by August Arrea
“Alright, fine...you win,” grumbled Jacob as he quickly reached deep into his pocket.
No way could he take another of Ty’s gay revelations. Somewhere along the line Ty had become the self-imposed designated outer of fictional characters. It didn’t matter who they were—Batman and Robin, Sherlock Holmes and Watson, The Lone Ranger and Tonto, even Bert and Ernie—no one was off target from his warped and, oftentimes, obviously malfunctioning gay radar. But Frodo and Sam—and how the One Ring was really the subtext about the first same-sex marriage in literature—was where Jacob drew the line. More importantly, Jacob wanted to put the kibosh on any more speculative talk regarding his friendship with Wray.
“Here,” Jacob snapped sharply while thrusting a twice-folded crumbled piece of paper Ty’s way.
“What’s this?” asked Ty before even unfolding the paper and reading the scribbled handwriting inside.
“A note from my doctor clearing me to rejoin the wrestling team.” Ty’s eyes lit up from the news.
“You’re kidding? That’s great! But why would you keep it a secret from me?”
“I wasn’t keeping it a secret,” said Jacob. “I just hadn’t told you...yet.”
Ty’s gaze shifted to Jacob’s shoulders, first the right, then the left.
“So that means your, uh...you know, your...that is, it’s...” Ty stammered while gesturing over his own shoulder with a point of his extended thumb to his back.
“It’s improving. In fact, I’m pretty much good as new,” Jacob lied.
Ty may have been his best friend with whom he shared pretty much everything, but this was one thing he had difficulty being open and truthful about. It wasn’t an easy thing having something which made you different from everyone else around you, even your best friend. And how could he be completely honest with the one person he knew wouldn’t judge him when he himself had trouble not judging himself.
“You know the best part of this?” said Ty. “You might finally get your chance to knock Yul Dane off that pedestal of his.”
“You’re not going to be happy until Yul and I are thrown into a gladiator arena and forced to fight to the death, are you?” asked Jacob.
“Not death...just a little maiming,” answered Ty, his eyes gleaming with a glint of mischief at the thought. “I just can’t wait to see the look on his face when he finds out about this.”
~~~
“When who finds out about what?”
The sound of Wray’s voice caught both Ty and Jacob off guard. Slowly, both boys looked up to see she had made her way over unbeknownst to them while they were caught up in their conversation and was now standing looking down at them. And she wasn’t alone. Yul was hitched right beside her, his arm snaked loosely yet possessively around her middle, looking as smug in his blond smugness as could be.
“Uh nothing,” said Jacob. “Ty here was just explaining how his dad’s head’s gonna explode when he finds out Captain Kirk and Spock had boldy gone where few men knew they had gone before.”
“S’up, Wray?” said Ty, before giving Yul a nonchalantly friendly nod. “Kong.”
Jacob had to bite his lip to choke down his chuckle, especially at the sight of the vacant expression on Yul’s face at the mention of the classic cinematic damsel in distress Faye Wray and her giant ape captor that had apparently sailed way over the tops of his head.
“Still raiding imaginary closets, Ty?” inquired Wray with a cocked eyebrow.
“You know what they say about guys who are overly preoccupied about other guys who graze on the other side of the fence?” said Yul.
“Get warned about that a lot, do you, Yul?” Ty replied without missing beat and instantly erasing the snarky grin etched on the jock’s face.
“So, where you two heading off to?” Jacob chimed in quickly as a courtesy to Ty to hopefully prevent the meeting of his friend’s face with Yul’s oversized fist, which he spied clenching itself into a knobby ball of knuckles.
“Yul’s walking me to class,” said Wray. “I just wanted to stop by and say hi, and to see if you needed a ride home after school.”
“Uh, yeah...if it’s no trouble.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if it was.”
“Great. That’ll give you a chance to tell her the good news,” Ty piped in. Jacob shot Ty a look shaped with the points of a dozen razor-sharp daggers.
“What news?” asked Wray.
Ty was oblivious to the potency of the look of death trained on him.
“Just that our boy Jacob here just got green-lighted to rejoin the wrestling team,” he said flashing the doctor’s note still in his possession before Jacob lunged forward and angrily snatched it back.
“You’ve got such a big mouth,” Jacob hissed under his breath.
“What’s the big deal?”
The answer came when Yul’s voice followed as expected.
“Well, whattaya know about that? I guess congrats are in order,” Yul said through a crooked grin of overly white teeth, though he looked none too pleased by the news. “I guess that means that weird training bra you’ve been strapped into finally did its job and you finally get to step out...a woman.”
“Knock it off, Yul,” Wray muttered disapprovingly under her breath as Yul bellowed with laughter.
“Ah, he knows I’m just playing with him, babe. Don’t you, Parrish?”
Jacob feigned as close a smile as he could muster, though it was more a gritting of teeth to keep back the bile wanting to spew forth, mostly from the cringing sound of the word “babe” coming from the meathead’s mouth.
“Seriously, have you looked in the mirror?” mumbled Ty, drawing a lancing glare from Yul.
“What’s that, mouth?” snarled Yul.
“I’m just stating an obvious, yet non-confrontational observation that if there’s anyone here amongst us who should be rumored to have benefitted from wearing a training bra, it would be, well, you,” said Ty, before quickly adding: “No offense, Wray.”
What was clearly intended as a slam, however, was immediately realized to be the ultimate compliment when heard out loud, especially to a jock like Yul, who mugged cockily and popped with pride his impressive, muscle-swollen pecs which were on noticeable display beneath the tight polo shirt he wore that Ty had failed in deflating.
“You know what I meant,” Ty mumbled with frustration.
Jacob just stared in disbelief at his friend while shaking his head wondering when the sewage rupture would be turned off and uttered the simple plea, “No!” As in “For the love of God, super glue your lips together.”
The sound of the school bell, when it finally came, never had a more welcome ring to it.
“Well, I better get to class,” said Wray, looking somewhat like a mother whose child had just embarrassed her by throwing a tantrum in the store. “I’ll meet you after school in the parking lot?”
“See you then,” said Jacob, smiling weakly.
“Guess I’ll be seeing you on the wrestling mat, champ,” said Yul, giving Jacob a friendly yet unmistakably challenging slap on the back.
He could be heard chuckling softly to himself as he followed along after Wray, as though he were privy to some secret joke. If there was one thing Jacob detested more than anything, it was to be laughed at in his face. Worse, still, was the sound of a lingering giggle coming from the muscle-headed jock at his expense being savored and sucked upon with enjoyment as if it were an after dinner hard candy mint.
“Awwwk-ward!” Ty sang as he sidled up closer to Jacob oblivious to the slow burn taking place with his friend.
As the two watched Wray and the Neanderthal towering beside her make their way across the grassy knoll, Jacob could hear the beating of his heart in his ears carried by the boiling flow of blood being pumped through his veins. And for the first time he wasn’t sure who he had the desire to kill first if given the opportunity: Yul, or his best friend.
CHAPTER FOUR
What Are Friends For?
S
uffice to say, Jacob committed no acts of homicide that day. The fact he somehow managed to not bomb his quiz in literature class despite Ty’s chatty efforts to the contrary during lunch may have had a hand in calming his murderous impulses. Yet the sulky mood which stalked Jacob the remainder of the day followed him out to the parking lot when school ended where he found Wray waiting for him in her white and tan Jeep.
The ride home was unusually quiet except for the drumming sound of Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” blaring from the stereo. Any other time, Jacob likely would have cracked wise about the song choice. Wray was a Fleetwood Mac fanatic. Actually, her obsession lied with the band’s bewitching songstress, Stevie Nicks. Behind the wheel mouthing along to the classic melody, Wray even bore a striking resemblance to the gold dust woman in her heyday, with her mane of gold-gleaming hair streaking carefree about her sun-kissed face while wearing a gypsy-inspired outfit of billowing chiffon and suede platform boots. On anyone else, such a look would have drawn snickering stares, like a Halloween costume donned in February; on Wray it was a look that breathed natural. Alluring, even, in the same way the song coming from the stereo retained a classic timelessness.
In many ways, it was the perfect soundtrack accompaniment. Slouched in his seat, Jacob watched through brooding eyes the people going about their business in a manner not rushed and seemingly without a care in the world. “Welcome to Cain’s Corner, Population 57,643” a large wooden sign painted white with dark green lettering announced as they drove through the main thoroughfare of town. It always seemed to Jacob as though Cain’s Corner was much smaller than the number boasted by the sign of people who had come to call it home.
Cain’s Corner.
It was not by accident nor happenstance that Jacob had come to grow up in such an idyllic, homespun corner of the world, where grocery chains had not yet displaced the corner market and the barber’s pole with its helical red, white and blue stripes still spun with life. And yet Jacob couldn’t imagine anyone coming to Cain’s Corner except by accident, and then, for whatever reason, deciding to call it home. Not that Jacob had any dislike for Cain’s Corner. It was a perfectly fine place, as far as small towns go. In many ways, it reminded him of every town in every movie serving as a perfect picturesque backdrop for a coming attack by space aliens, or Ground Zero for an outbreak of some deadly, fast-spreading contagion. There was an unexplainable feeling about Cain’s Corner, as if it existed in a secluded pocket detached from the reality that governed the rest of the world—a tiny town walled in behind the thick glass of a snow globe and untouched by time.
Yet even a relaxed and seemingly peaceful place as Cain’s Corner was not without its blemishes.
Whatever thoughts Jacob found himself momentarily lost in dissipated when he noticed the Jeep had stalled at a stop sign longer than what was necessary. He saw Wray had stopped singing along with Stevie about the thunder and the rain and was instead staring straight ahead glaring at a huge billboard on the other side of the road crossing in front of them.
“Not to state the obvious, but it’s not a stoplight,” said Jacob, motioning to the stop sign posted off to the side of where they were stopped.
“One day I’m going to find a way to pull that sign down,” said Wray, clearly upset.
Here we go again, thought Jacob as he sighed deeply and sank deeper into his seat. It was the same thing every time they drove past that certain intersection. A small atheist group in town had put up the billboard a month or so earlier. “IN THE BEGINNING, MAN CREATED GOD” it blared in giant red letters, while underneath in smaller type read, “Let go of the imaginary, choose reality!”
“I can’t believe this town would allow something like that to be posted,” Wray fumed.
“As opposed to what, denying someone their right to free speech?” questioned Jacob.
“Please…that is not free speech!” argued Wray. “It’s just another blatant attempt to mock others who choose to believe in something they do not.”
“Like it or not, that’s the reason why we have the First Amendment.”
“I don’t like it,” replied Wray through gritted teeth.
She then jammed her foot against the gas pedal sending her Jeep forward with a high-pitched squeal of the tires. Even as she sped away, she did not leave her irritation behind her.
“I just don’t get it. If you don’t believe in God, then don’t. Why pay the money and go through the effort of putting up a sign to put down those who think differently?” Wray continued with her rant. “I mean, why do you give two hoots about what I believe? Does it really affect your life that much? Are you really that empty inside that you can’t get a good night’s sleep until everyone is as angry and miserable as you are?”
Jacob had heard it all before and he closed his eyes to shield the painful expression fixed in them knowing he had a stretch of road ahead to travel before Wray got it all out of her system.
“Do I care what the Jewish people believe, or the Indians, or Buddhists, or how about the people who dance around with poisonous snakes? No, I do not! And why don’t I? Because I’m me and they’re them,” continued Wray. “I don’t understand why everyone can’t focus on their own stuff and let everyone else be. If I were to choose to believe in a dancing bear dressed in a tutu made out of daisies as the supreme being of the universe, whose business is it to tell me otherwise?”
Now there was some food for thought. After all, if the Hindus could worship an elephant god with numerous arms and hands, why would a tutu-wearing bear raise any eyebrows? And salty as Jacob was, he couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from curling upward ever so slightly imagining such a deity.
“What’s so funny?” snapped Wray, catching sight of Jacob’s subtle amusement.
“Nothing,” Jacob, growing instantly serious once more, replied. “I was just wondering about the prayers one would say to this holy bear of yours. Would it go something like ‘Our Bear, who art the cuddliest in heaven’—”
“You’re missing the point! All I’m saying is live and let live.”
At that very moment, as Wray continued in her rant, Jacob caught a glimpse of something suddenly darting out across the street straight into their path.
“LOOK OUT!” he yelled.
Wray slammed her foot on the brake and the Jeep came to a skidding, screeching halt; but not before there was felt a heart-stopping, thudding bump beneath the tires accompanied by a high-pitched yelp. The look in Wray’s face was one of instant horror.
“Please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.” she implored in what was more a whispered prayer than a question.
“Stay put and I’ll go see,” said Jacob while sharing in Wray’s hopes.
Wray’s eyes stayed glued to him as he slowly made his way around to the front of the Jeep with cautious, hesitant steps. When Jacob finally glanced back at her, Wray knew by the sympathetic look in his eyes the discovery wasn’t a good one. With tears already beginning to form, she managed to force herself out of her seat and maneuver her way to the front of the vehicle where her horrified look instantly collapsed into one of anguish at the sight of a mid-sized brown and white dog lying with an unmistakable stillness on its side on the pavement.
“Oh no, no, no...” Wray began to whimper from behind the hand she brought to her mouth. “Look what I’ve done.”
“It was an accident,” said Jacob. “He just darted into the street from nowhere.”
Wray, who once spent ten terrifying minutes herding a giant spider that had gotten into her house back outside into nature instead of simply squashing the hideous creature, couldn’t be consoled.
“Look what I’ve done,” she repeated sobbing, as if she had purposefully gunned her Jeep and ran the poor dog down for her own sick amusement.
Jacob knelt down on the ground to closer examine the dog. Maybe, he thought—hoped, even—it had just been knocked out and needed a little nudge to come to again.
“I’ll grab a blanket,” sa
id Wray.
Before Jacob could stop her, she had already rushed off toward the back of the Jeep. He knew a blanket wouldn’t do any good, except serve as a death shroud. The moment he touched the pooch, he could tell the life had been knocked free from the dog the instant the Jeep struck it. He checked for a collar and found attached to it a silver tag engraved with a name: Jasper. Poor little guy, Jacob thought to himself as he stared down at the mutt who looked only to be taking a peaceful afternoon nap. Probably was on his way home after enjoying an exciting afternoon of exploring the neighborhood before meeting his cruel fate beneath the tires of the Jeep. And as he continued to gently stroke the animal’s soft fur with his fingers, Jacob found himself wishing there was some way he could somehow awaken Jasper and send him along on his way. If nothing else, to relieve Wray of the punishing weight of guilt he knew would settle itself upon her shoulders like a sack of bricks for some time to come.
That’s when Jacob observed something most peculiar; the veins on the inside of his arm beginning at his wrist were slowly and prominently becoming visible through his skin. It was as if he was undergoing a transfusion of some unknown, dark fluid that was being pumped somehow into his bloodstream and gradually revealing the branch-like tendrils of his veins webbing their way like miniature river channels higher and higher through the tissues of his arm. It startled Jacob at first, and may very well have caused him to have a public freak-out session had his attention not been wrenched away to the fact that Jasper was now stirring with movements of life. To his utter shock, Jacob watched open-mouthed the dog rise up onto his paws and brush off his moment of rest with a good, hearty shake.
“You’re alive!” Jacob gasped with disbelief.
As if to prove he wasn’t a hallucination, Jasper sidled up to Jacob and offered up a friendly, if not slobbery, lick on the cheek before bolting off down the street, continuing with the run from which he had been briefly detained. When Wray finally returned with a red and white plaid wool blanket in her arms, she found Jacob still kneeling in front of her Jeep and, more noticeably, the spot on the asphalt where the dog was last seen lying now vacant.
