"Has he kissed ya yet?"
Zach freezes. Turning to the boy next to him on the bench, he asks incredulously, "What?"
Shane is nearby, running errands for his Granny after finishing work with the old man. Zach is waiting for him patiently, accompanied by the boy named Greyson. The sun beats down on his head; the bench, exposed throughout the day by its constant rays, is warm beneath his legs.
Greyson laughs, ripping the plastic from his popsicle. "Guess not. Good, caught ya in time to warn ya."
The boy helps himself to a taste of his frozen snack before continuing, "Shane kisses people. Well, just guys. It's some strange quirk. Probably picked it up from his weird upbringing. He done kissed every single one a his childhood friends at some point or another. He even smooched me a good one when we was kids. Just smack him on the head and tell him no."
Zach doesn't know whether to be embarrassed or horrified. Bells jingle nearby as a crowd of shoppers exits the store and shuffles past the two boys conversing on the bench.
Shaking his attention from the passing group, he asks, "But why does he do it?"
The boy is sucking hard on his popsicle, watching the store. "Hm? Oh, Shane? Mm, I dunno really. When we was young, he would ask everyone to be his boyfriend, or to marry him, stuff like that. Got in trouble for it a lot at first. Now he don't really say anything."
Greyson laughs, wiping his runny nose with the back of his hand. "Mac told us when his time come, Shane just stared deep into his eyes waitin' or something."
After rubbing his knuckles on his blackened trousers, he adds, "Yeah, he dunn't say why. Or don't really get a chance to. Cause everybody knows it's comin' now. But don't worry; once ya tell him no, he won't try kissing ya again."
He makes a noise in his throat and adds, "Not for a few years anyway. He kissed all of us as kids, and just recently he started up kissing people again. Guess he figured it been long enough, the answer might be different. Just last month he took a shot at Wes Bigg right in the middle of the old man's field. Boy, Wes turned red as a beet and took a swing at 'im. I don't think they're on speaking terms yet."
He laughs into his hand at the memory before continuing. "Anyway, we like him and all, but I'm sure as hell not goin' down that road. He can figure all that out on his own. So now you know. We'd never say this to his face but," he tosses down his popsicle stick and brings his tongue across his red-stained lip, "he's this town's only gay."
Zach wants to ask more about Shane, about his childhood, about his friends and habits. But as Greyson finishes his speech, Shane returns, smiling, paper bags in tow. Zach joins him and they silently make their walk back to the farmhouse.
The boy sure was chatty, but Zach is grateful to him. As open as Shane is, there's still such a mystery behind his eyes. Something about him that Zach can't leave alone. Even so, he feels a kinship to the boy, not because of his habits or upbringing, but perhaps the meaning behind them. Until asking Shane himself, Zach can't be sure.
It's not as though he'd never heard of that kind of thing. Back at his school, two girls in his physical education class got expelled after the principal found them kissing in the locker room. The teacher was an oblivious man for not seeing it before, and it's not like the other students were the type to tattle. Even Zach had seen them together once, holding hands and talking under the field's bleachers. Though at the time, he rationalized that they were only good friends.
After learning of their expulsion, he wasn't disgusted or shocked. But he did find himself thinking, How sad, to be punished publicly for being with the one you love in secret.
But to go around kissing everybody? For what purpose? And if it's something he does all the time, does that mean Zach isn't any special case? Twice now, some outside factor had prevented the boy's advances. But who was he to get in the way of Shane's habits?
Yeah..it's fine. It will be like he's letting me know I'm one of his friends. Zach doesn't know why his stomach aches at the thought. It's just a kiss, after all. And Zach is already familiar with his own regretful experience with a kiss.
Thinking back on the memory makes him shake his head. He's never wanted to, and anyway, it seemed so embarrassing before. Kissing Shane...doesn't seem like it would be embarrassing at all.
He blushes. Maybe that reasoning is what he should be embarrassed about.
That night, Zach falls asleep to the sound of hard rain. It beats against the windows and the side of the house like a million hammers coming down on its frame. On the floor above, he hears an outburst come from Shane's room and supposes Maddie has gone to find her brother for comfort.
Finally, sleep overcomes him.
In his dream, he walks side by side with the restless Shane. Zach, somehow aware that he is dreaming, decides it would be okay to take the boy's hand.
Shock rises in him as Shane pulls back from his touch without looking his way. They continue on their path to nowhere, finding nothing in front of them, nothing behind, and Zach begins to worry.
"Shane," he voices, looking around. The boy beside him says nothing. Zach grabs his shoulder and says again, "Shane! Hey look at me, will you?"
The robotic Shane shakes loose from his grasp and walks faster now, ignoring the boy's pleas. Running after him, Zach attempts one more time to stop him and is surprised when he halts his progress forward.
"Finally, will you look at me? I want to talk to you." The boy does, with empty and abusive eyes. They are not the eyes belonging to the boy Zach has grown so fond of, and it sends him backward a step.
No, Zach knows this look, and it does not belong to the boy named Shane. These are the scrutinizing shadows that bore into him as a child. A threatening gaze on the brink of madness. These eyes do not care for him. These eyes do not love. They are the eyes of his father.
He retracts his hand with a shock. Looking around, he realizes they've arrived at the destination he didn't know they were working towards. Below his feet are the crumbling remains of some kind of stone structure. Only when Zach sees the water flowing beneath, now filled with chunks of stone and trampled flowers, does he realize where they are.
"Shane, the bridge," he pleads, tugging the boy's clothes, suddenly feeling very small as he stumbles over the terrain, unable to find his footing. He stares up at the now towering boy who refuses again to face him; he feels like a child pulling helplessly at the hand of an ignoring parent.
That's when the Shane in his dream, a disarming figure who no longer resembles the boy at all, brings up an arm to the air.
Zach can only stare helplessly as his father sends the back side of his hand across his face with a slap.
Zach wakes only when someone knocks softly at his door.
With a jolt, he raises his head, realizing the time. He rubs his eyes, expecting to find tears but feeling instead his own trembling fingers.
Outside, the clouds prolong the darkened night, making it seem earlier than it actually is. He bounds off the bed and opens the door to reveal Shane smiling hugely, an illusionary sun seeming to filter in from behind him despite the cloudy morning.
Zach feels his shoulders fall. He could cry from relief. Of course. This is the person Zach has spent so many hours, so many days working alongside, living alongside, eating meals with, and telling stories to. He feels like hugging the boy in front of him and admitting everything he just experienced, all that he fears.
Would it hurt to just take his hand in his own? He reaches forward mildly, grazing his fingers against the back of Shane's hand.
Zach can't tell if Shane tenses at his touch, or moves away without realizing his intentions, but after retracting his hand, Shane takes a step to the side and leans heavily against the frame of the door, out of Zach's reach.
"The rain hasn't let up one bit," he nods out the window. "I'd say we're late, but it'd be impossible to get any work done in those flooded fields. Guess we have another day off. You hungry?"
________________
This is not the day Zach wants to be stuck inside the house with his own thoughts and worries. He wishes he could be in the fields, surrounded by friends, doing something productive. Anything to take his mind off the nightmare he had.
And after the way Shane reacted earlier, he doesn't feel as though he can voice his concerns. Had he misunderstood something? And why, at a time like this, was his father the one invading his dreams, just as he was beginning to feel peace?
"No more of that," he mumbles to himself, taking a deep, redirecting breath in, and blowing it out quickly through open lips.
The morning is salvaged as Shane helps out Granny around the house, only lazing around occasionally to stare out the window at the grey clouded sky.
Zach sits on the floor in the guest bedroom, jotting down his thoughts in a too-familiar attempt to clear his head. The floor creaks beside him as someone enters the room.
"Whatcha writing? Poems?" Shane plops onto the rug next to Zach, eyes light with curiosity. With a smile, Zach leans toward the boy, holding out his notebook for him to see.
"No, just...thoughts."
Shane carefully takes the notebook in his hands and stares down at its words.
"You," looking closer at the small writing on the page, "have really fancy handwriting."
Blushing now, Zach reaches for his notebook, but Shane retracts his arm over his head with a lively smile.
"I meant that as a good thing!"
"Okay, okay, so give it back now." Zach has suddenly remembered a very honest thought he'd written a few pages back, something about Shane, and wants to pinch himself for handing it over to begin with. Using one hand as distraction, he manages to snake an unseen arm around the back of Shane's head, snatching up the book with ease. He smiles, tucking the notebook behind him with both hands across its tattered spine.
"You fell for the oldest trick."
Shane shows a competitive grin, and he reaches past the boy once more, attempting to retrieve the book. He jabs his hand into Zach's stomach, who doubles over, but quickly recovers.
"Hooh, that..wasn't fair," he croaks.
In one last attempt to get his hands on the notebook, Shane reaches both arms around him, grabbing blindly for Zach's clutching hold, catching the edge of the notebook while Zach holds it fast in his grip. A short tug of war brings them even closer.
"Now who's not being fair?" he says, raising his eyes to meet Zach's.
It's then that the two boys realize how close their faces have become. Shane stops his aggressive attack and releases his hold on the book behind Zach. The sudden loss of resistance pitches Zach forward a few inches, and Shane flinches but doesn't move back. His eyes are focused on Zach's face.
Zach can only return his gaze, heat rising to his cheeks, as the boy's eyes once again trail down to his parted lips.
Is this it? Zach wonders, closing his mouth and resisting the urge to nervously moisten his lips.
Shane blinks and leans back, using his arms to lift and slide his body over the rug and away from Zach.
"Granny said she's making us lunch. Should be ready in about half an hour."
Zach nods, and Shane leaves him alone once more.
He feels confused. Having spent so much time preparing himself for the inevitable outcome, the thought of now not having the experience at all makes him want to cry. Just what does Shane want from him? What do I want?
It isn't until afternoon that the rain lets up, the sun beats down, and the moisture turns to steam in the air.