The Cranberry Hush: A Novel (21 page)

Steam from the shower filled the empty space around me, was
a cushion against it. The walls dripped. I wiped the mirror, looked again at
the swatch of myself, poking with the tip of my finger at the puffy redness of
the scrape. I put my clothes in the hamper and left my shirt, two days worn and
now with blood around the collar, on top of it, blood-stain side up as a
reminder that it needed extra attention in the wash.

I pulled back the yellow shower curtain and stood at the
back of the tub. The spray burned my toes. I adjusted the temperature and
stepped cautiously forward. I put my hand on the slippery soap tray jutting
from the wall and leaned into the stream of water, letting it lap my face.

It stung.

After I soaped I sat down on the floor of the tub, my back
against the tile, my feet flat on either side of the water spout. The water was
a steady vibrating rain on my thighs and crotch and stomach. The water spout
drip-drip-dripped between my feet. The stream of warm tickling water made me
hard. I covered my boner with a facecloth and leaned back against the tile.

“...”

“What? Why are you staring at me?”

“What are you doing in there so long?”

“Sitting. Relaxing.”

“The water’s still going.”

“It’s warm. I was cold.”

“How’s your face?”

“Hurts. I’ll live.”

“Want some company?”

“...OK.”

“Hold on.”

He let the curtain fall closed and I heard his sneakers
thump-thump onto the linoleum floor. His silhouette got undressed, clumsier
than in those noir movies but sexy in its way. He pulled back the curtain again
and stepped in, first one foot and then the other, tall and thin like a stork.
Water streamed down his body and left paths through the hair on his chest and
legs.

“I’ve never seen you naked before,” I said.

“You haven’t? Sure you have. You must’ve.”

“Not the full—you know.”

“Well how is it? You tell me. Mine’s the only one I’ve seen
up close.”

“It’s standard.”

“I guess I can live with standard. Ow, it’s too hot. Push
over, will you?”

“Sit at the end.”

“Your tub is too small.”

“It’s not meant to be shared. Especially by two people who
aren’t going to have sex.”

“How do you know we’re not going to have sex? We’re naked
and sudsy together.”

“I don’t think we’re going to have sex.”

“Well then just... just put your legs on mine—like
this—so I can get out of this boiling spray.”

His toes lay against my hips; my feet rested on his thighs.
The water spout lay against his neck. I asked if he was comfortable.

“Not really, no,” he said. “But it’s fine. The water’s nice.
It was so cold out today. I got snow all down my shoes stomping around in the
woods.”

“Yeah.”

“So are you sure we’re not going to have sex? This is a
pretty sexy situation.”

“Don’t worry. Just sit with me, huh?”

He nodded. Water dripped off his nose. “Why are you wearing
a loincloth, by the way? Are you modest?”

“Oh, no—I had a boner. It happens in the water.”

I pulled off the cloth; it had gone down.

“I’ve never been able to get aroused in the shower,” he said,
“to the chagrin of my girlfriends. Isn’t that weird? Hey, I need to shift your
legs for a sec.” He raised my feet and bent his legs Indian-style, put my
ankles down on his thighs again. “The drain was digging into my tail bone.”

“Your coccyx?”

“Haha. My coccyx.”

“Better now?”

“Actually, hand me that facecloth.” He took it and folded it
and put it under his butt. “That’s better.”

“I don’t know why this isn’t weird.”

“What?”

“You sitting in the tub with me.”

“It’s pretty weird.”

“But it doesn’t feel weird.”

“What’s weird is that your boner went down when I got here.
Don’t I turn you on, Vinny? What’s the deal?”

“I don’t know.”

Suddenly the bathroom door clicked and the curtain pulled
back again. It was Melanie. She had on the Gumby t-shirt I gave her. Her brown
hair fell in lively waves against her shoulders.

“Oh, sorry guys— I didn’t mean to barge in.”

“It’s OK.”

“Is there room?”

“Sure.” I pulled my legs off Griff and wrapped my arms
around my knees to clear the middle of the tub for her.

“Thanks. It’s freezing out!”

Melanie got undressed and stepped in, sat down between us,
her back against the tile wall, her smooth legs pulled up in front of her. She was
directly under the water; it soaked her hair, laid it flat against her skin.
She had a spray of freckles across her breasts, freckles that once upon a time
I connected into shapes and words with soft strokes of my finger while she
tried to guess what I was spelling. Would she mind if I touched them again?
Would Bernie mind?

“It’s a little hot,” she said.

“It’s OK once you get used to it.”

“This shower has always run hot.”

“That’s like the first thing he told me when I got here,”
Griff said. “
Welcome to my house. And oh
yeah the shower will melt your flesh off.
”

I put my toes under Melanie’s bum and wiggled them. “Griff,
can I have the facecloth back?”

“Vince is caring like that,” Melanie said.

“Then you shouldn’t have dumped him, Melanie. Remind me why
did you do that again?”

“Griff—” I tried to cut in.

“Shush, Vin, I want to know. You shouldn’t just dump someone
after you’ve painted in their room. You
painted
in his
room
, Melanie.”

“I told him I felt bad.” She looked at me; water ran down
her cheeks. “I told you I felt bad.”

“Well yeah,” Griff said, “but couldn’t you have picked a
better place to do it than a fast-food drive-thru?”

“Griff, come on. No fighting. We’re naked. You can’t fight
naked.”

The curtain pulled back again. I flinched. It was Zane. “Yeah,”
he said. “Fighting naked is a bad idea.”

“Hey dude,” said Griff.

“How did you get here?” I said.

“I don’t know,” he said, “the door was open.”

“Oh. Well you know Melanie, right?”

“We met at the store a few times. Hi.”

Melanie said hi.

“So can I get in too?” Zane said, but then he looked
disappointed. “I guess there’s not much room left for me.”

“There’s room,” Melanie promised. “Griff and I will make
room right here.” She moved her legs. Zane stepped out of his clothes and into
the tub. The hair under his belly button looked like black cotton candy. I was
afraid it would melt in the water.

“Um, let’s see.” He stepped around our legs like we were
playing a soggy game of Twister. “Well I can just sit on the side. Although
that will pretty much put my junk in Melanie’s face.”

If I put my tongue against Zane’s cotton-candy hair, I
wondered, would it be sweet? Would it be sweeter if Melanie put her tongue
there too?

“Griff I really need that facecloth again. Look. See? I need
it.”

“Wow, you do,” Griff said. “Here, take it—cover that
guy up. And Zane, dude, you can have my seat.”

“Really?”

“Griff, you’re leaving?” I covered myself with the facecloth
again. “But you should stay. We can make room—”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m starting to prune up anyway. And Zane
needs room.”

When Griff stood up he bonked his head on the showerhead. It
lurched and shot water at the ceiling.

I gasped and thumped my head against the tile, and opened my
eyes. The water had gone cold. How long had I been in here?

I stood up and turned it off and pulled back the curtain.
With a goosebumpy arm and blue fingers I reached for the towel. The house was
silent.

Huddled in the towel I called for Griff, but there was no
answer.

Every few minutes I checked for a sign of his car
in the driveway. It was after eight now. I was clean, dressed, and my chin
glistened with antiseptic. I ate a grilled cheese and paced.

I paced down the cellar stairs and put a load of laundry in,
including my bloody shirt and the sheets and blankets Griff had bought for the
new bed. While I was doing that I paced around the idea of calling Zane, of
telling him I was sorry and asking him to come over.

I paced into the spare bedroom. The closet door was open and
some of Griff’s shirts and jeans hung on coat hangers. His backpack leaned
against the wall, hanging on its aluminum frame like a scarecrow on a post.

This was my first taste of him not being here and it made me
feel antsy, distracted, alone. How had I come to rely on him so quickly? Was it
just a relapse? A return to my natural state? A week earlier it never would’ve
occurred to me to have someone living in my house, let alone Griff, but
now— I didn’t know what I’d do when he was gone.

When there was no place left to pace I went to my room and
laid on the bed. Floaters in my eyes crawled like spiders across the white
ceiling. I put my hand on Griff’s pillow. Touching it felt like something I
could get caught at. I pulled it toward me and put my nose against it and felt
some relief over how things had gone with Zane the past two days. I was
embarrassed, of course, for having yelled at him during lunch for no real reason
at all, and for freaking out over what had been the most innocent sofa-bed
advance known to man. But anger, real or imagined or dredged up like muck from
a settled lake, just made things easier. All Zane had to do was supply the
catalyst and I’d take care of the chain reaction—a chain reaction of
justification. I’d
had
to yell at him,
right? Yes, of course. So now there was a reason to avoid him, a reason to
schedule him on days I wasn’t working. A reason why I was perfectly right to have
turned him down. We wouldn’t have worked out anyway, because Zane was the kind
of person I had to yell at. The Halloween night on the beach was not a mistake,
it was foresight.

I rolled back the covers and got under, smelled Griff all
around me.

Griff.

***

Our dorm room door was unlocked. Surprised, I
pushed it open. He was at his computer; his monster-size monitor displayed the
front elevation of what looked like an office building.

“Oh—hey,” I said. If I’d known the door was going to
be unlocked before I tried it, I would not have gone in at all.

“Yo.” He turned around and noticed Andy beside me.

“I thought you were going to BU to see what’s her na—
Denise?”

“Didn’t work out.”

“Oh.” I wanted to leave, wanted to turn on my heels and run
away. He wasn’t supposed to be here. They weren’t supposed to meet. Not yet at
least. Not by accident.

“This is Andy,” I said, almost pushing him toward Griff so I
could hide behind him. He was stocky, had played football, provided cover.

Griff shot a confused glare at me. “Like,
Andy
Andy?”

I nodded.

He shook Andy’s hand. “Delighted. Any friend of Vince’s...
and all that.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Andy said.

Oh, I bet you have, Griff said in my head. I just bet you
have heard lots about me. I’m sure he’s told you everything. You must know
about my relationships, about how realistic my farting sounds are. You must
know about how hard I laugh at night and what kind of tattoo I want to get.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know you were going to be
here.”

“Nah, it’s cool. Don’t mind me. Or I can go chill in Beth’s
room if you guys were planning on—?”

“No! No, we were just going to watch a movie or something.”

“You do CAD?” Andy said to Griff. He dropped his jacket on
my bed and went and stood beside Griff’s desk.

“I’m trying to learn it. I like drawing better,” Griff told
him. “This is my final project.”

Andy put his hand on the back of Griff’s chair. “I was
thinking about changing my major to industrial design for next semester,” he
said. “Didn’t get around to it in time, though.”

“It’s fun.”

I looked at both of their backs, one wide, one slender, as
they looked at the monitor, pointing to various menus and icons. The building
rotated 360 degrees. Griff, explaining things, pressed a few keys and reduced
the elevation to a floor plan.

Which of the two boys in front of me felt more familiar, I
wondered. Which one was truly mine? Which one belonged to me in that special
way we look for people to belong to us? Seeing them together made me realize
that Andy, my boyfriend, whose body I had been inside, was the stranger here.
Andy was the third wheel. Everyone else was always the third wheel when Griff
was around. How could I reduce him to what he was supposed to be? Just a buddy,
just a roommate, just an open-mouth chewer of pizza.

What if I couldn’t?

Andy and I lay side by side on my bed watching
Batman Returns
on the little TV. Griff landscaped
his building with clip-art trees and then laid down on his bed and turned the
pages of a sci-fi paperback. There were things we would have to talk about. He
knew it. Twice I noticed him looking at me, his dark eyebrows low and confused.

Halfway through the movie he put the book face-down on his
bed and pulled open the bottom dresser drawer and got out his electric razor.
The black cord uncoiled and snaked down to the carpet.

“Mind giving me a hand for a second, Vince?” he said,
holding up the razor and winding the cord around his other hand.

“Now?”

“Yeah, now,” he said. “It’ll just take a minute.” Andy
looked bewildered and so Griff rubbed the back of his neck, beneath the longer
hair that covered it. “I hate that hair-on-hair feeling of neck stubble, you
know? Gives me the willies.
Brrrr
.”

“Want me to pause this?” Andy said as I got up.

“No, I know what happens.”

I let the door close softly behind me and followed Griff
into the bathroom. He plugged the razor into the outlet beneath the row of
bulbs on the medicine cabinet and took his usual seat on the edge of the tub. I
took the razor from him and he held up his hair.