Sadie Stories
Page 9
Summer brought little change for the people of this seaside village. However, the days did seem to pass more quickly, though they were longer. One standing outside this place of moderate beauty and simplicity would likely believe their only interests laid in accommodating the seasons and celebrating them accordingly, for to someone outside looking in, nothing much else ever happened.
It was about eight o’clock on this Thursday evening that Corey, Angie and Rachel had gathered at the Porter house for their weekly game of Life. It had become something of a ritual, something to look forward to; Carol Porter’s fresh lemonade, good conversation. The stereo tuned to an Oldies station, of which Corey had successfully turned them all on to, and the company of each other.
They were crowded around the coffee table in the living room, with the board game spread atop it. Angie winced as she spun the dial, and they all watched her closely, rather amused by her desperate expressions. She had once heard that this game was prophetic, and its design was similar to tarot cards. Despite Corey and Rachel’s attempts to appease her worries, assuring her it was just a game, her eyes still tightened, and her lips curled inward during her turn.
“Nine. I got nine! Where am I?” Angie forced nervously as Rachel moved her blue plastic car to its destination.
Rachel smiled, “Angie! You had another baby! Congratulations!”
Angie sunk backward for a moment, extreme disappointment swelling in her chest, then she sat sharply erect. “I have five kids! I can’t have five kids! Kids don’t even like me! This game is stupid. This is nothing like life. They should have spots that say ‘Lose twenty pounds.’ It would be more realistic. I think we should quit!”
Corey grinned without looking at her. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he looked forward to her turns, just to witness her humorous reactions. He took his turn and squealed upon landing on Angie’s previous mark. “I had a baby too!” Angie glared at him through contemptuous eyes, “Congratulations Corey. But isn’t it odd that you’re the only one of us who, in all the time we’ve been playing, has never gotten married ONCE?” Corey stared at her with a blank face. Omigawd! She was right. Everyone else had been married dozens of times, and he had not gotten hitched once. What if this game was a fortune telling oracle? He didn’t want to be alone forever! As fast as he could, before anyone could stop him, he proceeded to fold up the game, “Okay, let’s quit!
Rachel moaned loudly, “Oh, come on! Corey, don’t listen to her! It is just a game.” She shot Angie a glance, “I can’t believe you guys. This is not a Ouija Board.”
“I’m not taking any chances.” Corey retorted in half a panic. “I refuse to be a raggedy old spinster, even in fun.”
As if on cue, Carol entered from the kitchen carrying a tray with four glasses upon it, filled with her famous lemonade. They clamored around Mrs. Porter in great appreciation.
“You’re done with your game already?” She said surprised, as they all took their glasses. Again, they all planted themselves around the table. Corey and Angie sat on the floor, at the opposite ends, while Carol sat on the sofa, opposite her daughter.
“I kept having babies that I didn’t want,” Angie complained.
“I never got married. I don’t want to be a hag.” Corey followed.
Rachel rolled her eyes, “They are afraid it’ll come to pass. Paranoid.” She spurned as she took a sip of her lemonade.
Carol leaned forward, smiling gently upon her young counterparts, “One thing I have learned over my forty-“ She paused, biting the inside of her bottom lip, “Thirty-Nine years, is that fate is what you make it. Life is what you make of it. You make decisions, choices that affect you, but essentially, we are the maestro of all this mayhem.”
“I agree,” Corey replied, “Bravo,” he added, holding up his glass.
“Let’s have a toast,” Angie suggested excitedly.
“Good idea Angie, what do you wish for? What is your toast?” Carol encouraged.
Angie thought for a moment, looking slowly into each of their open faces, keenly aware of the comfort she felt in their presence. “Here’s to friendships... that will last forever.”
They smiled at her in unspoken approval and drank to her toast.
“I have one if I may.” Corey requested quietly.”
“Go for it Corey Baby.” Carol urged loudly.
“This is to love. True love. May it find us someday, and bring never-ending happiness and fulfillment! That’s all.” He drank quickly, feeling rather awkward for being so verbal with his inward desires. He did not notice Angie’s eyes upon him, inspecting him closely, pondering his words.
“I’ll drink to that.” Rachel sang happily, taking a small sip, then raised her glass once again, “I toast the future. Wherever it may take us, wherever we end up, may we always remember these moments together. I know I will.”
Carol stared at her daughter with true contentment. It was the first time she had noticed how grown up Rachel had become. How her daughter had changed while she, herself, was busy trying to avoid participating in life at all. What her eyes rested on now, this face so much like her own, this was all that really ever mattered. Her happiness was all that should’ve ever occupied her thoughts. And yet, she knew Rachel had become who she was with no thanks to her mother. Carol knew that she was absent from much of this girls life, not physically, but emotionally.
Now, gazing upon her, she found herself proud of her child. Proud of her strength, her posterity, and her love. Rachel loved her mother despite her inadequacies, bore no grudge... that, in and of itself, made Carol realize that Rachel had perhaps become the woman that she, herself, had always wanted to be. What more could a mother ask for?
“I would like to add something,” Carol declared, her eyes still fixed on her daughter who now met them. It was silent for a moment, as the two women gave each other quiet regard. Carol continued; “You all have hope, which is something that is very difficult to keep as time goes on, but I know in my heart, you will be strong, confident, and just as lovely as you are right now.” She was speaking directly to her daughter now. “You are everything and more than I always wanted you to be. I know that one day, when you are older and life seems to move like a passing train, fast and loud, that you’ll be just as proud of who you are as I am now.” She held out her glass, and Rachel, understanding and appreciating her Mother’s meaningful words, tapped the edge with her own glass.
They were startled by a jostling of the front door. It immediately broke them from their focus, and they turned simultaneously. Steven Porter walked inside loosening his tie, looking rather rugged. He had circles under his eyes, and was noticeably unshaven.
Carol stood from the sofa, her muscles tensing as if he were a stranger entering her home. She did not speak, yet shot her daughter a trepid glare.
Both Corey and Angie noticed the sudden rise in emotion, which was not unlike a distant rumble of thunder, a precursor to a devastating storm looming on the horizon.
Steven tossed his briefcase onto the floor beside the desk, whipping off his tie. He did not do much to acknowledge the attentive crowd; only cast a dismissive eye in their direction. “I’m going to lay down Carol. Bring me a cup of coffee.” He demanded in a gruff manner, as if she were not his wife, but a simple maid servant who he expected to instantly comply without question. He started up the steps, “It’s too late for company Rachel. Tell your friends Good night.” He added as he vanished from sight.
Corey looked back and forth between Rachel and Carol, who both seemed frozen in their respective positions, saying things that only the other could hear. Corey knew something was happening. He jumped to his feet, widening his eyes as he found Angie, hinting at her to move. “We have to get going anyway. I’ll walk you home Angie.” he prodded as he approached her. “Thanks for the lemonade Mrs. Porter.”
“Next time let’s just play Monopoly.” Angie suggested seriously as Corey took her arm, ushering her away.
Rachel broke f
rom her trance and followed them the front door. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” She said, before kissing them each on the cheek. Though she attempted to behave naturally, they could both see something laid beneath her act, something they could not put their finger on, but was definitely there. Though her reservation dismayed them both, they smiled at their friend, and they left.
Steven pulled off his leather shoes as he sat on the edge of the bed. They ached something awful, and he figured he was due for another pair. He rose and began unbuttoning his shirt, walking over to the oak chest of drawers. After removing his shirt altogether, he tossed it into the clothes hamper in the corner of the room and yanked open the top drawer for a fresh undershirt only to find it empty.
“What the-“ he said aloud.
He pulled open the second drawer. Empty. The third drawer. Empty as well. He stopped cold, trying to grasp this odd notion. He scratched his head and then stormed over to the closet, throwing open the wooden door so hard the handle hit the wall behind it. Hangers dangled naked in front of him. All of his clothes were gone.
“CAROL!” He shouted, his voice cracking. It was then he noticed the white sheet of paper taped to the inside of the closet door. A large red arrow had been drawn on it, pointing toward the opposite window, and just as planned, he followed it... He ripped the paper in two and darted out of the room. Why were all of his belongings... everything he owned... books, clothes, shoes, even his desk chair, floating on the surface of the swimming pool?
Carol came from the kitchen carrying a cup of hot coffee, cream and sugar, just as he preferred it. She heard him trampling across the floor and down the stairs where she met him at the bottom with a smile. “You’re red as fire dear. Watch your blood pressure.” She noted in a high pitched, pleasant voice.
The only fire was in her husband’s eyes, “Why the hell are my clothes in the pool?”
Carol giggled quietly, “Gracious Steven. If looks could kill, I think I’d be dead right now.”
“Answer my God Damn question Carol. What are my clothes doing outside in the pool?”
Carol spun, quite pleased with the control she was exhibiting, and feeling no tendency toward anger. “I was cleaning up a bit. That’s all. You know how you hate a cluttered house.” She started toward the center of the living room.
Behind her Steven seethed, “You have gone absolutely fuckin’ nuts, haven’t you?”
Carol turned, grinning, “Actually, I think I’m finally getting it all together. Isn’t it funny how, one day, you just open you’re eyes and you see nothing but... but... Trash.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Carol sat the coffee down upon the table, “I guess I’m a collector, I don’t know. I have all these things that I don’t need... I thought I needed them at one time, but they just sit here, gathering dust. Trash. Garbage. So much garbage. Things just taking up space, serving no purpose.” She stepped over to the mantle above the fireplace, staring up at their wedding portrait, the centerpiece of Rachel’s photos. She looked back at him over her shoulder, “Isn’t it odd how your tastes seem to change?” She reached up and took down the portrait.
“What are you doing?” Steven asked in a panic.
“More garbage. Cleaning house!” She started back into the kitchen, heading to the back patio door. “Time for a change, don’t you think?”
Steven followed her closely, as if on a leash. “That’s our Wedding picture, Carol!”
Carol pulled open the door, and stepped outside, moving toward the pool, “Yeah but it’s ancient. It seems it’s lost its novelty. I’m bored with it.” She walked to the edge of the pool and heaved it in.
Steven released an audible gasp as it splashed into the water. “Oh my God! What’s wrong with you?” He ran to the side of the pool and knelt down, trying to retrieve all of his belongings, “I knew you were crazy! You need help! You need medication. Prozac.” He bellowed.
Carol smiled at Rachel who stood on the opposite side of the pool as her Father. She walked to the Gasoline can and lifted it into her arms.
Steven looked up, watching her in absolute terror. He waved his arms in the air pleadingly. “No, no, no! Wait! Stop. Don’t do it Carol. Stop this insanity right now.”
Carol enjoyed watching him squirm from the other side. She thought he looked rather like a child throwing a tantrum, “Oh, Steven! Why do you have to be such a baby? You act as if you didn’t expect this. I should’ve done this ages ago, I know. What can I say, I’m slow I guess.” She hoisted the gas can forward, sending a long stream of yellow liquid into the pool.
Steven continued to grovel, “Carol, honey, please. Listen to me... this is all of my stuff. I know you don’t wanna do this, Pumpkin.”
Carol scoffed, “Stop whining. I always hated that.” With each lunge of the can she screamed louder, “Whine, whine, whine!” When the can was finally empty, she tossed it in as well.
Steven looked at Rachel, who now stood at her Mother’s side, “Rachel, sweetie, help daddy. Help me stop her.”
Rachel stared at him hard, piercing his eyes with her own. She turned and walked to the grill, then returned to the pool side, handing her Mother a box of matches.
Steven shook his head in torment, “Carol, please don’t do this to me. I’ll do anything. I’ll change,” he negotiated. It was his job. Carol, on the other hand, was convinced he could do better. She cocked her head in false sympathy, and she struck a match, and then offered him a triumphant look in which he could see her power, something he had never seen before, and it petrified him.
“Steven?”
He breathed hard, “Huh?”
“I want a divorce.”
And he watched helplessly as she ignited the entire box of matches and calmly launched it into the air with nothing but contentment on her face.
WOOSH!
Angie and Corey turned simultaneously just in time to see a swelling cloud rise into the air somewhere in the distance. The thunderous bang still left them each a bit startled.
“What was that?” Corey questioned aloud, really not expecting an answer, but knowing Angie would offer one anyway.
“Someone turned up the gas to high on their grill.” She replied indifferently as she turned and began walking again.
Instinctively, Corey began following her once more, unable to contain the urge to stare; he kept glancing over his shoulder for some sign of fire. Eventually, as usual, his curiosity waned, and the notion to turn subsided as they grew further away.
“Sure is quiet tonight,” he observed as they passed beneath an enormous canopy created by the Oak trees on each side of the street that met in the middle, entwining into one.
Although a substantial amount of time had passed since Corey had arrived in Sadie, the strange cinematic beauty of the atmosphere never failed to steal his breath. He noticed, as they strolled down the hilly road separated only by the white dividing line between them, that the Moon was full tonight. Not only was it full, but it seemed significantly larger than he ever remembered it being. It was not very high yet, and for a moment he thought it had stopped on its way up, just to allow him this impossible vision.
Corey stopped walking, soaking in its magnificence, the way it hung just above the horizon, close enough to touch. Like the backdrop of some lavish theater production that could be rolled up at any minute and packed away.
A few steps ahead, Angie had only now realized he was not at her side. She turned around but said nothing to him immediately. The expression that had befallen him made him appear hypnotized. A slight, stupid smile rested on his face, his eyes focused just beyond where she stood. She recognized that look of introspection, or sacred bliss, where he was a part of the things around him, and for a moment, all of this that would be moot to anyone less, acknowledged him. He was lost in the embrace of Earth.
“Corey?” Angie beckoned quietly.
His eyes found her, and before he let her contin
ue, he rushed toward her. “Say something romantic.”
“What?” She asked in amusement, trying hard to believe he wasn’t serious, but his tone left no trace of humor.
Excitedly, he took her arm and ushered her attention to the moon, “Look at the moon. This is a special moment, Angie. Special moments come and go without us ever knowing it was there. Tonight we caught one. This is perfect! The silence all around, the moon shining down upon us, its poetry. It’s about romance. That’s what God created these moments for. I know we aren’t lovers or anything, but still... say something romantic.” He waited for her comply like a puppy waiting for food. He wrung his hands together anxiously, with a dreamy glaze etched upon his face. “Make something up!”
Angie looked as if she had just been hit with a brick. Her mouth was crooked and she was perfectly still, “I- uh...” She swallowed hard, “I love you,” she said awkwardly.
It felt good to say it. She felt her heart lighten for it a voiced what it had hidden for so long. Somehow, it still felt odd. She knew that he still did not know, and it made it hurt worse.
Corey giggled, “Say it like you mean it. Look me in the eye and just say anything that comes into your mind.” He pressed.
Oh, how lovely that would be to say the things that she longed to say. It was a window of opportunity, and she embraced it. She moved even closer to him, and spoke softly, “I have never known a love like this before, a love so true that I know it is forever. My every minute, while I’m awake, and while I sleep, are visions of you.” She watched him closely, waiting for his face to sour and for him to go running for some gay sanctuary.
Instead, he smiled widely, tilting his head just to the left, “You’re good.” He said, his eyes widening, his mouth turning upward with genuine surprise. He straightened his back as if coming to attention and took her hands anxiously, “Now let’s dance!”
“Dance?!” Angie questioned terrified. “In the middle of the street?”
“Don’t fret so much... Sing something...”
“Oh no. No, that’s out of the question.” She raised her hand to him in protest as she turned away defiantly.
“Come on; don’t let this be wasted on us. Just... sing something, something romantic, anything,” Corey pressed earnestly.
Suddenly she felt uncomfortably displaced, anxious to deflect his silly suggestion, but she knew he was persistent, for some reason well beyond any she could conceive of, this was important to him. Songs raced through her mind. She hummed slightly, shakily at first as she worked up to her very first solo effort, and tightlipped she began. “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.”
CLAP! CLAP!
The color, once so lively, flushed from him. His face contorted as though she had done the unthinkable. Recoiling, he shook his head from side to side only once but said nothing.
Angie let forth a burst of frustrated breath, “I told you, I can’t do it. This is silly.”
Corey brightened, “It’s not silly... moments are all we have in the end. We keep them in the scrapbook of our minds. Memories. When my time comes I want to look back and know that I didn’t let one magic second pass me by. I want to remember my life like it was the most beautiful story ever told.” He took her hands once again, “And this moment I will look back on and remember you.”
Despite his being adamant, she still resisted. “I don’t know-“ She struggled, “I’d have to hear it.”
Corey looked at her intensely and then softly began singing, “You and I together, Forever. “ His voice trailed to a hum.
They swayed gently over the black pavement, Corey enveloped by the theatrics, her enveloped by him. Being this close, closer than she ever had, sent her reeling. It was perhaps the night, in all of it’s nocturnal glory, or the breezes over the ornamental trees that lined the street, maybe even this moon, his moon, of which she no longer paid any notice. It was just him. Only him.
A smile blossomed on her face and she quietly laughed, “Dear God, shoot me.”
“Why?”
“I know this song.”
Corey’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “You do not!”
“I do!” She insisted, “I can’t remember the name of the play but we did it in the ninth grade.” She spoke through her teeth in an exaggerated manner. “It was my stage debut. Ah... the life of a chorus girl.” They came to a full revolution.
“Meet Me in Saint Louis. The ultimate love story. The world was perfect then. None of the complexities of today. Beautiful, simple, and they had such class. I’m convinced I was born in the wrong era.” He pushed himself out from her, still locked at the hand, and then twirled back into her, his back against her chest. As he looked over his shoulder into her glowing eyes, she remembered words that fell from oblivion into her memory. Words she never thought she would need came back to her with clarity, and she was grateful.
Now, they sang together, in unison. Their voices merged effortlessly, and were strengthened by their unchoreographed steps. “From my heart, a song of love besieges. Just for you, my longing arms are reaching. Time goes by, but we’ll be together. You and I.” Their song faded slowly, as their paces grew less uniform,
“Now dip me.” Corey demanded happily.
Angie obliged and lowered him in her arms. Only now did the night time sounds fill the air as Angie stared at him below her and the moonlight fell onto his face. How truly wonderful he made her feel. She loved him like a bird loves the wind that carries it. She could never go back to a life without him. It would be incomplete. It was the enormity of this emotion that got the best of her this time. She lowered her head toward his, filling the space between them. She closed her eyes, and kissed him fully on the lips. It was while engaged in this kiss that she realized what she had done.
His eyes popped open; she released him hurriedly and stood up, covering her mouth in shock.
Corey plopped to the ground landing flat on his back. He did not move, or speak. He did not puke, or go into convulsions, and Angie was glad of that. Was he dead? Had she killed him? She was to afraid to say anything, or go nearer to his prone body. Finally, she found her senses and knew she had to say something to cover the silence that would drive her mad. She had to make an excuse. She had to be convincing. She wished there was a panic button in life. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I just-“ she caught her breath, “I just got caught up in the moment, you know? With the night and the singing, and the moon. I once heard that people do crazy things during a full moon. The gravity from it pulls our brains closer to the top of our heads. That’s what happened. I went a little nuts. The moon pulled up my brain. That’s what it was.” She rushed to his side, “Are you okay?” She asked with only a tinge of guilt.
He sat up, with a glazed look over his eyes, a blank expression. “I think I have to go to gay confession now.” He said jokingly.
She helped him to his feet and he dusted himself off. Again, she apologized, “I’m really sorry, Corey.”
“Don’t be. That’s what nights like this are for. Except we’re not exactly who we would have chosen to spend it with. I’m not your Mr. Right, and you’re not Thom-“ he stopped cold, “I mean, not Chris.” He secretly reprimanded himself for the slip. How could he make a mistake like that so casually? He wasn’t even thinking about Thomas that second. It was almost... natural.
Angie was too jarred to notice his slip; it was his dismissing her, knowing he wished for her kiss to have been from another, that ate at her. She understood that it was not a personal insult, he would never do that to her. It was just common knowledge. As far as he was concerned, it was a fact observed by them both.
Only now did the utterance jump out at her, that name that turned her stomach sour. She hadn’t expected that. “What about Chris?” She inquired, having been so disassociated from the conversation she didn’t quite comprehend the context in which that vile name was used. Corey was supposed to hate him. Why would he say his name?
Angie rolled her eyes in complete disgust and made a barely audible grunt which testified to her displeasure. “I hope you told him to go drown himself in a shallow pool of dirty dishwater,” She snapped. She hated to hear him speak that name... that non-existent character created by Gabe only to deceive him.
Corey grinned, he knew she had every right to dislike Chris after all she had witnessed, “Well, I didn’t exactly say that.”
“What did you say?”
Corey hesitated for a moment, “I was really defensive at first, and then he said things. Things that made sense... and, I don’t know, maybe I am being selfish. I guess I failed to be sensitive to his situation. I know it must be hard to have such a frustrating secret, and I have never had to hide so I just had no idea-“
Angie stopped independent of him, pulling her arm back into herself. “Oh shut up, Corey!” She snapped in agitation as they stopped again. “I’m so sick and tired of you making excuses for that guy. Look at what he’s done to you! First he left you sitting alone in the gym, then he hides out in the parking lot at the dance, and to top it all off, he basically tells you to your face that he’s ashamed if you. I thought you had more dignity than this, than to let someone humiliate you and break you.”
Corey withdrew in surprise, her frigid manner stunned him as it was something he had never before seen, not from her anyhow, especially after the rather intimate moment they just shared. This was the extreme opposite, and it took him a moment to find his own voice again. First he let out a choked laugh, more to take the edge off of the moment than to appear humored. “I’m not making excuses. I’ve just realized the difficult position he is in. He needs someone right now. He needs me.”
“He doesn’t need you, Corey.” She informed gravely.
“How do you know? You don’t even know him. You don’t know how he speaks to me.” He argued, now succumbing to his natural defenses.
“I know what he has done. I know that you don’t love him, Corey.” She took a deep breath as she watched her own reflection in his eyes, “You don’t love him.”
Corey could say nothing. The most frightening element in her voice was that of truth, and he knew she was right, what he didn’t know was that anyone else had recognized it. Had he really been that transparent? Could his face be read that easily? He swallowed the lump that had developed in his drying throat. He had to be consistent with his choices, he refused to complain about what he had and then act as if it were enough in the presence of it. So, he lied. “I do love him,” He conceded shakily. “And, he loves me. He loves me, Angie. You should be happy that I’ve finally got someone in my life who thinks I am worthwhile.”
Angie smirked sarcastically, “I wonder sometimes if you really pity yourself as much as it sounds, or if you just want everyone else to pity you.”
“How could you say that to me?” Corey retorted. The remark made a deep cut.
“You make it easy to hurt you, Corey... because you keep coming back for more. People do love you. Good people. People who love you like you deserve to be loved. Whatever happened to your fairytale?”
Corey sighed heavily, “You yourself said there is no such thing... and there isn’t. There just isn’t.”
Angie didn’t flinch, “I said that when you were feeling bad. I believe in magic Corey. I have to. I know there are things in life that can’t happen without it. I believed in your fairytale because you did. I believed in it for you. If anyone could have, it would be you because you never doubted it. But, they won’t happen if you don’t let them... and you-“ She stopped as she shook her head sadly, “-you won’t let them. Just don’t expect me to keep feeling sorry for you. The next time he hurts you, don’t come to me. I’m your friend, and I love you, but you do it to yourself. I thought you were different, Corey. I thought you were faithful to who you were and what you believed in.”
“I AM!” Corey shouted in rebuttal, he felt inflamed, his face had flushed and his heart was pounding.
. “You’re not. Maybe you were, but you’re not anymore. You’re just like the rest of us now.” She turned from him and started away, and he stood silent until she was gone, and only then did he too leave.
The walk home was loud, not on the outside, but on the inside. Her voice reverberated through his mind like a guitar string being plucked under water. There were things he had not said aloud, to anyone, and yet Angie seemed to know. It made him wonder how much she knew. He was defenseless to her argument, and that fact shamed him. He knew he should place no value on her opinions concerning his situation because she knew very little about Chris, and while she believed her efforts were in his best interest, they were not. It was obvious to him that his relationship with Chris appeared ill-fated to anyone on the outside looking in, but really, what else was there? Who would choose a life alone over a life with someone who actually loved him? There was no comparison. He may not love Chris in the way he imagined himself loving another, but he did like him very much, and perhaps with time, he would grow so accustomed to having him in his life that his reservations, of which he tried hard to repress, would disappear altogether.
Corey came to Harrington Street and, by now, he had walked these steps so many times, his feet were on autopilot. It gave him time to think, and he didn’t pay as much regard to the surroundings which suddenly seemed all too ordinary. The moon was high above now, far from reach. He found himself more tired than usual. Emotionally exhausted. Sleep would be his only escape from all of the confusion. He looked forward to that tonight.
As he came from beyond the wall of giant Pine trees, he saw the figure sitting perched loosely on his porch steps. At first it startled him, and he paused briefly. Who would be at his house at this hour? It must have been close to midnight by now. He lurched a bit closer, waiting for the figure to notice him approaching. The outline was rather masculine, slouching over his knees, holding an object in his hands.
“Hello?” Corey called a little unsettled. His anxiety immediately gave way to elation when the figure looked up at him, and it was Thomas’s face he was gazing at. Now he walked faster toward him, smiling, beaming. “Hi!” He said again.
Thomas did not rise to greet him, he simply nodded his head a bit, gave a half grin, “Hey you.” “What are you doing out here?” Corey asked.
“I was waiting for you. I didn’t want to knock; I thought your Dad might be sleeping.” Thomas explained quietly as he looked up at Corey, watching the wind shift his hair about his head. The sight of him always gave him a feeling similar to flight, like he was as light as the air around him.
Corey sat down next to him. Their arms were touching, yet neither of them made an effort to move. “How long have you been waiting?” Corey questioned.
“About... I don’t know... two hours now.” Thomas replied.
Corey drew back in disbelief, “Two hours?”
“I had nothing else to do. I hope you don’t mind.” Thomas avoided eye contact, praying his revelation didn’t seem strange.
“I don’t mind. I’m glad you waited.” Corey admitted. He studied Thomas closely from this angle, his profile was so perfect, and he could make out the structure of his face from the shadows and light. It made him appear even more dramatic than usual.
“This is for you.” Thomas handed Corey a stuffed puppy dog with large droopy eyes.
A STUFFED ANIMAL? Oh gracious. It’s the thought that counts right? Corey struggled to manifest an adequate reply that would camouflage his true horror. “Uh... Thank you, Thomas. How very kind.” He politely sang.
Thomas folded his hands firmly between his legs and laughed a little.
“It’s not from me. I’m not a stuffed animal type of person. They remind me of taxidermy.” He stated somberly, then continued, “It was on your steps when I got here. It had a little note with it, but it blew away. It wasn’t in an envelope or anything, so...” Thomas paused, afraid that Corey would think him a liar.
“Oh.” Was all Corey said.
“It was from your boyfriend, Chris.” Thomas added as he stared out across the street at the Cavanaugh house, where only the upstairs light was on. “I didn’t try to read it or anything, but it wasn’t folded. It just sort of lay there… on top.”
“Well... what did it say?” Corey asked. He was amused by Thomas difficulty in explaining without incriminating himself. Corey knew he read it, and he didn’t care. He secretly wished it would make him jealous. It was a foolish desire, and Corey, being the level-headed young man he was, knew better, but he did like to wish.
Thomas twisted his fingers together, stretching them to the point of pain before releasing them. The bones snapped loudly. “It said, ‘Thanks for the second chance.’ that’s all.”
Corey didn’t say anything. He was almost disappointed now that Thomas found the stupid thing. He figured more than anything Thomas would be disappointed in him.
“So, you guys are back together, I see.” Thomas observed, “That’s good. I knew things would work out.” Though he tried with a noble intent to hide the fracture in his heart, he feared that Corey would see directly through him and laugh. Despite his ever present armor, there were occasions when he let it slip, “Nothing with eyes would ever find a reason to be ashamed of you.” As soon he said it, he had to redeem himself, “I’m glad he came to his senses.”
Corey was speechless as he watched Thomas stand. Much like an old man, slowly, yet sturdily.
“I better get going, Thomas announced as he inhaled deeply.
“You don’t have to.” Corey reacted as he leapt up after him.
“It’s late. I don’t wanna keep you any longer than I have. I’m just glad I got to see you. Glad things are okay.” He looked at the cracked walkway of colored stones as he put his hands in his pockets.
“I am happy you came.” Corey sighed, aware that nothing he could say would keep him close.
Thomas wanted to say the same thing, but it would have been a lie. He wished he hadn’t come. He wished he hadn’t found the gift. He tried to force himself to start walking, but he couldn’t do it. A silence lingered between them for a few fleeting seconds. “Well... you have a pleasant evening.”
“You too.” Corey replied sorrowfully.
“Good night.” Thomas said as he turned, and escaped that gravitational pull that kept him near his love.
“...Night.” Corey whispered. He began up his porch steps, turning a few times to catch a glance of the fading figure that was Thomas.
Suddenly, he heard Thomas call out to him from across the lawn. “Corey?”
Corey spun fast.
“The other thing, against your door... that’s from me.” He continued walking backward. Curiously, Corey came up the last step and glanced downward where a large, thin package sat wrapped in brown paper. He moved closer to it, picking it up with both hands. It was nearly as large as he was and twice as wide. He tore the paper, his anticipation getting the best of him. As he ripped back the last layer, he exposed a detailed sketch... of himself.
It was the portrait Thomas had drawn of him months ago, when they had first met. He tossed off the rest of the wrapping and found that Thomas had added a something new... long, delicate wings. Angel wings, folded around his body. He ran his finger along the fine chalk lines, where he knew that Thomas’s amazing hand had once swept. Did he really see him this way?
Corey quickly moved back to the edge of the porch, hoping to catch Thomas, praying he was still there. He was not. Again, he glanced down at his gift. His precious treasure. He held it to his chest, embracing it. “Thank you.” He whispered softly through a smile glistening with hushed fallen tears.
“Thank you.”
eleven
The Gates of Autumn