Works and Days

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Conclusion

Russell woke from his light sleep to the sounds of sex, and lay in bed for only a while before going down the stairs in his shorts. In the hallway he heard the bed heaving slowly, heard a male voice praying, “Yes… Oh, God. Yes. Yes. Don’t… Don’t stop…”

He heard something beyond speech, an almost mad murmur.

Russell moved toward the door and placed his ear against it. His heart was beating. Sweat was on his temples. His body shook. He leaned his shoulder in and the door made a faint squeak which terrified Russell, but he pushed it further anyway. He was suddenly aware of how there was this mystery moving all around him, and he hated not being part of it, knowing nothing. His mouth tasted like iron, and spit built up under his tongue even as his groin ached.

In the darkness he could make out Chayne spread on top of the other man, pressing and pressing into him, pounding him softly. He saw Chayne rise up, like someone kneeling, gather the man under him, saw the man’s white hand reach back and pull him in. The pounding continued in his heart, on the bed, in the springs. A hand wrapped around Russell’s cock. His whole body was burning and he heard them groaning and fucking. He shuddered and let out a noise the same time one of them did, and his need had melted into his hands. He swooned dizzily in the doorway, his palm closed over his still hard penis now slick with his semen. Exhausted, he moved back and closed the door, swooning as, in Chayne’s room the sound of fucking continued.

They went on a early morning walk down Kirkland toward the bakery to pick up doughnuts.

“You gonna keep seeing that cowboy?”

“Hum?” Chayne raised an eyebrow and did not answer, which was his answer.

In a line, riding their bikes down the street came some familiar children, singing, almost solemnly, the girls with their black braids flying behind them:

 

“My pussy tastes so fresh,

my pussy tastes so fresh

Hi ho the dairio

my pussy tastes so fresh!

 

And

My pussy tastes like fish

My pussy tastes like fish

Hi ho the dairio

You ought to make a wish!

 

Oh my pussy tastes like cheese

Its honey to the bees!

Hi ho the dairio

My pussy tastes like cheese!”

 

As they disappeared toward Lincoln Street, Russell could hear them cry triumphantly:

 

“And my pussy tastes like trout

You ought to eat me out

Hi ho the dairio you better eat me out!”

 

“I wonder if they’d like to join the choir,” Chayne said.

“They could only improve it.”

“That’s very cruel of you,” Chayne said in a professorial voice.

“True…. But cruel.”

 

At breakfast Russell said, “Chayne, I really don’t think I want to go see Dad today.”

Chayne considered this, picked up his toast and took a bite out of it, and then took a swig of tea. Every Saturday started with a pot of coffee and then worked its way to tea and toast liberally smeared in jam.

“Russell, this is one time I’m actually going to be a moral voice in your life,” Chayne said. “I think you’d better go.”

He picked up his toast and took a bite.

“I mean, the man’s holding out an olive branch to you, albeit not the world’s biggest one. Go over and see him. Oh, shit—” Chayne interrupted himself. “Why does the bread always fall jamside on the floor?”

“I think there’s a scientific explanation for it,” Russell said, standing up.

“Where are you going?” Chayne demanded.

“To go see Dad.”

“But we’re only on the second course. We haven’t made it to omelets and sausage yet.”

“I think this is something I need a light stomach for.”

“Oh, Russell, it’s just Thom. It won’t be that bad. It might even be good,” Chayne added, not convinced. “Do you want me to drive you over there?”

“No,” said Russell, heading for the living room and the front door. “I think I’d better walk.”

He walked south for about four blocks until he reached Royal Street, which ran alongside the river. Jackie lived in a large old brick building that Russell thought might have once been a place of business, a company fallen on hard times. He came in through the large old lobby that smelled like old books, and wondered why he didn’t come to visit Jackie more often. The climb up the steps made him remember. The only time he really came over was when Uncle John was in town and he took Russell here. Jackie was much cooler than his father, thought Russell, someone who would understand his problems. He remembered how when she had first moved here to Royal Street, Russell was about to knock on the door, and Uncle John took his hand and said, “You don’t knock for Jackie’s place. She hates that.”

“Doesn’t she lock doors?”

“Never.”

Russell caught his breath and turned around to see the broad river through the long, wide window that started in the middle of the landing between the third and the fourth floor. On the other side of it he could see East Sequoia, and a little to the right the expansion bridge that linked the towns. He followed a small boat toward it, and then turned around and went down the high quiet fourth floor hallway that still smelled of old books, and walked into Jackie’s apartment.

“Thom! Thom! Oh, my God! Oh my God! Oh—my—uh!”

Russell caught his breath. His hand was quicker and more careful than his mind. He stood outside the door, the air stuck in his throat and chest. The images did not come until now. They came out of order.

It wasn’t Jackie and Chip. It was Thom. The woman he had not really seen, but she was too small to be Patti. It—she—was blond. It was definitely Thom. He was sweaty and disheveled, the way he’d been the other night. Only he was also naked. He was… the woman on the dining room table Jackie had bought at a rummage sale.

    

“What the hell are you doing back here?” Chayne demanded. “I didn’t even get past the tea.”

“Good,” said Russell. “I think I’m gonna need that omelet.”

“You look like you’re gonna need castor oil too. Was it that bad?”

Russell paused, his mouth opened, his brow furrowed, and then he nodded and said, “Yes. It was that bad.”

“You can talk about it later,” Chayne said, wisely. “If you want to.”

He finished his cup of tea.

“I guess it’s omelet time.”

“I saw Dad and some other woman.”

“Oh,” Chayne said.

“He was fucking her.”

Chayne said nothing.

“I deserved to see it,” Russell said. “I deserved it. Because I’m bad.”

“We’re all a little bad,” Chayne said.

“I came down last night. I was curious. I heard you and that guy.”

“Dan.”

“Dan,” Russell said, desperately.

He blurted out.

“I wanted to see. I watched.”

“You nasty little pervert,” Chayne smiled at him.

Russell blinked.

“You’re so filthy,” Chayne said. “How many eggs do you want in your omelet? Did you like what you saw?”

“What?”

“I’m not your parents. I’m not anyone’s parents. I don’t hide my life. You were young and curious. I took my pleasure. I hope it gave you some pleasure too.”

Russell said, “Three eggs.”

“Greedy and horny,” Chayne drawled putting his cigarette down and pulling the egg carton to him.

“You’re not like anyone else I know,” Russell said to Chayne.

“No,” Chayne said, cracking an egg into a bowl. “I don’t suppose I would be.”

 

On Jackie’s radio, Sheryl Crow was singing.

 

I woke up this morning--

now I understand

what it means to give your love

to just one man

Afraid of feeling nothing

no bees or butterflies

my head is full of voices

and this house is full of lies

This is hooooome

this is hoooo-oooome

this is hoooome

this is home!

 

Even though he was right there, the same sheets tangled about him as her, the blue sky framing him, Liz felt, as she had once before, that Thom was far from here. He rolled over onto his back with one of Jackie’s cigarettes.

“I haven’t seen you guys in a long time,” Thom said to the Salem.

“Oh, Thom you’re not going to start smoking again?”

“Just this once. I’m the one Patti learned it from.”

“I know.”

Thom lit the cigarette. The tip glowed red. Liz watched the smoke leave Thom’s lips.

“We’re never going to do this again, are we?” she said, at last.

Thom put the cigarette in the ashtray and let it burn. He didn’t look at Liz. He was looking at the ceiling. She could see his breast rising and falling under the hair on his chest.

“I—” Thom said, at last, “I don’t think so.”

“I’ve never had a one night stand before,” Liz said. “It appears you’re my first everything.”

“Was I really your first? Did you really lose your virginity to me?” Thom asked her.

“You know I did.”

They were silent a little longer. Thom took up the cigarette now and started to smoke it in earnest. It had been years since his last one, but it all came back to him now. He smoked it to the filter.

“You knew that it was the last time we’d have sex, didn’t you?” Liz said. “Just a few minutes ago. You knew it, didn’t you?”

Thom nodded. He felt numb.

“I did too,” said Liz. “I’ve never done that before, had sex for the last time.”

“But we did,” said Thom.

“But that wasn’t the last time. Was it?” Liz almost laughed. “There was an almost twenty year interim. This was the last time. And that last time, I didn’t know it was the last time. I don’t think you did either. I hope you didn’t. If you did, please don’t tell me.”

“I didn’t,” Thom told Liz, rolling over to look at her and touching her arm. He didn’t feel good right now. He felt hollow. He felt smoked out. He wondered if anything would be in his heart if he dared to look.