Maybe—Tomorrow/Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
AT FOUR O'CLOCK, GAYLORD HAD closed another day of school. He put away his books, again dreading the moment he must turn down the long hall and be caught there in the crowd of students. He began to reason, this was his school, there was no need to be afraid; surely if he did meet Stud nothing would happen, no razzing or filthy names. Stud and the rest had probably left earlier anyway … he wondered if Blake had. He remembered the bronze arms that had held him and wished for them again. Yes, it would be nice to run into Blake … just to see him would be nice.
He walked down the hall among the straggling, chattering throng with an uncomprehending gaze in his eyes; but if anyone had asked him what they said, he would have been unable to answer, for though his eyes were upon them, he did not hear their conversation at all.
Avoiding the main entrance, he went around to the side door, held it open for three girls to pass.
"Thanks, Gay," one smiled.
"You're welcome," he answered.
The door swung behind him and opened again before it had closed. The air over the campus was noisy and warm. Shadows hazed it, and changed the leaves of various shrubbery to angular greenish shadow boxes. The confusion broke about him and as he edged his way through, he was thinking, I don't see Stud … guess he's gone.
A new wave of laughter broke to the right. A wrestling match was in progress. Gaylord moved to the left, avoiding the jostling laughing crowd and, unlike the others, did not laugh with the wild abandon about the wrestlers. Their fists, hitting hard flesh, set up answering rhythms in his mind and his thoughts moved in remembering, oblique tangents. That awful Stud, he thought. I hope he gets it good. He's such a bully. If I was a girl I couldn't even let him touch me. He's probably only bragging about all the girls he's had. I don't see how they could stand him. He's got an ugly body … and that thing of his … looks like an earth worm. He gave a slight shudder remembering Stud's flesh against his.
A bus was there along the edge of the walk waiting for its passengers and there were also parents in cars waiting for their children. Gaylord nodded at several he knew as he proceeded toward his own car. He wondered if Rogers was there. Yes, there was his arm resting on the car door.
His steps were long now, straight down the sidewalk toward his car and Rogers. He did not speak or glance at those he passed. Unconsciously he increased his pace until, to his chagrin, he noticed he was almost running, and as he rounded his car was surprised by the rapid beating of his heart.
"Here I am," beamed Rogers. "You're going to get tired of seeing me around before you even know me." He bent over and opened the door for Gaylord.
"Hi … phew … what a day," breathed Gaylord, sliding behind the steering wheel. Then his face cleared and a decisive line showed about the corner of his mouth. "Where were you all afternoon? I looked for you between classes." He pressed the car starter.
"That's funny, I was doing the same thing … I was looking for you and wondering if you had gone home early."
Gaylord looked at Rogers and saw the friendly grin, the deep dimples. They both giggled, like the girls in the corridors when Gaylord passed. The sound of the car motor seemed to giggle too, loving the gas going into its hungry stomach.
"Guess we just missed each other in the mad scramble. Did you ever see so many darn kids?"
"Sure haven't. Remember, I went to a country school."
"It wasn't this bad a couple of years ago. I don't know why people move to this ‘rat hole' of a town. Still they do. I'll be glad when I can get out of it."
"My dad says it's a good town," Rogers replied.
"So does mine, but that doesn't make me like it." Gaylord passed a soft hand over his brow, feeling tiny drops of perspiration. "Durn, it's been hot today."
"Sure has."
They passed a couple strolling down the sidewalk; looking at them Gaylord returned their wave with a snappy bend of the wrist.
"Who are they?" Rogers asked, glancing back at them.
"Elsie Barnes and Julius Ballew."
"She's pretty, isn't she?"
"Kinda. They're in love." He turned toward Rogers, said, "Ever been in love, Glenn?"
"Hell no," he responded quickly. "Have you?"
Gaylord considered the question and a slow, warm feeling curled down through him to the tips of his toes. "I don't know," he finally said. "I think a whole lot of one person, but I don't know if it's love … I don't know if it could be … it's a problem." He looked at Rogers who in turn looked back at him as if he were studying an unusual problem.
"What's the matter, is she married?"
"Oh, now … you know better than that. They're not married."
"Well, you mustn't be then, 'cause when you're in love, so they tell me, you'll know it."
"I know it when I'm with … with them."
"With who?"
"Somebody you don't know."
"I didn't mean to be personal, Gay." Rogers smiled, a slow quiet smile.
"You're not, Glenn." He stopped short, feeling Rogers's hand resting on his thigh.
"You're worried about something, Gay … don't be … you shouldn't have a worry in the world."
"You're sweet, Glenn. I'm not worried about anything … just kinda tired and hot … I know one thing … I'm glad you live here. I'm glad I got to meet you so soon."
"So am I," perked up Rogers. "How about a drink? Let me buy this time … You paid for the lunch and everything … at least let me buy you a drink … let me do something …"
"That's a good idea … my throat feels parched and I think a coke would taste wonderful … we'll go to the Roxy."
At the Roxy, Gaylord sipped the coke, wondering what feeling had replaced his fear. Rogers drank his root beer, shaking it furiously to make it foam, still careful not to soil the leather seat; then he drank heartily, cupping it between his rough hands so that his face was caught in the foaming pool of brown. Watching him, Gaylord knew what it was he had felt. It was, he realized with a stab of happy recognition, friendship. This realization actually seemed to ease the tension in his mind. At last I've got friends, he thought. Now I've got two and last week I didn't have anyone. How lucky I am to have Bob … and now Glenn … he shook his head to clear it of the happiness of his thoughts, and resolved to thank God tonight for his good fortune.
Rogers turned to him. "Want another?"
"No," he faltered, "unless you do."
"I've had enough … Durn, I've had so much fun I hate to go home!"
Gaylord sat bolt upright. "Let's go for a ride."
"Let's do … I don't have to go home right away. I just love this car … rides so easy …"
As they drove past a large two story colonial mansion, Gaylord said: "Isn't this a beautiful place? I just love it." He looked at it, admiring its huge columns. "I'd just love to get in it and fix it up. It's a mess on the inside. I just can't understand it, especially since the people owning it have money. If it was mine I'd re-do the inside completely. I'd hang new drapes and carpet and have more fun. They do have some lovely antique pieces but they need recovering and a new paint job. They have one little chair that I'm just crazy about. I think it's French. It's so dainty you'd almost be afraid to sit in it. But it needs a new cover … it's all in shreds."
"Who lives there?" Rogers inquired, looking at the house.
"Mr. and Mrs. Steves. He's the president or something of the Second National Bank. Mrs. Steves's father built it."
"When he died he left it to Mrs. Steves. She was an only child and he left her a fortune. He died a long time ago and when they moved in they left everything just like it was. Still has real dark varnished woodwork and the darnedest looking light fixtures."
"Ugly, huh?"
"They sure are. I think they used to be gas and then they had them wired. Lord, I would have taken them all down and gotten some beautiful ones … you've never seen anything so ugly … ugly as their daughter … I shouldn't say that about her, but gosh Glenn, she is ugly. She's awfully nice, though. I've taken her to dances, but when I do … I've got to dance with her all evening. No one ever cuts in." Gaylord grinned. "Good dancer too and a nice personality. But she just doesn't click with anyone. She's awfully smart. I like to be around her because she knows what she's talking about. She's been to Europe and can tell more interesting things about Paris, Rome and London … I go over real often … we just sit and talk … she's awfully thoughtful and kind."
"What's her name?"
"Wanda. Wanda Steves … pretty name, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Sounds like she ought to be beautiful."
"Just goes to show you names can be deceiving."
"Yours isn't."
"Isn't what?"
"Deceiving."
"It isn't?" Gaylord asked inquiringly.
"No," said Rogers. "It fits you to a ‘T.'"
Gaylord's hands rested lightly on the wheel. For once in his life was a boy going to say something nice about him? He was almost afraid to risk asking but he did … he asked, "How … how does my name fit me?"
Rogers shrugged. "Well …"
The car rocked across the rough railroad tracks and there again was the long line of dirty buildings. Shirt-sleeved men idled about their entrances, and groups of heavy-breasted women in cotton dresses, dragging screaming children by the arms, hurried down the sidewalks to some unknown destination. Gaylord watched the scurrying figures, grinned at them quietly, complacently, without even seeing, and his hand moved over the black plastic steering wheel. Across the street, seated on park benches under the tall cottonwood trees, old men sat whittling and talking, spitting tobacco juice on the mossy green carpet; and young boys in soiled shirts wove in and out of the railing surrounding the large porch of the auditorium, playing follow-theleader; and in a rocking chair sat an old man, drawing heavily upon a corncob pipe. The smoke moved upward, veiling his wrinkled face like a cloud around a cliff on top of a mountain. Gaylord saw nothing, but his soul was as happy as the young boys' on the porch.
He stuck a playful thumb into Rogers's ribs. "Come on, Glenn … Well … what?" he challenged.
Rogers tried to grin … "Well … your name sounds pretty … and you're pretty … I mean good-looking."
Gaylord giggled with delight. "I didn't know you cared, Glenn."
"Oh, hell," blushed Rogers, giving his companion's shoulder a slap. "You know what I mean." The dimples formed deep. "You are good-looking, Gay … I heard some girl say so this morning."
"You're kidding me."
"I'm not either … she said she wished that good-looking Gaylord Le Claire would ask her for a date sometime …"
"Who was she?"
"I don't know her name but she was sure pretty. She wasn't the only one either. Another one with her said she wished you'd ask her for a date."
"You should talk … those girls have you spotted too. One told me she thought you were so cute."
"Oh, hell."
"Really. I feel sorry for you in a couple of weeks. They'll pester the hell outa ya. You are cute, Glenn." The words came free and easy. Gaylord glanced at Rogers and noticed for the first time that his left eyebrow was crowned with a faint scar. "Glenn, what caused that scar over your eye?"
"Calf kicked me."
"Here I thought you were a good cowboy."
"Calf was better than me." Rogers glanced at Gaylord and when he spoke laughter bubbled up through his voice. "Got away too." Gaylord brought one hand up and stroked his hair without thinking. "I don't see how anyone can rope."
"It's not hard. ‘Course it takes lots of practice." Pointing, he added, "That's the dance hall over there, isn't it?"
"Yeah. It used to be the South Side school. I used to go to it. 'Course it wasn't there then. They moved it here a couple of years ago. I sure was glad when I got transferred to the North Side. It was closer to home and the teachers were so much better and the classrooms bigger and cooler. It wasn't as big as it is today. When I started there, those side wings just went up to the center building. We never even had a gym then."
"They've sure got a nice one now."
"You know it," Gaylord admitted.
"I never was around so many naked kids … Sure's a big class … I was a little embarrassed standing there naked. Lot different from swimming naked in a creek."
I'd like to see you naked, Gaylord thought again. I shouldn't but I would like to. This he kept to himself but he did say, "I'm still embarrassed."
Rogers said, "Hell, the first day I didn't know whether to take my clothes off or not." Then sheepishly, "I didn't even have any trunks."
"What did you do, go naked?"
"Nooo … I wore my shorts. Lucky I had those on, huh?"
You are lucky, Gaylord thought … you're fortunate without even knowing it … I wish I were like you. They passed under a metal sign extended across the road. Gaylord read the lettering: "You are now leaving Cotton, Texas. Come back again real soon." He turned to Rogers. "Isn't that silly? 'Come back real soon.' Isn't that something?"
"Does sound silly." He looked at Gaylord. "Must have been a farmer that worded that sign. They're hicks … I know … I was one. Still am."
"You're not either. I think you're swell."
He uttered the words so seriously and with so much force that Rogers was startled.
"That's right. I'm a city dude now, ain't I?"
"You sure are."
Rogers frowned, and, holding his nose, asked, "What's that awful smell, Gay?"
"It's that darn sewage plant over there." He pointed left to a flat white slab, with a small building at one side.
"Where?"
"See, over there between those Negro shacks. I feel sorry for those poor Negroes living so close to it."
"Yeah. It must be kinda bad smelling that all day and night. 'Course niggers smell anyway."
"Not all of them," contradicted Gaylord, remembering the neat colored girl that helped his mother.
"Those I've been around do. They smell worse than this. 'Course after working in the sun all day anybody stinks."
"I guess they would … but they ought to do something about this sewage."
"The shit's got to go some place," Rogers replied jubilantly.
Gaylord's eyes beamed with mischief and joy; the expression was so sudden and coming from the quiet boy, it had both shocked and amused him. He threw back his head and laughed merrily.
"I agree," he announced. "It's just too bad they take it out on these Negroes."
"Guess someone had to get it in the neck … someone always does."
"You're not just akidding there."
"Say, Gay, do you like to hunt?"
"Don't know if I do or not, Glenn. I've only been a couple times and I don't think you'd call that hunting. Shot a few quail and doves along the road with an aunt of mine. She's a good shot and I'm not too bad. I did hit one once in a while."
For no reason at all, he remembered the time he had thrown a rock at a chicken busy scratching in his mother's rose bed; the rock had struck hard on the bright, feathered head. He was so shocked, it had taken seconds to realize he had hit it at all. Then, he had quickly drenched it under a water faucet but the bird was quite dead. It had made him both sad and happy; sorry he had killed it, but glad that his aim had been so perfect.
"That's one thing I'm going to miss living in town," Rogers added remorsefully.
"What?"
"Hunting."
"Oh."
"I wish I had a nickel for every squirrel I've killed. 'Possums too. Did you ever see an armadillo, Gay?"
Gaylord shook his head.
"They make baskets out of them."
"Baskets? Out of what?" questioned Gaylord.
He glanced downward at the young man's hands. They were clean and strong, firm and entirely capable. Against his will, he was forced to look at his manicured feminine ones; true, they were graceful and long-fingered, but now he wished they were a bit rough … more like Rogers's.
"Armadillos. Didn't you ever see one?" asked Rogers.
"I think I have … I'm not sure."
"They've got a armor-like hide, something like an alligator; still, it's a lot different, but just about as tough. I had one that I killed made into a sewing basket for Mother. Sure did turn out pretty, too."
"Oh, yes, I think I've seen them. They've got a little face and beady eyes, little short feet."
"That's right."
"And with a tank-like shell."
"Yeah, that's the one … Well, when they make a basket out of this shell they clean out all the guts and stuff and cure it. I mean the shell, and then when it's dried they line it with cotton and cloth. They take the tail and make a handle out of it. Simple, huh? And they're darn pretty. Mother's crazy about it."
It didn't sound so pretty to Gaylord. He couldn't understand why anyone would want that around the house.
"So that's how they do it."
"That's it," Rogers answered. "I used to kill a lot of them when I was out in the woods picking dewberries … Gosh there's lots of dewberries in the woods. I could pick a couple of gallons in no time. There's nothing better than dewberry jelly on hot bread; and Gay, I'm telling you, my Mom makes the best bread you've ever tasted. You like home made bread?"
"Sure do."
"I don't like this bakery stuff. It's too soggy. You'll have to eat some of Mom's bread … You'll never like that bakery stuff after eating hers. It's tops." He took a deep breath. "Yeah, it's going to be different living here in town. I used to ride my ole horse all over the woods, shooting, fishing, looking over the cattle and fences. Seeing what cow had dropped a calf, and how it was … pulling calves and even cows out of mud … Seemed like there was always a fence down and I just hated fixing fences. I'd rather do almost anything than fix fences … We had a nice place … you could go fishing or hunting … I'm going to miss it … It was fun to hunt and fish."
"I bet it was."
"But I sure used to get lonesome sometimes. Only my horse to talk to." He let out a chuckle. "I'm glad he didn't talk back to me. He did about everything but that. I'm going to miss him. He sure took me lots of places." He looked at Gaylord who had just yawned. "Damn, Gay … why didn't you tell me to shut up?"
Gaylord was taken aback. "Shut up? Why?"
"I've been blowing off like a wind-bag … You're not interested in fishing or hunting …"
"You have not and I have enjoyed listening to you."
"I've never blabbed so much in my life. Guess I'm taking it all out on you. You think I'm full of hot air, huh, Gay?"
"'Course not. I've enjoyed hearing about your home and what all you've done. I'd like to know about what you like to do. I only wish I could have done them. I sort of envy you."
"Envy me: With all you've got. This good-looking convertible and everything? Hell, you don't envy me," he grinned. "I should envy you."
Gaylord straightened up with a motion like a ballet dancer; then, he sat very still studying Rogers through long lashes that were longer than most girls'.
So, he said to himself, yes, I've had it easy. I've been called names all my life … been pushed and made fun of too many times … I've never been hunting and a horse would scare me to death. But you have. You've done all these things. You've never been called names … You haven't laid in bed and cried yourself to sleep because some boy had kicked you. No, the kick didn't hurt, it was the way he did it … the sneer on his face, the names he called. Don't ever envy me, Glenn …
"I've had it pretty tough, sometimes, Glenn. I've had a lot and still I've had nothing."
"You were thinking of something," Rogers almost whispered. "Something unpleasant … What, Gay?"
"You're right, Glenn." And a slow flush stole over his handsome face. "I was thinking of something, something I can never tell because I cannot explain it. Maybe someday I can tell you but I can't now."
"That's all right … I hope you can tell me some day if it will do you any good." He must think of something pleasant. "Gay . . and the tones were full of life, "let's double-date some night real soon."
"All right. Who do you want a date with?"
"I don't know anyone here."
"You don't?"
"I know a couple of girls in the country and they're not bad," he replied with a big grin. "I used to take one up in the hayloft."
"You did?" Gaylord suddenly became interested. "Was it good?"
"Not bad; girls are okay I guess but I don't know. I don't know too much about them."
"You probably found out about them in that hayloft."
Rogers laughed at this, then said, "Yeah, I sure did. This one I was telling you about was a corker. Told me she was a virgin but I knew better. I knew three boys who were getting it regularly. She was a pushover. Just laid back and took it without a grunt. I shoved the whole damn thing in at one push. She just laid back and took it with a wiggle like she wanted more."
"Maybe she did," grinned Gaylord, seeing in his imagination Glenn's naked body over the girl.
"She had all the hose I had. Maybe she wanted balls and all, huh?" he tittered, and one arm slapped Gaylord's shoulder.
Gaylord giggled too. "Yeah, that's the way some girls are. I'll never forget one I went out with. She picked me up one night in her new car. I was walking home from the show and she said she'd take me. Well, instead of taking me home we drove out in the country and parked. She finally stopped the car and bent over close to me. I just sat there and played dumb. She put her lips close to mine and asked me if I didn't want to kiss her."
"Imagine asking a question like that," interrupted Rogers.
"That's what I thought. So, I just gave her a good juicy one right on the mouth." He remembered last night. "She put her tongue down my throat like she was going to get my tonsils … She sure got hot … Grabbed my hand and put them on her breasts. I really squeezed them and she almost threw a fit. I think she was surprised and so was I because she wasn't the type girl I'd enjoy being with … But when you get in a position like that you don't care …"
"You sure don't … then what happened."
"We messed around for awhile. I had a hard on and she felt it. Even opened my pants and pulled it out and squeezed … she squeezed it until I thought she'd kill me. It hurt …"
"Then what …"
Gaylord looked at his companion … and wondered if he was sounding convincing … He certainly didn't want Rogers to think of him as a sissy … God forbid … even if he did lie a little … He continued. "Then, she just laid back on the seat and pulled up her dress and I crawled on. Didn't even have any pants on." He was convincing himself, for the blood was already rushing around his groin; not from what he was saying, but from the throbbing in Rogers's trousers. He looked back into Rogers's eager eyes and continued … "I bet I was on her for half an hour. I pumped and pushed and she pushed back like she knew all about it, and she did too. She knew her stuff … Boy she could wiggle … had lots of practice I found out later."
Rogers, feeling of his groin, smirked, "You've got me hot and wiggly just listening to you."
"I have," giggled Gaylord.
"You sure have … Look, I've got a hard."
"You're not by yourself."
"Christ, you said it," Rogers roared, carelessly slapping Gaylord's tent-shaped trousers.
"Ouch," screamed Gaylord. "That's me." He did likewise.
"Hey," laughed Rogers. "And that's me."
"Now you know all about me."
"And you know all about me, too."
"I guess I do."
"One thing you don't know and that is I couldn't stay on a dame a half hour if my life depended on it. I get so damned mad at myself.
Just when I'm about to start—hell … it's over."
"You mean like a rabbit?" laughed Gaylord.
"That's right. Just like a rabbit. One push and I'm finished."
"Not me … Sometimes I wish I were."
"I wish I could hold out. I don't see how anybody can put it off. I get so excited … I just about get there … and hell … I know some boys who can go on and on, just like you, but I can't … How do you do it, Gay?"
"That's something I don't know, Glenn," Gaylord grinned … "I only know it takes a long time for me."
"Say … what time is it?"
Gaylord looked at his watch. "Almost six," he said.
"God! It isn't six, is it?"
"Just about. Why, did you have something to do?"
"I should be home," Rogers said with alarm. "I've got a cow to milk and if my dad is home before I am I'm going to catch holy hell."
"It won't take us long to get back … I'll step on it."
Gaylord turned around and headed back for Cotton. He grinned at Rogers, but his mind was on last night. Last night when he and Blake were parked along the country road and the moon had just come up over the trees. He felt again the warmth and fragrance of bronze arms around his waist and full lips on his. He drank again the warm milk of this existence and tasted its sweet flavored honey.
"Damn," grinned Rogers, innocently, slapping Gaylord's trousers again, "have you still got a hard on?" He felt his own groin, said, "Hell, mine went down a long time ago. Guess you are long-winded, huh, Gay?"
If you only knew, Gaylord thought … if you only knew what I was really thinking … but I can't tell you now … maybe tomorrow, maybe later, but not now … You're awfully sweet but, you're not like Bob Blake … You're not as … but you might be … How do I know you're not? I think you're awfully sweet … one of the sweetest boys I have ever met … and you are good-looking … real good-looking … I'd still like to see you without any clothes on … I can't help wishing to see you stark naked.