Dream Boy (7 page)

Nathan
talks about the books he reads, about wanting a telescope, about the stars and
planets of his imaginings. He talks about going to college if he can get a
scholarship. Someday he would like to be a chemist. Or maybe an astronomer with
his own telescope in an observatory up in the mountains, away from everybody,
where the air is clear.

“You
can't be away from everybody.” Roy seems briefly troubled by the idea.

“Everybody
but you,” Nathan amends.

A
shadow grows and fades across Roy's face. He wishes he did not wish.
“That's good.” Finally, though with a tautness to his voice.
“You and me will be buddies even when we're real old. Don't you think
so?”

“I
hope so.” Hoarse. Aware of the need to say only just enough.

They
drive in momentary silence, afternoon sun fading beyond the car windows. One
turn, then another, leads them further from home.

From
behind the seat, sweating in a bag, Roy produces something startling, a cold
pop-top can. Roy opens the beer and Nathan watches guardedly. Roy tilts it to
his mouth.

“You
drink beer?”

“Yes.”
Roy eyes the road quietly, the noisy car slicing through the velvet cascade of
forest. “You reckon you can keep quiet about it?”

Nathan
flushed. “I don't care if you drink it. It's all right.”

“Answer
my question.”

“Yes,
I can keep quiet about it. I can keep quiet about anything.”

Roy
slows for another turn, jaw clenched. At the intersection of dirt road and
asphalt, he studies, for a long moment, Nathan's face. “That's prob'ly a
good thing.” Setting the beer between his thighs, he lays his hand
tenderly on Nathan's. The moment of touch passes quickly, but the aftermath
blasts at Nathan like torches. Roy says, “We're going swimming. That's
where we're going.”

“But
I can't swim.”

“Then
you can watch me.”

The new
road is mostly gravel. The sky darkens toward sunset, the heavy end of day
settling over forest, automobile, and sky. Near a path where a car and truck
are parked, Roy steers the car onto the soft shoulder.

They
park beside the truck, bright blue, and walk down a road into the forest,
nearly dusk. Mud ruts are dried and hard, and the road is almost overgrown,
strewn with large branches tumbled from a summer of thunderstorms. Nathan keeps
close to Roy's shadowed side. Roy says, “I tried to drive down here one
time. Got stuck. Dad 'bout like to had a fit.”

“Where
are we?”

“Near
the river. About halfway to Somersville. You can hear the water if you listen
good and the crickets ain't singing too loud.” He has brought the beer
cradled in the bag in his arm, and swallows from the open can. “We go
swimming at the railroad trestle down here. It's way high up off the water.
That's where I'm taking you. We need to hurry before it gets too dark to
swim.”

They
follow the almost road to the railroad tracks, and then pick their way along
the railroad ties. Late sunlight slants through thin pine trunks, spreading
golden fire over the river. Nathan listens for any sign of the train, and Roy
laughs at his expression. “It comes early in the morning and late at
night. You can hear it a long way off. Don't worry. I won't let you get run
over.”

Ahead
the trees divide and a spectral bridge rises between the banks, a stark metal
framework carrying the train tracks across the Eleanor River. Distant laughter
springs from the span, from the voices of unseen boys. Nathan recognizes them from
the smoking patio at school, Burke and Randy, and something about the knowledge
complicates the evening. Roy throws his arm over Nathan's shoulder with easy
confidence, but removes it when the figures on the railroad trestle become more
distinct.

Burke
has begun to climb a metal ladder to the top of the trestle, a long way above
the water. Roy scowls as Burke climbs, jaw muscles working. There is rivalry
between Roy and Burke, Nathan realizes, slightly surprised. Burke reaches the
top rung of ladder and swings over the rail, standing only a moment on the
narrow steel ledge. Plunging forward, legs kicking, but silent. He hits the
water with a dark splash.

“A
boy drowned here last summer. Dived right into the river and never come up.
They had to call in all these scuba divers to find him” Dead, tangled in
some kind of weed growing from the river bottom, said Roy. While Burke, clearly
visible, climbs from the riverbank in his dripping drawers.

Something
about Burke's body makes Nathan embarrassed, almost ashamed. He finds himself
watching Burke, who is rumored to be the strongest white boy in high school.
His hard edges and crude thickness fascinate.

While
at the same time Roy begins to undress, and Nathan watches him too. It is as if
the fact that he knows he must conceal his interest in their bodies makes that
interest all the greater, all the harder to hide.

Randy
hoots at Roy. “Did you see that dive?” Indicating the laudable Burke,
still getting his breath.

“Sure
did.” Roy swings over to the ladder and begins to climb to the top of the
trestle. He has laid his shirt and jeans on the tracks. Hips sway from side to
side as he climbs. Pale undershorts shine.

“What
did you think about that?” Burke asked, water beaded on his shoulders.

He
expects Nathan to answer. Nathan swallows. “It's pretty high.”

Burke
snorts. “It's high all right. I bet you won't do it” “I bet I
won't either.”

For a
portion of the trestle's passage over the river, the rails and ties run on a
gravel embankment and gray gravel fills the spaces between the ties. Over the
center of the span, however, the rail is supported on beams of steel, and
between the cross ties is air. Nathan steps onto these cross ties, where Burke
and Randy wait. The feeling of falling is already in Nathan's gut, as if he
were plunging toward the river. He can see the dark river surface far below the
ties. Trying to show as little of his fear as possible, he steps bravely,
glancing down only at moments when he cannot control his panic.

“I'm
with you, Nathan, I ain't jumping off the top part either,” Randy says.
His skin is colored like sand and freckles trace the curves of his nose and
strong cheeks. Randy is plump, with a roll of white fat at his midsection. He
towels Burke's back dry. “I got no need to break my neck.”

“Well,
I do,” calls Roy from above, and Nathan stares upward dizzily, wishing for
something to hold.

Roy
steps forward into space, kicking his legs as if to keep his upright stance
through the air; he falls into the river, fast as that. Surfacing, he flings water
from his hair and laughs, looking up at Nathan.

At the
same moment Burke steps toward Nathan and grips Nathan's shoulders in his
hands. On Burke's face is a wicked grin, and at the center of his eyes is a
blade of ice that frightens Nathan, even the first time he sees it. He grips
Nathan's shoulders so tight they hurt. “Hey Nathan, we're glad you came
out here to the river.”

“Let
him alone, Burke,” Roy calls from the river. He has begun a slow swim to
shore. “He can't swim.”

“Well
maybe he'll learn if I throw him in right now”

“Don't
bother him, Burke. I mean it.”

“I
ain't bothering him. Am I, Nathan? Huh? Say something.”

He
shakes Nathan violently. The hands on Nathan's shoulders burn as Burke lifts
Nathan from the trestle and suspends him over the water. Nathan fights panic,
holds perfectly still in Burke's grip. Strong fingers gouge his arms. From the
center of the trestle Randy stops moving and watches. Burke grins and shakes
Nathan again, more gently. “Are you man enough to jump from here? Or do
you want me to throw you?”

“I
don't want you to throw me.”

“Then
you going to jump?”

Nathan
holds perfectly still and looks Burke directly in the eye. The act of assertion
calms him. He is strangely peaceful and feels no fear, even at the prospect of
the fall. Something meets between them. He focuses on Burke's arms and
shivering chest. Burke is big for his age, and his stomach is ridged and hairy.
A feeling of harsh strength pours out of him, different from Roy Nathan looks
into this, into Burke's face, and says, “I want you to put me down.”

Burke
laughs and seems perplexed. Roy stands on the riverbank, watching. Burke
releases Nathan. He backs away, leaving Nathan at the edge of the trestle.
Nathan hovers unsteadily, glimpsing, below, his own face slipping beneath the
dark water. As if the moment has divided, as if he has both fallen and not
fallen. Shivering, he steps back to the center of the trestle.

Far
toward the trees in the darkness Roy climbs up the riverbank to the neat line
of cross ties. Everything dissolves into nightfall. Starlings are singing, and
frogs on trees are smelling the dusk and croaking in choirs. Roy trots down the
railroad track, stepping from tie to tie.

Burke
meets him face to face. “I didn't throw him in the river. I should
have.”

“You
better be glad you didn't.”

“Oh
hell, I'd have gone down and got him before he drownded.”

Roy
studies Nathan over Burke's shoulder. Nathan shakes his head emphatically.

Burke
says, “That was a pretty nice dive, buddy” “Yes, it was,”
Randy agrees. “You was pumping them legs.”

“What
did you think?” Roy asks Nathan.

“It
looked like something was chasing you all the way down.”

Roy
laughs a little and Randy joins him.

The sun
hangs low, soon to be swallowed by the line of trees at the horizon. Randy and
Burke dive from the trestle again, the low part, and Roy and Nathan sit on the
rail and watch them swim. A peaceful charge crosses the space between them, and
they are aware of each other with special sight. Below, Burke is pretending to
drown Randy, who pushes back with fury. The game goes too far and Randy nearly
fights with Burke as they leave the river. But even this commotion fails to
alter the stillness between Nathan and Roy. Roy says, “I like this
place.”

“I
do too.”

A soft
splash echoes from someplace down river. The gray of dusk swarms. “I wish
I could swim.”

“I'll
teach you. In the pond at home. It's easy”

Nathan
accepts the proposition and secretly cherishes it. He says nothing more since
Burke is running toward them, lumbering along the rail, surefooted.

“I
got some beer,” Burke says, “you want to drink one?”

“I
got some too.” Roy reaches for his jeans. “It's in the truck.”
Burke gestures. “You reckon we ought to go back?”

“I'm
ready. I've had all the swimming I need.”

Randy
halts some distance from the center of the bridge. “I'm right thirsty
too.”

“You
going to drink a beer?” Burke asks Nathan.

“He
don't need to” Roy says.

“I
know he don't need to. But I might ought to pour one down his throat just to
see how he would act.” Laughing with an edge of meanness.

They
leave the bridge and find their way along the tracks as the sun eases behind
the trees. Nathan feels as if he has been away from home forever already. Every
moment echoes of Roy. They walk side by side up the tracks, steady presence, as
Burke and Randy weave in and out

Burke
has beer in a bucket of ice in the back of his truck. He hands one to each of
the others, also offering a can to Nathan, who shakes his head no, but with
respect. They drink. Glimpses of the beer and hints of the acrid smell remind
Nathan. When his father swallows liquor, his throat moves in the same snakelike
motion, the undulating of long, smooth muscles. Nathan shakes his head, focuses
on the moon in the fender of the truck, the sound of a river, the shadowy
trestle, and the closeness of the three boys. The four. He can include himself.
He stands near Roy as Roy swallows, his smile a little softened by the beer,
and the curl of last evening light in the sky.

Burke
has draped a flannel shirt loose over his shoulders. He is lacing heavy work
boots over his ankles. He sips from the beer can like a suckling. Shadows
obscure his eyes.

Randy
dresses watching Burke's back. In Randy's eyes is a round blankness.

Roy
drinks. “What are you boys up to the rest of the evening?”

“Riding.”
Randy buckles his belt and adjusts the silver buckle to get it properly
centered. “We'll probably run around in Hoon Holler a little while.”

“See
if we can't get us some.” Burke aims his voice into the grass. “You
going out with Evelyn?”

Roy
shifts uncomfortably. Nathan stares into space behind Burke's head. “No.
We ain't going out tonight.”

“She
running around on you?”

“Hell
no. We ain't going out tonight, that's all.” His tone is meant to warn
Burke off the subject

Burke
watches Nathan with cool deliberation. “She's a hell of a good girl.
Evelyn.”

This
falls into silence. Nathan finds himself unable to look at Roy.

Finally
Roy says, “We ought to go camping before it gets too cold.”

“You
reckon?” Randy inspects his countenance in the side mirror of Burke's
truck. “Where you want to go?”

“Up
toward Handle. You know where I mean? Past the Indian mound, up Old Poke's
Road.”

“My
dad used to take me hunting toward Handle,” Burke says. “It gets wild
around in there.”

“We
ought to go,” Roy says. Lightly touching Nathan on the shoulder, casual
but inclusive. “That's where the haunted house is. Remember I told
you?”

 They
sip beer and consider the proposition.

“You
and Nathan ought to come up to Hoon Holler with us tonight.” Burke is
watching Nathan again, a direct inspection, almost a challenge.

“We
might. We're going to ride around a little while too. We might see you around
there later.”