by V. L. Locey
I slunk down into the mud. Chaska placed a small pillow behind my head and a cucumber slice on each eye.
“What happens if I fall asleep?” I asked and then promptly yawned.
“I am keeping eye on you.” He patted my head and then left me alone in the tub to ponder on the vagaries of life, or at least my life and what it might hold. Soft music began to play. It sounded like Indian flute music. It seeped into my soul, much like the mud was seeping into my pores. The mud had a deep earthy smell. I breathed in and out, wiggled my toes, and let my mind wander.
Every now and then my mathematical brain tried to shove its way into the peace fest taking place inside my head. It ran around, trying to get things in order, much like a teacher who has lost control of their classroom. No matter how he ran in circles, he could not gather those wild children. Professor Logic finally gave up and went to the teachers’ lounge to read the latest edition of Mathematics Magazine. His rowdy students continued to barrel around inside my skull. To the left a mud bubble popped. I may have dozed off for a moment. Sleep had been scarce, but when you were having sex like Garrison and I had been having, who cares if you sleep or not?
“You awake, Mr. O’Malley?” Chaska removed the cucumbers from my eyes and I blinked up at his fuzzy outline. “It’s time to shower off and get the mani-pedi.”
“I am now, thanks.” I placed a hand on the rail bolted to the side of the tub and slowly extricated myself from the heavy mud. With his assistance, I climbed out of the tub and then hit the showers. I watched the mud sluicing down my body as hot water washed over me. It ran over my flip-flops and down the drain. When the water ran clean, I washed with a loofah and some specially scented liquid soap designed to calm and rejuvenate. It worked. I soon slipped into a place that was nothing but serenity. Even my thoughts slowed as I rubbed the loofah over my arms and legs.
While I scrubbed every nook and cranny, I found myself picturing a small apartment, maybe in Columbia, with white walls and lots of funky artwork hung at eclectic angles. A tuxedo cat lounged on the back of a sofa. Her name was Minnie. In the corner was a desk covered with papers. Beside the desk baseball bats were propped against the wall. Big white cleats hung over the back of the wooden desk chair, as did a green flannel shirt that I recognized to be one of mine. It was a wonderful room, filled with parts of Garrison and me. It was something that we put together and it spoke to me loudly. I wanted to experience that room firsthand. I wanted to touch his cleats, pet Minnie the sleepy cat, and grade the papers on that desk.
“Guess I better get the mani-pedi so I look good from head to toe when I tell him I’m willing to give Columbia a go.” I told the empty shower room. Outside Chaska shouted. “Yay, Mr. O’Malley and the bootball man!”
“That could be the title for the book about our life.” I shouted to Chaska. I sniggered and soaped my face briskly. Excitement and nerves started to overtake the peacefulness that I had been feeling. It was a nice feeling. Yes, I still had a few trepidations but I couldn’t live in fear of being hurt any longer. I preached at Garrison about facing his fears, it was time for me to face mine. Right after my mani-pedi.
***
Exiting the nail salon with the finest looking toenails I had ever owned, I ran into Chaska loitering in the hall. He snapped up my hand and lifted it to his wide nose.
“Your nails very super shiny, Mr. O’Malley.” He gushed as he inspected my right hand carefully. “I make this for you.” He flipped my hand over and placed a pink rubber eraser into my palm. On one side was the spa logo. I flipped it over to see that someone – Chaska I had to assume – had written “Erase Dowts” in pen on the other side. I gave him a smile and a big hug. He patted my back then pushed me to the doors of the spa. “Now go find Garrison bootball man and live happy ever after.”
“I will.” I promised and ran out the door, holding my doubt eraser tightly. It took me a good thirty minutes to locate the golf course then track down Garrison. I certainly got my five miles of walking in let me tell you! Golf courses are huge. I ended up thumbing it somewhere between the ninth and tenth hole. Some dear old woman with horn-rimmed glasses picked me up in her golf cart and drove me from hole to hole until we spied Garrison teeing up on the seventeenth hole.
“Here you go, sweetie.” She hit the brakes and my face almost kissed the dash.
“Thank you, ma’am.” I leaped out of the golf cart and ran past a befuddled group of men all dressed in those tacky golf clothes. Thankfully, Garrison was wearing dark blue shorts with an attractive white shirt. “Excuse me,” I said as I jogged around the clump of golfers. Garrison walked over to me, golf club over his left shoulder, and bewilderment on his face.
“Mal, what are you doing out here? Is something wrong with your dad?”
“Everything is fine with Dad.” I assured him. The sun was hot and sweat now clogged up all my nice clean pores. “I just wanted to tell you I’ve decided that I’ll move to Columbia with you.”
Joy swept over his face. Garrison dropped the golf club and swept me up into his arms. He kissed me deeply while hugging me so tightly breathing became touch and go. I placed my hands on either side of his head, my tongue tangling with his.
“I hate to interrupt what is obviously a happy occasion, but if you two are going to be busy for a while, can we play through?”
We broke apart long enough for Garrison to offer a quick apology. He told the men to go right ahead and then led me to a golf cart parked in the shade. He deposited his golf bag next to me and then looked me right in the eye.
“You’re sure? I mean one hundred percent sure. No doubts?”
I held up the eraser. “If any doubts crop up, I’ll just erase them.”
He looked a little befuddled about the eraser. “I love you so damn much.” He grinned before swooping in for another long kiss. Garrison never did finish that round of golf but he did get to show me just how happy I had made him – twice.
Fourteen
Leaving Kiawah Island the following morning was rough. We hadn’t gotten much rest the night before, and so both Garrison and I were groggy and slightly irritable. But under the morning grumps, we were both suffering from was a sparkling veil of excitement and anticipation mingled with just a smidgeon of nerves. We were really doing it. Garrison and I were moving away from home to be together in a place of our own place. During the ride home, I looked up realtors with rentals as Garrison maneuvered through the sluggish Monday morning traffic. He nodded at everything I said, sipping gas station black coffee from a Styrofoam cup so large it could serve second duty as a pasta pot.
“There are at least twenty places close to Barnes Stadium.” I commented as we crept into Willow Glen. Since it was a long weekend, most of the stores along Main Street weren’t open so there were hardly any cars. A few people were out for morning walks or jogs. Garrison and I knew all of them. Life in a small town means you know everyone and they know you. Also, Garrison is kind of a celebrity here. We don’t produce too many famous people here in Willow Glen.
“You want to contact them tomorrow? I would but I have to be at the stadium by eight sharp for an early afternoon game,” he said. I knew all of this already. It made me sad to think about Garrison being in Columbia. We were just coming together as a couple, and now baseball was taking him away yet again.
“Yes, of course, I’ll be happy to contact the realtors.” I plastered a smile on my face. “I also need to send out feelers about any openings in the Columbia school system.” Classes had started a couple of weeks ago but nothing ventured nothing gained as they say. And there was always substitute work.
“Thanks. I’m glad Rich Simmons has a big house close to the park. Being able to crash with him is a blessing.” I nodded absently at Garrison as I tried to make mental notes about all I needed to do over the coming weeks. Rich Simmons is one of the Cutters trainers and is known for taking in the new players who aren’t set up in town yet. He and his wife love having the guys there, or so Garrison tells
me. “You are coming in for a game, right?”
“Try to stop me,” I replied as our eyes briefly met. Garrison’s loving expression suddenly disappeared and the truck came to a sudden stop. My seatbelt snapped across my chest and my phone bounced off my thigh to the floor. “Shit, Mal, when did that happen?”
“What?” I asked as I yanked on the seatbelt digging into my sternum. My sight raced up and down Main Street until it landed on the front window of my father’s business. Or what used to be the front window. In place of glass, there were sheets of plywood. Garrison whipped off the street to a parking slot in front of the agency. He and I sat there staring at the plywood for at least a full moment. “When did that happen?”
“I don’t know.” I murmured. “Must be sometime after we left for Kiawah.”
“Your dad never said anything when you talked to him over the weekend?”
“No, not a word,” I replied as I tried to shake off the shock. “I wonder what happened.”
“We’ll know soon enough. Probably just some sort of freak accident thing,” Garrison said and pulled back onto Main Street. My gaze stayed on those sheets of plywood until we turned off the main thoroughfare. Both Garrison and I were quiet until we got home. “Hey.” I looked at him as I unsnapped my seatbelt. “I’m sure whatever happened was nothing bad. You’ll be over tonight, right? For dinner?”
“Yes, of course.” I leaned over to press my lips to his. “I wouldn’t miss it. And I’m sure you’re right. Dad was probably trying to clean away a bird’s nest from over the window and knocked out a pane of glass with the ladder.” I extrapolated. “That’s happened before.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” he whispered then stole one last kiss. “I need to unpack, do wash, and then repack. I swear my life is crazy right now.”
“Good crazy though.” I pulled back even though I didn’t want to. We exchanged long looks and then, with hearty exhalations, exited Garrison’s truck just as Mrs. Rook and Emily were coming out. We chatted for a bit, told her how wonderful the weekend had been, and then I turned Garrison over to his mother. She’d have him snapping to it and getting packed for Columbia in no time. I gave them all a wave and a promise that Dad and I would be there for dinner at six sharp, and then jogged to my front door.
I found my father in the kitchen on the phone. He gave me a wide smile when I entered and then held up a finger. I nodded and left him to his call. Garrison wasn’t the only one with dirty laundry. I carried my travel bag into the small laundry room off the kitchen and started loading the washer with sandy shorts and socks.
“Hey, son, how was Kiawah?” Dad asked as he entered the laundry room as I was pouring some soap onto my gritty clothes.
“It was amazing,” I responded then shut the lid of the washer. “Thank you again for that, Dad. It did us both a world of good.”
“I’m glad.” He patted my shoulder then reached over to grab the bottle of fabric softener, which I had forgotten. “If you’re going to hang them out y’all will need this.”
“Thanks.” I took the lilac-colored bottle then lifted the lid of the washer. “What happened at the agency? Garrison and I saw the window was boarded up.”
I glanced over at my father before I started to pour the purple liquid into the fabric softener dispenser. Clouds of lilac scent filled the tiny area.
“Oh, the window,” he said and I knew instantly that something was off. He smiled and made up some sort of story about how he had tripped and fallen into the glass while carrying an office chair. Not once during the telling did his eyes ever meet mine. I dumped my capful of lilac into the small dispenser, capped the bottle, and then closed the lid. “Imagine doing such a silly thing.”
“Care to tell me what really happened?” I folded my arms over my chest. Dad gave me a look and then turned on the washing machine. “Dad, I swear, you lie about as well as I do, which is dismally. What really happened?”
He left the laundry room, muttering about me not worrying about a silly pane or two of glass. He began tidying up the kitchen, chattering about what to take to the Rook meal this evening. I stepped up to stand beside him and gently lifted the wet sponge from his hand. His gaze flew to my face. The stress lines were deep and obvious.
“It was nothing, son, just typical kid stuff.”
“What kind of typical kid stuff?” I pressed. He made a sour face then mumbled something about a brick. Tiny little warning bells started to ring inside my head. “Dad, a brick through the window isn’t kid stuff.” He waved a hand in the air and turned away from me. He straightened the canister set. “Dad, you might just as well tell me all of it. There’s more, isn’t there?”
“I refuse to taint your life with that kind of hate.” He snapped and grabbed the sponge back from me. My stomach flopped over on itself like a badly flipped omelet. I laid my hand over his and the rubbing of the counter slowly stopped. He kept his sight averted. “It’s over with, O’Malley.”
“Dad, you can’t shelter me from bigotry. I’m a grown man who has faced down hate for the better part of his life. I’m stronger now than I have ever been. Please, tell me what all happened.”
He exhaled deeply, so deeply his cheeks puffed, and then his gaze finally touched mine.
“I went down to the agency after you and Garrison left for Kiawah to grab the books. I figured I’d have them all done before you got back so you wouldn’t have that worry.”
“Dad, doing the books isn’t a worry. I’m glad to be able to help you.” I told him but he wrinkled his nose anyway. “Let’s sit down.” We both pulled out a chair then put our asses on them. Dad began wiping at the toast crumbs on the wooden tabletop with his trusty yellow sponge. I let him wipe this time. Obviously, he needed something to do with his hands. “Go on.”
His gaze flickered to me then returned to the toast crumbs under the placemat. “I found the window broken. I couldn’t believe it at first. I was mad, thinking those damn kids who had been egging the windows had taken things too far. Then, when I went inside, I found the brick. It had a very nasty message tied to it.”
“What did it say, Dad? The note that was tied to the brick…what did it say?”
His lips flattened and his face wrinkled. “It was homophobic, the message, it was homophobic hate.” He looked right at me, his light blue eyes worried. “You don’t need to hear such vile things. I refuse to allow that kind of dark hate into your life. So, I cleaned up the mess, boarded up the window, and called around to get a replacement. I found a fellow over in Ross Peaks that will be at the agency tomorrow at nine.”
“Dad, what did the note say?” He shook his head. “I need to know. If you don’t want to repeat what it said then let me see it for myself.”
“I burned it.”
“Dad, why did you do that? That could have been evidence to catch who did this!” I barked at him. His eyes narrowed.
“Do you really need to know what it said? Why is it so important to know what kind of vile speech it contained? It was hateful and disgusting, O’Malley!” He yelled as he pushed to his feet and turned from me.
“Dad, tell me what it said.” I stood up then went to stand beside him. He craned his head away from me, his fingers strangling his yellow sponge. I put a hand to his biceps and a tremble ran through him. “Dad, tell me what it said.” I repeated.
“It said you had one week to get your faggot ass back to Florida.”
“Fucking Crocker Arnold.” I snarled as anger flared to life in my breast. “I know it was him. He told me the same damn thing before Garrison and I left for the weekend.” I stormed over to the phone and lifted it from the wall cradle. My father liked his landline cordless better than any cell he has ever owned.
“Son, who are you calling?”
“The police chief,” I said as I started dialing. Dad hurried over and tried to take the phone away from me.
“Don’t bother the chief with this.” We played tug of war with the phone. When he jerked it free I glared at him.
“Dad, I am telling Waldo about this.” I informed him then stalked out the back door with him hot on my heels. “This is a hate crime. There are laws to protect us from raging assholes like Crocker Arnold.”
“You have no proof, O’Malley!”
“I don’t care if I do or not. Waldo can haul that hateful prick in and give him a warning.” Dad followed right behind me as I stalked around the house then ripped open the door of my Subaru Outback.
“O’Malley, this is not going to fix the window.”
“No, it’s not, but it will sure as hell show Crocker Arnold and his pig-faced cronies that they can’t terrorize you and me anymore.” I threw myself into my car after digging the keys out of my front pocket. My father studied me closely, his face drawn with concern. “Dad, we can’t just fluff this off. I’ll handle it myself. It was directed at me and so I need to address it.”
“Like hell you’re doing this alone.” He threw the yellow sponge down into the yard and thundered around the front of my car. I unlocked the passenger side door for him. He sat down with a huff then slammed the door closed. I knew how much he disliked causing trouble for anyone. He was a gentle, kind, and loving man who had spent his life turning the other cheek. That may have worked for him, but it was not working for me. Times had changed. I was not about to hide from or let people like Crocker Arnold intimidate my loved ones or me anymore.
“Thanks, Dad. Now buckle up.” I cranked over my old beater and threw it violently into reverse.
***
The Willow Glen police department is a small, red brick building that sits next to the public library. It had pansies planted in two decorative white plastic urns on either side of the front doors. I could see those flowers dangling in the wind, the creeping feelers nearly to the ground, as my father and I sat in the police chief’s tiny office. Chief Waldo Riggs was the same age as my father. They had played baseball on the same team for four years back in high school. Waldo was short and bald as a melon. His nose was thin and pointed and he had a compact but firm frame. He was also tough as they came and rabidly fierce about keeping his town safe.
