by Randy Ribay
The road narrows even further, as though it is fighting a losing a battle against the surrounding vegetation. Some creature darts across their path.
“Yup,” Mari says, tilting her head to find the moon through the tangle of branches overhead. “Murdered.”
A few minutes later, they begin to traverse a series of small hills. Rising and dipping and curving around blind corners, they drive in silence. The road then settles into a gradual ascent that peaks after a mile or so. They follow it downhill until it opens up.
“We’re on a bridge,” Mari says.
The trees on either side have disappeared. In their place is a dark body of water, its vastness measurable by points of light that could be houses or campfires that ring its shores. Above them, the sky is clear and crowded with stars and a moon fat with light.
Archie sits up and readjusts his glasses. “Yeah, I remember this on the map. Lake Somethingrather. Hang a left once we cross the bridge and then that should take us to the guy’s house.”
Dante follows Archie’s directions and soon enough they find themselves on the correct route. They scan the mailboxes that line the road, and it’s not long before they locate the house number of their destination. Dante turns down the drive, steers them along its long and winding track, and then parks next to a couple of other cars that sit in front of a large house that looks like an upscale log cabin.
“You’re welcome,” Archie says.
They all hop out of the car and stretch. The droning buzz of insects reverberates through the air.
They make their way to the front door, and Mari rings the bell. “Here’s to getting murdered.” She winks at Archie.
They wait for several moments, but nobody answers. Mari presses the button again. They hear a chime within, but nobody comes to the door.
“Let’s just go to a hotel,” Sam says.
“We don’t have enough money,” Archie says.
“Then we can sleep in the car at a rest stop,” Sam says.
Just as Mari’s about to knock, they hear a burst of distant laughter.
“They must be outside,” she says and then starts walking around the house. The others follow her, too tired to argue.
Turning the corner, they find four men reclining in lawn chairs around a bonfire, drinking from red plastic cups. Their smiling faces are lit by the orange glow of the fire. One of them says something and they all break out in laughter. Beyond a small cluster of trees, the lake’s presence downhill can be felt more than seen.
Mari and the others stop several feet away. She clears his throat. “Ahem. Excuse me, gentlemen . . .”
The laughter and conversation die down. The four men turn toward their visitors.
“Can we help you?” one of them says, his voice deep and even. He has a beard and is smoking a pipe.
Archie looks at his friends. “We’re . . . umm . . .”
“We’re Sunshine’s friends,” Mari says.
“Who?” the bearded pipe smoker asks. He looks at his friends and then back to Mari.
“Sunshine—we spoke to one of you on the phone—Zaius?”
One of the other men rises from his seat and approaches. He seems to be in his thirties, and he’s built like a professional baseball player—tall and vaguely athletic.
“We don’t know no Sunshine or Zaius,” he says. He spits in the direction of the trees and then takes a long drink from his cup. “I think you all got the wrong house.”
“Sorry to disturb you . . . we’ll be on our way,” Archie says.
He starts to back up but then bumps into someone. He turns around and comes face to face with the other two guys who, having left their places at the fire, must have circled around and snuck up behind them. One is skinny and short, grinning to reveal gleaming, white teeth. The other is fat and unsmiling.
“Why do you think they’re in such a rush, eh?” the skinny guy says.
The fat guy eyeballs them. “Don’t know. Maybe they don’t like our company.”
Archie gulps. He looks around at his friends who seem equally confused. They move closer together.
“Look,” Dante says, putting his hands up in surrender. “We don’t want any trouble. If you just—”
“Just what, big guy?” asks the baseball player. He gets nose-to-nose with Dante, the two standing at nearly the same height. He raises a fist and Dante flinches. The man grins, lowers his arm, and steps back. “This here is private property. And you’re trespassing.”
The bearded guy takes a puff from his pipe, still seated at the fire. “They have to pay the price.”
“Fuck you,” Sam says. He moves to walk away, but the fat guy blocks his path. Sam stares him down but thinks better of it and rejoins his friends.
“As we were saying,” says the skinny guy, still smirking. “The price.”
“What is it?” Archie asks. “We don’t have much money.”
The skinny guy looks over at the bearded guy who nods.
“Her,” the skinny guy says, tilting his chin toward Mari.
Mari straightens up. She folds her arms over her chest. She wishes she had some pepper spray. “As my friend said a moment ago: Fuck you.”
The bearded guy taps his pipe against the plastic arm of his lawn chair, knocking out the spent tobacco. He gets up, walks over, and stands directly in front of Mari. He leans forward until his face is almost touching her hair. He inhales deeply.
Dante and Archie move to rush at him, but the baseball player and the fat guy shove them backward, toward the fire. The skinny guy keeps his eyes locked on Sam who keeps glancing at the car.
The fire crackles. A bird calls from the darkness.
The bearded man pulls his face away and leers at Mari. He smells of smoke and beer.
Mari meets his eyes. She wishes she had the car keys so she could arrange them between her fingers like claws and rake the man across his grinning face.
“Don’t even think about touching her,” Archie says.
“Too late,” says the skinny guy.
“Or what?” asks the fat guy.
Archie meets each of their eyes in turn. “Or I’ll kill you.”
The men look at each other and then break out in uncontrollable laughter. At first it seems as if they’re laughing at Archie. But when they continue, doubling over with tears in their eyes, slapping each other on the back, it becomes clear there’s some other joke. Archie, Mari, Dante, and Sam exchange confused looks.
The bearded guy walks over to Archie and puts his hand on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath to regain his composure. “We’re just fucking with you,” he says. He and his friends are all smiling in a way that’s no longer menacing. “I’m Zaius. Short for Isaias.”
He holds out his hand. Archie looks at it. “For real?”
“For real,” he answers.
Archie, Mari, Dante, and Sam look at each other and let out a collective sigh of relief. The tension dissolves. Archie shakes Zaius’s hand.
“I’m Clark,” says the skinny guy.
“Adam,” says the fat one, nodding.
“Lamont,” says the guy built like a baseball player.
Mari, Archie, Dante, and Sam introduce themselves, and then they follow Zaius back to the fire. He walks over to a keg that rests in a tub of ice and begins filling cups and passing them around. “Welcome to our humble abode.”
Sam immediately begins downing his drink, as Archie, Dante, and Mari examine the foamy, golden beverage in their cups.
“Thanks,” Mari says. “I don’t mean to be rude . . . but we’ve been driving all day and it’s kind of late. Maybe you can just show us where we can sleep?”
“You can sleep when you’re dead,” Zaius says. “You’re travelers. So travel.” He raises his cup and his friends do the same.
“We’re not twenty-one,” Archie says.
Zaius shrugs and takes a drink. “We live in a country where as soon as you turn eighteen the government will ship you overseas to murder strangers. Who
cares about some bullshit drinking age?” He looks over at Sam who’s already tilting his head back to catch the last drops from his cup. “Just have some self-control.”
“He’s got a point,” Mari says. She takes a sip and then makes a face. But then takes another.
Dante and Archie follow suit.
“Sorry, but we only have so many chairs,” Zaius says moving back to his own. “But we can make room for you.”
Clark sits on Adam’s lap, while Lamont drops to the ground in front of Zaius and leans back against his legs. They hold hands and then Zaius kisses Lamont on the top of the head.
Noticing the looks of surprise on Dante’s and Archie’s faces, Zaius asks, “Didn’t Sunshine tell you?” When nobody answers, he says, “We’re married.”
Sam pours himself another cup of beer and then plops down into one of the empty chairs. “All four of you?” he asks, more interested in the cigarette he’s now trying to light. “Like one big, gay family?”
“No,” Adam says, laughing. “Clark and I are married to each other, and Lamont is with Zaius.”
Archie gestures for Mari to take the other seat and then sits cross-legged on the ground next to her. Dante stays on his feet, staring into the flames, watching them flicker and curl in on themselves. “It’s legal here?” he asks after a moment.
“Yup,” says Zaius. “Since 2013. We were the sixth and seventh couples in line for certificates in St. Paul as soon as it was announced.”
“The old regime of bigotry is falling like dominoes,” says Clark. “It’s a whole new world.”
“That’s how we know Sunshine,” Lamont adds. “Back in college, we all volunteered for an organization that fought for marriage equality.”
Mari smiles at them. “It must be amazing to see your work pay off like this.”
“You have no idea,” Zaius says. “Just imagine an entire generation never having to hear that they can’t marry the person they love. Never having to feel like they’re less than human.” He puts down his drink, packs fresh tobacco into his pipe, and then relights it. After it catches, he tosses the match into the bonfire and starts rubbing Lamont’s broad shoulders. “Makes all those hours we spent standing on street corners annoying people for signatures worth it.”
Dante takes a drink and looks at Archie who looks away.
“Don’t you get shit from people?” Archie asks.
Zaius smiles. “Don’t you?”
Archie doesn’t respond.
“So what are you guys? Like a band on tour or something?” Clark asks.
“No,” Mari answers. “Just friends.”
“That’s cool. How did you all meet?” Lamont asks.
“We go to the same school,” she says.
“At least, we did,” Archie adds.
“But I mean, like, how did you start hanging out? There’s probably a lot of fucking kids in your school, right?”
“Dungeons & Dragons,” Mari explains. “We started playing together in sixth grade.”
Clarks says, “That’s that game with the dice and the . . . uh . . . the dragons . . . and the . . .”
“Dungeons,” Mari finishes. “Yes.”
“You still play?” Lamont asks.
They nod.
He laughs. “That’s one long-ass game.”
“You have no idea,” Mari says.
“So you’re a bunch of nerds on a real life adventure,” Zaius says. He notices that Sam seems offended, so he smiles. “In this world, you’ve got to know who you are, and you’ve got to own it.”
Dante meets his eyes. “Otherwise?”
“Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Dante turns back to the fire and takes a drink, starting to feel pleasantly light and dizzy.
“Hey, what time is it?” Clark asks, smirking.
Several of them check their phones, but there’s still no signal, so they shake their heads.
“Time to swim,” Clark says. He puts down his cup, pulls off his shirt, and sprints into the darkness. They hear his feet stomping across the wood of the dock, and then a moment later, the splash of water.
Without hesitation, Adam rips off his shirt, revealing a wondrous belly, and follows after his husband. Again, there’s the hollow sound of steps across wooden planks punctuated by a splash, this time much louder.
“You coming?” Zaius asks as he and Lamont rise to join their friends. “Summer’s almost over, but water’s still great. Plus, the bugs aren’t nearly as bad anymore.”
“That’s because of the bats,” Lamont adds, smiling.
The couple walks toward the lake. Mari, Dante, Archie, and Sam hesitate.
“Fuck that,” Sam says, moving over to the keg to fill his cup a third time. “I’m staying here where there’s heat and beer.”
“I’ll stay, too,” Dante says, yawning.
Mari turns to Archie, “What do you say, Arch?”
Archie downs what’s left in his cup, nods at her, and then stands. “Whoa,” he says, surprised by the spinning world.
He stumbles and Mari catches him. “Lightweight,” she says.
She laces her fingers through his, and they walk down to the lake together.
Dante takes one of the empty seats and then sits with Sam in silence. Enjoying the sensation of being buzzed for the first time in his life, he watches the flames form and reform. Sam alternates between smoking and drinking. The soft sounds of splashing and laughter float through the evening air.
“I’m sick of them already,” Sam says.
“Who?” Dante asks. “Zaius and his friends?”
Sam shakes his head. “Archie and Mari.”
“I like it,” Dante says. “They’re good for each other.”
“Nobody’s good for anybody.”
Dante resolves to leave it at that, but can’t help himself from taking the bait. “What’s wrong with them?”
“It’s not them in particular. It’s just that all girls are terrible.”
Dante looks at Sam. “All?”
“Yes,” Sam answers into his cup. “All.”
“I don’t—”
“Mari will make him fall in love with her, and then she’ll rip his still-beating heart from his chest and devour it right in front of the poor bastard.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about you and Sarah?”
“It’s just the way things are, man. The way of the world,” Sam says, his words starting to slur. “Maybe I should just turn gay, ya know? Like these dudes. Clark and Adam and Lamont or whatever and that guy with the beard with the Z name. Dr. Zaius. They seem to have it all figured out. Fuck women. They’re all evil.”
“But—”
“All of ’em. Every last one. If it has a vagina, it’s evil. To be honest, I think those things must be like vortexes to hell. Yeah, hellmouths. That’s what we should start calling them. Little hellmouths. Lurking between their legs. And, like, once a dick enters them it, like, releases demons and spirits and leprechauns and all kinds of other evil shit. Pandora’s Pussy, ya know?”
Sam finishes his beer and stumbles back to the keg.
Dante rises to help him back to his seat. “Maybe you’ve had enough for tonight, Sam.”
Sam dances away from Dante’s hands. “No, no, I’m good. I’m great. Feeling better than ever before.” He tilts his head back and howls to the moon. “Ah-woooooooooooo!”
“You guys alright up there?” Zaius calls from the lake.
“Fucking great!” Sam shouts back, his words echoing. “Fuck women! Fuck their hellmouths!” He giggles.
Dante again tries to guide Sam back to his seat, but Sam dodges his grasp. In doing so, he trips over himself and stumbles onto his ass. The cigarette falls from his mouth, so he takes out a new one and lights it. Laughing, he finally accepts Dante’s help back into his chair.
“You’re a good friend, Dante,” Sam says, slouching so low that he’s nearly sliding off his seat.
“Thanks, Sam.”
&
nbsp; “We never really say shit like that, right? Because we’re guys or whatever. But fuck that, ya know? It’s true. Let’s stop with the fake shit. Let’s only speak the truth for the rest of our lives. You’re, like, just so nice when everyone else is so fucking mean and selfish. I love it. I love you, man.”
“Um, thanks.”
“No, no, I mean it. Like, nobody else is staying up here with me to make sure I’m not drinking myself to death, ya know?”
Dante looks up at the sky. “They’ve got their own stuff going on, too, Sam.”
Sam points his cigarette at Dante. “See? There you go again, being fucking nicer than people deserve. Putting everyone before Dante. But know what I appreciate most about you, big guy?”
“What?”
“You’ve got a penis. Not one of those evil hellmouths. Seriously, man. I mean it. I’m going gay. Fuck girls. Fuck Sarah.” He raises his cup for a toast. “To penis!”
“You should go to bed.”
“To penis!” Sam says, more loudly this time, cup still raised.
“Sam—”
“Say it, motherfucker—to penis!”
Dante sighs, and raises his cup. “To penis.”
“Louder.”
“No.”
“To penis!” Sam shouts.
“Here, here!” someone calls from the lake.
“I’m not yelling it like that,” says Dante.
“I’m gonna keep screaming it till you do. To penis! To penis! Tooooo peeeeeenissss!”
“To penis!” Dante finally yells, unable to resist smiling as he does so.
Sam smiles and lifts his cup even higher. “And balls!”
“And balls!” Dante echoes, laughing.
Sam smiles and knocks his cup against Dante’s. Dante uses the opportunity to ease Sam’s cup out of his hands before he can bring it back to his lips.
Sam lets it happen and then laughs into a sigh. “But you know what, big guy? I don’t know if I could really do it. Be gay, you know.” He makes a face. Drops his voice to a whisper, “Can you imagine putting it down there? Like, it doesn’t bother me at all that people are gay. I mean, do whatever the fuck you want, ya know? Who are we to tell anyone what to do with their junk? Just don’t hurt anyone.”
“I guess,” Dante says.
“Nobody can tell someone else who to bang or not bang.”