Alex started working at the Laguna with the rest of the gang on Monday, June 29th. It would have been good for him to work for the bell service like the others, but we just didn't need any more bellmen. Instead, Jack Rooney put him on in housekeeping. Rick had told me about his first encounter with Chip on the beach the day before. "Chip said he wanted to work at the Laguna but that some dumbass boss had made his dad hire the dumbass boss's sons," Rick said. I laughed. "I'll bet he's a handful at home," I said. "You know what that's all about, don't you?" "Jack didn't want him working there," he asked. "Exactly. Jack told me he was going to blame it on me. He's only fourteen, after all. He's very bright and fairly mature acting for his age, but Jack wanted him to have at least one more summer of fun before he puts him to work." "And Chip wouldn't have accepted his dad telling him that, I guess," Rick said. "By the way, his first name is Kyle. Kind of reminds me of another Kyle we know and love, but without the hair." "I'll say. I saw Kyle talking to him in the pool. If that kid has a gay bone in his body, he's probably in love with Kyle right now," I said. "No question about it. Even if he isn't gay, he probably wants to be just like the Stud," Rick said. "You know what? Justin's got a birthday next weekend. I forgot all about it until just now." "Yeah, I know. What are we going to get him? This is the big one, you know? He'll be eighteen." "I know. Frankly, that's not good news to me," I said. "Why not?" "He'll be legally an adult. He can't be our foster son anymore." "Ouch," Rick said. "He's not going anywhere, though, is he?" "Of course not, but I just like the idea of him being our son. This year has been incredible with him, hasn't it?" "Jesus, it doesn't seem like a whole year, does it," Rick said. "Not at all. If anybody would have told me that kid would blossom the way he has, I would have called them a liar. I called Craig for legal advice the morning after we got him, and I told Craig he wasn't worth one of Kyle's or Tim's pubic hairs at the bottom of a urinal. I can't believe I ever felt that way about him," I said. "That's pretty funny, Kevin," Rick said. "Craig thought it was hilarious." We were both quiet for a few moments. "Babe, I never thought I'd say this. I love Justin as much as I love Tim and Kyle," I said. "So do I," he said. "How'd we get into this with these kids?" "It beats the hell out of me," I said. "I know we'd be happy if it was just you and me, but don't you think they add a lot?" "Absolutely. But I think we've been lucky with the ones we've gotten, you know. I think Kyle and Tim parent them just about as much as we do," Rick said. "Kyle certainly has done that for Jus, that's for sure," I said. "Back to the original topic, though. What are we going to get Justin for his birthday," Rick asked. "I thought about a car," I said. "Yeah, that's pretty logical, but you know what? I'm not really sure I like that idea. I mean, his truck is in great condition, he keeps it spotless, and he bought it himself. He never talks about it, but that truck represents a personal achievement for Jus, don't you think?" "I see what you mean," I said. "That's a damn good insight." "How about a trip? We gave Kyle and Brian trips. Why not Justin?" "Are you thinking Boston?" "I'm thinking Boston," he said, grinning and nodding his head. "The four of them have so much fun together. In fact, Gene actually asked me if Jus and Brian were going to go with Kyle when he goes up there to meet Tim. The last time I talked to George, he said his father had surgery scheduled for the Monday of the week they're going to be in the city, so there won't be much grandparent time. They scheduled the surgery for then so George would be there. He's going to be tied up with his parents, so it'll pretty much be the four boys on their own." We were at work and in my office. I buzzed my secretary and asked her to make airline and hotel reservations for Jus and Brian. I gave her the details of when and where. "I was wondering how long it was going to take for that to come up," she said, laughing. "Has Kyle said anything about a party," I asked. "Oh, yes. He has it all figured out. He really liked the catering idea from last time for Tim, and he's going to do the same thing this time. Different menu, though. He asked me if people ever served whole cows like they did whole pigs," Rick said. I laughed. I could just picture a whole cow, head and all, on a buffet table. "What kind of menu did he decide on," I asked. "It's going to be surf and turf. Crabs, shrimp, fried fish, lobsters, and steak. How does that sound?" "Inside or outside," I asked. "Both, actually. He really liked the day-long thing like we did for Tim's birthday, so we'll do that again. Bare-ass swimming at his house for anyone who's interested until five, and then drinks and hors d'ouevres outside on the patio and in the house. Dinner will be in the clubhouse, followed by dancing, pool, ping pong, clothed swimming, etc. Oh, and fireworks because it's the Fourth." "I can picture everything but the fried fish. Where does that fit?" He laughed. "This is complicated. Justin loves two foods equally, fried fish and cheese grits. Kyle wanted to have those for him. Those will be lunch, along with coleslaw with that wretched sweet pickle relish in it. Oh, and sweet tea. Real sweet." I laughed some more. "Sort of your country meal, right?" "Absolutely. Kyle even called it 'country lunch,'" Rick said. "For dinner, the first course will be shrimp and lobster cocktail, followed by she-crab soup. Then a light salad, followed by steak and potatoes and grilled vegetables. Red, white, and blue cake, with vanilla ice cream topped with blueberries and strawberries, for dessert." "Do you remember last year he wanted us to sing the Star Spangled Banner after we sang Happy Birthday," I asked. "Oh, yes. That is definitely on the program again this year. I think Kyle actually plans to sing it himself," he said. "Cool. He can do it," I said. "I know," Rick said. "Has he invited people yet," I asked. "Invitations went out two weeks ago," he said. "It's been on the Web site that long, too." "Shit, I haven't looked at that damn thing in a while," I said. "I hadn't either, until Jeff gave me a heads-up about it yesterday," he said. "Jeff said he hadn't seen a login from either of us in a long time, and he was worried we didn't know what Kyle was planning. I think it's unbelievable the way these kids do things. It's like they're adults or something." "Well, a lot of them actually are," I said. "But still, I know what you mean." "For some reason, Kyle doesn't think it's a real party unless there are women there. He always refers to them as 'ladies,' too. I think that's kind of cute," Rick said. "Speaking of ladies, I can invite my friend Diana Ravitch. Do you know her?" "I don't think so. Who is she?" "She and I worked together for about six months in Tallahassee. I ran into her when Alex was in the hospital. She's a nurse, and she was in charge of the ICU. You'll like her. Really bodacious ta-tas," I said. "You shithead," he said, laughing. "You'll like her a lot, Babe," I said. "Seriously." "Does she really have big tits?" "Gigantic," I said. "Whatever will we do with them," he asked. "I wish there was a way we could give some of them to Cherie as a transplant," I said. "I'm calling Cherie right now and telling her you said that." He went for my phone, and I basically tackled him around the waist. He went down, knocking over a lamp and hitting the door of my office with his foot. We were both laughing hard at ourselves and our foolishness. I felt a button pop off my shirt. "Is everything okay in there, boys," Mary Ann, my secretary, said through the door. "Yes, ma'am," Rick and I said in unison. We were both laughing and could barely talk. "Good. Don't make me have to get your father," she said, also laughing hard. "Yes, ma'am," we said again. Rick and I dissolved in a puddle of laughter against one another. "God, I love you," I said. "Do you know what I'd like to do right now?" "Yeah, and I want to, too, but she's right out there," he said. "Kevin, I'm going on break, and I have no idea when I'll be back. I have several errands to run. I transferred your phone to Cheryl. Be good, boys," Mary Ann said. "Bye, Mary Ann," we both said together. "She's wonderful, isn't she," I said. "Yeah. Now let's you and me be wonderful." And we were.
I heard noise coming out of Kevin's office like maybe he and Rick were in some kind of scuffle. At the beginning of the Spring Break season, they had argued fiercely, and I had feared that their relationship was on the rocks. I loved those boys like they were my own sons, and I would do anything I could to keep them from breaking up. I mean, they obviously loved one another, the same way a happily-married man and woman did, and I didn't want anything to happen to that. Plus, they had all those kids they were responsible for. I went to Mr. Goodson and told him of my concern. He just laughed. "Mary Ann, what you're seeing is some very aggressive foreplay. Don't worry." I'm sure I blushed a little when he said that, but I didn't worry after that. I knew next to nothing about homosexuality or homosexuals, but whatever was going on between Kevin and Rick just seemed so right. So normal, even. When I heard that noise that morning, I got worried. What if Gene had been wrong? What if they were really fighting? When a man and a woman fight, it's usually all verbal. What happens when a male couple fight? I visualized punches being thrown, and I thought that might be what I was hearing. Then I heard them laughing. Nobody can really fight and laugh the way they were laughing at the same time. I remembered the "very aggressive foreplay" line from the spring, and I decided to get out of there. My daughter-in-law was a teacher at Beachside High School, and she knew Kyle Goodson and Tim Murphy. She said everybody knew they were gay and a couple, and she also said Kyle pretty much had everybody eating out of the palm of his hand. I had known that kid's parents since long before he was born, and I had kept up with him throughout his life. He came up to see Kevin every once in a while and always spoke to me, but one time recently he had just come up to see me. He called me "Miss Mary Ann" like southern boys do, and he was precious. He and I talked about Clay on that visit. I knew he and Clay were very close, and it was obvious in the way he talked about him. Kyle and Clay looked a great deal alike, and I knew Rita Goodson couldn't look at her baby without thinking about her first born. Those people had more money than any thousand families like mine put together. But they were just people. They knew pain. They knew suffering. And they knew love. Kevin and Rick knew the love part, at least.
Journal Entry for June 29th I don't know where the hell to start. When I got up yesterday morning, I smelled paper mill in the air. That meant the surf was up. But it was a Sunday, so I'd have to go to church. But my dad was MOD that day, so that meant no church. Yea! I could surf. I rigged my board onto my bike, as I usually did, and I hauled ass to the state park. The end of the park was right on the pass, which is where the best surf always is, and it was awesome yesterday. The wind was perfect, and there was a tropical disturbance in the Gulf. What better conditions for surf? I met up with some guys that I knew. They were all older than I was, but I think they respected me. Maybe just tolerated me, but I was careful to never take off on 'em. I've seen guys beat the shit out of one another because one took off on the other one, and, little as I was, I didn't want that. There were some boys down a ways from us, a big-ass blond and a big-ass black-haired guy. They were doing really good. Then a man joined them, and the three of them surfed together. The blond boy went up to the beach and laid down. Then the black-haired boy caught a wave and totally wiped out. He went under, and I figured the rip tide had gotten him and his board. Oh, shit, I thought. That fucker's dead. Literally. Drowned. He wasn't, though. The grown-up with them slipped his cord off his ankle and tried to dive for him. He came up empty handed, though. He didn't know it, but he missed getting a board to the head by about a foot. I watched his loose board floating. I decided to be a good guy, for once in my life, and get it for him. It was a long board, and it had a really heavy coat of wax on it, just the way I liked mine. The guy caught in the rip popped up, and some of his friends, or just some guys who happened to be out there, brought him in. I think they revived him or something, and that fucker went out again. Damn, I thought. I ain't ever doing that, not after that close of a brush with death. He rode it in, though, and they were getting ready to leave. I went over to them to give the guy his board back. What an interesting meeting that was, as it turned out. First, the guy who almost drowned was named Kyle. My first name is really Kyle, so how coincidental was that? That ain't all that common a name. Second, he went to the high school I was going to next year, only he was going to be a senior. Not only that, he was going to be student body president. Whoa! How many freshmen know him? Third, he worked at my dad's hotel as a bell boy. Fourth, the adult with him turned out to be the gay partner of my dad's boss, Kevin Foley. I had only called Kevin an asshole in front of Rick, his partner. That's all. Fifth, Kyle's last name happened to be Goodson. As in Goodson Enterprises. I'm dropping my dad's name left and right because Kyle works at his hotel. Kyle keeps his mouth shut, and he owns the fucking building. Sixth, I go to Rick and Kevin's house that afternoon, totally unaware of who these people are. Turns out, they both know my dad. Why? Because Kevin's his boss, that's why. And Rick, the guy who's board I grabbed, is Kevin's husband. Seventh, I still have no clue who Kyle is at that point, other than a senior at Beachside and president of the student body. But, we're naked in a locker room, and I know he's gay by then. I grab his dick. Hmmm. He's real cool about that, but he doesn't like it. I'm making a hell of a first impression. Eighth, I'm still not knowing who Kyle is except he's this gorgeous hunk, and I start to get hard. He sees it, runs me out of there, and tosses me into the pool. He spends time talking to me, like he does every naked freshman with no dick to speak of, and certainly no hair. Ninth, I have a wonderful time with those guys, they bring me home, and I talk to my dad about the great time I had. He tells me who they all are. I listen in shock. I get up, tell him good night, and go to my room to think about my suicide note. My God! Could I have been any dumber? I don't think so. But you know what? There was a message on my machine tonight. Kyle called to invite me to Justin's birthday party on July 4th. He said he knew it was late and he wouldn't blame me if I already had other plans, but they wanted me to come to the party. It was an all-day thing, too. Starting at nine in the morning. Lunch, dinner, spend the night, if I wanted to. Unbelievable! There wasn't a way in hell you could keep me away from that party.
Justin's birthday was July 4th, and it was his eighteenth. We were having a hell of a party for that. I had sent out invitations on June 14th, and I knew all of our family and friends were going to be there. The New Orleans people were ready to come. I had talked to Grandma twice about it, and they were on their way. I definitely wanted her there, but I don't think there was any way I could have kept her away. She and Grandpa, and Craig and Cherie, were going to stay at my house. Tim was leaving for New England the next afternoon, and I had talked my parents into letting me go to Boston a week later. That was cool. Rick's parents were coming, too. In fact, they were going to be staying at Rick and Kevin's house. Seth would give up his room for them, and he'd take the empty one on the third floor. They were coming on Wednesday, and the New Orleans crowd was coming on Thursday. It would be a long weekend of celebration. Tim and Brian and I decided Jus was going to need a laptop for college, so that's what we bought him. We each got him one other thing. I got him some really cool sunglasses from the warehouse. Tim and Brian each got him a shirt, also from the warehouse. The week leading up to the party was sort of ordinary until Wednesday. Grandma and Grandpa Jacobs got there around four. Kevin and Rick went to the airport to pick them up. When we got home from work, we started getting dinner ready. I had a ton of crabs for us to snack on before dinner, plus nuts, olives, chips and dip, and shit like that. The main dish was a nice pork roast. I had actually picked up five of those at the grocery store. They were already cooked, and they were so tender you could cut them with just a fork. I'd warm those up in the oven right before dinner. I went into town to the farmers' market during my lunch time, and I ended up taking a good bit more than the half hour I had for lunch. I had told Jason, the bell captain, where I was going, and I even offered to pick up something for him, if he wanted me to. He made me clock out so I wouldn't get paid for the extra time it took. I didn't really care, but I thought that was a little bit petty. Nobody made him clock out when he had his forty-five-minute bowel movement every day. I wanted to go to the farmers' market for five reasons: fresh tomatoes, fresh corn on the cob, fresh peas, fresh butterbeans, and a good watermelon. I made the guy swear to me that he had picked the corn that morning. Corn starts losing sugar the instant it's picked, and the fresher the corn, the sweeter the corn. Justin loved it, and I wanted it to be good. Grocery store corn has been picked for a week or more by the time you buy it, and it's just not the same as picked-that-morning corn. I got five dozen ears of white corn and five dozen of a white-and-yellow variety. The white corn was the sweetest, but the white-and-yellow had a better texture. Kevin liked to eat peas on rice. They eat rice with everything in New Orleans, so I guess it was just his background. We had rice at the house, though, and they didn't sell that at the farmers' market, anyway. The tomatoes were out of this world. First of all, they were huge, and they were so tender it was like they didn't even have a skin. Second, the flesh was the brightest red you could imagine. Sometimes you get tomatoes in the store that have been grown in water in greenhouses, and they're a pale pink and tough as alligator hide. Not these bad boys. I ate one like it was an apple while I was shopping the market. I dripped some of the juice on my uniform, too, but you couldn't notice it, once I had cleaned it off. I was going to slice those up with some sweet onions and serve them with oil and vinegar. I'd put some out just sliced, too, in case anybody would rather have them with mayonnaise. Those would make some righteous tomato sandwiches, too, on white bread. I took the peas and butter beans over to the shelling machine they had there. For fifty cents they would shell a bushel. I had a bushel of each. I made the man plug the watermelon, and it was exactly what I thought it was going to be: yellow-meated. I ate the plug before I bought any, and it was just as sweet as anything I'd ever tasted. I bought two huge ones of those. I could have stayed there all afternoon talking to the farmers about their produce. I picked up a few odds and ends, too, like six cucumbers and a couple dozen peaches. I bought some plums, too, but I wasn't about to put one of those nasty things in my mouth. Somebody had some Muscatine grapes, and I got a mess of those. Then I saw the figs. Yeah, buddy! I bought every damn one they had. "Is your wife gon' make preserves with them," the cute little old lady in the stall asked. "No, ma'am. They probably won't make it all the way home, as much as I love 'em," I said. She laughed her cute little granny laugh like I was joking or something, but she didn't know me. I swung by the house and dropped off everything I had bought. I ate quite a few figs, but there were even too many for me to eat. That whole trip took me two-and-a-half hours, and I didn't get lunch, but I was satisfied we had some decent food in the house. * * * Our new friend, Chip, started coming around in the afternoons after we got off work. I don't know if he had other friends, but we made him our friend right away. He worked out with us, and then we'd all go in the pool for a while before we ate anything. We pretty much all worked out nude, and of course we swam nude all the time. He had him a little nub of a dick, but that didn't seem to bother him around us. He'd get naked with us without even blinking his eyes. Of course, nobody ever teased him about his dick, and that probably gave him some self-confidence. Of course, he wasn't short on self-confidence, that's for sure. He got hard a couple of times and walked around there with that thing just a-bobbing out in front of him. He was definitely a grower and not a shower. It wasn't all that big stuck out, but at least it looked like a real dick. I knew he'd be growing soon, though, and I just hoped the other kids in his p.e. class wouldn't make fun of him. "Chip, are you taking p.e. next year," I asked him. "Yeah," he said, sort of depressed. "What's the matter, dude?" "Kyle, look at me, man. I'm afraid they'll make fun of me." "We don't make fun of you," I said. "I know. That's why I'm not ashamed around you guys. Plus, Seth and Cody really ain't that much bigger, you know what I mean? They've got hair, though." I laughed. "You been checking us out, dude," I asked him real playful. "Yeah, I guess. Is that bad?" "Hell, if it's bad to do that, every damn boy in the world is guilty of being bad," I said. He grinned. "Yours is the best," he said, sort of joking. "Whoa! You looking to get after some of it, or what," I said. He grinned, but he never did say yea or nay. I bounced it a time or two using my internal muscles. "Don't do that, man," he said, half laughing. "I'm just playing with you, dude," I said, laughing. "I know. Do you have to take showers in p.e.?" "Freshmen do," I said. "Is it a freshman course you're taking, do you know?" Our school had a really good p.e. department. You had to have two full credits in it to graduate, which meant you had to take it either a full year, two half years, or four nine-week periods spread throughout high school. We got a half credit every nine weeks in the schedule we were on. You had to take two required courses and two electives, but you could get permission to substitute electives for the required courses. For example, the first required course was swimming. Well, that was a farce. There was hardly a kid in Emerald Beach who hadn't known how to swim since they were big enough to walk. Except for kids who moved there from somewhere else. You could take the swimming proficiency test at the start of any nine-weeks, which you ultimately had to pass anyway, and skip the swimming course. "I have to take swimming," he said. "No, you don't," I said. I explained about the proficiency test. I had seen him swim, and he could have passed that test hogtied. "What should I take instead of swimming?" "Take an elective. Take something like outdoor recreation or tennis or archery or any elective. Horseshoes and shuffle board. Hell, they even offer a ping pong elective. You don't have to shower in those. Swimming, you have to shower before they let you in the pool," I said. "Really?" "Really, man. Or you can save your p.e.'s for later. It's going to grow, you know. You're going to get some hair. Why not wait till that comes in to show it off?" "Kyle, if this is true, you've taken a ton of bricks off my shoulders," he said. "Chip, I joke and tease all the time, but I don't lie about stuff that matters, man. And I know this matters to you," I said. He actually got tears in his eyes. He didn't cry, just like he didn't cry on Sunday in the pool with me, but it was mighty close. "Let's you and me take showers, put on some clothes, and go check my traps. You want to?" "Yeah," he said, and his face lit up in a grin. I saw it in those eyes of his. That boy was fast getting a big, hard crush on me. I didn't know if he was gay or bi or something, and I really didn't care. I didn't know if straight boys could get a crush on another boy as such, but I knew the ins and outs of hero worship. I was going to have to be really, really careful not to do or say anything to mislead him. After Chip and I were all showered up and dressed, we headed down to the dock. Trixie was right there with us. She wanted a boat ride. She had been in the pool with us, though, and she was all wet. We didn't need a wet dog in that boat with us. Plus, I knew she'd jump off the boat into the damn lagoon when I started pulling up the first trap. Then she couldn't get back in by herself, and I'd have to wrestle her into the boat, me clean and dry, and her all wet. Then, of course, she'd have to shake off. That was instinct, and I understood that, but I didn't want it that day. She's ahead of us, of course, trotting and playing around. She jumps on the boat. "No, Trixie," I say. "Get out, girl." She didn't obey, so I had to get stern. "Trixie, get out of the boat," I said in my voice that said I meant business. She jumped on the dock when I said that, and then she did something I'll never forget. She perched up on her hind quarters and put one front paw over the other one. She whimpered. That damn Brian, I thought. I'm going to wring his neck for teaching her that trick. How could I possibly say no to that? And I think she knew it, too. "Okay. Get in," I said, and she jumped into the boat. She was so excited. "If you jump in, I'm going to leave your ass in that water, you hear me? A big ole gator's going to come and get it, too. And I'm just going to laugh at you." I was talking like I was teasing her. I knew she didn't understand a word I was saying, and she was just wagging and being happy, like I was telling her about Santa Claus. "You wouldn't let a gator get her, would you," Chip asked. I grinned at him, he was so serious. "No, but don't tell her that, hear? I am going to make her swim back, though, if she jumps in. Which I pretty much know she will," I said. "Can she make it," he asked, sounding kind of worried, too. "Oh, hell, yeah. These dogs love exercise. Look at the muscle on her," I said. Chip, Trixie, and I went out. I got her to stay in the boat on the first four traps with just voice commands. She was raring to go, I knew, but she obeyed me, a little more reluctantly each time. The next two, she almost went, but Chip grabbed her by the collar to hold her back. I had two more to check, though. On number seven, over she went. "Shit! Fuck!" I screamed it, and I'm sure people in their back yards up and down the lagoon heard me. "Why are you so mad," Chip asked. "Just watch what it's going to take to get her back in here," I said. I spoke harshly to him, and I didn't mean it that way. I told him I was sorry and I wasn't mad at him. He said he knew, and he grinned at me. "Get in here, Trixie," I shouted at her. She knew I was mad, but she didn't know what to do. "I have an idea," Chip said. I had shut the motor off as soon as she went in. That was another pain in the ass about her, but I wasn't about to run an outboard motor with her in the water that close. If she had gotten hit by that prop, she would have been dead. We had a doughnut-shaped life preserver on a rope that we could throw to a skier, if we had to. She was right there, and Chip let it down into the water. She put her head and front paws through it, like we had practiced that, which we hadn't. Chip started hauling her in. She was heavy for him, so I helped him. We pulled her about halfway up, and she got her front paws on the gunwale. She literally leaped right into the boat. That was pretty damn amazing. I praised her good, but I also praised Chip for thinking of that. Of course, she shook off all over the damn place, but at least I didn't have to get in the water. That was a good thing she and Chip had done, but she wasn't going in again. I took some of that rope from the float and tied it to her collar. I put it on a real short tether, and I tied it to one of the seats. She could bark her damn tongue out of her mouth for all I cared, but she was staying put. We finished checking the traps. If Brian could teach her to pray and beg like she did, he could teach her to keep her ass in the boat when she went with me to check the traps. We all loved that dog like she was a person or something, and we all had a ton of fun with her. But I think you have more fun with a dog when you're in charge, and not them. We were getting there with her, but it was slow progress. At least that afternoon I learned how to get her ass back in the boat without having to get in the water myself. The next step was no jumping off the boat unless we told her to. And we could damn sure teach her that, and she could damn sure learn it. * * * The next day was Wednesday. Rick's parents were coming in that afternoon, and I had an important meal to cook. That was the day I was going to the farmers' market at lunch, and that's what my mind was on. "Kyle, have you got a second?" It was Mr. Rooney. What the fuck did he want, I wondered. "Yes, sir. Sure," I said. "Come over here, please. I want to talk to you." What was that about, I thought. I hated it when he pulled me out like that. All the rest of them looked at me like I was in deep shit or something. I looked at Jason for a clue, but he just shrugged like he didn't know anything about it. Yeah, right, Jason, I thought. You probably told him I was leaving to go shopping. You prick. "Yes, sir. What can I do for you," I asked. I was nervous. "Kyle, what did you do to my son yesterday?" I panicked. "Mr. Rooney, I didn't do anything to him. I swear to God, I didn't touch him," I said. He started laughing. "I'm sorry, Kyle. I should have said, 'What did you do for my son yesterday?'" What a big fucking difference a preposition will make, dude, I thought. Jesus Christ! "I don't know," I said. "Kyle, he came home last night extremely happy, saying that you had saved his life. I was just wondering how you saved my only child's life. Call it idle curiosity." "I still don't know, Mr. Rooney," I said. "We worked out, swam a little while, and then he and I checked my crab traps. He figured out a way to get the dog back in the boat without me having to get in the water. But that didn't save anybody's life." "Did you talk about anything important?" "No, sir. We talked about the p.e. course he should take next year, but that's about it. I told him how to take an elective p.e. so he wouldn't have to shower at school. That's all." He busted into a big grin. "That was it," he said. "Chip's a late bloomer, just like I was. He'll get there eventually, but it's difficult for him right now. He thinks you guys, and especially you, are from the heavens above, and for some reason he doesn't have a problem showering with you guys. Thanks for taking care of him, Kyle." "What do you mean? I don't take care of him. He's our friend." "Think of the significance of those three words, Kyle. 'He's our friend.' Chip doesn't have many friends. He knows a lot of people, and they all like him, but he doesn't really have any friends. Yet." "Didn't," I said. "I beg your pardon." "Maybe he didn't have any friends, but he does now. 'Cause we're his friends. Me and my brothers, and our friends. We have, like, this huge extended family, and Chip's part of that, now." "I know, Kyle. And thank you," he said. "I think I'm up next," I said. "Okay, son. Get back to work. But thank you, Kyle. From the bottom of my heart." "I'm going to the farmers' market at lunch. Do you need anything?" "No, but thanks." * * * Sarah and Arnie's plane was coming in at four, supposedly. I figured they'd be home about five, assuming their plane was on time, which was a crap shoot, at best. Chip was already at the house when we got home. "No work out today, buddy," I said to Chip. "No? What's up?" "Rick's parents are coming in today. We're all cooking," I said. "I'll help," he said. "Okay. And plan to stay and eat with us tonight," I said. "Do you know how to peel an onion?" "I've never done it," he said. "Brian, you know how to peel an onion, don't you," I asked. "Yes, sir," he said. He said that like he was talking to Kevin or Rick, and I just ignored it. "Show Chip how to do it. Y'all slice the tomatoes and then let me know so I can put the dressing on them, okay? Make the tomato slices about a half inch, and the onions, too." "Okay," Brian said. I chopped a few onions, a tiny bit of garlic, and just a smidge of celery. I put the peas in one pot with half of that, and the butter beans in another pot with the other half. I put ham hocks in both, and they were all set. I set up the damn rice for Kevin in a double boiler. Then I thought, hell, I'm cooking it now and warming it in the microwave later. He'll never know the difference. "Justin, do you know how to shuck corn, or just how to eat it," I asked. He grabbed me by my shoulders and looked me deep in the eyes. "Kyle. My brother. My best friend. There is nothing you can do with an ear of corn that I don't know how to do." "You are so bad," I said, laughing. He was laughing, too. "I've got the corn covered," he said. "Forget about it till you bite down on it tonight." The watermelon would take care of itself, and the pork roasts were ready to pop in the oven for heating. I put some rolls on a cookie sheet to heat up. Then I got my cornbread batter ready. I didn't know if they ate cornbread anywhere else but in the South, but you couldn't have a meal in north Florida like we were having that night if you didn't have you some good cornbread. My Grandma Goodson had won blue ribbons at the county fair for her cornbread, and I had the recipe. We always had a housekeeper who cooked at our house when Clay and I were growing up, and I could count on one hand the number of full-fledged meals my mama had cooked herself from scratch. That just wasn't her thing. She had the recipe, though, and now I had it, too. I made enough batter for two makings, but Kevin and Rick only had four cast iron pans to make it in. I had seen my grandma make it in a skillet on the stove top as one big piece, but I wasn't quite ready for that yet. The pans they had were a bunch of little pie slices, sort of, and I made enough batter for sixty-four of those little slices. The secret was, you had to use enough oil in the pans to basically fry the cornbread inside the oven. It had to be really hot when you put it in, and you didn't leave it in so long that it burned. I doubled the salt and sugar the recipe called for, and it was going to be good. Once that was done, I didn't know what else to do. Justin had made good time with the corn, but there was a lot there. I helped him. "Are we shucking all this for tonight," he asked. "I don't even know how many people are going to be here," I said. "Well, count 'em up, dumbass. There's no point in shucking all of this if we don't need it," he said. "Well, who's here? You, me, Tim, Brian, Jeff, Tyler, Seth, Cody, Alex, Chip, my parents, Doc and Sonya, Kevin and Rick, and Sarah and Arnie." "That's eighteen people. I say we shuck out six dozen ears," Jus said. "Yeah, that ought to be enough. A lot of people will just eat two or three," I said. "Yeah. Thanks for getting this today, Bubba," he said. "You know I got it for you, don't you?" "Of course I know that, Kyle. That's why I'm telling you thank you," he said. "I ate an ear of that white-and-yellow, and it's really good." "You ate it raw?" "Yeah. So what?" "I hope you don't get the screaming shits tomorrow morning," I said. "Well, if I do, it'll be worth it. To tell the truth, Kyle, I ate three ears," he said. I started laughing. "Justin, I'm been meaning to ask you, man. Do you like corn?" He laughed hard. He grabbed me around the neck, and he tried to shove an ear of corn, shucked, into my mouth. We were both laughing too much for that to happen. I don't know how we ever got that meal on the table for laughing so much, but we did. |