Tom raced around the corner in time to see Joel crash against Kenneth. The shotgun clattered to the ground. He closed the distance and grabbed it. Kenneth and Joel were a tangle of arms and legs, but Joel was on top; his fists flying, making dull thudding sounds on Kenneth’s face.
“Now get up, you fucker!” Joel jerked Kenneth up, bending his arm behind him. “You’re gonna pay for this, you scumbag!”
Tom came up on the porch with the shotgun. His heart was pounding, his breath coming painfully in his throat. “Joel, what’re you gonna do?”
“This stupid fucker used up his ammo. Two shots, you asshole. Can’t even count!”
Kenneth’s breath was ragged. “I’ll kill—”
Joel slammed him into the wall. Kenneth’s head crunched sick-eningly against it and he crumpled to the concrete, moaning.
“Take it easy, Joel!” Tom said.
But Joel put his boot in the small of Kenneth’s back. “Look at that!” He pointed to the black hole where the window had been. Part of the window casing was splintered. “Throw his shotgun in the pickup. Let’s take this asshole to his mama.”
* * *
Tom got out a broom and swept us the glass that lay splintered all over the dining room floor, then cleaned the glass off the table. Across the room, the flying glass had shattered the dishes in the china cabinet. Joel set the broken china aside, thinking he would show it to his mother. But even when every shard of glass was cleaned up, the broken things set neatly aside, a piece of plywood tacked across the window and the curtains closed on the carnage, the room somehow looked violated, raped. But Joel’s rage was gone.
Kenneth was beaten. He had pissed in his pants like a child, and the smell of it in the pickup as they were taking him home had been overpowering. They had been crowded together in the pickup. The stink of sweat and blood, and fear and hatred filled Joel’s nostrils, even now. What had always been a casual, sometimes vivid, thought that Kenneth was crazy, now stayed in Joel’s mind. Kenneth was probably humiliated, Joel thought, to have peed in his pants, to have had that precious shotgun taken away, but Joel refused to feel sorry for his humiliation. Crazy or not, Kenneth was a killer and he felt sorry for Mrs. Stroud, whose hard life had gotten worse with every passing year. She had wept shamelessly, slapping Kenneth over and over, crying out, “God! God!” He and Tom had left quietly.
Joel’s anger was further deflated when he saw that the damage to the window looked fairly easy to repair. They could attach the plywood more securely tomorrow; it would have to wait for glass. If Tom had not restrained him though, he realized, he could have killed Kenneth. He still felt angry, but with Tom there he could keep it under control. Tom made him relax in the living room while he made coffee and sandwiches. He brought the tray out and set it on the coffee table in front of Joel. He laid his hand on Joel’s shoulder. Joel looked up at him, his face confused. “Things just keep getting worse and worse for some reason. Why can’t we just be left alone? Are we hurting anybody? I feel like I’m going to explode!”
Tom sat beside Joel on the couch. Joel was sitting rigidly, staring over the plate of sandwiches. When Tom sat against him, Joel automatically put his arm around his shoulder and smiled stiffly. “That’s how Kenneth and I have always fought. You see why I didn’t talk about it?”
Tom leaned over and retrieved a sandwich. He broke off a piece and pushed it against Joel’s lips. Joel’s breath tickled Tom’s fingertips as he opened his mouth and took the bite from him. His lips closed softly over Tom’s fingers. The wet warmth made Tom shiver.
“I could get to like this!” Tom said. Joel laughed with his mouth full and pulled Tom against him. He hugged Tom so hard that his chest hurt. He freed his arms and hugged Joel in return. “Will we always be like this?”
Joel pulled away. He took the ragged sandwich Tom held forgotten in his hand and began eating it. He looked seriously at Tom and without smiling said, “I hope so, but maybe not.”
Tom felt himself sag. “But why?”
“Not why. If.”
“If?”
“If we can really believe in each other, if being queers isn’t someday going to be more than you can face. If, if, if. I think we can make it with each other, that we’ll always be like this, loving each other, I mean, if we can beat people like Kenneth and Paul and your father, and a million other problems I can’t even imagine. But if we allow things like happened tonight to make us afraid, if we let things like belief in sins about what we are get in the way, then no, we won’t always be like this. I mean, you’re religious. You think it’s a sin. How do you know that you can really keep loving me, once your father gets involved? He will, you know.”
“Yeah. I know he will,” Tom said. “Paul will make sure Father finds out that I lied to him. But listen. If you help me through it, I can win. I don’t want to fight against my feelings any more. I could go the rest of my life wrestling with the devil, wrestling with God. But I’ve got to be free like you.”
“Free?”
“Yes. I can see what it’s like to let my feelings lead me, even when my head says ‘no.’ And one thing you can count on: I know
I’m a homosexual—a queer, as you say. It just took me a long time to admit it. It took years. But when I met you, it only took a few times being with you to know I didn’t stand a chance to kill it off. From here on, Joel, I think things will get better. Don’t you think? I’ve gotten better. And with both of us, whatever happens, we can handle it, after tonight. Don’t you think?”
“Sure we can,” Joel said. “If we just stick up for each other.”
Tom stood up. He looked around the living room. In the few days he’d been there, the Reeces’ home had become familiar. Until tonight, he had unconsciously felt like a visitor, but so strong was the impression suddenly, looking about him, that this was his home, too, here with Joel, he felt confident they would always ‘stick up’ for each other. He smiled slyly down at Joel. “There’s one more if we’ve got to take care of.”
Joel looked puzzled, but seeing Tom’s grin, he smiled in return. “What?”
“I want to go make love right now. I want to watch you take your clothes off. I want you to undress me and make love to me and let me make love to you.”
“But what’s the if?”
“If we don’t hurry,” Tom grinned, “I might cream in my pants.”
* * *
They undressed silently in the bright light of Joel’s room. Joel pulled off his shirt facing Tom, showing off his lean torso. His skin was shiny with pale blond hairs that fairly glowed in the bright light. His tan, the product of a life in the desert, was solid down to the waist of his Levi’s. He smiled and turned his back on Tom; he unbuttoned his Levi’s and slid them off his butt. In contrast to his back, it was pale white, smooth and hairless, as delicate looking as porcelain.
Tom felt his groin begin to awaken. His stomach was fluttering. The beauty of Joel’s flesh astounded him. The symmetry of his nude body, the fluid way he moved, stepping out of his clothes and standing naked, was a vision that had been celebrated since the time of ancient Greece. He could only stare in wonder. In every tone of his emotional response, he felt love. It overpowered his reason. And shutting out all thought he let his feelings rise and rise, knew what it was to feel, utterly without fear. From his full mouth and strong chin to his shoulders and torso, to the curve of his butt, to the way he moved, Joel was perfect. He came to Tom with his arms out, offered himself with a smile so clear and bright that Tom felt he would burst without a single touch from Joel.
Joel helped him undress. Four hands fought with the buttons on Tom’s shirt. Joel stood behind him with his arms over Tom’s shoulders, kissing his neck, burning deeply, taking root deep down inside. His breath was warm and smelled sweet; and Tom got cold chills. He shivered and laughed. They pulled his shirt off and Joel turned him around and kissed him. Tom cupped Joel’s butt and pressed himself into his groin, feeling Joel’s heat, feeling Joel’s hardness again
st his own. Joel slid both his hands between them and unbuttoned Tom’s pants. Tom stepped out of them and felt Joel place a hand on the bulge in his underwear. The warmth and gentleness of his fondling made him feel weak. Their lips were barely touching and they were looking into each other’s eyes, seeing the visual translation of what each was feeling. Joel broke the gaze first, then dropped to his knees. Tom felt his underwear slide down his legs. He kicked his shorts away, holding onto Joel’s broad back. The heat that engulfed his groin rushed through him. He held Joel’s head, felt his mouth open against him, felt Joel’s lips take him slowly, the pressure of his lips as they slid along the shaft enclosing him in warmth, then relaxing, then closing tighter. He exploded in a release so complete that his knees gave and he began to shake. He felt deep down within his groin, at the base of his maleness, his semen drain slowly and completely.
Joel picked him up and laid him on the bed. They curled together and, some time later, Tom reciprocated, felt again the excitement building within him, the fullness in his own throat, the hot, live flesh of Joel quickening, pulsing. Salty tastes and fullness mixed with his own saliva. He swallowed, feeling Joel writhing beneath him. Joel’s hands rushed over him, then stopped and held tightly as his body shivered and released his own semen.
Afterward, they lay together, both filled, both surprised and shocked into silence. They hadn’t turned the light off, and Tom allowed himself to look at Joel, to study his face, and he was struck by Joel’s total serenity.
“Joel?”
“Um-hm?”
“Why are you so quiet?”
His eyes moved slowly to look at Tom. He smiled. “I was remembering what we just did. It didn’t last long, huh?”
“No.”
“But I’m total mush. I’m completely happy right now, and it lasted only a minute! I can’t get over it! You?”
“I…” Tom said. He waved his hands. “I’m.” He sat up. “I’ve been so blind.” He pushed Joel playfully, and Joel grabbed him. They wrestled lazily, in slow motion, naked, kissing then giggling. And finally, as they lay beside each other silent again, Tom said, “Your parents come back day after tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“That means we only have one more night together.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about that.”
“Well, what are we gonna do?”
“You mean sleeping together after that?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, we can’t go back to the way we were.” Joel slid up on his elbow. “You’re sure? It may not be too late.” Tom laughed at Joel’s serious expression. “Fuck you, Joel Reece. I mean, I don’t want to go back to Father and Mother.” “You don’t?” “No!”
Joel hugged Tom close. “You mean you want to live together? Now?”
“Yes! Don’t you?” “Of course I do! But how?” “I don’t know.” “I don’t either.”
CHAPTER 12
Saturday, June 12
The light was pale and the air blowing across them was cold. Joel shivered and pulled Tom closer. He ran his hand down Tom’s back, still disbelieving it all, as if he was dreaming—as if suddenly he would wake up and this beautiful guy next to him would become insubstantial and his hand would grasp the cold air. He explored the soft intensity of his own feelings; beneath the tips of his fingers, Tom’s skin was a pattern of valleys and curves. His shoulders were sunburned, felt warm, his butt thickening a little from the developing leg muscles. Joel let his hand come to rest on Tom’s butt. Inside, in his chest, he recognized another feeling not connected with the sensation of touch, not excited by the feel of Tom beneath his hands—a connection of feeling that arose from something non-physical. It was the same sort of connection he felt for his family, and sometimes for the farm, the earth. But it was even more than that. With Tom, this connection allowed him to reveal his deepest self, if only he could communicate these feelings. Words weren’t adequate to describe them. He looked out the window. The sky was black with early morning thunderclouds, and the breeze coming in through the open window felt damp. If it rained now, by noon it would be sweltering and humid. If the storm passed over, the rest of the day would be cool and pleasant.
Tom moved against him and woke up. Their faces were so close that Tom’s eyes looked like an owl’s. Tom grinned and the owl’s eyes narrowed into a smile. Joel felt the warmth of Tom’s lips on his own. Tom’s body heat, Tom’s stiffness against him. He couldn’t distinguish, from the feeling, which cock was his own.
Reluctantly, he got up and dressed. “We’re gonna have to fix the window a little better,” he said. “There’s a storm coming. But we’ll have to wait till Dad and Mom get back to put a new glass in. That damned, stupid bastard!”
They prepared a quick breakfast of toast and bacon and ate at the dining room table, listening to the thunder. The smell of the rain was musty and immediate. Tom was quiet, but he seemed recovered from the fright of the night before. He was staring at the mangled window. “Joel?”
“What?”
Tom broke his gaze. He shrugged. “What we talked about. You know, living together. I just can’t stand the thought of going back home. I’d rather we ran away and joined the army. They have the buddy system, you know.”
“Yeah.” Joel paused, “but we wouldn’t have to join the army.”
Tom shrugged. “I hope not, but.You don’t sound very excited about it today.”
Joel smiled. “Listen, man. I meant everything I said, every time we’ve talked—especially since the dance. I’ve tried getting information about us. I’ve talked to Coach. I haven’t changed my story. Or my mind.”
“But what about your parents? When I tell my father that I’m not coming home, he’ll dig and dig; he’ll pester me and you and your parents. They may not like knowing about us either.”
“When Mom and Dad come home, I’m going to tell them anyway, whether your father bugs them or not. I’ll be as easy on them as I can, but it’s time I leveled with them about things.”
“And you don’t think they’ll be upset?”
“I don’t know. Probably. Yeah. They’re my parents, man.”
“Then I hope you have a better suggestion than the army, because I’m not going back, Joel. I’d drown at home this time, especially after being together like we’ve been.”
“Better than the army? You bet. There’s something.I don’t know.between us. It’s always been there. I’m stupid about most things, but not about you. And one thing I see real clear…you’ve got it up here.” Joel tapped his forehead. “You haven’t once mentioned college. You could go to State University, or Western, like Mom does—with Mom—if we get to live here. But even if we can’t, you’ve got to think about school. We can make it. We could go to college together. Dad would at least send me to school, even if he was upset about me and you. I’d bet my life on that. On Dad.”
“Okay, Joel. Not the army,” Tom said. “We can stay here, if your parents let us.”
“And college?”
Tom sat up straight in his chair. Joel had to laugh to himself at the precision with which Tom moved, at the conviction in his face. “Screw college for awhile,” he said. “Father has marched me up and down, back and forth over everything. Even college. To tell you the truth, Joel, I’m bored with thinking all the time. “It’s school all year; then during the summer, I go to Bible school, Bible camp, prayer sessions, visitations, and all it’s done is junk up my mind.”
“You mean if my parents don’t mind, you’d really prefer just being here, not go to college? How could you stand it?”
Tom laughed. “Look Joel, the whole reason we’re even talking about this is so we can be together! It’s not just wanting to get away from Father, you beautiful.dummy. So don’t expect me to go away to school once we start living together.”
“But you’re too smart to waste your time on a farm. We could at least live here until next summer. And then move to the university.”
<
br /> Outside, the wind was getting up; it shook the plywood and threatened to blow it off the window. The dining room grew visibly darker and thunder rumbled from the west. Joel could almost feel the storm moving across the desert toward them, coming on relentlessly. When he pried the plywood from the windowsill, the wind blew into the dining room with a violent gust. Together, he and Tom laid the wood across the table and Joel hurried into the garage for the electric saHe measured and cut the plywood to fit within the window frame and Tom held it while he nailed it into place. The rain came in earnest right after in a blinding fury that blew under the roof of the porch and attacked the plywood with the sound of millions of fingers tapping rapidly. They enjoyed rushing out into the downpour, slipping and sliding as they ran across the farmyard to take care of the livestock and to make sure nothing else was in danger of ruining.
They dried each other off in the kitchen and hung their pants in the garage to dry. For the rest of the morning they stayed indoors and made an early lunch.
Tom was standing at the stove pushing the hamburger patties around with a spatula. “It’s so complicated.”
Joel pulled mustard and pickles out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter. “No, you just peek under the patty to see if it’s turning brown.”
Tom flicked his free hand at Joel’s stomach. “I was thinking about our plans!”
Joel laughed. “Yeah?”
Tom slipped the patties onto plates and turned off the burner. “I know if I stay with you, my father will make trouble. But even if he doesn’t, what if your parents don’t like it? What if your father won’t pay for your college?”
* * *
Edna Stroud sat at her usual place at the kitchen table. Eddie and Henry, Jr. were playing outside already; the twins, Patrick and Detrick, were off with Henry, helping him with the truck. He’d said it could be fixed if he could find a damned radiator at the junk yard. Kenneth was laid up in bed but her little girl, Sally, wouldn’t leave. As always, she plucked excitedly at her doll’s soiled dress. She had already snatched the doll bald from her constant abuse. Now she was blubbering, close to tears. She was the little talkative one, though only the other children could understand her. But this morning, Edna understood perfectly. She smiled wearily down at her. “No, no, honey, Kenny’s not dead.”
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