Date: Sun, 24 Dec 2006 08:04:33 -0500 From: Sam Davies Subject: "Harvest" Chapter 16:Conversations The house smelled like macaroni and cheese. Ryan sat across the kitchen table from me slowly devouring a plate full of brownies. His mom spun in and out of the kitchen every few moments to ensure her guest was comfortable. How could I not be. A bed had been made up for me on the pull out couch. A towel and toothbrush had been secured. I felt like I was at home. It was unbelievable how quickly everything had changed, almost dreamlike in a way. "You want some?" Ryan asked for the fiftieth time, pushing the plate in front of me. "No. I'm fine." I smiled again. He shoved another brownie in his mouth. Man, Ryan could eat-- and eat, and eat, and eat. He chewed like a cow for a moment before swallowing. "So I am guessing you heard about Kyle." I asked, very curious as to what his reaction would be. "Yeah... I would have never known." Ryan shook his head playfully. I knew what was coming next. I was just not sure how to answer it. Honesty I guess-- it was the least I could do. "So did you guys ever?" he trailed off. I chuckled uncomfortably. "Yeah, a couple times." He rubbed his hand down his face before flashing me a huge smile. "That's just so wrong!" he laughed. I knew he was kidding. Those were the days. Who would have thought I would be sitting here tonight reminiscing about the with Ryan. I missed Kyle so much. It was so weird-- we had been apart for weeks at a time prior to his enlistment and I never flinched. I guess this time it was just the fact that I was thinking about him as my lover, and I knew that he was thinking about me the same way; and we were both thinking about how long it would be before we could see each other again. Ryan stared at the table. I cleared my throat, "I really loved him." Ryan looked up at me. His expression became soft and understanding. "Yeah." he murmured. "Everything hurts." "I know." he said. I was well aware that he was just trying to be supportive but to be completely honest, he didn't know. How would he know what it felt like to be cut off from the only person who you could relate to. The first and only person you truly loved. He had Emmy. I didn't have Kyle. Big difference. Yeah, I am sure I sound like a jerk but he had no fucking idea what I was dealing with. I leaned back in my chair and watched out the window as the the sun fell quickly behind the tree-line. The kids had come home earlier and were ushered quickly past the oddity sitting in their kitchen. "Eric will be staying over tonight." I heard Bev explain from the other room. We were left alone to talk. Talk about what though. The fact I had been thrown out of my own house? How our one friend jumped in front of a train while the other chose to get himself killed via a more indirect method. Whatever it was that we were supposed to be doing was not happening. I tried to formulate plans of action in my head. Some complicated, some idiotically simple. Maybe I could sit in the cornfield and wait for them to leave-- then sneak in, get my stuff for school, and flee. Maybe I could get them to believe that I was suffering some kind of post traumatic stress syndrome from Justin's death. Maybe I could just go home and hope for the best. They couldn't hate their only son could they? Wasn't there something in the rules that said so? "I got a letter from Justin." I said rethinking about the events that led to this moment, "I think he mailed it right before he died. At least that is the way I read it." Ryan brushed a tuft of his soft hair away from his eyes; they sparkled beautifully in the firelight. His expression didn't change much, but I could tell he was thinking over the implications of what I had just said. No one had mentioned suicide although it was clearly what happened. His death certificate cited the cause of death as "blunt force trauma caused by accident stemming from drug related hallucinations." Right. Whatever. "Can I see it?" he asked solemnly. "Yeah." I replied. I took the key and the letter out of my pocket and slid them across the table to him. In a manner ridiculously tedious to handle a sheet of paper, he unfolded the letter. His face was stoic as he read. His eyes ran down the paper again and again. I remember feeling the same way-- like there was something that I was missing. Like maybe he was trying to say something without actually writing it. Ryan flipped the key around in his palm before placing it atop the letter and sliding them back across the table. "I don't know what to say." he said while shaking his head. "There isn't anything to say-- he's gone." I grimly pointed out. The room was still except for the dancing shadows cast on the wall by the fire. I tried not to think but it was nearly impossible. Ryan's hands rubbed together anxiously-- who knows why, he wasn't the outcast. A quiet intensity laid over us. "Do you mind if I ask why you felt that you couldn't wait a week-- you know hold off telling them until you were at school or something?" he asked with a smirk. The sarcasm in his voice made me uncomfortable. "I don't know," I replied, "I just keep on replaying it again and again in my head. I don't know what happened; it was so fast. I just remember reading Justin's letter and being so angry. So fucking pissed that there was this huge screwed up portion of his life that he couldn't acknowledge-- and when he finally did..." "Do you think you would have done it if you didn't get the letter?" I paused and thought hard, straining the imaginary muscles of my brain as I tried to focus. "I don't know-- probably not. There was just so much building up inside me and eventually just burst I guess." Words flew back into my head like a flock of noisy starlings. 'It doesn't mean a thing mom. Not a damn thing. 'I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks.' 'Your son is a queer.' Wow. I could not believe I said that to my mother. I had such a vitriolic tone in my voice, but for what reason? What had she done to me but give me love my whole life. 'Eric. Honey...' she began. 'No. Not Eric honey...' Oh god... I went about this all wrong. An ember popped loudly in the fire, awakening me from my thoughts. I looked at Ryan. "What am I doing here?" I said. "What do you mean, 'What am I doing here?'" he responded. I paused. "I was so mad... I think I hurt her. I shouldn't have told them like that, no way, they didn't deserve that sort of attitude." Ryan was quiet. Would my mom have reacted differently if I hadn't come out like an asshole? I wanted to believe she would have; that she would have embraced me and said 'I'll love you no matter what.' like she had explained so many times before. I wonder what she was going to say before I cut her off at "Eric, Honey." Was she going to tell me that it was okay? Why then would she have told me to leave? Was this a permanent exile? Only temporary? How do I know when I should go home? "Do you think she meant the things she said?" Ryan asked, clearly catching up to my train of thought. "I really don't know. Like I said it happened..." "She didn't mean it." he said assertively, answering his own question. "How do you know that?" I asked with a slightly standoffish tone. Ryan reached across the table and grabbed my arm. "Because I know your mom. She loves you." --- My temporary bed was warm but strange; soft but too lumpy. I wanted to be at home in th blankets I knew, wrapped in Kyle's arms. I thought back to how perfect everything was that day we shared a nap together. Before the mourning and goodbyes. Before the rain. It is so funny how when you don't have something that you really want, you totally disregard all the negative aspects of it. I prayed for rain, but when it finally came it brought with it stormy nights and a leaky roof. I prayed for love, but when it finally came it was accompanied by loneliness and heartbreak. I heard quiet footsteps coming down the stairs and looked to see who it was. The light from the moon made Bev's long white nightgown glow eerily as she passed by. She looked almost ghostly. I listened as she moved about in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, turning on the faucet, and locking the back door. I heard the metal fire poker clank on the hearth as she broke apart the dying fire. It crackled back to life for a moment, before submitting to the darkness. "Eric?" she whispered as she entered the room. "Yeah?" I said back. She stepped around the couch and patted my feet with her hand; signaling that she would like to sit down where they were. A narrow band of moonlight crept in through the window and illuminated her tiny frame. In her miniature hands she held a cup of water. Earlier in the evening I had watched as her daughters carefully undid the tight braid in her hair and combed it until it hung straight and tangle free. In the dark it looked like a golden waterfall that spilt over the top of her head and down her back. "Are you alright love?" her soft voice asked. "I guess." I lied. She set her cup down on the coffee table and straightened her nightgown. "I want you to know that it's okay... the way you are I mean. You are exactly how god wanted you to be." I listened intently as she spoke. "There is no reason for people to treat anyone with such disrespect because of something beyond their control. It is not fair for anyone to endure such hatred." The house creaked in the cold winds that blew behind the storm. "You are such a good boy. You have a beautiful heart and a beautiful mind and I know that you will make someone happy beyond their wildest dreams. You will without a doubt face a lot of adversity, but I know how strong you are. You can do it Eric. You can overcome whatever they throw at you." Her words flowed smoothly through the still air. I dared not to say anything for fear that I might create a ripple in their path. "I also want you to know, that no matter what was said today your parents care about you more than anything. Whenever I see them they do nothing but sing praises of how smart you are and how proud you make them. I know, being a parent myself, that sometimes when something arises that could stand in the way of my children I feel so afraid." Her hands gently squeezed my feet through the blankets. "I feel like I need to turn into supermom," she chuckled, "like I need to swoop in and fix whatever is wrong." She paused," and I think that is what your parents must be feeling right now. Not angry, just scared. You have such a promising future, they just don't want to see anything put it in jeopardy." We sat together for a few moments longer. She hummed softly, almost like she was singing me a lullaby. I listened to my heartbeat and tried to figure out what it was saying. My mind had cleared a lot since earlier that day, but there remained an enormous amount of uncertainty. "What do I do now?" I asked. She turned and looked at me with the eyes that told stories. "You sleep." she said. "Tomorrow is a new day." She stood abruptly, her nightgown rustling as it brushed against the wooden floor. Her body bent in half as she leaned down to kissed me on the forehead. Her warm soft lips reminded me of the special love shared between a mother and child. Without another word she stepped past the beam of moonlight and disappeared into the dark.