If I Should Fall: The Second Book of Geshichte Falls
SNOW
CONCLUSION
The day Gilead Story’s arms worked ahead of his mind, when his carefully crafted journal was seized by a shiny eyed Mark Young and he put him in a headlock, was a life changing one. In that moment, grinning and surprised all at once, the boy with the smirk on his lips and the wavy dark hair was blinking up at him and Gilead thought that there was something about this murderous grip, as he took the journal from Mark’s hand, that could last forever. He regretted letting him go.
Nor did this moment translate to more headlocks or more conversations. He had been alarmed that day on the field when Mark approached them. Alarmed, alarmed, alarmed and now, he admitted, excited.
And why on earth was he pretending not to care? So much had happened in the last few months. The once deep hatred between Jason Lorry and Russell had transformed into a friendship and, Gilead supposed, a romance. Chayne and Rob were now together. And here was Mark.
And how do I feel about him?
“I love this song!” Mark rejoiced.
They were headed up the road to Saint Gregory’s, and he cranked up the radio singing to the Cranberries, badly:
But I'm in so deep
You know I'm such a fool for you
You got me wrapped around your finger
Do you have to let it linger?
Do you have to, do you have to,
do you have to let it linger?
Gilead liked to sing as much as the next person, but hated to sing in the car. Mark beat on the steering wheel and hummed, made noise to the rest of the song because neither one of them knew the words. After all of Mark’s noise, at last, when they came to the refrain, Gilead, who really could sing, did.
“That was good,” Mark grinned at him.
“I know.”
“You’re a man of secrets, Mr. Story.”
“Not really,” Gilead said. “I mean, it wasn’t a secret to me.
“Speaking of secrets,” Gilead said, “Where are we going?”
“I dunno,” Mark said. “I just felt like driving. You mind?”
Gilead said, “No.”
THE SKY WAS GREY AND solid as a steel bowl over the football field, and as the team came running out all cleats, silver pants and red jerseys and shoulder pads, Gilead Story said, “This sort of makes me sad, the last football game.”
“Well,” Russell said, “there’s basketball season next.”
“It’s not the same,” Gilead shook his head.
No, it wasn’t.
They stood at the bleacher right over the cheerleaders and the football team. Russell could see Ralph laughing it up with Ryan Mc.Kenzie, punching him in the arm and putting back on his helmet.
“I know, what you’re thinking,” said Gilead.
“What?” Russell demanded of his friend.
“I can’t phrase it any better than you can,” Gilead told him. “But I know.”
“Gil! Russell!”
Gilead and Russell looked down to see with Chris Knapp, Linh Pham and Cameron in their impossibly short skirts. It was too cold for all of that.
“What are you all doing tonight?” Chris called.
Cameron said, “I think my house might even be free to hand out in.”
“Was it not before?” Linh said, putting her pom poms down.
“It was a little hairy,” Cameron said. “But now Dad’s going to this health club a few times a week, and he feels a lot better.”
Russell wondered what the hell was at the health club.
“This is stupid,” Brad Long said.
“You know it isn’t. You know it’s necessary.”
“I will go over there right now,” Brad said. “I will tell her the truth.”
“The truth is that you got her pregnant and Marissa is having your child and a child should have a family.”
When Brad said nothing, Nehru added, “And the truth is, if you had disagreed with me, if you found being with Marissa that unpleasant, you would have told her right away.”
Brad Long stood in the middle of his basement, Nehru beside him. The younger man was in a forest green parka, his tall friend in a brown coat with a furred hood.
“I’m not giving you up,” Brad said. “You can’t ask me to do that. Not after the other night. Not after what happened here.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Nehru said. “I think your baby should have a mom and a dad—”
“He’ll have a mom and a dad no matter what.”
“I think you owe him a chance, and… I think I owe it to myself that you not sleep next to me and think about how you should be with her.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You would.”
And then Brad realized that was true, but Nehru was not finished.
“I am not so selfless I’d give you up. If I can’t have you in the light, I’ll have you in the dark. I’ll have you however I can.”
He wasn’t looking at Brad when he reached under his coat, when he cupped the tall man, began massaging him and feeling him stretch erect in his khakis.
Brad moaned and pressed himself against Nehru, wrapping his arms about him.
“Is that door locked?”
“Of course it is,” Brad said.
“Do we even have time?”
“We always have time.”
After sex, they dressed slowly. Nehru was coming out of the bathroom drying his face and Brad was standing in the middle of his old room, buttoning his trousers.
“It’s a little humiliating to think that I can fit my whole life into four boxes,” Brad said.
“I think it’s very zen.”
Brad smiled at his friend, and then laughed. He picked up the heaviest box, and Nehru picked up two. Brad opened the red metal door and went out of it to his car.
“I haven’t seen your parents,” Nehru said as he stuffed his boxes in the trunk.
“Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen them in a year.”
In the cold night, Brad opened the car’s back door, slid the box in and said, “That’s because much like Charlie Brown, though I remain disenchanted with society and attempt to be a sort of social conscience, I have never actually grown up and if you talk to my mother and father, they always reply, WAW WAW WAW WAW WAW.”
And then Brad headed back into the house to get the last box.
Before they left, Brad said, “It’s really good of you to be worried about this baby.”
“Okay,” Nehru said, lifting the last small box and waiting for Brad to say something else.
“And it’s good for you to think about Marissa. I just hope you aren’t doing this because you’re afraid of what will happen when it’s just you and me.”
They left the broad, small treed area of Conastoga Drive and headed for the section of little old houses and went down Finallay Parkway until they turned toward the northern part of Kirkland where Nehru lived, not far from Breckinridge. They wended up on winding Indragal Road. When they reached the small house on 123 it smelled of scented candles and incense and Marissa rushed up to embrace Nehru.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” she told him, almost making Nehru drop the box he carried.
Nehru looked from Brad who was carrying a box low, under his hips, to Marissa, who was surprisingly giddy.
“This really makes you happy, doesn’t it?” Nehru said.
“It all makes me happy,” Marissa said. “Everything is changing. Everything will be so wonderful from now on.”