Wisht Eva Reece would call on me sometimes, she said to herself. She thought fondly of her. Used ta send Joel over with jars of canned vegetables from her garden back when Joel was little. Always a shy kid, he would knock timidly on her kitchen door, holding the box of food he’d carried over on the back of his bike. His pale blond hair and beautiful little boy’s smile had always tugged at her heart. He would hand it to her with the same little speech: “Mama said to give you these. Hope you like ‘em!” Then he would smile and pedal off. Back in those days, Eva had often come to visit, bringing her curtains that looked practically brand-new for the living room, bringing her clothes for the children—mainly boys’ clothes for the twins who were younger than Joel by almost four years. And for a time, Eva had taken her to PTA meetings, 4-H Club affairs, trying to get her involved. For a few years, she had been involved, hoping to make a better life for the children, at least until Kenneth and Henry brought that to a stop.
Joel and Kenneth had been friends, almost up to the sixth grade, but then Kenneth started getting into fights at school. One day, he came home with torn clothes, a black eye, loose teeth. He was madder than she’d ever seen him. All he could say was that Joel and his friends had ganged up on him, beat him up. She didn’t believe a word of it, but Henry did. He screamed at her “What’d I tell you, woman? That Reece lot’re not yore class! You think they got rich bein’ decent and hard workin’?” When she protested, he got mad enough to hit and screamed, “She shows herself round here to gloat and you know it! Kenny knowed it and got near kilt on account of it!”
He raved for days. Months went by and Kenneth’s hatred of Joel became as strong as Henry’s. It was misplaced, Edna felt, but for Kenneth, like his pa, there was no letting go of that anger. The last time Eva had come by smiling, bringing over more things, Henry took them from Edna and threw them against the Reeces’ car. “We take care of our own. Now you git!”
Like the house, like the kitchen full of grime and rot, Kenneth got worse. And in his eighth and final year of school, a few months from graduation from Mimbres County, he got thrown out. The principal himself brought him home one day and took Henry aside. Henry’s face was ashen, and he hung his head and talked low, cowed at the principal’s indignation. That night he beat Kenneth and kicked him around until she had to drag Kenneth to bed and doctor his face with Monkey Blood. Henry hovered over her, “Let him be! Oughta cut your balls off, exposin’ yerself, you goddam bum.” The crime was such that Edna could only guess, since even Henry wouldn’t tell her exactly what he had done. He turned on her suddenly with the back of his hand and slapped her across the mouth. “I said let him be!”
She sat at the bare table in her usual place, able to see into the next room where Henry was snoring and where she could watch for car lights out the window by the front door. She was worried about Kenneth. He was mean, just like his pa. And tonight, what horrible talk, cussing like sailors all during supper, then Kenny taking off in the pickup. Going rabbit hunting he’d said, but more than likely out shooting up highway signs again. The stretch of highway in front of the house was all shot up. And he’d done it. Henry wouldn’t do anything about it, though, except buy more shotgun shells.
Outside, the sun was gone, but there was still the faintest pink in the sky. The air from the irrigation reservoir across the highway was cool and moist and brought with it muggy, earthy smells. The breeze came through the back door into the kitchen and lightly brushed her sweaty forehead. She recalled times when she would have been happy sitting like this in a quiet kitchen, her work done for the night, the little ones asleep, enjoying a cup of coffee. But she couldn’t shake the depression that the evening brought on.
* * *
Kenneth and Paul hid the pickup near the gravel pit on the road that led to the Reeces’ farm. Kenneth cut the lights. They parked behind a hill that had been made from the gravel pit. The stars were out and the slice of moon had just begun to rise over the mountains. In the light they managed to make good time walking in the ditch across the road from the Reeces’ house. Inside, the lights were on and the living room window curtains were open. From their vantage point they could see into the living room and even through the wide doors to the dining room and the kitchen beyond.
“What time you got, Kenneth?” Paul said.
“I ain’t got no damn watch, shitforbrains. We been gone bout’n hour. It’s about eight.”
“Well, I don’t see Joel’s parents. Isn’t it too early for them to be in bed?”
Kenneth squinted through the darkness. “Maybe they have a TV-room. Rich folks like them.”
“Yeah. Or maybe it’s just the two of them. Maybe they have the place to themselves.”
They shifted position in the ditch, squinting through the darkness.
The kitchen light went out, and two shadows walked toward the living room. From where they watched, neither could tell which was Tom and which was Joel. The two figures seemed to walk aimlessly around the living room, picking up things, setting them down. One of them turned on the TV, which was nothing more than a display of blue and white flashes. They sat down, one on the couch with his profile to the window and the other in a chair with his back to them. From time to time they appeared to talk, then turn back to the TV.
“I say we move in a little closer while they’s sittin’ still,” Kenneth whispered into Paul’s neck. Paul felt an unpleasant thrill shiver down his back.
His nervousness increased as Kenneth led the way, running across the road in a crouch, then sliding into the ditch on the other side. Paul made a lot of noise sliding in beside him. “You idiot! Keep it quiet,” Kenneth whispered. His breath stank of beer and Paul almost gagged. “What if they got a dog? You want it to set up yapping?”
Paul suppressed a shiver. “Hope we see something worthwhile; my parents are going to be worried if I don’t get back, soon.”
“You sure are a nervous Nelly! You wanted evidence, you little shit!”
Paul slumped against the ditch, feeling the rough gravel through his slacks. His stomach felt queasy, he had broken out into a cold sweat. In the daylight, Kenneth wasn’t quite so scary, but sitting next to him in the darkness, his animal presence and stink bore down on Paul. He glanced nervously at the shotgun Kenneth rested against his cheek; Kenneth kept moving his face back and forth against the black, shiny barrels, idly caressing it with his hand. Only the thought that he might see for himself what Kenneth claimed about Tom and Joel kept him from running.
They were close enough now to distinguish the two figures. Tom was sitting with his back to them. Joel was sitting on the couch. They were looking at each other, and Paul guessed that Tom was talking, because Joel smiled, then nodded. He faintly heard the TV coming through a raised window near them and could make out shapes on the screen.
Kenneth motioned to Paul to follow him through the barbed-wire fence into the tree line that ran parallel with the road. This movement brought them within ten yards of the living room. As they had moved closer and closer to the house, Kenneth’s excitement seemed to grow; his breathing had become shallow and quick and when Paul squatted next to him, Kenneth grabbed his shoulder so suddenly Paul almost screamed.
Kenneth pulled Paul against him in the dark and, in a low, quiet voice, he said, “Now we watch.”
“It better be worth it!” Paul whispered back.
* * *
The night was cooling off a little, and with the windows open, a breeze flowed through the living room. Out of habit, Joel turned on the TV. Tom seemed content to be doing nothing. Joel looked over at him, where he was sitting in the chair. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I’m going to work your ass off, so don’t worry. By tomorrow night you’ll be begging your father to let you come home.”
Tom laughed. “I doubt that.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
They stared at each other across the space between them. Joel looked at Tom’s familiar face, what one girl had called kissy-faced, meaning
his lips were soft and full. Incredibly soft, Joel remembered. He had never suspected how soft a guy’s lips could be, but he knew now and wished he could stop thinking about it. He wanted to kiss Tom, but knew it would probably make Tom run, faster than all the farm work put together. It was difficult to get past that—that Tom would run, that he was afraid. On so many other nights he’d looked at Tom and felt the weird little tugs in his chest. He had often tried to express his feelings but, lacking the right words, he’d stumbled across trite little expressions: “You’re like a brother to me, you know that?” or “We’ll always be buddies, won’t we?” Now that he had the words for what he felt, he had to keep his mouth shut.
Although it felt late, it was only eight, going on an eternity until they would go to bed. Just the two of them here, Joel could imagine how wonderful it would be to go to bed and make love again. But Tom was afraid.
Joel’s hand shook a little as he reached over and touched Tom’s fingers. Tom didn’t respond, but allowed Joel to hold them. He looked helplessly at Joel, but allowed himself the slightest smile; his eyes still betrayed unease and fear.
“Does this bother you?” Joel asked, whispering, although he didn’t know why.
Tom sighed. He pushed his hand palm to palm with Joel’s and entwined their fingers. “I want to do this, Joel, but I’m just plain scared.”
“I know,” Joel said. Tom’s hand was warm and dry under his palm, lean and smooth. Definitely a guy’s, and part of the wonder of all this was that very fact—two guys! He looked at their hands clasped together. “But we’re not hurting anybody. Are we?”
Tom laughed suddenly. “It sure doesn’t hurt me, but it would disgust people if they saw it. You can’t even imagine.”
“I can, too, but I don’t want to. And if you weren’t afraid, I’d dare every creep in town to make something of it!”
“Joel! What about God?”
“Who?”
Tom shook his head sadly. “Never mind.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
He felt Tom’s hand tighten on his own. “No you’re not. But that’s okay. Okay”No. I am. I don’t mean to push. But we’ve got so little time left. I don’t know what I’m going to do when you go away to college.”
Tom smiled across at him. “Me either. But if we’re friends, we’ll stay in touch. But let’s not talk about that.”
Joel watched their hands and his feelings continued to rise.
Tom felt the strength in Joel’s hand, felt it pulling from within him a familiar and frightening stirring. If Joel insisted that they make love, he thought, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. He wouldn’t want to. He waited, full of anticipation.
* * *
“Sure as hell! Look at that, Paul!” Kenneth whispered in the dark.
Their faces appeared through the trees, ghost-like ovals that would be barely perceptible to someone looking directly at them from inside the house. But they could see clearly into the living room. Paul watched, fascinated. Now that he knew for sure, he felt sickened. It was worse knowing and he wondered just how long it had been going on. Part of him gloated, knowing he held the cards now. Something bothered Tom about it also, else why repent? He shivered, feeling Kenneth moving closer to him in the darkness, and wished—
Kenneth began to giggle. It was nervous and high-pitched, an elongated “Hee, heeee!” that pierced the night air and made the hairs on Paul’s neck prickle. They saw the faces in the living room turn quickly in their direction, peering through the slightly-raised window. Paul panicked and crashed noisily through the trees. His shoes thudded on the side of the road then crunched rhythmically on the gravel as he ran heedlessly back toward the gravel pit.
Kenneth watched him with disgust. He wasn’t frightened, just angry that Paul, shitforbrains, had interrupted the two queers. He merely pulled his head back into the shadows of the trees and continued to watch. A smile crept across his face that he was not aware of. It was a smile full of teeth. Joel got up to investigate the sound. He peered directly at Kenneth though the living-room window, and spoke into the darkness. “Kitty Cat, is that you?”
Kenneth allowed the darkness to conceal him and didn’t move a muscle. Joel shrugged and said something to Tom. They got up suddenly and shut off the lights in the living room; a moment later, a light broke the darkness in a hallway, but Kenneth couldn’t see either of them. He waited until the house was dark, then walked boldly through the trees and back toward the pickup where he imagined Paul was hiding, trembling in fright, the little nervous Nelly. He screamed from deep in his chest and, holding the shotgun pointed toward the sky, fired both barrels. The explosions cracked loudly in the night and reverberated over the desert like the rumbling thunder of an imminent storm. Hundreds of steel beads pelted Kenneth a moment later, like metal rain from the exploded shells.
Wednesday, June 9
Joel opened the refrigerator. “Now let’s see…” He was wearing Levi’s but hadn’t yet put on a shirt or his boots. Tom, similarly dressed, stood next to Joel with a hand on his shoulder. Both of them peered into the refrigerator. Joel looked backward at him. “You want some eggs?”
“I feel like I could eat a horse.”
Joel moved some containers around. “Horse…horse. Sorry, Tom. We’re fresh out.”
Tom laughed, delighted. “Eggs.”
Joel pulled out a bowl of eggs, unwrapped the bacon, and handed it to Tom. He pointed to the sink cabinet. “There’s a frying pan over there. Juice?”
Tom nodded.
“Comin’ up!”
Joel got out juice and coffee while Tom fried the bacon. “Listen, Joel, I cook a lot, so why don’t you let me? You just sit there and plan my torture.”
Joel got out plates, plugged in the coffee, showed Tom the salt and pepper. He stood behind Tom at the stove and held his hips. Tom moved around beneath his hands. “That feels good, Joel, but you shouldn’t.”
Joel let his hands drift away, saw where they had been just above the edge of Tom’s Levi’s. It didn’t matter. Right now, looking was as good. He felt happy. Soon the kitchen smelled of bacon and coffee and, as they ate by the dining room window, the sun washed the grass in the front yard with flecks of gold in the dark, moist green.
Joel dug into his breakfast. “Hey, these eggs are delicious. What did you do?”
Tom shrugged. “I found some stuff in the spice shelf and threw it in.”
Joel gazed out the window but could see Tom sitting to his left out of the corner of his eye, and it struck him that Tom was in the place where his father usually sat. Joel recalled a morning similar to this, and the most exciting conversation he ever had with his father. It must have been a year ago, but it could have been yesterday. “If you want it, Son, you and I can become partners. You finish school, go to college if you want. And this will belong to you.” At certain times, his father simply presented adult, man-to-man proposals to Joel as though he were a business partner, and it left Joel feeling proud, loving him completely. He and his father had looked out the window at their land in the dawn. “Your mother and I discussed it. Fifty percent when you graduate. You pay yourself a salary, like your mother and I do. The rest stays in the business. Or, you can light out on your own, if you’ve got an itch to. Make your own way in the world. There’s a lot going on out there, Joel. Places you could see.”
He looked beyond the fence line of the farm toward the south. Patches of desert still dominated. Yucca plants, some of them ten, twelve feet high, stood around in the dawn in groups like bizarre creatures, discoursing on matters of state. They cast purple shadows over the light-flooded sand, and beyond that were more patches of green and yellow, and then a sweeping away of ground toward the distant southern mountains that closed the Mimbres Valley. Beyond them lay Mexico and the curve of the earth into South America.
It wasn’t a hard choice for Joel, back then, to agree eagerly to his father’s proposal. It had been put seriously. Joel had accepted, and his father had thanked him.
“I have to plan for the future, Son. I couldn’t handle this place without you, and if you decide to take over, inherit this place, you need to think about your own family in a few years. You sure don’t need to marry any time soon, but you’ll need to think how you’d run this place when I retire.” And back then, just a few weeks before Tom came along, Joel had assumed that getting married would be his next big step. He dropped his gaze and looked at Tom. You could talk to Tom that way, too, man to man, adult to adult.
He thought of asking, “Will you marry me, Tom?” and shivered, delighted at the way it sounded. “You were hungry,” he said, instead.
Tom mopped up the egg yellow on his plate with the last bite of toast and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed rapidly, his jaws working overtime. He drained his orange juice. “I’m hungrier out here. I don’t work like this very often. My muscles are sore!” He grinned and rubbed his arms. “But I like it!”
Remembering that, Joel set a leisurely pace for them. They washed the dishes and finished dressing. It was seven or so by the time they left for work. At first they made a poor team; they were late getting the chores done, but Tom worked eagerly and happily. And all morning Joel wanted to talk about them. Somehow.this couldn’t end. Not this summer. Not ever.
* * *
They were west of the garden outside the equipment shed stacking the metal tarps from the irrigation ditch. Tom was looking at one of them as he washed the dry mud cakes from it with a hose. Their trapezoid shapes made them fit cozily into the concrete ditch and Joel told Tom about irrigating with the dirt ditches when he was a kid, the way the real tarpaulins rotted eventually from constantly being hung across the ditch and covered with mud.
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