by Andrew Grey
Arty had noticed it too and he’d tried to ignore it, but they seemed to be the object of fascination. Just then a waitress came over and asked, “Can I get you something else?”
“Maybe a snack. What’s good today?” Arty asked.
Susie, their server, came closer, as though taking their order. “I’d say the two of you.” She winked.
“Excuse me?” Arty asked. “I don’t get it.”
“Well, everyone is talking about what you did for all the fishermen. They think you’re a kind of hero. Then Beck, the bigmouth ass, started in about how he was trapped on the boat with the two of you and he would never have gone out if he’d have known that you had the hots for each other. He was talking real loud and drinking too much for that time of the day. Reginald told him to shut his mouth and mind his own business before he dragged him away.” She smiled and turned to Jamie. “So is it true—are you a couple?”
“Susie,” Arty said, and then figured, what the hell. If he acted like they had something to be ashamed of, then that would be picked up.
“Jamie and I like each other. But nothing happened while we were out on the Gulf.” He rolled his eyes. “You know how big those boats are. Like anything can go on and not have the entire crew looking in.” It was ridiculous. “And Beck had better learn to watch his mouth,” Arty said more loudly. “If he’ll gossip about me, then he’ll tell stories about anyone.”
Susie seemed satisfied. “The grouper bites are pretty awesome today. I suspect it’s some of what you brought back.”
“Then we’ll have those, some of the fries, and an extra plate.” He figured they could share.
“No problem. I’ll also bring you both another beer. I got plenty of people who want to buy you one.” She tapped the table and then hurried away. It shouldn’t surprise Arty how much people talked, but it still did, sometimes.
“Is there going to be trouble?” Jamie asked. “Back home there would be.” He seemed a little nervous.
“I doubt it. You and I are going to have a bite to eat, another beer, and then go back to the house. Once our bellies are full again, I suspect we’ll be tired. And as for whatever rumors are going around, they’ll die out when something else happens.” Arty accepted the beers from Susie, and a couple more of the old-timers stopped by to ask about his dad and tell stories about the one that got away. It was a cliché, but truer words were never said than fishermen telling whoppers about the time they caught a great white that turned out to be a minnow with some fight.
Once they had finished eating, Arty paid the bill, and they left to walk back to the house. “You really seem to belong here,” Jamie observed.
“I don’t know about that,” Arty said. “They’ll overlook certain things right now and will probably give me the benefit of the doubt because I helped them and because of my dad. But I never really belonged here.” The night air held a slight chill. His dad had never been someone who listened to rumors, and this one should die away soon enough; at least he hoped so. Though his dad had already been told he was gay, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
“So you’ll definitely go back to New York?” Jamie paused. “Can I go with you? I don’t fit in here, any more than I did back in Iowa. My aunt doesn’t understand, and she’s got enough on her plate. I thought I would like it here, that I could start again, but….”
Arty understood. “This is the same as home, beneath the surface. You can work yourself to death and get nowhere. It’s just like the farm, except with water.”
“Exactly.”
Arty smiled. “I was serious if you wanted to come to New York. My friend and I will help.” He liked the fact that he and Jamie might have a chance to see where this attraction led them.
“That’s awesome. I’ve waited tables before, and I’ve worked with all kinds of animals. Of course, that probably isn’t going to be of much help in New York. Maybe I could walk dogs and things. I see people doing that on TV.”
“What is it you really want to do?” Arty had a pretty good idea. But he had to ask.
“I want to get into theater or TV. I loved that in school.” Jamie turned away. “I know it’s hard and every other person in the city wants the same thing. Mostly I guess I want a different life and a chance at something better.” He wiped his nose and sniffed a little. “Maybe if I could make something of myself, then my dad would see it and realize I’m more than just some huge disappointment.”
Arty shook his head slightly. “Why is it that we’re all trying to get either our father’s attention or his approval?” He’d been trying to do that…. Hell, he still was. Not that it did a damn bit of good. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll introduce you to my agent. I don’t know if she’ll be willing to take you on, but it isn’t going to hurt to meet.” Hell, his own dreams had taken their ups and downs, and he’d been working at them for years now.
“Then we’d better hope that the next run is as good as this one. That way, I’ll have made enough money to get to New York and maybe have a little to get me by until I can get a job and earn my own way.” Jamie smiled, full of excitement and wonder. Arty remembered that same feeling when he’d first arrived in New York. Everything was new, and the world was open to so many possibilities. Then the world came crashing in, and reality reared its sobering head. Still, he wasn’t going to dash Jamie’s hopes. He deserved to delight in them for as long as they lasted.
“I’ll call Ryan tonight and make sure it’s okay with him. You should phone your aunt and let her know where you are and that you’re okay.” Arty started walking back toward the house. The streetlights cast a meager glow, but he knew the way by heart. Jamie wound his arm through his, letting the shadows conceal what didn’t need to be on grand display.
They approached the house, but Jamie didn’t slow down, so Arty just continued past it, wandering farther from the Gulf down streets he’d known as a kid, but which now seemed so different because he had someone to share them with. “Is this where all the fishermen live?” Jamie asked.
“It used to be. Now half the homes have been bought up by people from up north because they’re affordable.” Arty paused. “I used to know everyone in each of these homes. I played with their kids and we all grew up together. Some of them are still here, but a lot of them are gone… just like me.”
“Are you glad you came back?” Jamie asked, a little tentatively.
“Not for the reason I had to, but yeah….” Arty paused because he wanted to get this right. “In some ways, I wish I hadn’t come. This trip brings back a lot of things that I thought I’d left behind.” But then, nobody ever truly leaves behind their childhood. A person could go to New York or Manitoba—it didn’t matter—but their past would follow them. And maybe it should. “But then I met you….” He let that hang in the air. There were so many things he wasn’t quite sure how to put into words, and part of him was as suspicious as anyone who grew up on the water. If he talked about it too much, then he might jinx it. So instead, on the quiet street, with no one around, in front of a dark house, being serenaded with cicadas and the night insects, he leaned closer, sharing a kiss with Jamie that made him want to hurry back to the house.
“I think I understand.”
Arty sure as heck didn’t. “I wish you’d explain it to me. Because most of the time, I have no clue.” He really didn’t. His own father was a mystery to him, and maybe he’d always be that. Nothing was ever said that he deserved whatever attention he thought he wanted from his dad. No one ever got everything they wanted in life.
“This is a place of good and bad for you. It’s where you grew up, and it’s all of this—” Jamie motioned around him. “There’s the Gulf, and friends, and lots of memories. But there’s also stuff you don’t understand, and here, you feel more like a kid than a grown-up. It’s the same for me on the farm. My dad gave me as much work as I could handle, but he never let me make decisions. I was always a kid to him.” Jamie turned to him. “And it seems both our father
s keep a lot of things to themselves. Whatever they’re feeling is locked away, because if they talked about it, then they’d come across as weak or something.” He tensed and his voice grew stronger, darker.
“Yeah.” There was nothing Arty could do but agree. “If they’d just open up to us, then maybe we could understand.” There was so much he wanted to know, but his father was like a closed safe, full of information that was locked away from him. “But they won’t change. Not for either of us.” He slowly started moving again, turning the corner. A breeze came up off the water, chilling them both, and Arty guided them back to the house. It was time to go in before the cold settled too deeply. Not that it would last against the morning sun, but that was a long way off.
It only took a few minutes to get back to the house, something Arty wished he could delay. It was nice being alone with Jamie, having him to himself for a while. They separated before going inside. Jamie went to Arty’s room to call his aunt, and Arty sat at the kitchen table to call Ryan as his dad slept in front of the television.
“How is it going?” Ryan asked right away when he answered. “Did the trip go well?”
Arty smiled to himself. “It was good. Dad goes to the doctor tomorrow, so we’ll find out more then.” He cleared his throat and peered into the living room. “I met someone.”
“The guy you told me about from the boat?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah. Jamie’s from Iowa, and he’s going to go out on the next run with me. He’s sort of staying here for a little while.” Just the thought made Arty’s heart beat a little faster. “And he wants to come back to New York with me.”
Ryan groaned. “Another of your provincials,” he said haughtily and then laughed. “Let me guess: you want him to stay with you.” There was something jovial about the way Ryan said it, as though he’d expected nothing else.
“It won’t be forever…,” Arty argued.
“It’s okay. But I have to ask how well you know him.” Ryan grew serious.
“We spent eight days on a small boat in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. There aren’t many secrets after something like that. I’m hoping to go out once more, and then things with Dad will hopefully be settled and I can come home.”
“And bring a boyfriend with you.” Ryan’s voice grew deeper. “Are you sure about this? You left New York a few weeks ago, down in the mouth, and now you’re like the Energizer Bunny. I’m wondering if Florida might be good for you.”
Arty paused. “Are you kidding?” he asked more loudly than he intended, then stood, went outside, and pulled the door closed after him. “My dad sits and watches television all day. I have no idea how he feels about what’s going on or if he’s even happy that I’m here. He growls and tells me nothing. No, I don’t belong here any longer. The people have been nice, but my life is in New York. This will never be home for me.”
“Okay. I just wanted you to be sure.” That was Ryan, always playing devil’s advocate. “When are you coming back?”
“In a couple of weeks, I hope. After I go out one more time, I’m hoping Dad will be able to take over again.” God, just two more weeks and Arty could go back to New York. He was so ready.
“And Jamie is going to come with you?” Ryan asked. “I know you like the guy, and if you want him to come, then I will be happy to have him stay, you know that. But you just met him. Are you sure you want him to stay with us? Don’t you think that’s moving a little fast?”
Arty wanted to get angry, but that was the same question he’d been asking himself. “He wants to come, and things are good between us. So, I figure he should come. If it doesn’t work out, he can find a place of his own. But, Ryan… I really want to find out if things can work between us. He’s a good guy and he’s down to earth. Jamie works hard, and he doesn’t expect things to just drop in his lap. How many people are like that? Everyone seems to expect that good things will happen for them just because it’s their due… or if they work hard, it will come to them. That doesn’t always happen.” He spoke quickly, as if he had to get the words out. “I have shit luck with guys, you know that.”
Ryan chuckled. “Yes, you do, my little loser magnet. That’s why I have to ask if you know what you’re doing. The last thing we want is to have another Jerry Jerkoff staying with us. Remember him?”
Arty practically choked. “I dated him exactly twice, and then I dumped him when I found out what kind of pig he was.” When he met him for their second date, Jerry had told him to come in, and Arty had found him on the sofa with the goods hard and porn on the TV. Apparently, he was really into himself. “Give me a little credit.”
“I’ll do my best. But your love life has been so entertaining.” Ryan was such a shit sometimes.
“What love life?” Arty countered.
“That’s what makes it entertaining,” Ryan retorted, and Arty growled under his breath. “Come on. You have the worst luck, and it isn’t like mine is much better. Remember Claude?” He started giggling and then outright laughing. “He was one sick puppy.”
“Yeah, and you dated him for three months,” Arty added.
“I can be as freaky as the next guy. Sometimes it’s nice to nibble at the freak buffet, but I didn’t want to make a steady diet of it.” At least Ryan could make fun of himself. That was part of why Arty loved him. “Anyway, you really like this guy?”
“He’s….” It was hard to put into words. “I don’t know. That’s the thing. I’ve been sure before, and the guys always turned out to be losers. So, with Jamie, I don’t know.” He hated this doubt. “But I need to try to find out.”
“Okay. Then bring him, and I’ll be here to help you.” That was Ryan. “Now, I have to go because I have a date tonight and I need to get ready. He invited me to this club downtown. It’s supposed to be really fun, and apparently clothes are optional.” He remained quiet for a second, just long enough for Arty to inhale sharply, and then he burst into laughter. “I got you. Go and see how things work out with Jamie. I’ll talk to you soon. Be sure to call me before you go out to sea so I won’t worry when you don’t answer my texts.” Arty hung up, half smiling. Sometimes he thought it was too bad he hadn’t just fallen in love with Ryan. They had both talked about it, but it would never have worked. Ryan was too good a friend, and there was no mystery between them.
“Is everything okay?” Jamie asked. “You were on the phone for a long time. I put the wash in the dryer and started the next load.” He stepped outside and closed the door.
“You do laundry?” Arty asked, tugging Jamie closer.
“Of course. Do you find that sexy?” Jamie asked in a mock husky voice that made Arty smile.
“Yes, I do.” He tugged Jamie nearer, their heat mixing against the chilly evening air. Their lips met and Arty closed his eyes. There was no way he was going to get enough of that taste or the way Jamie made him feel. How could he have known that when he’d come back to Florida to help his dad, he’d find someone like Jamie? Arty pressed him into the darkness and then against the house, his hand sliding under Jamie’s shirt and up to pluck one of his perky nipples. Jamie moaned softly, just loudly enough for Arty to hear and to stoke his growing desire.
Jamie shivered, and Arty gentled the kiss and slowly moved back, his hands slipping away from Jamie’s heated skin. Jamie breathed hard and stayed where he was, the darkness covering what Arty hoped were thoroughly kissed lips.
“I should go inside.” Jamie’s voice broke a little, and then he slipped away and walked toward the door.
“Jamie, I don’t mean to overstep,” Arty said in a whisper.
Jamie stopped. “You didn’t. I’m only going inside because I don’t want to beg you to strip me naked right here and now and then take me on the ground.” He came closer. “I want you as badly as you seem to want me. I don’t fully understand what I can offer you, but I want you. Just not out here.” He turned and went inside the house, closing the door.
Arty took a deep breath and followed him inside the house. He f
ound Jamie and his dad sitting in the living room, neither of them saying a word. Arty sighed and joined them, sitting next to Jamie on the sofa. They watched a basketball game, which interested Arty about as much as watching dental work, but his dad seemed interested, and Jamie shifted to the edge of his seat as the game progressed.
Jamie whooped at what was an important point, and Arty’s dad turned and smiled. “You follow the Heat?”
“Yes. Even when I lived in Iowa, they were my team. My dad preferred the Chicago Bulls.” Jamie turned to him. “Part of me chose to watch the team because my dad hated them so much,” he added in a whisper and then came out of his seat as the Heat scored a three-pointer.
“I’m going to go into the room to read. You two enjoy yourselves.” Arty stood, walked down to the bedroom, and closed the door. He found a book he’d wanted to read and lay on the bed. After a few minutes, the bedroom door opened, and Arty set his book aside when he saw Jamie.
“Are you angry?” He came in and sat on the edge of the bed.
“No. Of course not. You go watch basketball and have a good time.” Arty patted Jamie’s hand. “Enjoy yourself. There’s no need for you to be anything but happy. Please.” He smiled and nodded. Jamie leaned over the bed, kissing him gently.
“I better get back before the break is over.” He got up and half floated out of the room, closing the door. Arty picked up his book and tried to read, but too many other things kept running through his head.
A cry drifted in from the living room. They were happy, and when Arty cracked the bedroom door, Jamie and his father were discussing basketball. He closed it again and plopped on the side of the bed. His dad had said more to Jamie in the last hour than he had said to Arty since he arrived. Part of him was jealous, and he hated feeling that way. He and his father just didn’t have anything in common.
Another cry wafted into the room, and Arty gave up, figuring he could either sit here alone, or join them and be part of the action. Arty was tired of being on the outside looking in.
