”

“Your fish. You can do anything you want with it,” Mr. Aleksa said. “Your call.”

Surprisingly, Mr. Aleksa didn't sound opposed to the idea of putting it back.

“Will it live or just sink and die if we put it back?” Ivan asked.

Mr. Aleksa used his toe to nudge the marlin. The tail flipped once weakly.

“If we can get the hook out without damaging him, we can hold him against the side of the boat until he revives. He should be OK. He won't be a happy fish but he'll be a free fish,” Mr. Aleksa spoke carefully, considering each word.

“I've never put one back, son. I'm a fishermen. I can't make any guarantees on this. That's my opinion. It's your fish and if you say put him back, by God we put him back. I think he'll swim away without needing to be talked into it.”

“Put him back,” Ivan said, looking directly at me.

I'm certain he read my surprise.

“I'll help,” I said, anxious to get the fish back into the water.

“Kenny, you want to reach into his mouth and see if you can talk him out of that hook? I'm not reaching in there,” Mr. Aleksa said. “You've got to do easy like. He doesn't know we're putting him back.”

“Sure thing, boss. Someone want to tickle this sucker so he'll open wide?” Kenny asked, putting his arm up to the shoulder into the marlin's open mouth.

In a minute Kenny held up the hook triumphantly.

“OK, we need to let the boom bring the sling up around him. Just make sure he doesn't slide out. I'll take it slow,” Mr. Aleksa said.

We held him against the hull, slipping the sling away from him. The fish didn't react. I was sure he'd already died.

Putting a fish back is trickier than it sounds, especially a big fish. For a couple of minutes he was perfectly still. I was getting dizzy leaning over the side of the boat, but I held onto him. He'd either have to sink or swim.

Then, as Mr. Aleksa predicted, I felt his muscles coming back to life. The marlin seemed to shiver, tense, and he was gone.

No one had to tell me when to let go of a marlin.

There was laughter from everyone when we were no longer holding the fish. Knowing he was alive and able to swim away made me as happy as I can remember being. We'd done a good thing.

It was a marvelous fish. I'd never seen anything like it. The biggest fish we'd caught in the nets was way smaller. I watched the rough sea in the diminishing light. I heard the marlin breach the surface a few minutes after he took off. He was still on the starboard side but well in front of the boat when I heard him jump.

It was a good sign. No he wasn't happy but he was free.

Ivan, on the other hand, sat listlessly in the seat where he'd been sitting for over six hours. He looked pleased with himself, when I turned to find him watching me. I couldn't help but smile. I also shook my head.

I had a feeling he'd finally spoken to me. It was hard to miss the message he sent me. I still felt like crying and my confidence in him, in us, had been shaken.

I may have been happy about what he did but I wasn't certain I was ready to forgive him for hurting me. This was a matter of trust. It didn't simply recover with one act of kindness. I needed more.

“You want to get my shirt for me. I'm freezing,” Ivan said, as I came back toward him.

“You OK?” I asked, wanting to hear him say he was.

He looked up at me sheepishly not attempting to smile. He looked at his father, Kenny, and Boris standing in the doorway of the bridge, no doubt discussing the big fish.

“Do I look okay and do you care?” Ivan said, bringing his attention back to me.

“No you don't. Yes I do,” I answered.

“Don't say anything. Please! I don't think I can get up without help. If I can get to my bunk, I should be OK by tomorrow. Help me when no one is watching us.”

“OK,” I answered, not liking the sound of it.

“You OK, son?” Mr. Aleksa asked before following Boris and Kenny onto the bridge. “I'm going to move to someplace smoother for overnight. We'll decide what to do in the morning.”

“Fine, Dad. Just tired. I'm going to catch some sack time,” he said.

“Great job, Ivan. I'm proud of you,” Mr. Aleksa said, going onto the bridge.

“OK, help me up. Let me lean on you,” Ivan said.

I could see Ivan was exhausted. His feet had been bleeding but there was nothing else that looked too far out of the ordinary. Maybe a night in the bunk was what he needed. I'd help him even if I was mad at him.

Ivan leaned on me. We moved slowly. I shifted to let him step inside the galley first. I stepped inside, letting him lean on me again. We fit together easily as we moved into the narrow passageway. After a few steps, Ivan stopped, letting his face rest on my chest.

“You, OK?” I asked.

“Give me a second,” he said, and then he began moving again.

As I wrapped my arms around him during one of the rest stops, I wasn't sure he hadn't fallen asleep. It gave me a hot flash to have his body so close to mine. Our cheeks brushed and stayed together for a few steps at one point. His breathing sounded rough.

The heat was increasing below deck as it cooled off outside. Ivan had no complaints as we made our way to the crew quarters. He wrapped his arms around my neck as I eased him into the first bunk. He let out a long sigh once he was flat on his back.

We usually fell asleep on deck and weren't below decks that often. There was some bedding and a blanket that needed to be straightened around him. I lifted the hatch to let in more fresh air.

He lie perfectly still as I arranged the bunk for comfort.

“I'll be back in a second,” I said, and I brought back the medical kit from the galley.

I used the ointment for cuts and burns on his feet. I wasn't certain how bad they were but putting something on them couldn't hurt. He didn't move as I smooth it on the bottom of both feet.

Ivan was beaten up and exhausted. He didn't move once I got him on his back. He looked at me as I looked at him. I can't describe my feelings. I didn't like seeing him this way. I realized that I loved him and likely always would. He was both heroic and foolish.

I was as confused by my feelings as ever.

“Just when I think you can't possibly impress me more, you do. You are something. I'm not sure what.”

“Had to... do something... to show you I care...,” he said slowly, pacing his words and letting them hang there between us.

“Killing yourself to impress me is a bit much. A simple, 'l want to keep our friendship,' would work fine for me.”

“Not nearly... as impressive though,” he said, smiling at me.

He was a mess and I was crazy about him.

“You caught that monster for me?” I said. “You've ruined your hands. Your feet are bleeding. Please stop doing things for me.”

“They'll heal. You misunderstood. ...I caught it... for Boris. I ...put it back ...for you, because you're so ...crazy about wild things,” he said, smiling his warmest smile.

“Wild things like you?” I said, and he tried not to laugh.

I shook my head. I couldn't be mad at him any longer, and he knew it.

I sat on the bunk beside him, not ready to leave. I held his hand and we stared at each other.

“You going to be OK?” I asked, looking at his face. “Do you need something, Ivan?”

“I didn't mean to snap at you. ...I was angry with Boris. You know ...that. I could ...never ...be mad at you.”

“I know, Ivan. It hurt when you talked to me like that. It was like being stabbed in the heart. Don't hurt me like that again. I won't come back for more.”

“Didn't mean to...,” he said so softly, and I strained to hear.

I hardly heard him talking. His lips were moving and he was looking at me with those intense black eyes.

“What?” I said, leaning over so my ear was near his lips, but he didn't make another sound.

I turned to see if he had fallen asleep and his lips met mine. To say I was shocked doesn't describe it. I'd been expecting him to kiss me for some time. The brush of his lips on my cheek, and twice his lips and mine met, weren't kisses at all.

His eyes told me more than his lips did at those times. Those intensely black eyes said there was more coming, but until now, I was still waiting to be kissed.

The wait was over.

When I didn't move, he kissed me again. The second kiss was filled with passion and I returned it, not certain of what I was doing, but I caught on quick. It was nothing like when Mama kissed me.

Our lips met and stayed pressed together, while our tongues got acquainted. No one had to tell me this was a real kiss, and kissing him was great, but what he needed was rest.

Ivan had a solution that worked for both of us.

“Hold me, Clay. Put your arms around me and hold me close.”

I eased my arms around him.

“I love you, Ivan.”

“I love you, Clay,” he said in a horse whisper.

We kissed again, and he said. “I ...do love ...you.”

Holding him gently, his strength melted away after that.

He fell asleep in my arms.

I held him for a long time.

I cried for a long time.

Chapter 20

Lost on the Wind

After holding Ivan for a few minutes, he relaxed in my arms. I recognized the sound he made when he was sleeping deeply. I didn't want to release my hold on him, remembering the distance between us the last few days, but the bunk area began closing in on me. The air was thick and musky, even with the hatch wide open.

I eased my hold on him, letting him slide out of my arms. I took my time moving out of the bunk. I stood and looked at his face for a few minutes before I was convinced he wasn't going to wake up.

There had been healing but there were no answers that told me what had come between us. I listened to the silence at the tip of the boat. I'd heard the engines turn over while Ivan and I talked, but at a low speed we were moving just fast enough so the only distinctive sound in the crew quarters was that of water washing over the hull.

It had been an intense day from the time I woke up until now.

*****

I needed some fresh air. My brain was full of thoughts rushing around with no destination in mind. Ivan and I finally said we loved each other. It came out of the blue, after some difficult days. It wasn't like I imagined it would be. We weren't simply going to ride off into the sunset together.

We had work to do. We had some growing up to do, and my instinct told me our love was dangerous love. As lacking in love as the world seemed to be, it should have been encouraged, cultivated, but I'd never heard anything about two men falling in love to live happily ever after. I'd never heard about two men falling in love at all.

It wasn't how things were done in Oklahoma. We were far enough from Oklahoma to make a big difference. Had we discovered a new kind of love? Was it necessary to explain it wherever we lived? What if we just wanted to live on our beach and be left alone?

Did location make the difference? It was dangerous and I didn't know why anyone would care about my feelings for Ivan. There was so much hate and violence between men, wouldn't love be better?

These thoughts didn't make me want to ditch Ivan. I couldn't speak for him. I didn't know what he thought about it. What if he hadn't thought about it? What if he hadn't sensed the danger?

As smart as Ivan was, he'd gotten here a long before I arrived. Was that why it took us so long to say, 'I love you,' to each other? Was it so dangerous Ivan needed to make sure of my love first?

The day he caught the big fish, two days after he broke my heart, I was the only one who was in love, as far as I knew, but the number had doubled. We'd said the words. Now what did we do? Where did we go from here?

I'd been waiting for him to kiss me and he had, but there was an eternity of pain between when he told me to get lost and that kiss. I accepted that kiss as proof Ivan loved me. I wouldn't forget that with love came vulnerability and pain.

I liked girls just fine but I didn't have romantic feelings for girls. High school was where boys got educated about affection. Boys who liked boys didn't get that education. They didn't dare hold hands in the halls or share a parting kiss.

I was aware I didn't feel what most boys felt, but I was lucky enough to find a boy who felt the same way I did. Even more amazing, he was a guy like Ivan. Otherwise I might have been forty before I got kissed like Ivan just kissed me. I don't think it would have been the same at forty.

I was standing out in the clean fresh air, when I became aware I had completed the trip from the crew quarters to the outdoors. I'd probably been standing there long enough to do a lot of thinking.

A stiff breeze was blowing a few feet farther out on deck and it was dark. The overcast darkened the western horizon, which usually held onto the light long after sunset. After being in the dark dank bunk area, fresh air was good.

I felt lucky to be there. I was lucky to be alive. I was lucky to have Ivan. His presence in my life made me even more alive. I'd only been living before. It occurred to me, without Ivan, I had no life.

*****

I sat in the stern seat where I finished my day. I looked back at where we'd been. I looked back at where I'd been. I saw the regal Ivan doing that dive the first time I saw him. I saw the tough Ivan catch one whale of a fish. I felt Ivan's lips on mine. My fingers traced my lips. I wanted to talk to Ivan, but I was fine. I was wonderful.

The wake of the boat was hypnotic. Green phosphorescent sea creatures lit the path the boat took. I was lost in the fascinating green light. We were moving to smoother waters. We were in no hurry. Taking our time was fine. There was always plenty of time on the gulf. “Is he OK?” Boris asked. “You've been sitting there for ten minutes and you haven't spoken to me. Is it something I said?”

His voice disturbed me in a distant sort of a way. I kept floating away from myself, after leaving Ivan.

“I didn't see you,” I said, looking his way.

I don't know if Boris was there when I sat down or if he came afterward. I hadn't noticed him sitting there and I didn't notice if he walked up. He was hard to miss in canary yellow slacks, a baby blue polo shirt, penny loafers without benefit of socks.

“Is he going to be OK?” Boris asked again, pacing his words to make sure I understood him.

“I don't know. What's OK? He's sleeping. He was exhausted.”

“My brother is something else,” Boris admitted. “He knows how to put on a show. How could he sit there all that time? I had enough by noon. He leaves me to wonder why he does what he does.”

“He did it for you, Boris,” I insisted, having heard it from Ivan.

I heard him laughing before I watched him laughing. It wasn't a ha, ha, ha, laugh. He was busting a gut.

The laughter died away after a couple of minutes.

We both watched the wake spread out behind us.

“I box,” Boris said, after considering the gulf for a time. “I taught Ivan what I know. I knew he'd give me a run for my money. He's smart. He sees stuff I don't see. I have a trainer. Bolo boxed professionally. Now he teaches guys like me. He claims I have potential.

“So I teach Ivan the moves I know. I'm no Bolo, so Ivan's getting a second hand education. I wanted to knock him on his ass a few times. Remind him I was his big brother. I work at being a boxer. I'm good. Oh, I'll never amount to anything in the ring, but the discipline allows me to keep in shape. The ladies like that. You don't know about the ladies yet. The ladies are everything.”

“Do they box too?” I asked, trying to get him back on track. “Is that how you get the girls?”

Boris looked at me like he forgot where he was going.

“Boxing helps to keep my body hard,” he said, drinking from his soda he had tucked between his legs. “Girls like a hard body.”

He paused, still looking behind us. The breeze had subsided and the chop in the water smoothed out. Boris thought over his words. “So I teach Ivan the moves Bolo taught me. I showed him how my long arms allow me to clip him on the button and knock him down.”

“Button?” I asked.

“Chin. Button. Knockout punch if you execute it properly. I don't have the power for a knockout punch, but I can sting him good.”

“It's all about me knowing what I'm doing and teaching him enough to make him think he knows what he's doing. I'm not dumb enough to teach him how to hurt me. Ivan would hurt me if I did. Advantage is always mine. He's never going to outreach me. He can't throw a punch like I can.”

“Because you have longer arms,” I said.

I swiveled my seat to see him without turning my head. I sensed something I wanted to hear is coming. I'd heard Ivan's version of this story. Hearing Boris' version interested me.

“We box. I knock him on his ass. He gets up and I knock him down again,” he said, still watching the water. “Ivan can't figure out how to get a shot at me. He wants to. He wants to kick my ass. You saw how he gets. We box. I knock him down. He won't quit.

“No matter how many times I knock Ivan down, he gets back up. He's watching what I'm doing. He thinks he's going to beat me, Clay.”

“He's learning something you didn't teach him,” I said. “He can't reach you because you know how to keep him away from you.”

“I don't know this of course. I know Ivan's smarter than I am, but all he knows about boxing is what I taught him,” Boris said, trailing off his last few words. “I didn't teach him how to beat me.”

Boris looked at me for a minute or two. He finished his soda.

“You're his friend. I'm his brother. What you know about me is what Ivan told you. We're made of the same stuff. Ivan just has more of it than me. I'm soft. I want life to be easy. Ivan doesn't do easy.”

“You and Ivan box? I think you were knocking him down a lot.”

“One day he comes to Tampa, after our mother calls for him. I he's changed his boxing style. I ask him if he's training with someone. He says no, but he tells me he's been giving our sparring matches some thought.

“We get in the ring. He doesn't move the same way as last time. When I get into position to tag him on the button, he counters my move. When I set up to go the other way, he switches back so he's always moving away from my power. I can't even find him. I didn't teach him to move like that. He's figured it out on his own.

“After we do that dance for a few minutes, he switches back to his old style. I figure I had him now. He'd made me mad and now I was going to knock him on his ass. I set him up for my best punch. Ivan's waiting for me. He lets me take my shot and while I'm off balance, he sidesteps me and slips inside on my body.

“I wasn't ready for that. Didn't matter when I was. Even when I knew what he was going to do, he still outmaneuvered me. He's got this short jab he keeps hitting me with. I can't get him off me.”

“He's hurting you?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Damn right. You ever been hit five shots in the kidney. Don't waste your time trying it. You won't like it. I clinch to keep him from hitting me. He keeps hitting me anyway. I can't do anything about it.

Each time I push him away, he's right back on my body again.”

“He took your advantage away. He found one of his own,” I said.

“You'd be surprised how little we box now. I don't want my little brother making me say uncle, but when he gets in on my body, I'd done. He's like a bad dream. He keeps coming back.”

“He's tenacious,” I said.

“Ivan is smarter than me. He's tougher than me.. You saw that yesterday,” Boris said, looking at me. “Do you understand?”

“Not really,” I said. “I know he's smart. He has courage.”

“Let me get to something more recent. Ivan didn't catch that fish for me, Clay. He caught that fish to prove he's tougher than I am. Hell, I know he's tougher than me, but I'm prettier. The ladies like pretty. They'll tell you their secrets when you're pretty as me.”

“Do you tell them yours?” I asked.

He looked behind the boat to close off the opening he'd given me. I threw no punches. It wasn't my battle.

Boris turned my world upside down the day he arrived. His read on things was different from Ivan's. If Boris was right and Ivan was out to show him up, why did Ivan say he caught the fish for Boris?

Ivan and I were beyond our brief dust up. Not to believe part of what Ivan told me below deck was to suspect everything he said. I believed Ivan. In the shape he was in, he didn't have the strength to make things up. In the shape he was in, he used his strength to set things straight between us.

Boris didn't attempt to put his dust up with Ivan behind him. What was between them ran deeper than anything I knew. Each had a grudge against the other. I still didn't know the entire story. I wasn't letting what was between the brothers come between Ivan and me.

I considered they could both be right. Ivan did catch the fish for Boris. By catching it he showed Boris up. One things didn't exclude the other. Ivan's intentions were honorable. When Boris refused the fish, Ivan returned it to the sea.

I doubt Mr. Aleksa wasn't surprised by the outcome. The sport fishing trip may have been an opportunity for Boris to redeem himself in his father's eyes. Boris fell short of that. Ivan refused to quit.

Everyone who worked on the boat with me knew how fascinated I was by the rare species that came out of the sea. When Ivan obviously put the marlin back for me, I don't think that surprised Mr. Aleksa either. He'd come to respect my desire to preserve sea life when and where I could.

*****

I didn't know when Boris left. I sat looking into the dark behind the boat. In many ways I was still a boy. Fishing with a rod and reel required a different set of skills than fishing with nets. I was good with one and cared little for the other, but it was all fishing.

I'd been in love with Ivan since forever, or so it seemed. I didn't know what the feelings meant. I felt their power deep inside me. I don't remember any other feelings reaching me there. When I looked at Ivan, I knew those feelings were only for him. As there were different kinds of fishing, I figured there were different kinds of love.

I didn't doubt Ivan's feelings for me, but it wasn't just Ivan and me. The world revolved around our lives, but it seldom trespassed on our beach. We couldn't keep it out of our lives forever, no matter how much we loved each other, or how little we cared about what the insane leaders of the world's governments did.

World leaders had the power to come and get us any time they wanted. They didn't care about love or what we thought of them.

We had no say about anything once we were off our beach. Laws and rules of conformity controlled everyone beyond the beach where we lived. As long as we stayed on our beach, we were safe and no one knew who we were, as long as we were legally boys.

Once we were out among the people, we were obligated to follow the rules. Out there we had no right to be in love. In some cases, as was true of many minorities, we could lose our right to be alive if we made our love known. The world wasn't a safe place for love.

Ivan and I were growing up. We'd conform or perish. By the day Ivan caught the big fish, I'd adapted Ivan's anti establishment view of things. I understood the danger. I didn't want to leave my beach. I didn't want to conform to the world leaders' idea of the world they wanted the people to live in.

What happened when I was forced to conform or face the consequences? I sensed there would be force. I sensed there would be consequences for our love.

If my parents were worried about their wild child son, who lived up the beach with his boyfriend, they didn't tell me. My last haircut came in April in order to prevent me running afoul of hair length rules at school.

Even when we ate at my parents' table, they didn't mention my unruly hair. School started soon. I'd need to get it cut to conform to school regulations. My long golden locks wouldn't cut it at school.

*****

I believed in Ivan, our beach, and the Vilnius Two. I believed in the fish and whatever came out of the deep. I could see these things and they influenced my life. Everything else was a rumor sanctioned by people who profited from the status quo.

Considering the sorry condition of the world, I concluded that the folks running it were Looney Tunes drawn to amuse themselves. If they knew how to lead people or to make things better, they were keeping it a secret.

At school in Tulsa, we were taught to 'duck and cover.'

I'd seen pictures of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Duck and cover what? Several square miles of major cities in Japan were vaporized by The Bomb. Our government said, 'Duck and cover?' It proved the insanity of our leaders to me.

When they drop the next A-Bomb, I want to be where I can say, 'What was that?' I want to be on the gulf, where the insanity didn't reach yet. I thought these things overnight, after Ivan caught the marlin, after Ivan told me that he loved me.

That was real. That was worth living for.

It was daylight by the time I figured out where I stood in the world where I lived. The sad part about what I knew was, I didn't know anything. I saw what was, what men created, and it was mostly bad, but there was nothing I could do about it.

As far away from the trouble as our beach was, it would never be far enough.

“Duck and cover my ass,” I said, knowing it wasn't polite, even when they drop The Bomb on my ass, I should say posterior so as not to offend anyone. It was a joke the powerful played on the people. Watch your verbiage, while we take everything you have.

******

A Pepsi appeared under my nose. I had stayed glued to the seat all night. I wasn't tired. I didn't remember sleeping.

“Breakfast for two.”

Ivan sat next to me so he could help me see where we'd been.

“Sorry about last night. I wasn't myself,” Ivan said. “I lost my head. You mad at me?”

“Too bad. I rather liked the guy who kissed me. A lot!”

“You caught me. I'm not sorry. I just said that in case you wanted me to be sorry. We'd said we weren't going to....”

Ivan turned his head to look at me, before looking back to the gulf. He drank almost all his root beer in one long steady swallow.

“I think I missed dinner,” he said. “At least I'm missing it now. I should have bit that marlin, while I had the chance.”

“You missed all of yesterday. I think you took one sandwich.”

His eyes were darker than usual. His face was etched with lines I'd never seen before. He looked tired.

“What did you name it, Clayton?” he asked into the wind that whipped at the back of the boat.

“What?” I asked.

“The fish. You name everything. I know you named that fish. Fess up, Clay,” Ivan said.

It had become cooler overnight. I stood to stretch my legs. My mind had been so full of thoughts that it ran on without me. I must have fallen asleep at some point or maybe I spaced out.

“Egg salad or Tuna?” I asked, intending to get us food.

“God, nothing with fish. I don't ever want to see another fish.”

“Maybe there's a roast beef left, but I kind of doubt it. They disappear fast,” I said.

“Eggs for breakfast is good. It isn't last night? Please, tell me it's not last night.”

“It's tomorrow. I hope you feel better than you look,” I said.

“Cough it up, Olson. What did you name that fish?” Ivan asked.

“You think you know so much. You may not be as smart as you think,” I said, going to check the picnic basket to see if there were any sandwiches left.

“Lucky,” I said back over my shoulder. “I called him Lucky.”

He laughed.

As I went into the galley, I got a large surprise. The picnic basket was already out. A very naked and aroused Kenny was looking into it. I wasn't the only one shopping for breakfast. He didn't notice me. Boris came into view a second later. He too was naked and aroused. I was hungry, but I was rarely that hungry. I guess food excited some folks more than others.

“You pick a hell of a time to decide you're hungry,” Boris said, moving up close to Kenny.

“Told you I'd be right back,” Kenny said.

Boris began helping Kenny look into the basket at about the time he saw me. He took one giant step away from Kenny, looking unsteady. I suspect a lot of his blood had run downhill.

“We aren't the only hungry ones,” Boris said, trying to hide his erection but not having big enough hands.

“Want an egg, Clay?” Kenny asked, hardly glancing my way.

An egg came sailing my way.

Having three older brothers, an egg coming at my face wasn't much of a challenge. I took it out of the air and didn't miss a thing.

“Oh,” Boris said, discovering he was naked. “I was going to piss.”

“Yeah, you were before I came to the galley,” Kenny said. “Want an egg, Boris?”

“Sure. I better get my shorts,” Boris said. “Put it on the table.”

Kenny looked at me and shrugged. I liked the view and Kenny didn't seem to mind.

“What's your pleasure this morning?” Kenny asked.

“A couple of egg salad sandwiches. One more egg to go,” I said, trying not to lose my train of thought.

Another egg came flying my way. He didn't look before tossing it. He walked the sandwiches over and put them in my hand. I looked down but not at the sandwiches.

“Nothing I can do about it. Once it stands up it salutes everyone. Takes a firm hand to get it to go down. Don't take it personal,” Kenny said. “That'll be a buck two fifty.”

“I bet it does,” I said, looking at how white his butt was compared to the rest of him.

His skin almost glowed everywhere above his waist. His legs were closer to being tan. If I were him, I'd never wear clothes, but fishing in the buff wasn't a good plan. I'd seen him in the bunk next to the galley dozens of times over the last year. He'd never been without his cutoff. They were nowhere in sight.

My mouth had gone dry, but it wasn't the heat this time. Drinks were in order. I tried to hide my own arousal with the sandwiches. It wasn't like I didn't watch Kenny wash himself on deck at the fish warehouse after each fishing trip, but this was a bit more erotic.

Kenny had no modesty but I hadn't seen him aroused before. It didn't bother him the way it bothered me. My curiosity was showing, and that curiosity extended to Boris being naked and aroused with Kenny. My mind was drawing some rather direct lines.

“Sodas?” I asked, as Boris reappeared in a pair of baby blue shorts.

“Orange Tru Ade,” Kenny said, sitting at the table to crack the shell on his egg.

“Root Beer,” Boris said, sitting across from Kenny.

“Weird time to go bashful, sailor?” Kenny said, while salting the egg.

I handed over the sodas, taking my Pepsi and a root beer for Ivan toward the doorway, leaving them alone. I suspect my eyes gave me away. They seemed amused by my awkward departure.

I felt oddly out of place the entire time I was in the galley. It was like they knew something I didn't know and they weren't talking. I'd gotten what I came for and a floor show to boot. Not bad for a day that had just begun.

I looked when I saw something interesting. I liked how it made me feel. I didn't do anything and all they could do was guess about whether I would or not. Inconvenient feelings about other boys weren't new, but I rarely had so much to look at.

It wasn't warming much, even with the sun on the rise. The breeze had switched around to the northwest, which kept it cooler. This was the time in August the weather began to change and the heat let up a bit.

Ivan cracked the egg on his head as I watched amazed.

“Hardest thing around,” he said, smiling my way.

“Not in the galley it isn't. What's with Boris and Kenny?”

Ivan's head wasted no time turning my way. He gave me one of those long studying looks.

“I thought Boris was this womanizer. The champion ladies' man,” I added to the mix.

“It's not all there is, Clay. He didn't...? Did my brother touch you?”

“No. No way. Kenny and him are in the galley picking over the picnic basket. Naked! Both of them had erections and looked like the cat that swallowed the canary when I walked in,” I explained.

“I told you about Kenny. What he did before Daddy hired him.”

“Yeah, but he was with Boris. What does that have to do.... Boris and Kenny are?”

“You draw your own conclusions. I'm not talking about what other people do. It's really none of your business. They're just stupid for letting you see them.”

“The big ladies man does guys?”

The wheels were turning in my head as I stared at Ivan.

“Don't you dare ask me. It's none of your business,” he said.

“You sound just like you did the day you bit my head off, Ivan.”

Ivan stared at me, letting his glare soften.

“Sorry!”

“That's why you got so mad? You thought...? Not even. Your brother is hot, Ivan. I'm not blind, but I'd never....”

“It's not you I'm worried about, Clay. Just let it go. Drop it. If you love me, forget what you saw. Let it go.”

I looked at him a little longer and Ivan was blushing. I'd never seen him blush. I wasn't interested in what it meant. I was more than a little confused.

We sat in silence, eating our eggs and egg salad sandwiches. The Pepsi was particularly nice and Ivan's words explained a lot.

*****

I saw Mr. Aleksa standing at the door of the bridge, drinking coffee. He watched us for a few minutes before coming over.

“Sleep well, Ivan?” he asked, looking at his tired son.

“I more passed out,” Ivan said. “I'm a bit stiff this morning.”

'A lot of that going around,' I thought.

“Do you want a sandwich?” I asked. “Better let me get you one before Boris and Kenny finish them off,” I said.

I wanted another shot at the goings on in the galley.

“No thanks. I got one a while back. Coffee is all I need in the morning.”

“Soda is way more nutritious,” Ivan said.

“Hell of a fight you put up yesterday, son. Not much to show for it, but you caught one of the biggest marlin to come over the side of this boat. Makes a father proud of his son to see he's capable of that.”

“I was over Woolworth's with my mother the day I was in Tampa for her company picnic, Dad. On the walls of Woolworth's they have plastic swordfish. Right beside the pink flamingos they were. Some are three foot. Some are four foot long. If I start feeling like I want a fish on my wall, I'll go there,” Ivan said. “Once they get dusty, you can't tell they're plastic.”

“Yes, you can, but none will put up the fight that marlin put up yesterday. Took a man to land that fish.”

“Can't argue that. It took all I had to get him to the boat, but once you see a fish on the wall somewhere, you've pretty much seen them all, Dad. The fish in the sea, now that's something to see,” Ivan said unashamed. “Right, Clay?”

Mr. Aleksa was already looking at me. He knew where Ivan got the inspiration to return the fish to where it belonged. He didn't seem put off by the idea or Ivan's loyalty to a friend.

“Absolutely!” I said, giving him my biggest smile.

“Can't argue the sentiment. Leaving a couple of big fish in the sea is a good idea,” Mr. Aleksa said, sipping coffee and looking out at the gulf. “Give us one more to catch next time.”

“Clay, are we going to make a fisherman out of you?” Mr. Aleksa asked.

“You've already done that. I feel like I belong at sea,” I admitted.

“I know. I didn't know you knew yet. You'll do well, Clay. You can sail with me any time leave port.”

“Thank you. That's nice of you to say,” I said, flattered by his comment.

“A man needs to love something that makes him glad to be alive. I see that love in your eyes each time we sail into the gulf,” he said.

“I've always loved the gulf, Dad,” Ivan said.

“You loved it from the beach. Any landlubber can do that,” Mr. Aleksa said. “Takes a fisherman to love it from out here.”

“Than call me a fisherman,” Ivan said.

“No plans today, fishermen. We'll go the way the wind blows and see what we can see. Fish if you like. We're in no hurry. I figure we'll dock when we get there. I plan to get some sleep before I put the boat back the way it belongs. We'll be ready to go by next Friday.”

Mr. Aleksa was direct and as easy-going a man as I'd met in my life. He'd come a long way to fish on the gulf, but he was a man in the place he wanted to be and doing what he wanted to do.

It was what I'd call a lazy day. After we ate the last of the sandwiches that afternoon, Ivan ramped up the boom, climbed it, and dove into the gulf from about thirty feet above the water. Both Boris and Kenny followed him up the rigging of the boom to dive off. I watched. I was a good watcher.

*****

After we docked, we did as Mr. Aleksa said we would. This time Kenny went along. We ate pizza and hamburgers. We finished with ice cream cones before we got groceries for the week.

The best part of the day was dropping Kenny back at the boat. For the first time all afternoon, I could breathe. Kenny took a cloud of smoke with him all afternoon. At twenty-five cents a pack, he'd never be able to save any money.

*****

Chapter 21

Making It Happen

We returned to the marina late in the day. After taking care of Kenny's needs, we ended up back at Ivan's house. Even before the afternoon was used up, we were all sleeping.

Sport fishing tired me out far more than the usual kind. A lot more than fishing was going on. The big boys could have the big fish and I'd stick to the stuff that rolled out of the nets onto the deck that I'd never seen before. I never got tired of that.

By the time we docked on Sunday, Ivan and Boris were back to being proper brothers, or so it seemed to me. I remembered what Mama said about brothers and I left it alone at that.

Boris continued trying to be friendly to me, but Ivan's view was the only one that interested me. I didn't know what was between them. I wouldn't ask Ivan. He'd tell me about it when he was ready.

I let the brother's Aleksa be whatever it was they'd decided they were to each other. I'd be cordial to Boris because I loved his brother.

*****

After twelve hours of sleep, and several boxes of cereal, we were off and running. We started off with a swim in the gulf, romped on the beach, wrestling in the water and on the sand, and we spent a lot of time in the kitchen seeking nourishment.

We had fun. Ivan and Boris were at peace and that was good. Seeing them side by side was an amazing thing. Their beauty was only half the equation. Doubling it knocked my socks off.

Coming out of the gulf for the second or third time that day, we were about to scrounge for food when the radio began to crackle.

Dashing up the stairs, we all hit the radio closet together.

“Vilnius Two to Base. Clay there?” Mr. Aleksa asked, seeming to sense we were all within earshot.

“Right here, Dad,” Ivan said, putting a finger on top of his brother's finger to press the button to allow me to speak to him.

“Your daddy tried to get you earlier, Clay. He couldn't raise you boys, so I answered. Your mama wants you to come to dinner tonight. She says Boris isn't to leave until she has met him and he's come to dinner. I assured him you'd be there at seven. She's a wonderful cook, Boris. You can tell her I said so.”

“Got it, Dad. I'll tell her,” Boris said, leaning toward the microphone.

“Get cleaned up. I don't want her to think I raised a couple of hellions. I want her to see my fine sons together,” Mr. Aleksa said.

“Good as done, Dad,” Boris said. “I'll make sure Ivan puts his pants on.”

“You might want to make sure you wear a pair yourself, Boris.”

'Ouch,' I thought in John-Henry fashion. 'Cut by his own father.'

“10-4, Dad. Base out.”

“I love you boys. Vilnius Two out,” Mr. Aleksa said.

Three boys in a closet made for a tight squeeze. We each had to touch the radio to talk on it. It was a guy thing.

I watched them from the deck as the brothers Aleksa began preparing to go to dinner. I'd put on a shirt once I got home. I needed to find my cutoffs. I could never remember where I took them off.

Nudity was small potatoes these days. Sleeping in Ivan's arms might raise an eyebrow or two at my house. Discussing my feelings for Ivan was too daunting to imagine. I didn't understand it. How would I explain such a thing to my parents? I wouldn't and to try was asking for trouble. It was love that would stay between the two of us.

Freedom meant not losing my head over the boy I loved. Not feeling was easy. Once you began to feel there was pain, and a guarantee of more pain if you dared to feel too much. It was a risk I would gladly take, because Ivan was worth it.

“That what you're wearing to dinner?” Ivan asked, letting the curtains at the sliding glass doors blow gently around him.

“Can't remember where I took off my cutoffs,” I said, looking at Ivan. “If I sit here long enough I might remember where they are.”

“Yeah, and you might starve to death in the meantime. Last couple of times they were under the kitchen table. I'd try there.”

“I will. They know what I look like.”

“Yeah, with your cutoffs on,” Ivan said.

“You look nice,” I said, thinking he always looked nice.

“Thanks, my mother picked this out for me,” he said, not having put on clothes yet.

“I'll get a shirt at the house while they're busy with you two.”

“They figure you'll get your clothes on and go back to being the good programmed kid they raised, once school starts. Time is on their side, Clay. You can't fight city hall.”

“You believe that, Ivan? Is that what I'll do?” I asked. “I don't even know where city hall is.”

“You're right. Once a wild child, always a wild child. You've learned to think for yourself, Clay. The man doesn't know anything about the wild child code. We go to school so they don't realize we've escaped the indoctrination. We roam free on our beach. They couldn’t allow it if they knew.”

“They wouldn't go for a lot of what we do,” I thought out loud.

“Love! They don't think we can possibly know love. They're wrong, but that's nothing new.”

“What's the code?” I asked apprehensively.

“There is none. That's why we're wild. It's why they can't see it. We don't exist in a form they'd understand. The code is in our hearts, Clay. The one rule, do right. You can't go wrong by following your heart. They try to convince us to ignore our heart and listen to them.”

“What we said to each other,” I said.

“From the heart. Proof we're wild. Love is from the heart, Clay.”

Sometimes Ivan put things in terms that made me understand it and believing our freedom to love originated in our hearts said it all. I felt very good about what he had said.

“You amaze me sometimes,” I said. “All the time.”

“We're closer because we dare to think, Clay. We could have ruined it, but we didn't. That's what it means to love someone. You let go of the meaningless crap.”

Love was the only word that fit what I felt for Ivan. I'd avoided that word until now. Sitting on the deck alone, watching the gulf, I knew I was in love with Ivan long before I told him I loved him.

The deck was a place where I could think. The deck was the place where thinking was best. With nothing but the beach, the sea, and the fresh air, there was no static inside my head.

My life had meaning. I was someone beyond an Olson boy.

*****

I'd avoided thinking about having sex. Ivan and I, in not so many words, agreed we'd wait until we were ready to go farther. The kissing was farther than I ever imagined wed go. Kissing, real kissing, was incredible. I worried it couldn't possibly get any better.

If love wasn't so powerful, it wouldn't be so hard to find. I'd found it and I didn't want to let go of it, but I didn't want to hurry feelings that were already overwhelming.

At the same time my feelings for Ivan didn't stop me from being transfixed by Kenny and Boris in the galley. Whatever was going on between them, I felt more sexual than I'd ever felt being in the galley with them and their erections. It was hard for me to understand.

I wanted to stay, to watch, to see what may happen. It wasn't as innocent as they tried to make it seem. me think it was. Boris tried to make me think it was. Kenny was a wild child and didn't try to make me think anything. He was content with it being what it was.

Boris stood way close to Kenny until he saw me and he immediately went to get his pants on. I'd seen him naked. We'd been naked together and he had no need to put his pants on.

It didn't matter to me what they were doing or what they’d done. What mattered was how seeing them aroused and together made me feel. I knew Ivan and I got aroused when we kissed now. We didn't avoid it the way we had, even when I knew Ivan was erect when he held me. It wasn't the same thing and they weren't the same feelings.

The heat on our feelings had been turned up. Ivan and I were moving closer to the sexual side of our love. We were moving a step at a time. I didn't think that there could be many steps left.

Ivan's deck was a good place to think these thoughts. I usually wasn't out there alone. When Ivan was beside me, my thoughts rarely went beyond him or the discussion he started.

I didn't think about anyone else, when I was with Ivan. There was no one else, when I was with Ivan.

*****

I needed to look for my cutoffs. It was getting late. Both Ivan and Boris were nearly ready and I was thinking about stuff.

When I passed a mirror, I was every bit the wild child. Recognizing the tall skinny drink of water looking back at me was impossible. Who had grown up in my body? I didn't resemble the boy who came here over a year ago.

As I walked by the bathroom, cutoffs in hand, I watched Boris and Ivan brushing their hair at the same time. Whatever had come between them had passed. Now they looked like twins. Both brushed their hair with identical strokes.

They were smiling at the others' image in the mirror. I smiled.

Boris' better upper body develop told me which face was which. The marks on Boris' face were invisible in the distortion the mirror created. His voice was only slightly deeper. He was completely mature physically, but I had to look out of the mirror to see that.

Boris was a man in all respects, but I could see where Ivan was heading. No one at the dinner table would see these differences. None would feel the butterflies I felt when I looked at the Aleksa brothers.

Looking at them standing side by side was like looking at a mirror within a mirror. Their similarities were striking. At one point Boris used his hip to bump Ivan away from their reflections. Ivan bumped his way back into the picture. They laughed. I smiled.

Boris put his arm over Ivan's shoulders the way Ivan did to me. Boris kissed Ivan on the lips. He created a distance between them, once he noticed my eyes in the mirror, watching. He could see the expression on my face. He saw me admiring them.

Like with Kenny, he didn't want me to see him naked with Ivan.

It was after six when Ivan appeared on the deck in a shirt rich in the colors that flattered him. He had on brown slacks and the penny loafers with the nice shine. He smiled as I admired him.

“I see you found your cutoffs?” he said.

“Yeah, I'm ready.”

Behind him in the bedroom Boris was putting the quilt back onto the bed. The previous night was hot and humid and it had us kicking the quilt onto the floor.

Boris wore a baby blue shirt, dark blue slacks, and black shoes with laces.

“He looks good in blue,” I said, remembering the baby blue story from before Boris came.

“He is baby blue after all,” Ivan said, sitting beside me in the wicker chair where I usually sat. “Getting late, handsome.”

“He's baby blue,” I said. “Does he know the story about your grandfather christening him with that name? He dresses for it.”

“I don't think he remembers. Boris isn't sentimental. I was the one who stayed with Pop Pop all summer. Boris stayed a few weeks. He liked it for a couple of weeks. He doesn't stick with much.”

“You weren't born then. How many times did your Pop Pop tell you the story about baby blue?”

“A hundred. He talked about baby blue all the time. He regretted Boris never took to the beach like I did. My grandfather was a story teller. It's one of the things I liked about being with him. He told me about his life in Lithuania, his escape. How he came to our beach.”

“You were smart,” I said. “It's a good beach.”

“I don't know. I'm different than Boris. He likes different things. I like the beach,” Ivan said.

“It's a nice story,” I said.

“You going to eat in that outfit?” Ivan asked. “You smell like fish.”

“You've seen me eat in less,” I reminded him.

“Not at your house I haven't.”

“I'll do something when I get home,” I said. “We'll have a few minutes if we go now. They won't even know I'm there once they get a gander at you two.”

“I'll know you're there,” Ivan said, kissing my cheek. “When I don't know where you are, I'm looking for you, Clay.”

“I know,” I said, looking at the gulf.

“You do?” he asked. “I do.”

“I do love you. For a long time now. It's the wild child in me.”

“I know. We sort of grew on each other, didn't we? I couldn't survive without you, Clay. That's the wild child in me.”

He slid close enough to put his arm over my shoulder as our eyes locked together. He kissed me. I kissed him.

I blushed. Boris stood just beyond the curtain, watching.

“Come on you two,” he said. “I'm starved.”

“Nothing new there,” Ivan said, and we stood up to leave.

*****

I followed Ivan and Boris into the kitchen. I heard Mama's reaction before I appeared behind them.

“Oh my God,” Mama shrieked. “There are two of you?”

Mama stood in the middle of the kitchen with a skillet in hand. The other hand covered her wide open mouth.

“I've been looking forward to dinner. Dad radioed us. He claims you are the best cook this side of Lithuania,” Boris said, smiling and giving Mama all his attention.

Boris possessed the same charming personality as Ivan. He'd honed his style on the girls of Tampa, but it was working well at the Olson house. He was the center of attention over dinner.

“Thank your father, and thank you, Boris. I'm pleased to meet you. I can't believe you two look so much alike. You're almost identical.”

Then Mama stepped into it with both feet.

“Is your mother a good cook?” she innocently inquired, making the kind of small talk Mama made.

Both Ivan and Boris practically rolled on the kitchen floor. My mother watched amused, until they were back under control.

“Sorry, Mrs. Olson,” Ivan apologized. “What our mother does couldn't be confused with cooking.”

They both laughed again, shaking hands on it. Mama looked on confused.

“I've got to go take a shower and I need to dress for dinner,” I said, thinking I had time.

“What a fine idea,” Mama said. “I washed and cleaned all your clothes, underwear, and socks, once school let out. I looked the other day. Nothing has been touched. I imagine wearing clothes will be a novelty for you, Clayton.”

“I can take them to Ivan's and not wear them, Mama,” I offered.

“Yes, you can, but no you won't. Dressing for dinner would be nice, Clay. You have ten minutes and after that, dinner will begin with you or without you.”

“I'm going,” I said. “I'll be back in five minutes. I don't want to miss anything.”

“Clayton, you might want to ditch those cutoffs. While you have a lovely backside, it isn't something a mother should see.”

“Oh!” I said, reaching to feel an ample amount of skin.

“I'll cut you a new pair before you go back to Ivan's.”

I hesitated at the door to listen, and then started for my room.

“Dinner in twenty minutes,” Mama said as Ivan came through the door behind me.

“You said ten,” I yelled from the dining room.

“Got you moving, didn't I,” Mama said, laughing at me. “You have plenty of time, Clay. Wash that fish smell off you.”

When I stripped out of my cutoffs, both Ivan and Boris were standing in the bathroom door, keeping an eye on me. Our roles had reversed. I held up my cutoffs and saw an abundance of light.

“Why didn't someone tell me?” I asked.

“I thought it was kind of cute,” Boris said.

“If I told you, you'd never have put them on and we'd never have made it in time to eat,” Ivan said.

A shower took no time. The cutoffs were what smelled of fish. I didn't take time to look at myself in the mirror. With my hair still damp I brushed it back. With a pair of slacks and a polo shirt, I was ready to eat.

“Okay, you're pretty enough,” Ivan said. “Let's go. I'm starved.”

“Me too,” Boris said. “About the starved part. We haven’t eaten in hours. I'm surprised we made it this far without food.”

John-Henry was out with his new girlfriend. Lucy sat in his seat. Boris sat where Lucy usually sat and Ivan and I sat next to each other. It put Ivan and Boris next to Mama. They were more than happy to tell her how good the food was.

“We eat out a lot,” Boris said, letting his fork cool off.

“I'll send food up during your stay, although I like having Ivan and Clay down as often as they'll come. They're practically inseparable. I don't like interrupting their summer fun. I like to know they're eating.”

“I don't think you have to worry about that,” Boris said. “Dad bought a ton of food when I first came and again Sunday afternoon. We're trying to avoid fish, but that's our fallback food. Plenty of fish!”

“Are you too twins,” Brian asked Boris, suddenly coming to life.

“Go back to sleep,” Teddy said.

“Yes,” Boris said. “I was born first. He cane right behind me.”

There was laughter as Brian looked confused.

The meal was great after all the sandwiches over the weekend. There were no leftovers.

Neither of them could eat dessert. Mama wrapped up half the three layer strawberry cake with melted chocolate and walnuts between layers.

It was heavenly and didn't last the evening.

“Maybe I should stay here tonight,” I said to Ivan as we stood at the kitchen door. “You can have the bed to yourselves. I've been with you guys almost the entire time Boris has been here.”

“No way,” Ivan said. “We're a team. Boris likes you. I like you. You aren't crowding us, and I want you at the house.”

“No, you've got to come home with us. You might keep us from hurting each other,” Boris said. “We aren't as rough with you around.”

“Really,” I said, remembering the day he arrived.

“OK, you talked me into it. See you Mama,” I said as we slipped out the kitchen door.

I'd slept in the bed between Boris and Ivan the night before. We'd all gone to sleep before our heads hit the pillow. I wasn't looking forward to sleeping between them again. My best move was to keep distance between Boris and me.

So, I spent the night sitting on the deck. My thoughts were becoming more raunchy as my imagination got involved. I'd never done anything about those thoughts yet, well, almost nothing, but they kept flooding my mind since I saw Kenny and Boris in the galley.

Boris was the first to go to bed, and Ivan followed a half hour later. Once they were sleeping, I sat on the deck, where I felt safe. The fresh night air was nice. I could hear the gulf washing onto the beach. The stars were twinkling. There was loads of moonlight.

A few mosquitoes kept me company.

My own interior design gave cause for me to wonder who and what I was. While it hadn't been a problem, it was becoming one. The newest feelings were stronger and more sexual. I focused on things that scared me. Boris and Kenny scared me in a way I liked. They were nearly men. They knew what they were doing and I didn't know anything, but I had plenty of ideas. I couldn't stop thinking about sex.

My interior design was declaring its independence. The idea of growing up, being married, having kids, wasn't my design. Were Ivan and I simply going to stay together? How could we be a family?

*****

Ivan stood in the bedroom where the curtain separated it from the deck, looking at me, as he held the curtain to one side.

“Come to bed, why don't you? I'm lonely,” he said.

“In a minute,” I said, putting him off.

The stars had begun to twinkle out, and I knew he'd go right back to sleep. Surprisingly I wasn't sleepy. I felt rather peaceful and at home. The deck was always a comfort zone. Even when Ivan was at his mothers, sitting on the deck made me feel close to him.

'Too bad we finished off that cake,' I thought.

*****

I ate cereal with Ivan once he got up. He didn't mention me not coming to bed.

“Let's go,” Ivan said, pushing his bowl to one side, standing up, and dashing for the door.

Ivan disappeared outside. I was too tired to follow. I'd catch up in a few minutes. Boris didn't move either. He stared at me for a minute after emptying his cereal bowl.

“You ever in your life known anyone with more energy than my brother? If we didn't look alike I'd wonder if he was adopted.”

“No,” I said, and he laughed.

I smiled and felt the arousal coming on.

“I didn't mean to run you out of the bed, Clay,” he said, sounding sorry.

“You didn't,” I lied. “I get restless now and again.”

“You always sit on the deck all night?”

“No, just when I sit on the deck all night.”

“You act different than you did. I know the first day was pretty far out there, but you seemed okay on the boat. I thought we'd be friends,” Boris said. “For Ivan's sake.”

“Why not?” I said, not liking the fact he wanted to pin me down.

My loyalties were to his brother. He was nice to look at but I didn’t trust Boris. Daydreaming and the real thing weren't the same.

“I'm with Ivan. I don't know what is going on with you two, but I'm with him, Boris. Something about you worries me. I wanted to say that so we're being honest. I like you fine. We'll be friends because you are Ivan's brother, unless he objects, and then we won't.”

None of what I said was a news flash, but I felt good putting my feelings on the table. Maybe Boris and I could be friends; maybe not. I knew I wasn't going to be able to get up for a while. My convictions weren't nearly as clear as my words. Then he threw Kenny in the mix.

“Kenny and I are friends. I've known him since Dad hired him. He'd been living under the dock at the fish warehouse. You know how he survived before Dad hired him?”

“No, I don't think I want to know,” I lied. “You and Kenny can do anything you want. It's none of my business.”

“Men picked him up and they gave him money to go out with them. You understand what I'm saying?”

“I think so. Why are you telling me about him? Kenny's cool,” I said. “What he did while living under a pier isn't important,” I lied again. “It tells me more about you then him. You telling me that.”

“He told me what he did. He went into great detail explaining how a boy survives being on the street at twelve and thirteen. We're the same age. He needed someone to trust. He picked me. We're comfortable together,” Boris said. “That's all.”

“I got that part of it. What's between you and Kenny is your business. You don't need to explain it to me.”

“No, but you didn't mind seeing us together. Your eyes give you away at a times like that and you didn't miss a thing. It may be none of your business, Clay, but I don't want you to have the wrong idea.”

“I'm just a curious guy. It's how I learn. Keeping my eyes open.”

“Kenny and I are open with each other, because of what he told me. We hadn't seen each other since we were young. What you saw is how we react to each other. It's nothing serious. I worry you got the wrong idea and that's what has changed between us.”

“You don't strike me as a guy who worries,” I said.

“Nothing was going on beyond two friends playing grab ass,” Boris explained more carefully than necessary. “I like girls, Clay. I like Kenny, but not beyond a little boyish grab ass.”

“Cool! That's all I thought it was. Old friends having a good time.” I lied some more. “I didn't see anything but you standing around. I didn't think much of it. I looked because of that curiosity deal. I'm still young. You guys are grown.”

“Oh!” he said. “That's true.”

“Glad you explained it but to be honest, I'd forgotten about it. You seen one boy with a boner, you've pretty much seen them all,” I lied to be consistent.

“Yeah, if you like that sort of thing,” he said. “It's why I like girls.”

“Ivan told me you were good with girls. We're still young. We'll probably do that later on.”

“I thought that was why you stayed on the deck last night. You thought I might try to.... I wouldn't.”

“Uh huh,” I said. “Because I saw you with Kenny? No, I get restless sometimes is all. No point in keeping you guys up. I love the night sky, the sound of the gulf,” 'and the mosquitoes,' I thought.

“We're OK then?”

“As right as rain,” I said. “I like you fine. You're Ivan's brother. What's not to like? I wanted to make sure.”

“Now you know. Don't you ever tell Kenny I told you that stuff. He'd freak out. It's not a confidence I've only told to Ivan.”

“I'd already forgotten. It's not on my list of things I care about.”

Boris looked unhappy with the answer.

“I wanted to clear the air. Ready to go swimming?” Boris asked, standing up and letting his half erection loose on the world and me.

“Sure,” I said, looking him directly in the eye.

He went first. I hoped he didn't look back and discover my lie.

To be continued..