“You been smoking long?” Janice is no dummy.
Shane pretends to be seriously interested in a group of kids playing in a grassy field of junk on the other side of the fence. “Yeah, a while.”
Janice smiles and watches the kids with him. “Cute.”
Shane glances nervously at Janice out of the corner of his eye. She seems like she’s in a decent mood. He has nothing to lose. “So … You got any work I could do? Like, a job?”
Janice squints out at the messy yard full of junk where the kids are playing. “Yeah. Some odds and ends. Cleanup mostly.”
“How much can you pay?”
Janice considers it. “Things are tough. No more than 80 bucks a day.”
Shane takes a drag on the cigarette, frowning. It’s not bad, but there’s maybe a week or so of work for him to do back here. It’s not near enough. Janice reads his face instantly.
“Take it or leave it.”
Shane scans the debris-strewn yard. It’s better than nothing. Not much, but still better.
*
The sun pushes down on Shane like one of those giant rollers that press hot asphalt on the highway. He wrestles the door off an old refrigerator and drags it over to a growing pile of garbage that Janice is going to have to truck to the dump. He’s covered in sweat and grime, but it feels good to move his body. For the first time in weeks, his mind is clear. It’s almost fun to set his muscles to work on a problem that already has a solution with definite edges and boundaries. Move the garbage so it can be hauled away. Toss a pallet in the Dumpster. Pull the nails out of this scrap wood. Stack and organize the inventory. Hard but simple.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Shane spins around to see Tara standing in the sun toying with a lollipop in her mouth.
“Uh …” Shane can’t tell her about the money. He shrugs. “Just doing some work.”
Tara grins. “You can’t help being good, can you? Helping your mom, helping Janice …”
It’s really not true, but Tara doesn’t need to know.
“How about you take a break and come with me for a bit?”
Shane walks over to the bin with a piece of scrap wood and weighs his options. Home with mom. Working at a job that will keep him busy but never get him what he needs. Looking for David, who is probably still pissed at him, or …
When he turns around, Tara flashes her sexiest smile at him. She’s not going to take no for an answer. And maybe he doesn’t want to say no anymore. Maybe Tara should be the one to come with him to Toronto. Maybe it’s too hard, too painful to make a life here or anywhere with David. And maybe he and David would fall apart once they got to the loud, unfamiliar, hostile city. Maybe their heads are all messed up and once they fall in love—real love—with girls, their feelings for each other will seem small and silly. Like kids playing a game, practicing for the real world. People say that happens. They say some guys have a thing with a friend when they’re teenagers and eventually grow out of it. Who knows? Maybe going to Toronto with Tara will be like planting a seed; first he’ll commit to a life with her and then love will grow from there. That makes sense. It has to make sense. He and Tara can make it work if they want it badly enough. And they do, he’s pretty sure of it.
He’ll focus on school for the first bunch of years and then get a job with the city as an engineer or a planner. And Tara will … Shane has no idea what Tara would want to do. Wait tables? Model? If there’s something she wants, she’s never mentioned it. Or maybe he wasn’t listening. Should he have asked? Shane looks up at the birds flying overhead and pushes the cluttered mess of thoughts away. He can ask what she wants anytime. The only thing that matters is that she loves him. And he cares about her too—it’s not all fake. Maybe they can make it work. Of course they can. It could be worse.
*
The empty lot is a crowded dreamscape of waving yellow and purple blooms. Tara jumps over an old tricycle as she dashes through the ragweed and thistle. Shane dodges around rocks, trying to catch up. The strap of his backpack swings and spins in his slippery hands. Their sneakers crash through the grass like the thunder of November waves on Lake Superior.
“I’m gonna get you!” Shane yells.
Tara shoves hard against the door. It scrapes noisily against the unfinished floor, but it doesn’t move much. She tries again. This time the door swings open and she tumbles inside. Shane tosses his groceries down and skitters behind her. The house is empty, long-since abandoned. The floors have been stripped down to chipboard and the drywall is gone. Skeletal joists outline where the rooms would have been, looking like a rib cage closing around Tara as she runs to the back. Generations of teenagers have dragged in old couches and pinned up floral sheets to give the illusion of privacy. Tara flops down on a mattress in the corner of what once must have been a bedroom. Within moments, Shane is on top of her.
“Ha! I got you.”
“And now what are you going to do with me?”
This is it. This is what every guy wants. Or at least it should be. Tara could have anyone at school and she chose him.
“Maybe I’ll … take you to Toronto with me.”
Tara opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Still want to go?” Shane asks.
Tara lights up like a little kid. “Of course! Don’t be stupid!”
Shane’s smile starts to feel forced. What am I doing? But if he’s made a mistake it’s too late to turn back now.
“Someone’s gotta take care of you,” Tara says. “Little Nish in the big city.”
It wasn’t that long ago that Jackie was the one taking care of him, but when he tries to remember, all of it feels like a movie he watched once, or a story he heard about someone else.
Shane nuzzles into Tara’s neck and kisses the soft skin below her ear. He thinks about what will happen next, planning their session like a recipe. There will need to be a certain amount of kissing, a certain amount of playing with her breasts. He’ll have to rub against her like he wants to have sex but he’s holding back. Usually he can get away with doing it for a little under an hour before …
Tara has skipped ahead. She is tugging at his belt and opening his fly so that he can get his jeans off. Unsure what else to do, he goes along with it. He can only get them just past his knees with Tara straddling him, so she grabs the cuffs and yanks them the rest of the way off. Her giggle sounds like a music box.
Tara runs her hand over his crotch and pulls at the waistband of his underwear. Shit, he isn’t hard. That’s embarrassing. Shane looks up at the widow. “I wish we could make it dark in here.” Without the distraction of seeing her, they would just be bodies.
“I like being able to see your eyes.” Tara’s face twitches like she’s about to sneeze. Shane doesn’t have long to wonder why. “I love you,” Tara says.
Shane’s brain stops. This is the first time either of them has said it. It should feel good, better than good, but all he can think of is the back tires of Uncle Pete’s tires spinning in the snow when he got stuck in the ditch last winter.
“I love you, Shane.” When she says it the second time, it sounds like an accusation. She holds his eyes, waiting. It’s not hot in here but Shane’s hands are gummy with sweat.
“I … love you too.” Shane steals a quick look to see Tara’s reaction. He didn’t think it sounded believable, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care. In a moment she is on him again, her tongue fighting inside his mouth. Shane has never been to the ocean but this must be what the undertow feels like: an unstoppable, invisible force dragging him down to someplace dark and alien where he can’t breathe. Tara comes up for air.
“Are we doing this?” Shane asks.
“Do you want to?”
“Yeah. I guess. I think so.” He tells himself that if she wants him this much, maybe this is where he needs to be. Maybe he can love h
er too. It could be worse.
Tara smiles at him. It’s happening. They’re going to do it. The moment hangs in the air and stretches out time. It feels so long that Shane wonders if this might not be happening after all. Like maybe time will start to run backward and he and Tara will never have sex, and Destiny’s corpse will recompose until she is full of life and back to sleeping in the bedroom down the hall from him again. But no. That doesn’t really happen. His physics teacher said that time isn’t necessarily linear, but for Shane, time stubbornly refuses to turn backward. It keeps putting one hairy foot down in front of the other, no matter how badly he wants it to stand still or turn around or do anything other than go forward.
Tara leans over to her bag and rummages around for a condom. “I know it’s in here … I got it from Berta’s last week.” After a moment, she pops back up. “Do you know how to put it on?”
“Yeah.” He rips open the shiny foil square and pulls the slimy latex out of its package. He’s only ever played with one once before. When he opened it up he thought there was something wrong with it because it smelled so gross. But this one has the same medicinal stink, so it must be normal. Shane pinches the tip and slides it on. He tries to think if there is anything else he is supposed to do. It should be pretty straightforward from here. There was something about gripping it from the base to slide it off after …
Shane kneels over Tara. “Are you ready?”
Tara nods. “Just go slow, okay?”
Shane pulls her legs apart. The heat of her body pulls him closer. The smell is sweet and sour, familiar and totally unlike anything he’s ever imagined. People used to call them private parts. And it feels like that—private. Like she’s sharing a secret he knows he’ll never keep.
“Is everything okay?” Tara asks.
Shane wonders how long he spaced out for. “Yeah.”
Okay. So this is really happening. Shane takes a deep breath and tries to push himself inside her. Tara’s face twists uncomfortably and she pushes him away.
“Can I do it?” Shane lifts his hands away and allows her to guide him. Tara looks at him with perfect trust. He feels sick. She adjusts her hips and tugs at him like a warm current. Unbelievably warm. It’s too much. He’s dragged under. Pinpricks dance over his arms and legs and before he realizes it, he’s falling into a Drift. It sucks him farther into the darkness of the salt and weeds than he ever imagined he would go. He knows he should panic; there’s danger in deep water. He could die down here at any moment. The pressure could collapse his lungs. But it doesn’t. The trick of staying alive underwater is that you can’t breathe it in.
The raspy sound of the front door opening yanks him out of the Drift. Tara’s eyes are wide. Footsteps in the hall.
“Shit.” The steps get louder. Tara searches for her underwear.
“Who’s there?” Shane asks. David’s head emerges from around the corner, just as Tara jumps under the covers. Shane is hanging out all over the place. The look on David’s face is horrible. Just … pure pain.
“Get the fuck out, you pervert!” Tara yells.
David rushes back down the hall and out of the house, leaving Tara and Shane alone. Tara looks down at herself and says, “I think he got an eyeful.” Shane stays quiet, grateful to have the brief task of finding his clothes.
Tara flops back down on the bed. “Whatever. I heard he’s gay anyways.”
chapter eleven
I can’t believe we did it. Me and Shane were just messing around in the abandoned house by the end of the main road when out of nowhere Shane asked me to come to Toronto. I said yes (of course) and then we started messing around. He was being awkward about it, as usual. I don’t know why but right then I realized that nothing will ever be mine unless I go after it. And that includes Shane. So I reached down and took his pants off and climbed on top of him. There was a clumsy bit while we got the condom on and then he was inside me. Just like that. I feel stupid after all of that worrying and wondering about whether or not he wanted to be with me. Turns out he just needed me to take charge. Someone should have warned me it would hurt so bad, though. I was actually kind of glad when David interrupted us. We had just started, but I was ready for it to be over. Hopefully it’ll get better the more we do it.
It felt good to make something happen, even if it’s just sex. Is that how the world works? You just stand up and go for what you want and then you get it? I always feel like I need to ask permission. My dad used give me a spank if I did anything without asking, but now that I’m older maybe I don’t have to ask anymore. For the longest time all I wanted was to be left alone, and if I was quiet and nice then people would more or less do that. To the point where I think people forgot about me sometimes. But what if being left alone isn’t enough? This thing with Shane has me thinking that it might not be crazy to want to write. Maybe getting people to listen to me is as simple as announcing that I have something to say and demanding that they listen. It’s something to try, anyways.
I don’t know what I want from you.
Just your body brain heart
spirit skin memory
mouth future dreams
that’s all.
I want it all.
Swallow me up
Toss me
like a pebble caught in the curl
of a wave.
I want to feel the force of you
wet and rushing
Inside and out
I’m not asking. I’m telling.
Swallow me up!
Carry me on your crest
Smooth my rough edges.
Show me as I am
Hard and glistening.
chapter twelve
Shane’s been working out behind the store for a few hours, but he can’t seem to stop himself from checking his phone every ten minutes to see if there is something new from David. So far, nothing since last night around midnight. Shane keeps his head down and keeps working. He’ll check again once he clears the rest of this half-buried hose.
“What are you doing?”
Shane’s head snaps up. David is standing by the propane shed.
“I’m working. What’s it look like?” It comes out sharper than he means it to.
“What for? I thought you had insurance money from your dad.”
Shane shoves the blade of his shovel into the dirt and pries it back. There’s no point in explaining anything. It’s not like David can fix it.
“You going to the talking circle tomorrow?” David asks.
Roberta has been holding circles for Destiny just about every week since she died. Shane yanks at the nest of old hose until it begins to slide out of the muck.
“It might feel good to talk about her,” David says.
“Yeah I guess …” Shane drops the hose and wipes his hands on his rough cotton work pants. David takes a step closer to him. He can be relentless. “I guess I could tell everyone how I was with my boyfriend all night when I should have been watching my sister.”
David freezes. It’s a low blow and Shane knows it, but there’s no going back now. He picks up the pile of muddy hose and drags it to the Dumpster. Even with his back turned, he can feel David shrinking away inside, drying up. But if he’s going away with Tara then he should get the hard stuff with David finished, no matter how much it hurts. No matter how much every instinct in his body is telling him not to push David away. He had told Tara I love you just last night. That counts for something. Right or wrong, a choice has to be made. Shane’s mind flashes David’s wounded face when he saw Tara and Shane in bed together. David is better off without him.
Shane tosses the mess in the Dumpster and walks back to David. “I don’t know why you’re even here,” Shane says. “You saw me with Tara. She’s coming with me to Toronto.”
“But I thought …”
“You thoug
ht what? You thought I would just wait around forever?”
David stands still, clenching and unclenching his fists. Shane scans the yard, looking for his next task. If he focuses on David any longer, he’ll break. He avoids David’s eyes, but he can feel them on his face like blind, fumbling fingers. Reading him. Trying to understand.
Shane turns at the sound of a heel on gravel. David is striding past the pumps and away from Shane.
Shane calls out, “That’s it? You’re just gonna let me go with her!?”
David’s shoulders are hunched. If he heard Shane, he doesn’t show it.
Shane tips his water bottle back for a drink. The sun-warmed water trickles down his throat as he surveys the back lot. There’s still a shit-ton of work to be done. Shane sets his water down, and a stack of old sheet metal catches his eye. He thumbs through the pile. It isn’t clear whether it’s meant to be scrap or inventory, but as Uncle Pete once told him: Sometimes it’s easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
*
Shane has to stop to adjust the metal sheets in his hands. They’re heavier than they looked back at Janice’s and those sharp edges wasted no time cutting into his fingers. When Shane crosses over the hill, he sees Evie walking up the steps to his house. He nearly calls out to her, until he remembers the stolen sheet metal he’s carrying. He walks down the hill sticking close to the tree line. He hides behind some shrubs near the door to avoid having to explain himself to Evie.
“Hellooo … Jackie?!” Evie calls. “I know you’re home—I can hear the TV!” Evie tries the doorknob, but it’s locked. “What’re you locking the door for? You got nothing to steal!” Evie chuckles to herself.
The sound of the TV stops. Shane hears the telltale hissing of Jackie’s slippers dragging across the linoleum and then the door opens. He can’t see his mother’s face from his hiding place, but he can see a bit of Evie through the leaves. The thin lines at the corners of her mouth tap out a signal that would read as clear as a billboard to anyone who grew up with a certain kind of auntie. Before she even opens her mouth to speak, her face is saying: I love you, but you better get ready and listen to your auntie now, cuz I know a couple a things about a couple a things!
Fire Song Page 7
