Dawn was just breaking, the sky only beginning to change from ebony to deep purple. He knew the sequence that would follow: purple sliding into indigo, then streaks of crimson appearing, the sky becoming redder, vermilion changing to scarlet, to salmon, a quick tease of pink before blushing and fading and being replaced by bright blue, so clean and clear, so deep and vivid that no painter’s palette could do anything but approximate it. He set up his easel and got his paints out from his backpack.
The old hunting blind he was in, hidden up in an old oak tree, was all but invisible from the ground, but he’d known where it was because he’d spent some time there as a boy. It had been his secret place then, when he’d needed one. It was old now, as was he, but, again like him, it was still there, still strong, and it was still hidden among the leaves which were abundant in summer.
He had been here the day before, his climb up the tree evoking memories. Past middle age now but still trim, still boyish in his features, the climb was no harder for him than it had been at thirteen.
He’d trimmed out an opening in the leaves when he’d climbed up yesterday. He’d be able to see the vista he was going to paint in all its beauty. He’d loved this spot as a boy and still found it spoke to him. It would make a stunning painting. He already had a name for it: Old Mill at Daybreak.
««« »»»
“Hurry up!”
“What’s the rush. You’re always in such a hurry, Jordo!” Micah laughed, then reached out and touched his friend’s arm. Somehow, he always seemed to need to touch him. Micah’d never felt that need with anyone else before. But he felt a lot of things that were new to him when he was with Jordan.
“Yeah, and you’re always so slow! Come on!” Jordan laughed, thinking how often this conversation had occurred. Jordan knew he was always wanting to be on the go, always doing things. Micah was much more easygoing, and he seemed to have two speeds about him: slow and slower. Jordan found it funny how the two fit together so well in so many ways but didn’t in this very basic one. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t move Micah any faster than Micah wanted to move, and so, Jordan being who he was, laughing about it was how he responded.
Both boys were fourteen, almost fifteen, and could have been thought to be brothers because they had the same size and build. But Jordan was dark and Micah fair. Jordan laughed easily and a lot, while Micah was more serious, more thoughtful.
The thing they hadn’t said to each other, the thing they hadn’t really allowed themselves to think much about, was how important the other one was. They’d been friends for years, but in the past two years, things had changed—the way they felt had changed—but neither one would admit that.
Jordan was more gregarious than Micah, and he was the one who should have said something, but he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure why, but he hadn’t and wasn’t going to. How do you tell your best friend you think you’ve fallen in love with him? How can you possibly do that? Jordan didn’t know; he hadn’t been able to answer the question, and so he’d done nothing. It was about the only problem he’d ever had that he couldn’t laugh off. But he’d wanted to say something for some time now, to get it all out in the open. He simply hadn’t had the courage.
Micah’s problem was that he wasn’t as self-confident as Jordan. He knew how he felt about Jordan. He knew he loved him. This feeling had been incubating for a long time. But, while he knew Jordan liked him and wanted to spend time with him, he didn’t know if Jordan felt the things he did, and if he did, felt them as strongly. The one thing he did know and know for sure was that the risk of saying anything that might drive them apart was way too much for him to take. That was a mistake he simply wasn’t going to make. This was his secret, and it was going to remain his secret.
Still, this need to touch Jordan was new. It worried him because he felt it would make his feelings too obvious to Jordan, should he notice what Micah was doing. So Micah tried to hold back. But sometimes, he just couldn’t, or he forgot to be careful. Like now.
Micah made the touch seem accidental as he finished stuffing his backpack before standing up. “This isn’t even safe,” he complained for the third time. “Riding our bikes in the dark—we’ll probably end up with a car creaming us.”
“No we won’t. We’re too smart for that.” Jordan ignored the argument, knowing it was superfluous, and that Micah was just being Micah voicing his reservations, his fears. “And besides, stop fussing! You already agreed!”
“Yeah, but that was mostly because of the sleepover part. I was for the sleepover more than I was against the bike ride. But now the sleepover’s done, and the ride isn’t. I’d rather have stayed in bed together. That was nice.”
It had been nice. Usually, when the boys had a sleepover, they’d used sleeping bags on the carpeted floor in Jordan’s or Micah’s room. This had been the first time in over a year they’d shared the bed. It had been exciting for both of them, but they’d both been careful not to do anything that might spoil it. They’d talked, they’d allowed their arms to touch, they’d both had erotic thoughts that remained in their own heads, and they’d fallen asleep together. The best part for Micah was waking up and finding Jordan’s arm draped over him, with Jordan on his side, facing him. He was so close that his breath was softly caressing Micah’s cheek every time he exhaled. Micah loved it.
Both boys had been aroused that morning in bed, but neither wanted the other to know. Micah had lain awake for probably twenty minutes before Jordan stirred, woke, and then rolled over before climbing out of bed, his back to Micah, announcing that they had to get dressed as he ran for the bathroom.
Jordan smiled now as he argued with Micah. Micah loved that smile and loved the fact that remembering the night brought the smile to Jordan’s lips. He also loved lying in bed and watching Jordan—which he was doing now while showing no signs at all of getting up.
But Jordan, something of a force of nature, was not to be denied. “Yeah, that was fun, but you agreed. We’d have a sleepover and then get up early and ride out so we could see the sun come up over the old mill. So get a move on already! The sun rises in half an hour, and we’ve got a twenty-minute bike ride ahead of us.” Then, with good-humored exasperation: “Let’s GO! ”
Micah laughed again. He loved how animated Jordan would get when he was enthusiastic about something. And Jordan really wanted the two of them to see the sun come up over the mill and its early morning rays dance on the still millpond. Micah didn’t know why this was so important to him but was willing to go along. As long as he was doing this with Jordan, just what ‘this’ was didn’t matter all that much.
It was 5:15 and still dark out. Sunrise was still a half hour or so away. The streets were deserted, and the boys had no problems riding out of town down the old, narrow road that still bore the name Terrytown Road. It seldom had much traffic these days. It passed by the single lane pathway they had to take that led to the mill. Both boys had lights attached to their handlebars and reflectors on their spokes, and they made good time.
It was a soft early morning, warm enough that they hadn’t worn jackets. The moon was setting but still providing enough light for them to see the trees along the pathway. They could hear rather than see birds beginning their search for breakfast.
They came out of the trees to see a wide lawn in front of them sloping slightly downhill to the millpond. The mill itself was set back across the pond to their left. The pond was surrounded by large, old-growth trees—oaks and elms, maples and chestnuts among the several varieties. The morning was still early enough that the lingering darkness provided some mystery to the setting, but the sky to the east over the top of the mill was just beginning to lighten.
When the mill had been operational, the area where the boys were standing had been used by the owners as parkland for the employees and family. A lawn had been laid down, and there had even been a small section of sand to provide a beach for kids wanting to swim in the pond.
That had been long ago. It had been years since the mill provided flour for the town’s residents. When it could no longer compete with the giant milling companies, it finally closed. It was now a dark and empty building, outside town just far enough and just inaccessible enough that it was rarely visited by anyone. There was no reason to.
But the grass, now untended, still struggled to keep out intruding wild grasses. It was long but still soft, and when Jordan took a blanket out of his pack and spread it for the boys to sit on, the grass acted as padding.
For some reason, when they were both sitting on the blanket, something changed. The lighthearted mood they’d been in turned tense. Jordan didn’t immediately start speaking, and as the silence grew, so did the tension.
Micah felt it, too, because he was closely attuned to Jordan’s moods. He wasn’t sure why, but sitting here, neither of them speaking in the very early morn, he felt something was different, was off, something was awkward between them. Perhaps it was just the old mill looming in the darkness, quiet and hulking. Perhaps it was just that they were all alone. He didn’t know what it was—neither of those conjectures seemed to capture just what was causing what he was feeling—but sitting there in the dark, in the quiet night with dawn still just a portent, he somehow felt they were waiting for something more than the sun. And because of the silence, he knew Jordan was feeling it, too.
Jordan was nervous, and Micah felt it. This was so odd for Jordan that it left Micah silent, wondering why.
The boys sat silently. The night was warm and still, the air velvety. The tension seemed to grow as the time passed. Jordan remained stolid. Micah, not understanding, but knowing Jordan better than he knew anyone, sighed and moved slightly so his shoulder was against Jordan’s. Jordan broke his reverie and glanced at Micah and smiled. Micah felt some of the tension he’d been feeling dissipate.
As they watched, looking out over the old mill, the sky almost imperceptibly began to lighten.
The ebony skyline paled to a deep gray, layered so the top was still dark black and the lower edge was lighter. As the boys watched, color appeared—first a deep purple, then lighter shades, moving from purple to pink— every minute, every second seeming to bring a slightly different hue.
Then the sun itself sparked into view, just a millimeter wide on the horizon, but bright enough that the boys had to look away. As it slowly, majestically rose, the earth was bathed in light, and the ominous mill became an aged building with graying boards, peeling paint and boarded-up lower windows.
Then the sun’s rays flashed across the millpond that was flat as a mirror in the breezeless morning, the angles of the reflections changing as the sun continued its ascendance.
The boys watched, transfixed. Then, two crows began a battle for a dead lizard, and the mood was broken by their raucus argument.
Jordan shuddered. Micah thought he’d laugh, but Jordan didn’t. Instead, he pulled away from Micah, then turned to face him.
“What’s wrong?” Micah asked.
“I’m scared,” Jordan said in a low voice.
Micah frowned, then glanced around him. There was nothing to see that hadn’t been there all along. “We’re alone here, Jordo. Nothing to be afraid of.” And, not able to resist, he reached out and touched Jordan.
Micah touched his shoulder, wanting to touch his cheek but settling on the shoulder. Then he was surprised because, in that instant, everything changed.
Jordan reached up and grabbed Micah’s hand. Micah had meant to withdraw it immediately, slightly embarrassed by the need he felt to touch Jordan. Jordan wouldn’t let him. Feeling Micah’s hand and having an inchoate but instinctive feeling why Micah had touched him, Jordan’s spirit was revived.
So, he grabbed Micah’s hand, pinned it against his own shoulder, and sat up straighter. Micah saw Jordan’s eyes light up, and he knew it wasn’t just the sun being reflected. He saw the inner light that Jordan’s eyes frequently had. Whatever had been bothering his friend was gone. His vitality had returned.
“Micah?”
Micah smiled at him but didn’t answer. There was no reason to. Jordan, being Jordan, was going to say what he was going to say.
“I’ve been sitting here brooding; OK, I was scared. And that’s stupid. I wanted you here to see the sun come up. While it was rising, I wanted to tell you something. I was afraid to, but that’s what was stupid. I don’t have to be scared. I never have to be when I’m with you.”
Then, without pausing because he needed to get it out, “Micah, I love you. I love you…” He tapered off to nothing, not knowing what more to say and his emotions overwhelming him.
He didn’t need to say anything more. Micah’s eyes began watering, and he moved so his whole body was against Jordan’s. “I love you too, Jordo,” he said, almost in a whisper. “I have forever. I’ve been the one afraid to say anything.”
Then, after a moment of silence while they were both absorbing what had just been said, Micah, atypically, asked, “Hey, you weren’t scared I didn’t love you, were you?” And his eyes got a devilish glint in them, one that Jordan rarely saw but loved when he did.
“Of course not!” Jordan lied, and then laughed.
They’d just passed a significant, emotional moment, and what happened next wouldn’t have happened if they had been older. But, they were fourteen. They were both ecstatic. What they’d have done had they been older would have been much different. But the emotions they felt at fourteen were more than they could handle, and the overflow was transferred into energy. Jordan jumped up, Micah right with him. They hugged and danced a little, not very surefooted on the blanket, and then Jordan sort of hopped around and took off running, down to the pond. He stooped down and touched the water.
“Hey, it’s warm!” he called back to Micah.
“Of course. Remember the warm spring that feeds it? It’s warm all year, but especially in the summer. You know that?”
“Yeah, but I thought, early in the morning…” Jordan grinned at Micah, who was walking toward the pond. Then, Jordan suddenly began undressing.
“What are you doing?” Micah asked.
“Going swimming! I feel so, so…” He couldn’t figure out exactly what he felt—excitement, fulfillment, happiness, exuberance—but his energy level was peaking, and he needed to be doing something physical.
Micah watched him, grinning. He liked Jordan the Impulsive. It was one of Jordan’s better traits. Then, when Jordan had nothing on but his briefs, they were shucked off as well, and he turned to look at Micah.
“Coming with me?”
Micah was looking at a naked Jordan, and his thoughts were scattered. He’d seen Jordan naked before, but not often and certainly not directly after being told Jordan loved him. This was a sight to behold. Jordan was slim, beginning to show signs of muscle definition, still practically hairless but looking nothing like an 8-year-old, either.
Jordan saw where Micah was looking and blushed. Then he turned around, took several steps back, then ran forward and, with a long leap, splashed into the water. He came up, shook his hair to produce a multitude of rainbows from the drops of water spraying around his head like a halo in the sunrise, and yelled, “Come on!”
The boys swam and played in the warm water for a half hour. The sun was well up by that time, high enough that they couldn’t look to the east at all without having to cover their eyes.
They walked back to the blanket. The morning temperature was in the mid-80’s and even though they were wet, neither boy was cold. They sank down onto the blanket and instinctively reached for each other.
The water on their bodies made them slippery, and in a moment they were holding and sliding against each other. They kissed, the first time they’d ever done that, and between the kissing and the sliding, they were both in a state of arousal at a level they’d never experienced before.
With bodies and hands, each of them managed to bring the other to the pinnacle of excitement and then beyond. Afterward, after resting, Jordan leaped up and ran to the pond, a little embarrassed but still euphoric, and jumped in. Micah stayed on the blanket, just enjoying watching his best friend run, and then it was his turn. Halfway to the pond, his emotions overtook him, and in his joy, he began spinning like a small child does, his arms rising so they were spread out from his body, parallel to the ground as he spun, turning and turning, whether from centrifugal force or his own emotions, he did not know. He was dizzy when he hit the water and overcome with laughter.
Their next time on the blanket they went at it with more restraint but more familiarity, and the inevitable conclusion still came quickly. They swam again before returning to the blanket and using their hands to wipe the water off each other. That had to lead to more intimacy, and it did.
It wasn’t till late afternoon that they mounted their bikes and rode for home, pedaling slowly, wanting to savor the day and their newfound closeness, their feelings, their love.