The South Side Tour Guide

by Shelter Somerset

  Andy moved toward the table, but Harden grabbed him around the waist and landed him on his back, where he began to tickle him. The kids leaped from the swing and jumped in. Andy kicked and squirmed, then fought back by tickling the closest body. He yelped when his lower back rolled over the green acorns that had fallen from the burr oak. Andy poked Mason and Olivia’s ribs until they giggled and squirmed. The ground and the sky nestled them, holding them into a coalescing ball of energy.

  The two-year-old mutt Andy had talked Harden into getting Mason for his birthday, rescued from a shelter in Concord, trotted to them, tracing the boughs on the burr oak with his tail. Mason had named him Stretch, because of his unusually long midsection. The shelter attendant had guessed he might be part German shepherd, part basset hound. He poked his cold, wet snout into Andy’s face and barked.

  Andy peered through the tangle of limbs. He struggled to release himself, but Harden buried him further. He straddled Andy and stroked Mason’s and Olivia’s hair. Giving in, Andy threw his head back and laughed, and relented to Stretch’s cold tongue. Covered in grass, the kids rolled off, hopping and guffawing while Stretch leaped alongside them.

  Filled with unlimited energy, Olivia began spinning and twirling. Like a prairie twister, she moved about the yard, laughing. Mason and Andy began to twirl with her, their arms held out, heads tossed back. Andy whirled and laughed until the sky above spun into a dizzying blue vortex and the three of them, including Stretch, collapsed into another heap.

  “Listen, everyone. I have a great idea,” Andy said, wanting more than anything for a chance to breathe. He sat upright, panting, and petted Stretch’s muzzle. “Why don’t we camp out tonight, right here out back? It’s forecasted to be in the fifties, perfect temps for the sleeping bags.”

  “That’s an awesome idea,” Harden said. But instead of providing Andy a breather, everyone jumped on him anew, cheering him for his perfect proposal. Stretch bounded into the fray and woofed in his ear.

  By nightfall, the kids had spread out their sleeping bags under the burr oak, snug around the small wood-burning fire in Harden’s makeshift fire pit: the grill with the legs removed. Crickets chirped in the field and by the nearby creek, which Andy heard gurgling when the chirping or their laughter waned.

  “What insect curses in a low voice?” Mason, nestled inside his sleeping bag, said.

  Andy brought his knees under his chin and chuckled. “That’s a tough one. I give up.”

  “Stumped, Mason,” Harden said, raising his palms to the night sky.

  “A locust. Get it? A low cuss.”

  “Horrible, Mason,” Harden said, rolling his eyes and snickering.

  Andy hushed them. “I’ve got a good insect riddle. What bug is similar to the top of a house?”

  “A roof bug,” Olivia said, giggling alongside Mason.

  Andy waited, and when they all stared at him, wide-eyed and mouths agape, he answered. “A tick. Don’t you get it? Attic.”

  “You and your silly house riddles,” Harden said, giving Andy’s belly a light pat. “That one’s worse than Mason’s.”

  “You seem to be an expert on what makes a good riddle,” Andy said. “You tell one.”

  Harden, gazing into the fire pit, rubbed his hands together. “Okay, here you go. Why shouldn’t you tell secrets on a farm?”

  “You told us this one before, Dad,” Mason said.

  “Let your Uncle Andy answer.”

  Andy grinned and shrugged. “I give up. Why shouldn’t you tell secrets on a farm?”

  “Because the corn has ears.”

  Andy flung up his arms and joined the others in hoots of sardonic laughter. “That was bad,” he said. “Very, very bad.”

  All of a sudden, their laughter settled, followed by an incisive silence that descended upon them like a warm blanket. Even the crickets seemed to have quieted. Andy noticed the whites of everyone’s eyes glowing in the firelight. The flames hissed, as if they were telling secrets, intended for human ears shielded under the canopy of night. The earth rushed ahead, spinning, yet they remained as still as the corn and the elms and oaks in the breezeless night.

  Mason and Olivia slid lower into their sleeping bags, and their father’s rich voice, as he began retelling a story he’d once heard as a boy about an old woman who ignited a rumor of her village’s impending doom that so terrified the inhabitants they burned down the village, lulled them to sleep.

  While the kids and Stretch snoozed, Harden and Andy sat up, shoulder to shoulder, heads inclining on pillows against the wide trunk of the burr oak.

  “The other day, I overheard Dick mentioning to you he’s thinking about retiring,” Andy said toward the fire. He stretched, and his head slipped to rest against Harden’s crooked arm. “Might be the perfect opportunity, don’t you think? I could be responsible for keeping the books, since I know business, and you, of course, would be the agricultural expert. It’ll take some effort, but I’m certain we can do it.”

  Harden twitched, and his warm breath fell over Andy’s neck. Andy sensed he’d shifted his eyes downward to look at him. He fondled Andy’s hair and leaned in to kiss his dimpled chin.

  “Volim te,” he breathed in Andy’s ear.

  “Volim te, Harden,” Andy whispered in response.

  And they settled back against the burr oak, staring off into the starry sapphire sky, the fire warm on their faces, the kids breathing gently in their sleeping bags within arm’s reach, and together they planned for the future.

  About the Author

  SHELTER SOMERSET’s home base is Chicago, Illinois. He enjoys writing about gay and bisexual men who live off the beaten path, whether they be the Amish, nineteenth-century pioneers, or modern-day idealists seeking to live apart from the madding crowd. Shelter’s fascination with the rustic, bucolic lifestyle began as a child with family camping trips into the Blue Ridge Mountains. His “brand” is anything from historicals, mysteries, and contemporaries. When not back home in Chicago writing, Shelter continues to explore America’s expansive backcountry and rural communities, where he has had the pleasure of meeting many fascinating people from all walks of life.

  Also from SHELTER SOMERSET

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Also from SHELTER SOMERSET

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Also from SHELTER SOMERSET

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Also from SHELTER SOMERSET

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com