Works and Days

Russell passed Mr. Cordino and Miss Castile, their heads bowed in the front row. He looked for Chayne as decently and unobtrusively as possible. But Chayne was already looking at him, waiting with the patience of a saint, which, if someone knew him, would be a strange comparison. Russell continued to stare across the church at Chayne who continued to look at him expressionlessly, and then, suddenly, Chayne closed one eye shut, opened the other wide, stuck out his tongue, winked, and then resumed his statue pose.

“He’s daring me,” Russell realized, but because there was no unobtrusive way to get to him, Russell decided to wait until the end of Mass, and run after him.

After announcements, and the closing hymn, Russell had a devil of a time getting out of the church. Father Ford was one of those priest who stood in the middle of the entrance like a peristyle, or like a gatekeeper and made sure no one left before talking to him or shaking his hand.

“Russell, it’s good to see you. Your parents were here this morning. I asked them where you were. They said you’d be around later.”

“Yeah,” Russell shrugged. “I don’t like getting up early on Sundays. I mean, it’s the day of rest and all.”

“Oh, Russell, what are we gonna do with you?”

Above them the bells were ringing Oh, the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus, dropping one heavy note after the other.

“Tell your father hello, and great job with the planning for the men’s retreat.”

“Alright,” Russell shook Father Geoff’s hand vigorously. “Thank you,” and he was gone, looking up and down Kirkland past the exiting parishioners on the sunlit steps and wondering what the hell he was thanking Father Geoff for.

“Chayne!” Russell screamed over the crowd. He’d just gotten a glimpse of the man now crossing Kirkland Street.

“CHAYNE!!!”

He was making himself rather undignified. People were looking. My God, get the fuck out of the way and go home people! “Scuse me, pardon me,” he had to say coming down the sidewalk, through the crowd of chatty parishioners. But Chayne had only crossed Kirkland to sit down on the curb, take out his pack of cigarettes and light one.

“Russell,” was all he said.

“I thought you might have left without me.”

“What the fuck kind of a godfather would I be to do that? And why else in the hell would I darken the doors of that fucking church but to see you?”

As Chayne took a very long drag on his cigarette and heavy grey smoke left his mouth and nostrils, he added, “You young people have such low self esteem these days.”

“It’s not that,” Russell said.

“It’s kind of that,” Chayne said.

“Well, yes,” Russell agreed. “Only…. Oh my God, why are you here?” Russell demanded, clasping his hands, not knowing what to do, and then, most unRussell like, throwing his arms around Chayne.

“I keep on getting that question,” Chayne said dismally. The black man and the white boy were nearly of a height, Chayne just a little taller. They were walking down Kirkland now, past the little bookstore.

Now the blacks kids on the bikes were riding back up. They may have done toward the river, must have been coming up from Lincoln Street.

They sang in almost beautiful harmony.

“Please won’t you fart—

In my face?

Please won’t you fart—

In my face?

Put that rich, buttery ass gas—

In my face

Nothing else in the world

could ever take it’s place

So please won’t you fart—

In my face!”

“Wow,” Russell said.

“James Weldon Johnson would be proud.” Chayne said.

“Who?”

“What kind of history do they teach at your school?” Chayne demanded, then said, “I already know. They white kind, and they don’t even do that very well.”

“True,” Russell agreed as Chayne dropped the cigarette butt and crushed it under foot.

“And even though other people as, why you’re here, when it comes from me it’s a happy question. How long are you here for?”

“I’m here.”

“What?” Russell stopped to stare at Chayne.

“I’m here.”

“What about… teaching back in Saint Louis?”

They stood still on the corner of Kirkland and Reynold.

“It’s gone. At least for now.”

Chayne was going to be here. He never stayed for long and now he was staying for good. Russell didn’t know what to say, but he said, “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a way things are thing,” Chayne said.

“Where are you staying?”

“In the house.”

“But I passed it the other day, Chayne.”

They started moving up Reynold Street. “It was all overgrown ,and there was a FOR SALE sign up—”

“Well now it’s been sold. I bought it.”

“Oh, Chayne,” Russell hugged his old friend again.

“That’s enough now!”

“You don’t know how it’s been,” Russell was telling Chayne as they came to the corner and made a right on Curtain Street. “Sophomore year is worse than freshman. I hate school. Mom and Dad are still fighting the cold war. I hate this place. I hate these people. It’s like a suburb of hell.”

“It’s just adolescence.”

“My Dad says that teenagers start to think the world is meaningless and that’s what my problem is.”

“Teenagers just start to see the world for what it is,” Chayne said.

Russell stopped in his tracks on Curtain Street. It was one thing for him to say life was meaningless, another for a respected adult to confirm his opinion.

“Do you really mean that, Chayne? That the world is meaningless.”

“The one most people live in,” Chayne said. “Well, fuck. This is much too much philosophy for a Sunday.”

Curtain Street was little and brick paved and lined by small old houses, mostly two stories, some bungalows with gingerbread trim and wraparound porches, hedges that bordered the yards and grew over the fences. Chayne’s house was much the same, dark green with a large bay window overlooking the porch, and a broad stair. The wide yard was overgrown with weeds and the hedges were so high that you had to peer through them to see this view of the house. The FOR SALE sign stood in the yard forlorn and misguiding.

“Do you wanna come and eat with us?” Russell asked Chayne.

Chayne furrowed his brows over his spectacles.

“I don’t really think that Thom would appreciate me there. But I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come here. Jewell’ll be here soon and probably bring Shannon and her husband. We’ll be having a regular old party. We could even make sure you get to school safe in the morning. Bring some clothes over.”

Russell’s face lit up.

“Go tell your parents first. I’ll be right here.”

“Will there be liquor?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

The sky was just beginning to glow orange with the setting sun outlining the black shadows of the neighborhood trees when Thom came in through the back door, swinging his bowling bag and said, “Smells great, honey. Everyone’ll be here in a few minutes. They went to get cleaned up.”

“You think you could set the table, Thom?”

Thom made to sniff an armpit and said, “I gotta get cleaned up, hon. I can’t greet guests like this.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Patti murmured into the potato salad as Thom went upstairs. She judged he should be in the shower... right... about...now. And turned on the cold water.

“Aaahh shit!” she heard her husband scream upstairs and allowed herself a little smile over her little victory, and then reached into the cupboard for glasses and went out to set the table.

The front door rang and Patti crossed the dining room into the wide living room to open the door.

“Jeffrey! Anna!”

Mr. Cordino and Miss Castile were the first to arrive. Patti imagined that once she’d been that young looking. Both were soft spoken and Mediterranean with pallid skin that contrasted their very dark eyes and hair.

They came in, looked around, and Jeff asked, “Do you need any help, Patti?”

“No—” she began, but neither one of them paid attention, going in to get glasses and plates and chatting on about Mass today and how they’d seen Russell. The doorbell rang again and then there were Bill and Dena from next door and Patti heard herself offering drinks and Dena saying, “I’ll help you.”

Patti felt herself falling into the role of being a housewife.

Thom came down. Patti could hear him from the kitchen. He had on a tie and khakis. She came out into the dining room with the potato salad and he asked her, “Where’s Russell?”

“He’s with Chayne.”

“What?”

“Chayne’s back.”

“Chayne Kandzierski?” Bill Dwyer interrupted before he realized he was interrupting.

“Russell swung by and asked if he could stay the night with Chayne and his friends.”

“Great, the boy’ll be in juvenile custody before the week’s out.”

“And I said he could.”

“Patti,” Thom said in the voice that told Patti it was time to put down the salad and have a small conference in the kitchen.

“Thom?” she said when they were in the kitchen.

“I wanted Russell to eat with us.”

“Why? He’d have more fun at Chayne’s. Come to think of it, I’d have more fun at Chayne’s. And Chayne’s his godfather.”

“John’s his godfather,” Thom reminded her. “Your brother. Remember?”

“Chayne was his Confirmation sponsor though, and that kind of makes him a godfather too.”

“Not if you manage to talk a kid out of getting Confirmed.” Thom differed.

“Okay, then. Could we get past your hatred of Chayne Kandzierski and have a nice—”

“I don’t hate Chayne.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t hate Chayne.”

“Could you be a little louder? It’s your friends we’re trying to impress so don’t blow a gasket right here. Let’s go out and smile and pretend to be happy.”

Patti turned her husband a vicious smile, and then went out followed by Thom who whispered, “I wish you’d done a little something with yourself before everyone got here, hon.”

Behind them the house was a dark and benevolent monster. The electric was cut off and so there would be no accomplishing anything in there until the morning. The old, crumbling fire pit was lit and the fire turned the backyard, the high trees, and the hedges green and black, red and gold.

They were all in dilapidated lawn chairs, Russell seeing between the three adults pitchers of margaritas with ice cubes floating in them, the foil covered plates of burritos and tacos, burgers grilled in the pit earlier. Sparks of fire crackled and shot up into the night sky and Chayne’s singing voice hovered on the air while Shannon leaned into Bill, and Jewell, smiling contentedly, nodded her head and lit another cigarette.

“This isn’t the East Coast,” Jewell said.

“This is true,” Chayne said as he deftly rolled a joint.

“What are you going to do for men?”

“Why do straight women always want to know about the bedroom lives of gay men?” Chayne wondered. “Give me that lighter.

“Besides,” he said as Russell could smell the marijuana burning, “there are men everywhere. There really are.”

Russell was feeling a little drowsy from good food and marijuana smoke when Chayne poured himself another margarita.

“Should I be gay?” Russell wondered.

Shannon cackled and Chayne, eyes tight as he inhaled on the joint and passed it to Jewell.

“I don’t know if it’s that easy—” Shannon began.

“It’s as easy as opening your legs,” Russell said.

“Damn,” Bill shook his head, broke out the guitar and began to strum it, and then play in earnest, and Shannon, pushing her mass of curls back, took the cue and sat up straight, cleared her throat and started to moan

Whatchu gonna do?

Whatchu gonna do--about meeee?

Yeah!

Whatchu gonna do?

Whatchu gonna do--about meeee?

ohhhh, yeah!

And they all took it up. It had been so long since Russell had sung, really sung. And he had never been drunk, which he was sure he was now. And he hadn’t enjoyed himself, thrown back his head and let lose with his singing... ever?

“It’s almost midnight,” Jewell said at last. “The only person who doesn’t have to be up early is Chayne Kandzierski. “

She got up and put her cigarettes back into her purse.

“Are you really sleeping here, tonight, Chayne?” Bill asked. “You can stay with us.”

“I invited Russell to stay the night though,” Chayne said, gesturing to the boy dozing in the chair.

“Hell, bring’im with us. Poor bastard in the Breckinridge with all those crazy folks. This’ll do him good to have fun with some normal people.”

Chayne didn’t know how normal any of them was, but he shook Russell and said, “Wake up!”

“We’ll get him to school on time in the morning,” Shannon said.

Shannon looked around and sighed.

“It’s so good to have you back!”