A Surplus of Light Page 5

  “I want to care about you for as long as you’ll let me.” He added.

  “I want to get out of the water,” I replied.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” He frowned.

  “No,” I said. “I just want to be dry for a bit.”

  So, we got out of the water. We shimmied back up the bank and sat down side by side, our hips touching with our knees pulled up and our arms wrapped around them. And we stared up at the canopy of the trees.

  Chapter 5

  Mike

  The Beginning of Another Summer

  I wasn’t going to search him out. I just wasn’t. He didn’t deserve my friendship. I was pacing the floor of my bedroom. I had just gotten home from my last day of freshman year. I wouldn’t go to the creek. I wouldn’t go to the field where the hay bales would be later in the season. I wouldn’t go to the store. I wouldn’t go to the numerous places that were ours in the woods. Even as I paced the floor angrily, I was stripping out of my school clothes and pulling on basketball shorts and a t-shirt. I knew that I was going to find him.

  When I exited my house, headed towards the creek, I was angry still. My feet slammed into the sidewalk in front of my house and on the asphalt of my street. First, I went to the store. He was nowhere in sight. I marched all the way to the woods, through the woods, and to the creek. A few kids had shown up to celebrate the end of the school year, but no Ian. I crossed the creek at its shallowest point and headed to the trail.

  And there he was. Sitting back against the tree he always sat at, his knees propping his sketchpad in front of himself. I stood on the cliff overlooking the trail, waiting for him to look up, but he never did. Angrily, I stomped down the path that led from the top of the cliff to the trail below. My feet slammed into the earth over and over again as I got closer to Ian. When I was within ten feet of him, he spoke.

  “It’s really best if you don’t try to be my friend at school.” He said, his hand still moving over the sketchpad. “You have enough things to worry about without defending your friendship with me, Mike.”

  “Fuck you.” I groaned.

  “I’m giving free advice here.”

  “You couldn’t have told me, like, last summer, or pulled me aside at school…or something??” I growled. “You just ignored me for nine months, like you were ashamed of being my friend?”

  “Is that what you thought?” He looked up but his hand didn’t leave the pad. “That you kissed me and I was afraid we’d be labeled homos together? Or that I thought you were a nasty queer?”

  “Are you trying to be hurtful?”

  “No, trying to make a point.” He said. “That you assumed that there was underlying shame or embarrassment at being your friend. If you are my friend at school, you have a target on your back, too.”

  “What does that have to do with anything, asshole?!?” I spat.

  He stared at me for a very long time. A breeze blew down the trail, ruffling the pages in his sketchpad. He didn’t try to hold them in place. He let them flutter in the breeze as he stared up at me. The silence was becoming unbearable. And I was losing my resolve.

  “My brother had a drug problem.” He said. “And my dad is an alcoholic. And my mother left a long time ago. Well, not physically.”

  “What does that have to do with you?”

  “My brother screwed people over.” He said. “He stole. He cheated. He killed two kids in a car wreck.”

  “I don’t remember hearing anything about that.”

  “He was ten years older than us.” He said. “Everyone assumes that I’m just like him. And due to my dad’s escapades here in town—and, well, anywhere he goes, that just makes them think I’m probably doing drugs and drinking. I’m a ‘bad kid’, Mike. I’m trash and shouldn’t be allowed to hang out with other people’s kids.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “Truth doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “But there you have it. If you’re my friend, you’re probably like me. So, keep your distance at school. That’s why Kevin shouldn’t be my friend—and why his brother won’t let him be friends with me.”

  “Where’s your brother now?”

  “Dead.”

  “Oh.” I looked away. “The car wreck?”

  “No.” he replied evenly. “He OD’d a year later. I loved my brother. A lot. But…he was an imperfect human being. And I don’t think he ever had any remorse for his abhorrent behavior. Ever.”

  “Where’s your dad?”

  “Right now?” He asked. “The Gulf.”

  I rolled my eyes and went to sit in front of my friend.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me? Prepare me for being ignored all year?”

  “I still wasn’t sure that you were really my friend.” He said. “But here you are. So, now I’m telling you.”

  “You can tell me anything,” I growled at him. “Anytime.”

  “Okay.” He nodded.

  I sat in front of him for a moment, looking into those pools of milk with the floating icebergs, and all of my anger disappeared.

  “So…are we going to kiss and make up?” I tested the waters with a grin.

  He grinned and rolled his eyes.

  “That’s really the best you could come up with?” He laughed.

  I shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

  He shook his head.

  “Here.” He held his sketch pad out. “A peace offering. I figured I’d need one if you actually showed up.”

  I took the pad from him and pulled it over to look at what he had drawn. It was a night scene. Two black silhouettes in a creek as dark bird-like things swooped down towards the creek. The figures were holding hands, their faces pressed together in a kiss.

  “I hate you.” I smiled.

  “So? Peace?” He grinned widely.

  I looked up at him. “Peace.”

  “Do you think the art class paid off?” He pulled his knees to his chest.

  “You’re even better than you were during last summer.” I nodded as I stared down at the sketch. “And you were fucking great then.”

  He smiled at me.

  “Thank you.”

  “Are we just friends during summer?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He said. “Not during school. Keep yourself away from this catastrophe.”

  “I meant…are we just friends during summer?”

  He was staring at me again.

  “Or…are we something else?”

  “Like super best friends?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I can do super best friends.”

  “You know what I mean,” I said. “Don’t play games with me.”

  “I don’t really like games anyway.” He nodded. “We’re the best of friends. Period.”

  “Are you gay, Ian?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m bisexual.”

  “Figure that out finally?” The corner of his mouth turned up.

  “I guess,” I said. “Well, I mean, at least for you. Haven’t really found any other guys I wanted to…ya’ know.”

  “Sexuality is a tricky thing.” He nodded. “Especially when you’re a teenager.”

  “You seem pretty sure of yours.”

  “I’m usually pretty confident about most things.”

  “So…why not me?” I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

  “Because…because I care about you, Mike.” He said. I knew he was looking me in the face. “A lot.”

  I finally looked up at him.

  “I’m going to keep asking you for more.” I gave him a firm look. “All summer. Every summer.”

  “I won’t get mad.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So, do you want to make out or rub up against each other like wild animals?”

  He laughed loudly.

  “You are completely incorrigible.”

  “The worst you can say is ‘no’, so I figured why not ask?” I shrugged with a smile.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You owe me a kiss.” I reminded him. �
�You promised.”

  “I promised you a kiss before the end.” He held a finger up. “And this is very obviously not the end.”

  I relented.

  “I will get that kiss.”

  “I promised you.” He nodded.

  “So…what are you going to show me this summer?”

  “Not what you think.” He frowned, disapprovingly.

  “That’s not what I meant.” I laughed loudly.

  “Wanna live off of the land?” He asked. “We can camp all summer.”

  “I’ve never really camped.” I chewed at my lip.

  “Well, the trick is to set up camp within walking distance of a convenience store so that you have easy access to food.” He nodded earnestly. “But not too close. It’s all about roughing it, after all.”

  I brayed.

  “Or we could just camp out tonight.” He shrugged with a smile. “Tell scary stories, go swimming…that kind of thing.”

  “Then make out and dry hump.”

  He frowned at me.

  “Okay, okay.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll give it a rest.”

  He grinned.

  “For now.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  That night, right before dusk, we met deep in the woods. Ian showed me how to set up a tent since I’d never done it before. He showed me how to drive the stakes down at an angle to better secure the tent. He taught me how to build a fire the best way. Then he told me the scariest stories he knew—which were more funny than scary—but I think he knew that I was nervous to be camping anyway and took it easy on me. Then, just past midnight, he showed me an old field that had once been used for cattle grazing, where there was still a fairly large watering hole. It wasn’t deep into summer yet, so it was full and the water was pretty clean.

  We stripped down to our boxers and swam until we were worn out. Afterward, we went back to our tent and climbed in, shivering and just dry enough from our swim. We crawled on top of our sleeping bags and pulled the covers over us that he had brought. When I inched up behind him and draped my arm over him, he let me. But he warned me to keep my hand in reasonable places—“i.e. above the waist”. And I did. But not an inch of his chest or stomach went unexplored by my fingertips.

  All summer long, it was “The Ian and Mike Show” again. We camped numerous times, we went on hikes. He taught me about different bird species, introduced me to local lizards and snakes—helping me to determine which were poisonous and which weren’t. We swam numerous times at midnight, but we didn’t hold hands or kiss. If I asked, he reminded me that “this isn’t the end, Mike”. But he still let me look at him all I wanted. To gaze longingly, and quite often, lasciviously, at his body. When we hiked, he always stripped his shirt off. Most people would assume it was to stay cooler, but I knew it was for my benefit. I took advantage of those times, making sure to memorize every inch of his torso.

  He never showed up for our excursions with a bruise or split lip. The summer seemed to be the best time of the year for Ian. His spirits were always lifted during the warmer months when the sun was around to provide the most light. I began to worship the summer again. Reveling in all of the extra light. It meant that I got to spend as much time with my friend as the summer holidays allowed. When summer drew to a close, and we were once again standing in the creek, watching the bats, my heart was in my stomach. Ian even let me hold his hand again.

  It was our tradition, after all.

  “I want the next nine months to hurry up,” I whispered to him as the bats swooped down that night.

  Ian just smiled at me and agreed. That night, when we left the creek and exited the woods, I watched him walk in the direction of his home for a few minutes, then trailed behind him. After several minutes of walking, barely keeping Ian’s figure in my sights in the dark, I realized that he lived in an area of town that wasn’t exactly the nicest…or safest. I swallowed my fear and followed at a distance, desperate to know about Ian away from school. When we reached one of the most run-down neighborhoods in town, Ian walked up into the yard of one of the only decent homes and approached the front door.

  I dashed into a neighboring yard and hid behind a large tree, watching with morbid curiosity as he swung the door open. And the screaming began. I watched in fear at what transpired in the doorway, and then in horror as it spilled out onto the front lawn. The fight was very quick, and Ian didn’t come out of it unscathed. When it was all said and done, my best friend was still standing, but his father wasn’t. Then I watched as my best friend marched into the house and slammed the door behind himself. His father moaned and groaned on the front lawn for a really long time, rolling around like a wounded animal.

  Finally, his father managed to get to his feet and stumbled drunkenly, in agony, towards the house. Apparently, Ian had locked the door behind himself. For several minutes, his father pounded on the door and screamed. He even tried kicking at the door to no avail. Then he slumped down on the porch and fell asleep. Tears were trailing down my cheeks when I finally ran out of the neighbor’s yard. I didn’t stop running or crying until I was in my own safe home in my bed and asleep.

  The following Monday, the first day of sophomore year, when Ian walked through the main hallway, all the other students sliding out of his way, he had two black eyes and a cut on his cheek. The evidence that what I had seen was not just a really bad dream. I started to wave at him, but his eyes flicked to me quickly, pleading with me. So, I turned back to my locker and pretended that I hadn’t seen him. It broke my heart.

  That day at lunch, I was sitting at my table, digging into my food, waiting on my “friends” when Kevin approached me. I looked up at him, my hamburger halfway to my mouth. My buh-brother graduated luh-last year. He explained, then lowered his tone to barely a whisper. Ian said I shuh-should sit wuh-with you. I glanced over at Ian. He was sitting across the cafeteria, by himself, looking out at nothing. I told Kevin that, of course, he could sit with me. The gratitude was evident as he slid into the seat across from me.

  No sooner had he sat down than suddenly three large figures were behind him. I looked up, my burger almost to my mouth again, to find Carson, Jon, and Martin looming behind Kevin. I set my burger back down on my tray as my stomach knotted up. Fag. That’s the only thing that Carson could think of to sneer down at Kevin. Kevin’s face turned green as he looked over at me in fear. I looked up at Carson. “Go bother somebody else, asswipe,” I growled at him. Then his hands were on my shirt and he was starting to drag me across the table.

  Then I was violently sliding back into my seat. I looked up to see Carson’s head being slammed into the table. Then he was lifted up and a fist flew into his face. And Carson went down. Martin and Jon scattered. It all happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to really register it immediately. Ian was standing there, glaring down at Carson on the ground. Carson wasn’t moving or making a sound. Ian looked up, angrier than I had ever seen him. He turned, looking at everyone in the cafeteria.

  Everything was frozen in time and deathly silent as everyone stared at him.

  “This is the only warning I’m giving any of you fuckers.” He said it just loudly enough so that everyone would hear. “Keep your fucking hands to yourselves.”

  He glanced at me so quickly that I almost missed it. His mouth formed the word “sorry”. Then he was walking calmly out of the cafeteria as Carson started to groan from the floor. Mrs. Boudreaux, one of the AP English teachers rushed over to check on Carson. “Go to Principal Morton’s office now, Ian!” She screamed in that vacuum of silence. “That’s where I’m headed, Mrs. Boudreaux,” Ian replied evenly without even turning his head.

  He’s so fucking cool, I thought as my stomach fluttered.

  And sexy.

  Carson getting his ass handed to him at lunch was all anyone would talk about for the rest of the day. And the weeks and months that followed. Ian had added to his reputation and legend at the school. When he was back in classes the very next day—not even one d
ay of suspension, it only added to the legend. No one was any nicer to Ian, though. But Jon and Martin were not seen hanging out with Carson anymore. And Carson never touched another person as far as I knew. In fact, he barely said a word to anyone for the rest of his high school career. Since he was a senior the year Ian knocked him out in the cafeteria—and everyone else had been warned—the school became a fairly decent place for the rest of my high school years.

  That event was when I truly fell in love with my best friend.

  I knew that nothing would change that.

  And the next nine months passed with Ian not talking to me and pretending he didn’t see me. But Kevin sat with me every day—and right after Ian sat down at his table far away, I’d see him glance over to make sure that Kevin was sitting where he had told him to sit. If Ian defending Kevin and myself hadn’t made me fall in love with him—those daily glances would have. I began counting down the school days, waiting for summer to come. Waiting for the light hours of the days to stretch out longer and longer.

  Chapter 6

  Mike

  Sophomore Spring Break

  Before I even snuck out of my window, I was mad at myself. I had promised my best friend that I would leave him alone during the school year. Not get involved in his life so that I would be safe from the barbs that he had thrown his way every single day. But I hadn’t spent time with him in more than half a year, and I felt like I was coming out of my skin. Like I was withdrawing from some illicit substance. I had paced my room for hours that night before I finally settled into my decision and crept out of my bedroom window.

  Once again, I found myself dashing through my neighborhood at night and through town under the cover of darkness, on my way towards the woods. When I was safely ensconced in the woods, I pulled my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and put one in my mouth. Nervously, I lit one as I stood just beyond the tree line. What if Ian got pissed that I intruded on his late-night swims? Would he even be swimming? It wasn’t really all that warm yet. The water might be too cold.

  I smoked like a freight train as I made my way through the dark of the woods, wondering if I was making the worst decision for our friendship. Would I piss Ian off if I just came to the creek to watch him for a while? To just rememorize the curves and angles of his body again? To just look him in the eyes from a distance and give him a smile? Get one in return? I wouldn’t force him to talk to me or anything—just look me in the eyes. Maybe wave.