Truth, Pride, Victory, Love

by David Connor

“We do not. Not right now.”

  “Dad said,” Devon insisted.

  We had three huge maple trees across the front of the yard. “There used to be four,” I said to Mathias, as if he could read my previous thoughts. “But one came down in that October storm a few years back.”

  “We got that where I live too.”

  I figured as much. He was less than two hours away. We basically had the same weather. My point was there were about ten zillion yellow, orange, red, and brown leaves on the ground. It would take hours to pick them all up and haul them to the woods in back. “We can do it later,” I told my brother.

  “Dad said….”

  “Later.” My eyes bored a hole clear through the front and out the back of his skull, but still, he just started raking again.

  “You do what you want. I’m not getting busted. When half is done, I’ll quit and tell Dad why the rest are still on all over the place.”

  Damn, yo! My brother played hardball.

  “Do you have another rake?” Mathias asked. “I could help. We’d be done one-third quicker, not taking into account such variables as wind direction and my lack of skill. I’ve never raked before.”

  “You’ve never raked before?” I asked incredulously. Even Dev stopped to stare at the anomaly.

  “Nope.” Did I sense a hint of embarrassment regarding his yard work virginity? “We have a guy.”

  “Oh.” I’d misread him, and the little nerve in my jaw was set off by the way he’d tossed out the last part.

  “Here.” Before I could ask Mathias what else he had a guy for, Devon had relinquished his rake. “Be right back.” He took off then, to get the third one from outside Beth and Julius’s back door, I assumed.

  “You don’t have to rake my damned lawn,” I said, a bit more gruffly than necessary.

  “Eh, it’ll be fun.”

  “Maybe to someone who never has to do it.”

  “Like this?” He covered his expensive shoes with one short pass of the rungs—a swipe to the left. The more I covertly studied him, the more likely it seemed he was a lefty.

  “Like that,” I said. “Sort of.” Did he really have to ask? It was raking, not brain surgery.

  Within the first—well, I had no idea how long we’d been at it since I wasn’t wearing a watch. It felt like we were out there forever. It always did when raking or shoveling, so I assumed what seemed like ninety hours was probably closer to just one. We’d chatted about X Factor and Paula and Simon reuniting. I was a fan. Mathias wasn’t. We talked a little bit about school, marching band, and basically nothing. We laughed hard when one of only eight or nine leaves still clinging to the branches above so late in the season finally came down and landed right on my brother’s head.

  “See how long it’ll stay there,” Mathias suggested.

  It still clung to Devon’s short afro by the time we were ready to start hauling, and that made all of us chuckle again. The interaction was light and easy at the beginning. After that we strained our brains for conversation. Everything I thought to say was dirty. I wanted to tell him about my shower activity and to ask him when he’d last beat off. Unless I had a television show, a book, or a swim race to concentrate on, my mind pretty much went to sex and my dick. By the time we’d bared almost all the green and collected three big piles we would drag on a tarp, I was down to “Can I have a cookie?” “Booger,” or something perverted, only one of which really seemed like a conversation restarter. I was chicken, though. Plus Devon was there, so the three of us said basically nothing, until he broke the silence.

  “Let’s make a mountain,” he suggested.

  There was no logic to the idea. We couldn’t drag one humongous mound down back. Still, it sounded fun… ish. Mathias’s smile seemed to indicate he concurred, so with one of us at each point of a large leafy equilateral triangle, we all started shifting our three big multihued piles into one gargantuan collection of color.

  “You know he has to go in,” Mathias said, nodding toward my brother.

  “I think you’re right.”

  “No!” But Devon giggled. Then he belly-laughed—harder than I had ever heard him laugh—as I grabbed him around the waist. “Stop!” he said suddenly. “I’m gonna pee my pants.”

  I froze in my tracks with my brother in my arms, his feet off the ground, his arms flailing, his bladder hopefully in control. I looked at Mathias. His lips were set in a straight line, his head lowered, his shoulders round and sunk in.

  “I’m so sorry.” I said it more for the remark I had made the day before than the one my brother just uttered.

  “Dude….” A smile tugged at the corners of Mathias’s shiny red mouth. “Dude! Come on!” His golden eyebrows rose above his glasses. His cheeks puffed out. He threw his head back and made a sound like a seal at a show. “I pissed my pants in fourth grade.”

  “You did?” Devon asked, wide-eyed.

  “I did,” Mathias confirmed. “It was a spelling bee, right? The whole class divided into two teams.” He crouched a little, and put up his hands, as if they were a display screen on which the scene he described would play out. “A vocabulary bee, actually, and my word was truth.”

  “That’s easy,” Devon said. “T-r-u-e-t-h.”

  I looked at Mathias. I got a lump in my throat, because I loved my little dork brother more than anything in the world, and I hated myself, because I was a little bit embarrassed by him right then.

  “T-r-u-t-h. That’s right.” Mathias nodded, as if that was what Devon had said. “I knew how to spell it too.”

  I looked down into my brother’s face as I struggled to hold him up still. I never knew whether or not to correct him when he made mistakes like that. Mathias’s way seemed to work. Devon was still smiling.

  “But I was so nervous.” Mathias continued his story. “We could have won. It was my team against your brother’s.”

  “I want Reed to win.”

  I hated myself even more.

  “Ah… he could have, you see, but you know what he did, Devon?”

  “What?”

  “When I couldn’t spell the word… because I was too scared to move and go to the board in front of everyone…. When I stood there, frozen, and tinkled in front of the whole class…. Reed passed up the victory. He not only refused to accept the win on a technicality like that, he’s such a noble man, your brother is, even as a little boy, he stuck up for me that day and yelled at everyone to stop laughing.”

  “The kids in school laugh at me sometimes.” Devon’s smile disappeared. I wanted to punch those kids in the face—all of them—after I threw a beat down on myself.

  “I hope you have a friend… someone just like your brother… to make you feel better when they do.” Mathias smiled at me. Friends? Was that what we were—then—now?

  “I do. Paul and Melinda.”

  I wouldn’t punch Paul and Melinda.

  “I’m glad they’re your friends,” Mathias said.

  My brother was getting heavy by then. “Into the pile!” I said, and I tossed him atop the cushy mound of foliage, so deep he sunk in and almost disappeared.

  “Happy New Year!” Devon shouted, screeching and laughing as he flung an armload of yard waste into the air like confetti. He scrambled to his feet then, and got behind me, ramming and shoving with a great amount of noise, his intention, it seemed, that I go in next.

  As if. I didn’t budge.

  Devon grunted. “You’re too fat.”

  Mathias’s bark rivaled that of the neighbor’s dog when the UPS man came.

  “Really?” I asked him.

  “It was funny,” he replied.

  “Let’s get him,” I said to Devon.

  “What?” Before Mathias could gather his bearings, the Watson brothers were on him. We wrestled him closer to the pile and then, with a pair of vociferous, mighty growls, forced him down in the middle of it, sending a puff of dry, brittle fall color out around him in all directions. Devon plowed into me hard then. Since I
wasn’t expecting it, I fell like the fourth maple under the weight of too much wet October snow, right on top of Mathias.

  “Oomph.” His exhale hit my face with the force of the sound, warm against the clamminess brought on by perspiration. I was hit by the scent of coffee and gum, and as my dick rubbed the inside of my jeans, it hurt from all the tugging I’d done that morning. I probably should have put on underwear.

  “Sorry.” I quickly rolled off Mathias when I remembered that I hadn’t.

  “No prob.”

  I wondered if he had drawers on. I hadn’t noticed, really, and sort of wanted to roll back on top of him to see if I could feel. Since I was still on the ground beside him, I very easily could have. If Devon hadn’t been there, I was pretty sure I would have. I also decided we would have kissed—kissed and more. When I turned my head, Mathias’s face was right there. The kiss wasn’t out of the question. I could still feel and smell his hot breath, and I could see his eyes, because his glasses had fallen off, the ones he’d maybe forgone the contact lenses to wear. I remembered my imperfect smile then, and put my hand up to my mouth.

  “You shaved your head.”

  I reached up so fast my hand made a slapping sound. My hat had slipped off too, and so I lay there exposed, top and bottom, as I felt cold air where my jeans had slid down.

  “I like it,” Mathias said.

  “I figured it worked for you. You know… for swimming.”

  His hand came over. I thought he was going to touch it, but he drew back. “Cool.”

  “Thanks.” I rolled—farther away—and then stood and tugged at my jeans. “I guess we should finish. Devon and me. You don’t have to.”

  “I don’t mind. Really. It’s fun.”

  “If this is your idea of fun….”

  I reached out to take his hand to help him up. Only when I felt it in mine did I suddenly feel self-conscious about the act. Only when Cal said, “You two holding hands?” did I quickly let go, which nearly resulted in Mathias falling back down.

  “Hey, Cal.” I tried to act all “So what?” I even held up my fist for a bump, but Cal left me hanging. “This is Cal,” I told Mathias. “My best bud.” Could I have been any more affected and phony macho?

  “Nice to meet you.” Mathias offered a hand.

  “You too.” Cal took it.

  “Wanna help rake, Cal?” Devon offered his—his hand, not his rake. Cal shook it. Cal was awesome too.

  “I don’t care.”

  “We just have to lug them down,” I said. “We’re almost done.”

  To my surprise, Cal kicked in. We finished quickly, and once we had, Mathias offered to hit up the Dunkin’ Donuts in town to get everyone coffee. “You drink coffee, right?” he asked me.

  “Sure.” I’d had chocolate milk for breakfast.

  “We could all go,” Mathias said. “But whoever gets stuck in the back won’t be very comfortable. Oh.” Something suddenly dawned on him. “I brought a surprise.”

  We followed him to the driveway because he took off without warning. His sweater rode up when he bent over to reach behind the folded-down front seat to get to the back. As it turned out, he was wearing underwear, and they had a designer’s name in big black letters. If Mathias and Cal went back to the future, someone might think they had switched names.

  Mathias pulled out a trombone case. “It’s my old one. Secondhand, but I kept it in mint condition—cleaning, polishing, lube.” He actually somehow managed to pause between syllables in a word that had only one. “Anyway, I got a brand-spanking-new one this year and thought maybe you could put this feller to good use. Rejoin the band, maybe.”

  “I didn’t quit because I didn’t have an instrument.” Okay, so maybe I had. “I quit because of time.”

  “Oh.” Mathias made a pensive duck face. “Well, it’s yours if you want it. If not, I can donate it to some program or something.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I wanted it. I wanted it so much.

  “Oh.” More duck face. “Okay.” When Mathias bent over to shove the instrument back in the car, I looked at the skin that was bared between the bottom of his sweater and the top of his Calvins. Then I shifted my gaze slightly sideways to see if Cal was looking. He wasn’t.

  “So….” Mathias stood upright and closed the door. “Three coffees and a….” He looked to Devon.

  “I want a milk shake.”

  “Devon!” I glared.

  “There’s a McDonald’s right next door,” Mathias said. “They should be serving lunch by now. Is it okay?” he asked me.

  “I guess. Let me get you some money.” I turned toward the house.

  “No.” Mathis took my wrist. “My treat.”

  “I’ll pay you back,” I insisted. With what, I didn’t know. I probably wouldn’t be able to come up with more than two or three bucks after searching the whole house. Mama and Dad had money in their wallets—some—but there wasn’t often a whole lot of it around the house.

  “We’ll see.” Mathias smiled and then took off.

  I wished then I could get a job. I wished I’d had a job. Every time I talked about working, my parents would tell me my job was school, household chores, and keeping Devon and sometimes Shemar. They would slip me a couple bucks here and there, but basically I was free labor. Not that I had a problem with that, because I also knew I was rather expensive free labor, what with clothes, lunches, a movie now and then, food, swim dues….

  “He thinks you’re a charity case,” Cal declared the moment Mathias’s car rounded the corner.

  “He does not.” I gathered all three rakes and the tarp.

  “That’s what he meant, you know.” Cal and Devon followed me toward the shed. “If you don’t take the trombone, he’ll give it to some other needy person.”

  “Shut up, jerk.”

  “No name-calling!” Devon smacked Cal in the arm, even though I was the one who’d broken a Watson cardinal rule.

  “Ow.”

  “No hitting either, Dev,” I scolded, though I really wanted to laugh.

  “Whatever. Fancy car, fancy clothes, fancy phone….” Cal counted off each item on fingers that had brushed against my taint the night before.

  “You have a car. You have a phone,” I reminded him.

  “I work for them. He gets everything handed over on a proverbial silver platter.”

  “What color is that?”

  “What?” I stopped in front of the toolshed.

  “Cal said proberbial and silver. I’m trying to picture the platter in my head.”

  “Proverbial,” I told my brother. “It means cliché. Like, Mathias is rich, so they eat off silver platters and they’re stuck-up.”

  “Oh.”

  I had no idea whether Devon grasped the concept or not. He let it drop either way. “And how do you know?” I asked Cal.

  “I can tell.”

  I slammed the rakes against the metal wall. We were transferring things from the basement a few pieces at a time so Dad could change the whole thing over to a family room. “Dude, you spoke to him for three seconds.”

  “That’s all it took.”

  The sliding metal door made a shrill, heinous sound that perfectly conveyed my feelings toward this conversation.

  “I’m going to take off,” Cal said.

  “He’s bringing you coffee.”

  “You drink it.”

  After watching Cal sulk away, I went inside and up to the bathroom to study my hair in the mirror. I wondered if there was anything I could do to make it look better while waiting for Mathias to return. I got out the shears, but then decided there wasn’t really one hell of a lot they could accomplish. I needed a magic wand. Still, I twisted my neck back and forth in all three mirrors. Two of them opened toward the middle one—a triptych—which meant a dude could look at infinite reflections of himself while masturbating, checking out his terrible haircut, or noticing new zits. “Fuck.” When had that one grown in? I considered going full-on bald, and that, f
or some odd reason, gave me an erection. Maybe because I had taken my shirt off and pulled down my jeans to see if my hair looked better naked.

  “Mathias is back!”

  “That was fast. Back in the driveway or back in the house?”

  “The house.”

  “The kitchen,” Mathias added more specifically.

  “Fuck.” I said that a lot quieter to a million reflections of myself as I pondered whether or not I had put the peanut-butter-and-jelly knife in the sink after making Devon’s toast. I knew my glass was still on the counter, and I definitely hadn’t swiped away the crumbs.

  “I forgot to ask Devon what kind of milk shake, so I got one of each.”

  Mathias was pulling them from a bag as I came down the back stairs, jeans up, T-shirt on inside out—“Why’s your shirt on backward?”—and also backward. Fuck!

  “No lines. It was fast,” Mathias said.

  “I dressed in a hurry this morning, because you didn’t wake me up,” I told Devon, adding a noogie. “And that was very nice, Mathias, but it’s too much.” His skin was flawless. He probably had a dermatologist along with his leaf raker.

  “I like your house.”

  I suddenly didn’t. “Yours is probably bigger.”

  “Yours feels more homey.”

  I figured “homey” was rich speak for small.

  “I want to mix them all together.” Devon had lined up the cups, chocolate, vanilla, and then strawberry, and was bouncing from one to another, taking sips of each.

  “Knock it off, Dev.”

  “I should have called,” Mathias said. “Sorry.”

  “You spent too much money is all.”

  “Not really.”

  “Really.” My voice had taken on an edge.

  “Well… maybe you can drink one now and save the other two for another day,” Mathias said to Devon.

  “How’s he supposed to do that?” Everything he said set me off.

  “The freezer?”

  “Would it turn into ice cream?” Devon asked excitedly.

  “Well… I don’t know. Reed?”

  “Uh….” Even my shrug had an attitude. “No idea.”

  “Let’s try.” Devon picked up two and dropped one—the strawberry.

  “Devon.” I said it more disappointed than angry, which made him immediately look as if he was going to cry. I hated that look. “No big,” I said.