Chapter 6 – Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Disappointed, I followed Luke out of the pool and into the house. I did not follow him upstairs. Instead, I went to my room and showered the chlorine off of me. While I did, I coated myself with conditioner and relieved some of the ache that having my hands on Luke had caused. I braced myself against the shower glass with my left hand while I watched myself in the full length mirror on the opposite wall. I finished quicker than I usually did, imagining my hand or my body or both belonged to someone else.

I dressed in gym shorts and a Royals t-shirt and headed to the kitchen to make dinner. I was well into a making a chicken salad and draining a bottle of wine before Luke joined me. He was clean, in another Hollister shirt, and back in his cutoffs. He looked like a hustler, in an adorably innocent way.

He settled in a chair at the island.

"Something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I've swallowed enough water for a day."

"It was a big day. You learned to swim. And to hug."

"I did."

"Had you really never been hugged before? I just find that so hard to believe."

"I don't know," he answered. "If I was, I don't remember it. My parents are, well, they're really different."

As I cooked, he unlocked a little more. His parents were hyper-religious. They thought most everything was sinful. They drank only natural liquids, like water and milk. They ate only things that were harvested or butchered. They didn't watch television. The only book they owned was the Bible. They didn't celebrate birthdays or holidays. They had intercourse only to procreate, which they had achieved only once, late in life. They had raised Luke strictly. He had few toys. He was not allowed to play with other children, to ensure he would not be corrupted by them. He did not speak unless spoken to. He attended school only because it was required. He had led a solitary life. He had never dated anyone. On good days, his parents kept him at arm's length, seen but not heard. Once his mother found his letters and there were no more good days, they had little use for him. They now thought he was a lost cause, and they were not going to lose themselves in a futile attempt to salvage him.

I was so sad listening to him. "My gosh, Luke, that sounds like a terribly isolated, lonely way to grow up."

"It wasn't so bad. I didn't know any different."

"You seem pretty social for an unsocial little boy."

"That's why I love the Army so much. You have to be social. It's all about cohesion and being each other's keeper."

"Your unit must think you're bat shit crazy."

"No," he said, smiling. "But they sure think my parents are."

"Why were you so excited to see them? You were almost jumping out of your skin."

"I dunno. They're my mom and dad, for better or for worse. And, if you haven't ever been away from someone that long, you don't know what it's like."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," I answered, more petulantly than I intended as I thought about Jess.

"Sorry. I'm sure you do."

I poured another glass of wine for myself and one for Luke. "What's this?" he asked.

"You had a big day. We're going to celebrate. One glass and that's all. You'll have the tolerance of a fruit bat."

"I dunno . . . ."

"Luke, you're not going to make it as a teetotaling soldier. It's wine. Jesus turned water into it. It's not evil or sinful. It's . . . ." Before I could finish, Luke picked up the glass, drained it, and plopped it back on the marble island with a crisp clink.

" . . . . not really for chugging," I finished.

"It was good. I'll have another."

"Okay. One more glass. But, you have to drink it slowly, with me."

He did while we ate on the porch, facing each other across the small table. Without being asked, I showed Luke how to hold his fork properly, to remove the food with his lips not his teeth, and not to allow his elbows to touch the tabletop.

"I never learned any of that," he said.

"I'm not trying to be a PITA," I said. "But, it's all stuff you'll want to know. I'm happy to help you."

"A PITA?"

"Yes. A Pain In The Ass," I said, holding up a finger to mark each new word.

"Ah. That's a good one."

"I love this porch," I said. My mind was jumping hither and yon over the intimacy of our dinner.

"Me, too."

"I'm out here almost every night."

"I would be, too."

I cleared the dishes and returned with two more glasses of wine. We settled on the couch, I turned on music, and we listened to the cicadas sing the song of Summer. As we did, I reached over and picked up Luke's hand. As a ruse, I held it up to mine, pretending I wanted to see which was bigger. Mine was, but only by a little.

I intertwined my fingers with his and lowered our hands.

"James, why are you holding my hand?" He asked.

"I want to. I dont' have to, but I want to. I think both of us deserve to be touched a little more."

Luke said nothing in response, but he relaxed his hand, leaving it in mine. I dozed off holding it, my wine in my right hand. The wine spilling into my lap woke me up. I let go of Luke's hand with a start.

"It's okay," he said. "You don't have to let go."

"I didn't. I mean, I did, but only because I dozed off and spilled my wine."

"Oh."

"I'm going to head to bed."

"Me, too, in a minute. This is the nicest place I've ever stayed. I'm going to stay up and enjoy it a while longer."

"Be my guest."

"I am," he answered, a wink in his voice.

When I climbed into bed, I was too tired to masturbate. Besides, it seemed a base way to end a beautiful day.