change
with grave curiosity. He leans against Roy, who allows him closer.
They
sit quietly for a long time. Finally Roy moves his mouth close to Nathan's ear.
“I got to go inside pretty soon. My parents will be wondering where I
am.”
“It's
okay. I'll be fine.”
“You
can't stay out here.”
“Yes,
I can.”
Hesitation.
Roy considers one question, refuses it, something helpless in his expression.
“You should come to my house.”
Nathan
shakes his head. “Your parents will send me home.”
Silence.
Roy is wondering whether to ask what's wrong, Nathan can tell. But he rejects
the notion, he is afraid to know. They stick to the practical.
“You
can sleep in the barn tonight, I'll show you a place.”
The
voices of everything, of crickets and frogs and birds, collide with the rasp of
wind through dry leaves in the trees overhead. Nathan trusts, and therefore
neglects to argue. Roy pulls him close, like a brother.
They
touch each other gently, without intent. Only once, when Nathan brushes his
lips against Roy's throat, is there something else. Roy takes a sudden breath
and grips Nathan's head with his hand. A moment of possession. And Nathan sees,
in a fleeting way, the irony that what pleases him with Roy terrifies him with
his father. He glimpses this, he has no words for the thought. The moment of
dread soon passes.
Roy
takes him to the barn through the back and shows him the mattress in the comer
behind bales of hay. They cover it with yellowed newspaper and Nathan curls up
in the quilts. Roy lingers a little while, till Nathan's eyes adjust to the
light in the drafty structure. Light from the yard pours through chinks in the
outer wall. An owl is hooting somewhere overhead. Roy leans over Nathan on the
mattress, hesitant. The moment begins intimately but ends awkwardly, Roy
decides against any touch, stands and wipes the back of his jeans. “You'll
be safe in here. Okay? I have to go.”
“Thanks.”
Studying the play of shadow on Roy's face. “Are you still mad at me?”
The
question surprises Roy. For a moment he seems overwhelmed, though the question
is very simple. “No, I'm not mad.”
“I
had fun the other night.”
“So
did I.”
Nathan
busies himself spreading the quilts. When Roy heads to his house, the open door
floods the bam with light. He waits in the rectangle a moment, his long shadow
bisecting the stream of light. But whatever weighs on his mind, he asks
nothing.
The
door swings closed and Nathan is alone. The bam seems larger now that it is all
dark again. The quiet and stillness are welcome. Nathan lies back along the
mattress, newspaper rustling. He inhales the aroma of old straw, the dusky
undertones of dried manure, a whiff of rotted apple, other odors he cannot
identify. Around him, shadow shapes are forming in the dim light that spills
through the cracks in the walls; the stored farm equipment, the tractor and
covered plows, protective, like sleeping giants. He studies the unfamiliar
space and tries to make himself comfortable on the mattress, grateful that he
is inside for the night. Tired after two nights of fitful rest, he sleeps more
soundly than he would have thought possible.
In the
morning, he wakens to the sight of Roy, who sits on the edge of the mattress.
Nathan did not even hear the door open. “Good morning. Did you
sleep?”
Nathan
rubs his eyes. “Yes.”
“Your
mom is awake. The light's on in your kitchen.”
Nathan
stretches, sits up. “What time is it?”
“Early.”
Roy thumps his shoulder affectionately. Indicating the quilts, he says, I’ll
hide these. You go get ready for school. Okay?"
When
Nathan rises, Roy brushes close to him, kisses his cheek. Then Roy busies
himself getting feed for the chickens. Nathan hurries to his house, leaving the
bam by the back.
A cold,
clear morning greets him. Nothing much has changed inside the rooms; his mother
hardly speaks to him, his father lurks out of sight. His room lies exactly as
he left it.
with grave curiosity. He leans against Roy, who allows him closer.
They
sit quietly for a long time. Finally Roy moves his mouth close to Nathan's ear.
“I got to go inside pretty soon. My parents will be wondering where I
am.”
“It's
okay. I'll be fine.”
“You
can't stay out here.”
“Yes,
I can.”
Hesitation.
Roy considers one question, refuses it, something helpless in his expression.
“You should come to my house.”
Nathan
shakes his head. “Your parents will send me home.”
Silence.
Roy is wondering whether to ask what's wrong, Nathan can tell. But he rejects
the notion, he is afraid to know. They stick to the practical.
“You
can sleep in the barn tonight, I'll show you a place.”
The
voices of everything, of crickets and frogs and birds, collide with the rasp of
wind through dry leaves in the trees overhead. Nathan trusts, and therefore
neglects to argue. Roy pulls him close, like a brother.
They
touch each other gently, without intent. Only once, when Nathan brushes his
lips against Roy's throat, is there something else. Roy takes a sudden breath
and grips Nathan's head with his hand. A moment of possession. And Nathan sees,
in a fleeting way, the irony that what pleases him with Roy terrifies him with
his father. He glimpses this, he has no words for the thought. The moment of
dread soon passes.
Roy
takes him to the barn through the back and shows him the mattress in the comer
behind bales of hay. They cover it with yellowed newspaper and Nathan curls up
in the quilts. Roy lingers a little while, till Nathan's eyes adjust to the
light in the drafty structure. Light from the yard pours through chinks in the
outer wall. An owl is hooting somewhere overhead. Roy leans over Nathan on the
mattress, hesitant. The moment begins intimately but ends awkwardly, Roy
decides against any touch, stands and wipes the back of his jeans. “You'll
be safe in here. Okay? I have to go.”
“Thanks.”
Studying the play of shadow on Roy's face. “Are you still mad at me?”
The
question surprises Roy. For a moment he seems overwhelmed, though the question
is very simple. “No, I'm not mad.”
“I
had fun the other night.”
“So
did I.”
Nathan
busies himself spreading the quilts. When Roy heads to his house, the open door
floods the bam with light. He waits in the rectangle a moment, his long shadow
bisecting the stream of light. But whatever weighs on his mind, he asks
nothing.
The
door swings closed and Nathan is alone. The bam seems larger now that it is all
dark again. The quiet and stillness are welcome. Nathan lies back along the
mattress, newspaper rustling. He inhales the aroma of old straw, the dusky
undertones of dried manure, a whiff of rotted apple, other odors he cannot
identify. Around him, shadow shapes are forming in the dim light that spills
through the cracks in the walls; the stored farm equipment, the tractor and
covered plows, protective, like sleeping giants. He studies the unfamiliar
space and tries to make himself comfortable on the mattress, grateful that he
is inside for the night. Tired after two nights of fitful rest, he sleeps more
soundly than he would have thought possible.
In the
morning, he wakens to the sight of Roy, who sits on the edge of the mattress.
Nathan did not even hear the door open. “Good morning. Did you
sleep?”
Nathan
rubs his eyes. “Yes.”
“Your
mom is awake. The light's on in your kitchen.”
Nathan
stretches, sits up. “What time is it?”
“Early.”
Roy thumps his shoulder affectionately. Indicating the quilts, he says, I’ll
hide these. You go get ready for school. Okay?"
When
Nathan rises, Roy brushes close to him, kisses his cheek. Then Roy busies
himself getting feed for the chickens. Nathan hurries to his house, leaving the
bam by the back.
A cold,
clear morning greets him. Nothing much has changed inside the rooms; his mother
hardly speaks to him, his father lurks out of sight. His room lies exactly as
he left it.
Similar Books
