THE BEGINNING OF THE CONCLUDING CHAPTER
MARK POWERS SHOOK HIS SLEEPING son by the shoulders and whispered, “Com on down, birthday boy.”
Chris Powers yawned and knuckled his eyes.
“Wha?”
Frantically, Mark sang, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Christopher! Happy birthday to you!”
“Ah, dad,” Chris yawned, but he was chuckling.
“Get up.”
“What are you so excited about?”
“Just get up,” Mark was pulling his son out of bed like he was the little boy.
“I’m not even dressed.”
Chris was in his boxers, his hair was sticking up and Mark picked a smelly tee shirt off the floor and said, “Come on. You look impeccable for the driveway.”
It was scarcely seven o’clock, and the light that filled the house was cool, thin, and grey-white. Mark was already dressed in shirt and tie as he led his son down the steps and through the dining and living rooms and then the kitchen, through the side door that looked out on the driveway.
“What’s that—” Chris began, and then stopped and looked at his dad in surprise.
“Do you like it?” Mark said.
Chris looked back at the car. It wasn’t just egg shaped. It was the Saturn he’d been looking at for almost a year.
“I didn’t think you even knew,” Chris said. “This is... my dream. This is...”
“I know,” Mark nodded, pleased. It was better than the car he drove. “I figured this was a nice combination graduation and birthday present. Not,” Mark added, “that there aren’t more presents.”
“Dad,” Chris looked amazed at his father.
“You’ve done so well,” Mark said. “You deserve it. I mean it’s not about deserving is it? You’re my son. You’re... When your mom died it sort of... I know to you you had one less parent, but then I had to be mom and dad and so in a way I felt like you became mine. Twice as much. You’re what I have, Chris. You’re the greatest thing that ever came from me.”
Chris looked stricken at his father.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Dad,” Chris said softly. “It’s just...” He bent down and hugged his father. His chin was on his dad’s shoulder for a long time. “Thanks, Daddy,” he whispered.
“It’s been a long time since you called me that.”
Chris separated from his father, but he was still looking at him.
“It’ll be great to take to college with you,” Mark decided. “When you go off east or...” Mark stopped. The acceptance letters had been rolling in since late March, but he didn’t know where the hell Chris was going.
“I’ve decided I don’t want to be far away,” Chris said. “I’ll go to McCleiss in the fall.”
“What?” Mark’s eyes flew open. “Oh, Chris. That’s an hour away. That’s... You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to do it, Dad,” Chris said. He looked at his father. He looked around at The house on Roberts Street, the green trees damp with the morning.
“This is my home. You’re my home. It’s like you said, Dad. You’re what I have.”
“Do you want a graduation party?” Mark asked. “I know we didn’t plan a birthday party and.… You don’t like them for some reason.”
Chris shrugged. “They’re all right I guess.”
“But a graduation one? I know...” Mark stopped.
“Hum, Dad?”
“I know you don’t… have that many friends. I mean, you’re very popular, but... I know that we choose the people we want and you choose selectively. I understand that. It’s better to have a couple of good friends than... a bunch of people hanging on you. But maybe you could invite your good friends. Like Matt. Or like Sully.”
And there it was.
“Oh,” Chris said.
“Or not,” Mark took it back. He’d just wanted to know. Maybe now he did know. He wouldn’t intrude. No, he would intrude. Joel hadn’t intruded and now where was Seth? Living here to there, hanging with his aunt, Joel’s fucked up sister.
“Are you guys not friends anymore?” Mark said. “I know Sully hangs out a lot at the Darrows. With Mason and... Balliol. The one you don’t like.”
“I don’t not like Balliol,” Chris said.
“You said—”
“Dad,” Chris threw up his hands, piqued, “You shouldn’t hold everything I say in your head forever. I’m eighteen! I don’t really know Balliol. That’s all. And... I don’t dislike Sully, either. We’re just not.... Actually, Sully’s very important to me, but you know, we’re sort of on hiatus. You know how it is. With close friends.”
There was truth in that. Mark had been through several breaks with Joel, not with Sidney, but Sidney had functioned more as a younger brother back then and he and Sidney just had out and out fights.
“Well, do you think you’d want to end the hiatus for a graduation party?”
“We’ll see,” Chris said, which Mark knew was a very respectful way of saying, “No.”
Sullivan Reardon was addicted. His heart thumped in his chest so bad he wondered if he might die. But three days a week he went to swim, even though, before it had been two. And his friends commented on how healthy he’d gotten. Balliol decided that it must be his new found desire for solitude, but no one could believe it was Justin Reily.
Regardless if he showed up or not, Sully got a thrill that ran all through his body thinking that he might, thinking that he might catch a glimpse of Justin. Maybe they’d strike up a conversation, though common sense told Sully there was nothing the two of them had in common and no reason they’d ever have a conversation.
But he might see him. He might catch a glimpse of his body, and he usually did. In the most discreet ways. And what if he looked at him looking, again. That charge. That shame.
The truth was, Sullivan Reardon was in a place you could only go to when you weren’t talking to people, when you were hiding from everyone else. Balliol would have something to say, someone like Tommy would definitely have something to say. No, Tommy wouldn’t say anything. But there would be the look on his face. The look would communicate everything. Sully didn’t even share all of these weird emotions with Chicago on the web. If anyone looked on them, it would be too much light, and that’s not what he wanted right now.
The year was coming to an end in just under two weeks, and the weather was good outside. The springtime was so crappy so often. This was one of the few times Sully wished the pool was an outdoor pool. The only thing he’d thought about today was how good the water would be, not who would be there. He’d thought about the silken feel of the blue water, the sound of it splashing as his arms and legs cut through. He didn’t know what a fish felt like, but Sully thought maybe this was it. And then he would bike to Mason’s house. It was nice enough to bike and not fool around with public transit. Really what Sully wanted to do was work his body, to be in it. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time.
He took a real shower, a good shower with the soap he had brought from home and let the water go through his muscles. He lathered his hair and rinsed it out with his hands. Maybe he’d let it grow longer. He turned his face up to the nozzle and let the hot water shoot down on his face and then, as he set the soap down and began rinsing the soap from his arms and chest with his fingers he saw Justin Reily standing there, watching him.
They watched each other and a cloud of steam went up from behind Justin. Beyond that was the half wall of glazed bricks. Sully looked at Justin’s long face, at his brown eyes. Then down, down to his chest and stomach and the black hair below gathering water.
Justin’s mouth was a little parted. He took Sully’s hand and put it around his penis and it was growing. It was lifting up out of the black hair, getting harder. Sully could feel it. No. He didn’t look down. He knew it was himself he was feeling. Justin’s hand was on his, moving it. He was stroking Justin, stroking, throttling. Neither one of them looked down as Justin worked Sully’s hand and Sully worked Justin. Justin just kept staring at him, harder and harder and then more vacantly and then Justin looked like he was about to gag or vomit, and in the hot shower water Sully felt a slickness hit him. Justin swooned a little. He looked like he was about to collapse. He did collapse. It was all a weird dream. There was steam all over the place. Above the shower screamed and Justin’s hands were on Sully’s hips and then for a brief moment a voice screamed in Sully’s head. But only a brief moment. And Justin was taking him in his mouth.
Not against the wall. You don’t know the last time that wall was cleaned! The voice of sanitation said in his head. But not the voice of guilt or morality, and not even the cautionary voice that someone could walk in. No one would. Sully knew that. He was against the wall of the shower, imprisoned there by Justin Reily’s hands, which were strong. He looked down at them, the water beaded down on veined brown hands lined in hair. They were gripping his hips and Sully sank his hands down in Justin’s hair, curly and soft, like a lamb’s might be. He closed his eyes and licked his lips and gave in. He gave in to this thing that was licking him like light, or like fire, sucking and pulling, lapping up, pulling something out of him. Sully groaned and pushed.
Did you deep throat her? He heard Chuck Branyan ask Joe Patalka as they were near his locker one day. I deep throated that bitch real good. I’d stick my dick so far down her throat...
Sully groaned and started thrusting. Justin moaned a little and took him in. Sully lost his balance, for a terrifying moment the world turned, his hands gripped Justin’s head harder than he meant, his hips arched, his body spasmed. He heard himself actually scream out the same time as the water in the pipes screamed. The same time the light went on bright in the shower room and the light above became lightning, a single bolt, and shot right through him.
Mason took Balliol aside and said, “What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Mason frowned at his friend, and then said, “You’ve been looking at Sully weird since he got here.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have.”
A decision seemed to scroll across Balliol’s face and then he said, “Well, all right, already. Here it is. I think I need to talk to him a minute. I just think.”
“Well, go do it,” Mason said, “before you sour all the milk in my refrigerator from that look on your face.”
But even as Balliol opened his mouth, Mason called into his room: “Sullivan!”
Sully came out looking bright and.… Yes, Mason decided, the word was chipper. That was strange. Balliol was right.
“What’s up, guys?”
Mason just said, “Balliol needs to talk to you.”
Balliol opened and closed his mouth like a fish and Mason walked back into his room.
“What’s up?”
“I was about to ask you?”
Sully shook his head and grinned.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“See, that’s not going to work,” Balliol pressed on. “I just pulled that same look with Mason.”
Sully’s face grew a little more serious, and then he did something he hadn’t done before. He clasped Balliol by the shoulders. It was a strange gesture from Sully.
“Listen to me, Bailey,” he said. “You need to turn your radar off. It’s working overtime.”
“What radar?”
“The ‘Sullivan Reardon is in Trouble’ radar. Look, you’re my best friend ever, and I love the way you always look after me. I didn’t even know you did it until recently.”
Balliol opened his mouth.
“No,” Sully said sternly. “You have to let me finish.
“Listen, let me look after you this once, Just, relax. There is nothing wrong.”
Balliol didn’t believe him, but he couldn’t do anything. And Sully was right about this, he couldn’t always look after him, especially if Sully didn’t want it.
“You’re sure?” Balliol said.
The look on Sully’s face was genuine. It was slightly confused, like it had discovered something.
“What?” Balliol said.
“I just realized something is all,” Sully told him. “And I realize for the first time that I can tell you this. I love you. I really do.”