The next morning, when we got up, I talked again with Evan, telling him that the hospital would take him and help him through withdrawal.
Evan responded, “I don’t want to do that. I told you, I like the drugs. Everything’s fine.”
I asked, “Will you just think about it? If you keep going this way you’ll be dead soon.”
“That might not be such a bad thing,” Evan answered. “But since you asked and you seem to care, yes, I’ll think about it.”
That night Evan had no food. We offered some of what we’d been able to scrounge but he refused. When I Iooked over at him a few minutes later he was holding something up to his face.”
“What’s he doing?” I asked Jack.
Jack looked over and shook his head sadly. “He’s sniffin’ glue,” he said. “It helps t’ take away the hunger pains an’ it get him a little high.”
“Shit!” I exclaimed. “He’s not going to make it, is he?”
“Nope,” Jack said as he shook his head sadly and returned to eating.
Fortunately for Jack and me, the week passed with no further problems. We found used water bottles, washed them out thoroughly in a rest room, and filled them. We began to be able to eat solid food and retain it. Meanwhile, my ass finally started to feel better, thanks to Jack’s patient doctoring, which he performed as directed with never a groan or a complaint.
Near the end of the week, Evan had a bad drug trip. For hours he hallucinated and screamed while Jack and I, feeling totally helpless, could do nothing. Two days later, when he had recovered, Evan said to me, “Maybe you’re right. I suppose I could at least talk with the hospital.” So, the following Monday the three of us walked to the hospital to get me checked and to find out more about drug treatment. Jack and I chatted happily, but Evan was silent. It occurred to me that I had never seen Evan smile and certainly had never heard him laugh.
As we walked, I said, “Jack, I don’t know how to thank you. Taking care of my ass must be pretty gross for you, but you’ve always done it willingly. Thanks a lot.”
”Don’t worry about it. Ya find out who yer real friends are when ya need help.”
“That’s what my friend Dexter said once,” I responded.
“I bet he didn’t cream and wash yer ass for a week,” Jack replied, and we both laughed, but even then Evan didn’t crack a smile.
At the hospital, because we weren’t an emergency and the ER was very busy, we had a lengthy wait, which we passed talking about the coming winter. Jack had decided that, because of his friendship with me, he wasn’t going to leave Grantham unless he got desperate. “Besides,” he grinned, “I don’t got no way to get anywhere, do I?”
After the doctor checked me, he told me to continue the pills until they were gone and the cream and washing for another week. Then he announced that Jack and I did not need to return unless there was a problem. He spent quite a bit of time talking with Evan in a little office off the ER. Evan finally decided he would stay and try to get through withdrawal, so the doctor took him to admitting. Before Evan went with the doctor, Jack and I each gave him a hug and wished him good luck.
Since it was a warm day, we had decided to go to the lake for a swim. The lake was about four miles from the hospital and we made good time. We had worn shorts under our trousers, so when we arrived at the lake we stripped off our clothes except our shorts and waded in. It was late in August and the water was quite warm. Over the summer, Jack had proven to be a good swimmer, and I was no slouch myself. We swam and splashed and fooled around until we grew tired. Getting out of the water, we lay on the shore to dry off in the sun. We talked some more about Evan, hoping that he would be successful and would return to us clean of drugs.
Propping myself up on one elbow, I looked over at Jack’s necklace which I had learned had a large shark tooth on it. “Why do you always wear that necklace?” I asked.
Jack didn’t respond for some time but finally said, “D’ya remember I told ya about my dad’s crash and that he killed three people?” I nodded. “Well, one of ’em was my twin brother, Carl.” He paused again and wiped a tear from his eye before he continued. “We was really close and he was wearin’ this when he died, so I kept it t’ remember him. If ya look close you can still see his blood stains on the cord.” He wiped away more tears and lay silently on his back.
After a moment I reached over and gently put my hand to Jack’s cheek, saying, “I’m so sorry.” Jack just nodded and remained silent. I lay back and thought, Poor kid. He certainly hasn’t caught many breaks.
On the way back to the park, we stopped at the library. I had been checking my emails every few days, hearing from both Adam and Dexter. Both of them urged me to return home, but I still felt as though I had put home behind me and I needed to look to the future.
That day there was an email from Dexter, which said, in part,
Gayle, I can’t tell you how much I miss you. I’ve known for some time now that I’m in love with you, and I want us to be together. Isn’t there any way you could come to Fort Lauderdale this winter?
All my love, Dexter
In my return email, I wrote,
Dexter, thanks so much for your love. It means so much to me. I think you know that I’m in love with you too, but I need to say that to you more often. I miss you so much and I wish terribly that I could get to Fort Lauderdale, but I don’t see how I can. It’s a long way from where I am and I have no money. I just don’t think hitchhiking would be safe and I can’t figure out how to get the money to go, but I’ll keep trying. Please write back soon. By the way, I guess it’s time I told you that I have a new name now because I’ve always hated the name ‘Gayle.’
All my love, Willy
When I finished I was crying, because, for the first time, I felt trapped.
As we left the library, I asked Jack how I could possibly get enough money to go to Fort Lauderdale. Jack thought for a few moments, before answering, “There’s only three ways I can think of t’ do it. One’d be stealin’ enough money t’ buy a bus ticket, but I know yer not inta stealin’. One’d be hitchhikin’, but that’d be real dangerous. The only other way I can think of’d be ‘survival sex’ but you prob’ly wouldn’t be inta that either. So I really don’t know.”
“Is survival sex selling yourself for sex?” asked Willy.
“Yeah. It’s what Evan’s been doin’. Like I said before, it’s dangerous too, but if ya found the right person t’ buy ya, ya could prob’ly get food, a warm place t’ sleep, and money.”
I thought awhile before saying, “They’re not very attractive options are they?”
“Nope,” replied Jack. “I tell ya, Willy, livin’ on the street’s dangerous, but gettin’ off the streets can be even worse.”
Over the next few weeks, I thought often about my predicament but was unable to come up with a satisfactory solution, so I resigned myself to spending the winter in Grantham.
Summer turned into early fall, with long, sunny, warm days and clear, cold nights. We went swimming a few more times before it got too cold. Earlier in the summer Amanda had sometimes gone to the beach with us but eventually the walking had become too much for her. This last time, Evan, who, had been discharged from the hospital, went with us. He wasn’t much of a swimmer but he seemed to enjoy himself and he even smiled a few times.
As fall continued, the days too turned colder, so that while there was clear sunlight it was deceptive and didn’t provide much warmth.
One cold afternoon, Jack suggested that if he and I hitched our sleeping bags together we would have a double and could benefit from each other’s body heat. It took some time to figure out the mechanics of this, but by evening we had the two bags joined and, after taking care of our evening necessities, we bundled into the bag together.
For a time we lay side by side, talking. We had found in the previous weeks and months much to talk about, from surviving the next day to our long-term goals. Although neither of us had finished high school, we both had dreams of going to college and finding good jobs. Jack was interested in engineering, while I continued to be interested in writing and literature.
Eventually, I rolled onto my side with my back to Jack and began to doze. Before I was entirely asleep, however, I became aware that Jack was moving slowly in the bag, lowering his trousers. A few moments later, I could feel the motion of Jack’s hand moving gradually up and down. After listening a little, I rolled over, put my hand on Jack’s crotch and asked, “Would you like me to do that for you?”
“Jesus, Willy, I thought ya was asleep.”
I grinned in the dark. “Any resemblance between me and Jesus must have to do with my dirty clothes. Come on now. Relax and let me do this for you.”
“I don’t think I should.”
“Why? After all, you’re the one who explored my ass for two weeks, very nicely too.”
“But Willy, yer queer.”
“So what? Are you?”
“I don’t think I am. When I do things with a guy it’s just to relieve myself.”
“That’s fine. If I can relieve you, why shouldn’t I?”
“I dunno. We just don’t have that kind o’ friendship.”
“Look, Jack. I’m in love with somebody and it doesn’t happen to be you. But I like you a lot and my love is far away. So why shouldn’t we relieve each other?”
“Is yer love in Fort Lauderdale? Is that why ya wanted to go there?”
“Yes. He lives there in the winter and in Massachusetts in the summer. And I miss him terribly, but, if you and I did things together, I wouldn’t think of that as being disloyal to him. I’d think of it as relieving both of us and passing the time until I can be with him. Do you get that?”
“I guess so, but yer sure ya want to do me?”
“I am, and I want you to do me.”
“Then we got a problem, ’cause we got no rubbers. ‘Member what the doc said?”
“Yes, but he also told us we’re both clean, so as long as we haven’t had sex with anybody else since, shouldn’t we be safe?”
“Oh. Have ya done anythin’ with anybody since then?”
I shook my head and said, “No. How about you?”
“Nope. So I guess we oughta be safe.”
I moved nearly on top of him and said, “Let me.” I ran my hands over Jack’s willy and balls, which were all that was uncovered. I took his willy in my hand and began slowly moving it up and down.
In a few moments Jack said, “I’m gonna come.”
Pausing just long enough to say, “Good,” I continued, feeling the tension rise in him until the familiar throbbing and spurting began.
When I finished and lay back, Jack said, “That was wonderful. Do ya want me to do ya?”
“Oh, yes,” I responded. So we altered positions some and soon I felt Jack’s hand on my hard willy. “That’s so nice,” I murmured before I came happily.
When we had finished, we lay back, side by side. “Jack,” I asked, “are you sure if you’re not gay that you don’t mind doing this with a gay guy?”
“Well, ’course if I had the choice I’d rather have a girl, but I don’t really have that choice right now, an’ I guess sex is just sex. I guess it feels good with anybody so long as you’re happy an’ enjoyin’ it. I’m sure it don’t have anythin’ to do with lovin ya’, even if I do care a lot about ya. Maybe I even do love ya, but that’d be like a brother, not a lover.”
“Love’s really complicated, isn’t it?”
Jack agreed. Then, almost shyly he asked, “Can we do it again sometime?”
“Sure,” I answered. “But if we ever do it with anybody else, we need to be sure to tell each other.”
For a time we were silent. I lay, wide awake now, satisfied but still missing Dexter dreadfully. In time I became aware of Jack’s deep, regular breathing. Not snoring — just a relaxed, gentle sound. I rolled once again onto my side, this time facing him. I put my arm on his chest, listening to him and feeling his chest rise and fall in time to the breathing, and then slowly, contentedly, I fell asleep.
Amanda’s delivery time was getting close, so the next day Jack and I walked with her to the hospital. At the hospital, the triage nurse looked at me and said, “Not you again!” But she said it with a smile, so I smiled back and told her about Amanda. A nurse finally came and took Amanda into the ER, while we stayed in the waiting room. After the doctor talked with her for a few minutes and checked her over, he came out to tell us that she was nearly ready to deliver and he wanted to admit her to the hospital. Amanda, her resistance totally worn down by fatigue and worry, had agreed.
A few days later we visited her and saw her new son, Joseph. We oohed and aahed appropriately and learned that Amanda was going to stay at a home for mothers who had no place to go. We each gave Joseph and Amanda little kisses on the cheek before we left.
Although I was by nature a loner and an observer, I had come to know a few of the older homeless boys who were not at the campsite, especially three of them – Bryan, Oscar, and Dude – and from time to time I had consulted them about survival. One time I had asked Dude how I could raise money to go to Florida, but he had no suggestions beyond what Jack had already said.
By fall, I had come to understand that many of the homeless kids had mental issues – depression, anxiety, paranoia. They seemed to trust nobody and they often appeared to be depressed. I knew that was true of Evan. I wasn’t so sure about Jack, who always seemed cheerful and upbeat.
The good news was that Evan seemed to be doing better. He no longer stayed out all night, and he often joined Jack and me in our foraging. He was quite adept at getting change out of machines and shoplifting.
By December, it had grown bitterly cold though fortunately there had been no snow. In our dumpster and clothesline raids, I had managed to salvage some heavy socks, a woolen cap, and some woolen mittens with a few holes which I was able to repair. Nevertheless, I was often cold, even though Jack and I both slept in our sleeping bag wearing all of our clothes except our holey sneakers.
As Christmas lights began to appear in stores, I felt a little nostalgic. Christmas was the only time of year when I had ever been happy at home except when I had been with Dexter or had been figure skating. I was missing Mom and Adam. I knew that Christmas this year would be different from all the others, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
One night Evan did not return by the time Jack and I went to sleep. In fact, he was away for a week, and I was very afraid for him. When he returned one morning, I could tell by his dilated eyes that he was back on drugs. He looked sadly at me and said, “I’m sorry, Willy. I tried so hard. You don’t know how hard it’s been for me because I didn’t want to say anything. A few days ago I just couldn’t stand it any longer and got high. I guess I’ve been high ever since.”
I was terribly disappointed, but I gave Evan a hug and encouraged him to try again. He just shook his head, said, “I’m done,” and crawled into his sleeping bag, shivering. As I walked away, I thought, Shit! If he keeps this up he’s going to die. I cried for him, knowing that nothing good could happen.
I continued to e-mail Adam and Dexter often. Adam persisted in asking where I was and I persisted in not telling him. He told me that Dad had had a mild heart attack but had recovered and was back at work. When he wasn’t at law school, Adam was living with Mom and Donald in a tiny apartment. Mom had refused to return to our father as long as I was missing. Donald didn’t seem to care much one way or another, spending most of his time with his friends and often sleeping over at their houses. Adam said he believed Donald was doing drugs, but he couldn’t prove it.
By this time, of course, Dexter was in Fort Lauderdale. One of his emails said,
Willy, I’m forbidden to see my friend here and I haven’t made much in the way of new friends at school. I really feel very alone. I’m trying to figure out how to get some money and get it to you so that you can travel to Florida, but so far I haven’t had much luck. For obvious reasons, I can’t ask my father. But don’t give up, Willy. If we both keep trying to figure it out, I’m sure we’ll find a way. Meanwhile, stay safe and write often.
I love you so much, Dexter
I emailed back, telling Dexter as usual that I missed him and loved him. I wrote that unless a miracle happened I was destined to spend the winter where I was but perhaps we could figure out something before next November.
On Christmas Eve, I sought out the Episcopal Cathedral in the city. I asked Jack to join me at the midnight service, but he declined. He said that he had no belief in God and no interest in going to a service, so I went alone. I admitted to myself that I really didn’t believe in God anymore either. After all I had seen, I couldn’t believe that a just God would allow some of the things I had seen to happen. How could a loving God let what was going on with Evan happen? Shit, the kid was only eleven and didn’t have a chance in hell of surviving. But despite my unbelief, I did love the music, and that was my primary reason for attending the service. It was, however, not a happy experience, as every carol we sang brought back too many memories and reduced me to tears. Halfway through the service, I left.
Wending my way back to the campsite through the dark, silent city I felt very sad and alone. At last I crawled into the sleeping bag beside Jack, who turned over, gave me a hug, and went back to sleep. Thanking God for Jack, I suddenly smiled at the irony of thanking a being in whom I no longer believed.