Shaking the Sugar Tree (13 page)

“You speak from experience, of course.”

“I have no idea what it’s like to be a parent, but everything I’ve ever read says it’s hard. In the best of circumstances, with a loving partner at your side to help out, it’s hard. With a special-needs child, with a child who’s deaf, it’s just all that much harder. You’ve done an amazing job and I’m not going to let you sit here and beat up on yourself.”

I offered a small laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” he demanded.

“For an immature little preppy guy, you’re pretty smart.”

“An
immature little preppy guy
?” he repeated in an outraged tone of voice.

“You look like someone who would need a note from his mother to get out of gym class,” I said.

“Life is full of surprises,” he admitted. “When you see the heat I’m packing, all this talk about
immature
and
little
will go straight out the window.”

“Is that a promise?”

“You’ll be crying for your mama.”

“I like that. So when do I get to see this little package thingy? We could ditch the kid and get a motel room.”

“Or we could go to my place and distract him with an Xbox game.”

“That works too.”

Noah wandered back the table.

Let’s go to G-a-m-e S-t-o-p,
he signed.

Go where?
Jackson signed.

Noah fingerspelled Game Stop for him.

“Slow down,” Jackson said.

Noah spelled it again, this time with exaggerated slowness.

“It’s a computer game place right over there,” I said, pointing to a shop near the entrance to the food court.

We don’t have money,
I pointed out.

I just want to look.

“Let me buy him something,” Jackson said.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” I said.

“Don’t be a poopy pants. And remember, it will help distract him. You want him to be distracted, don’t you?”

He offered this with a brilliant smile.

“Don’t make it a habit,” I said. “And yes, I certainly do.”

In Game Stop, Noah and Jackson pored through the racks like two old friends. I watched them, something tugging at my heart. For Noah’s sake, I feigned an interest in video games. But Jackson, he knew his stuff.

Noah was keenly happy to look through racks like any normal child with money in his pocket. I was happy to watch him, to let someone take the reins. I took pictures of them browsing the racks, which earned me suspicious looks from passersby.

Jackson paid for his game, and Noah beamed as he came out of the store, making a beeline for me, anxious to show me what he had purchased.

Jackson smiled mischievously at me, a come-hither look in his eyes.

N
OAH
SETTLED
down in front of the television for a lovefest with the Xbox and we snuck off to my bedroom and shut the door.

Jackson pulled off his shirt, then mine, then pressed himself against me and kissed me like he was going to war. He had me pushed up against the wall. He was a bundle of taut, sleek muscles, all manhood and malehood, smelling faintly of some cologne that I couldn’t identify.

He kissed me like his life depended on it.

I returned the favor, and then some.

While I was taller than he was, I was a slim Southern boy—one of those squirrel-eyed peckerwood types that look like they’re had too many hard winters and not enough pots to piss in—and he was muscular from a lot of time spent in the gym. Well-defined muscles were smooth and hard to the touch. I was much browner than he was. I was going to have to get this boy to the park or a swimming hole for some skinny-dipping.

He put his hands on my shorts and underwear, pushed them down, and my business flopped out.

“Have you been tested?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said.

“So have I.”

He kissed my throat.

“I can’t do this,” I said. “Not with my boy in the other room.”

My body said otherwise.

“We can lock the door,” he whispered, bending to kiss my chest.

“We might have to wait until he goes to bed,” I said.

As if to emphasize the point, my penis thrust itself out like a fat spear and wobbled.

“Perhaps,” he said, kissing my belly as he knelt down and put his hands on my hips.

“I don’t think this is good time,” I said.

He didn’t answer because his mouth was full.

W
E
WERE
rather indisposed when the NOAA weather radio on my dresser suddenly went off late that night.

It has a loud, distinctive blare that is not to be ignored, no matter what you’re doing, even if it involves getting your groove back when you’re buck naked and sticking it to your new boyfriend for the second time as though you might never have sex again.

My business slid out of Jackson Ledbetter and I hurriedly got off the bed and threw on a pair of boxers.

“What is it?” he asked.

I didn’t answer.

I went to the dresser and hit the speaker button on the radio.

“… a tornado warning has been issued for the following counties in Northeast Mississippi….”

From experience, I knew the radio wouldn’t go off unless we were in the warning area. A warning advisory is a lot worse than a watch, which means merely that conditions are right for “extreme weather events.” A warning means a tornado has actually been spotted and you’d better get your ass to safety and perhaps prepare to kiss it good-bye.

“It’s a tornado warning,” I said. “Get dressed and meet me in the bathroom. I’ve got to get Noah.”

“Is it serious?”

“A warning means a tornado has touched down. Yeah, I’d say that was serious.”

“Shit!” he exclaimed.

“Meet us in the bathroom,” I repeated.

I unplugged the electric cord from the weather radio so that I could take it with me; it also operated on batteries. I grabbed my phone and hurried to Noah’s room. I shook him awake, took him in my arms, and carried him down the hall to the bathroom. He wiped sleep from his eyes, didn’t ask questions. He knew the drill.

I set him down in the tub, grabbed the blankets from the bathroom cupboard, and handed them to him, along with the shoebox that contained our emergency kit. Inside were two flashlights, a roll of toilet paper, bottles of drinking water, bandages, matches, candles, and granola bars. He put it on the edge of the tub, his eyes wide with fright.

It’s okay,
I said.

Jackson stumbled hurriedly into the bathroom wearing his cargo pants.

“Get in the tub with Noah,” I said.

“Why?”

“Just do it, please,” I said.

He got in the tub, holding Noah between his legs.

“You have to lay down and hold him. If the roof falls in, you don’t want to be sitting up.”

“Is the roof going to fall in?”

“Just do it!” I snapped.

He arranged himself, and Noah lay down with him.

“It’s the safest place,” I assured him.

Is there a tornado?
Noah signed.

I shook my head. There was, of course, but I didn’t want to scare him. I played with my phone, looking for text messages that were automatically sent when watches or warnings were issued, part of a free service that I had signed up for.

“Are we in any danger?” Jackson asked, a bit of hysteria in his voice.

“Probably not, but after the past few years, we’re starting to think it’s better to be safe than sorry. A warning means a tornado has been spotted somewhere nearby. I’m trying to find out where.”

“Jesus!” he exclaimed.

“Try to relax,” I said. “Don’t get the cheese-eater worked up.”

“He can’t hear me,” he pointed out.

“But he can feel you,” I said.

“Aren’t you going to get in too?” Jackson asked.

“If we hear something like a huge train coming, yeah,” I said.

“There’s no room,” he pointed out.

“I’ll just pile on.”

I got up and turned to the door.

“Where you going?”

“I need to get his pajamas,” I said.

“Who cares?”

“If we get blown away, I don’t want my kid walking around in his underwear,” I said.

“Grab my shirt,” he called.

The apartment was quiet, which was either good or very, very bad. Tornadoes are usually accompanied by thunderstorms, hail, lightning, and all the rest of it. The absence of such activity means the tornado had passed already, or was somewhere else—or that we were right in the eye of the storm and ready to get our butts kicked.

Thunder pealed, lightning flashed.

I checked to make sure the windows were closed. The one in my bedroom was open, and I slammed it down. I grabbed Jackson’s shirt, a T-shirt for myself, then hurried to Noah’s room, rummaging in his dresser for pajamas.

Back in the bathroom, we got dressed quickly. I made Jackson and Noah lay down with a blanket over them.

“Just in case,” I said.

“In case of what?” Jackson asked.

“Falling debris. Glass. Better safe than sorry.”

“Jesus!”

“Keep it light, lover boy,” I said. “This is about the tenth warning we’ve had so far this year. We’re still here. Don’t get too excited.”

The power cut out suddenly.

“Now what?” Jackson demanded.

I flipped on a flashlight.

“What happened?” Jackson asked.

“The power went out.”

“I know that!” he snapped.

“Probably means the tornado is bearing down and ripping up the wires,” I said.

“Close to us?” he asked in a worried voice.

“Brace yourself. We’re probably going to die.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“You never do when it’s right on top of you.”

“Is it that close? Jesus! You better get in the tub!”

“Oh, relax. I’m kidding,” I said. “Power line probably fell down somewhere. Who knows? The power will be back on in a second. You’re a big old sissy, aren’t you?”

“We don’t have tornadoes where I come from.”

“You’ll get used to them.”

“I don’t think so.”

Noah signed,
He’s really scared!

I smiled.

“By the way, maybe you could do some babysitting for me once in a while,” I suggested. “If I’m going to put out, I want something in return.”

“Something in return,” Jackson repeated.

“Something of value,” I said. “It’s only fair.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“My mouth was full,” I said.

Jackson laughed.

Noah looked up at him, smiled.

Jackson kissed his hair, patted him on the head.

“Don’t pat him on the head,” I said. “He’s not a pony!”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said, chastened.

“I’m kidding. Can’t you tell when I’m kidding?”

“You are so going to pay,” he said.

“I certainly hope so,” I replied sweetly.

“How long does this damned tornado thing go on?”

“Don’t curse in front of the children, dear.”

Distant thunder sounded in the background.

“You heard about Smithville?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“A few years ago a tornado went through here, took just about all of Smithville with it. Killed about thirty people. That’s about forty-five minutes down the road, a little too close to home. Took out one hundred and forty-nine of their one hundred-fifty houses and businesses.”

By the light of the flashlight, we listened to the NOAA Weather Radio announcer explaining that a tornado had touched down in the Plantersville area, just to our east. Quarter-size hail was reported. A tornado warning was in effect for Lee County and the surrounding counties. Tornado was moving in an easterly direction.

The lights suddenly came back on.

I sat on the edge of the tub, looking at Jackson.

“God, I want to kiss you,” I whispered.

“Is there something stopping you?”

I leaned over and kissed him briefly and somewhat chastely on the lips. Then I kissed Noah on the cheek.

Noah giggled, wiping his cheek as if I’d given him cooties.

“His birthday is coming up soon,” I said. “How do you feel about kids’ birthday parties?”

“Love them,” he said with a grin.

“And meeting the family….?”

“Bring it on!”

“You’re a brave man. A bunch of rednecks in a truck might show up.”

“Really?”

“Shotguns and everything.”

“Really?”

“You’re a gullible man, aren’t you?”

About ten minutes later, the warning expired.

We emerged from the bathroom and went to my room.

Noah crawled into my bed.

“He won’t sleep by himself after one of these,” I explained. “He gets freaked out because he can’t hear the warning. We’re going to have to call it a night, although there’s something I really need to finish.”

“I’d like to stay,” Jackson said simply. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep either.”

He stripped down to his shorts and got into bed on the other side of Noah.

I frowned slightly.

Noah smiled.

I crawled into bed.

Noah lay between us, smiling. I held his hand and it took him about three minutes to fall back to sleep.

“I think you’re a good influence on him,” I whispered.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I realize now that when you said you were a package deal, you weren’t kidding.”

I arched my eyebrows.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” he said. “But you’re a father. You’ve got this little person to take care of.”

“That’s how it works.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“You could be the evil stepfather and plot to get rid of the son and heir,” I said.

“Or I could be the nice stepfather and support you in your paternal duties.”

“How do you feel about changing diapers?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“You’ve got to do an oil change once every five thousand miles. He hates that.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I tell him it’s only four quarts of oil, for Chrissakes. Drink it and stop whining!”

“You make me laugh,” he said.

“You make me horny,” I replied.