A cool, damp, April breeze tossed Trevor's dark blond hair about his head as he and Timothy walked slowly through the neighborhood. Neither spoke as they strolled along the sidewalk on Eleventh Street. Every once in a while Timothy would catch his foot on a broken segment of the sidewalk that had been pushed up by a tree root, and Trevor would catch him, grinning and suggesting he was a klutz. Timothy would grin back, but without much enthusiasm. The Saturday morning cartoons were over on television and a few kids had ventured out after lunch. The two boys walked beneath the old oaks and cottonwoods that lined the street. Tufts of white cotton from the cottonwoods floated through the air and gathered on the ground like snow in places. Above, the budding branches of the trees spread out in spidery silhouettes against the gray sky. The melancholy weather seemed to match Timothy's melancholy mood.
"Nothing's right, Trev," Timothy finally muttered as they came to the corner at Union. "I'm not right. Mommy's not right. Andy and Sally aren't right. The kids at school aren't right. No one, nothing… nothing's right."
Trevor nodded and said, "I understand. You want things to be the way they were before your dad died, but things can't ever go back the way they were."
They turned toward the park and slowly crossed Eleventh Street. Timothy sniffed and said, "I want things to go back to the way they were."
"They can't."
"I know, but I wish… I wish Daddy was alive. Mommy was crazy, but she wasn't as crazy when he was alive as she is now. Andy and Sally were always trouble, but now, without Daddy to keep 'em in line, Mommy just yells at them and they yell back. And, school… no one treats me the same now."
"Well, that's partly because…"
Trevor stopped walking and Timothy took a few steps, then realized Trevor had stopped. He turned and saw the nervous look on his friend's face. "What?" he asked.
"You're different, too, and I guess no one knows how to treat you now."
"How am I different—and don't say because I want to do it all the time. I already told you that I won't do that anymore—at least not like that."
Trevor sighed and said, "You're sad all the time. You never smile anymore. You just go off by yourself."
Timothy looked down at the damp sidewalk. Someone had used chalk or a rock to draw a hop-scotch pattern on the concrete. His eyes darted from square to square as he listened to Trevor's response. His friend stepped forward and put a hand on Timothy's shoulder.
"Dad says you've lost your innocence."
Timothy frowned and asked, "What am I guilty of? I haven't done anything wrong."
"No, no," Trevor quickly explained. "Not that kind of innocence. You've lost the innocence of being a child who's never known anything but happiness and security and love. Now, you've seen what the real world is like. You've lost your dad and you know what the world really is now. People die. Some people are jerks. Some people are crazy. Stuff happens. Dad says you've been protected from everything and now you know that bad things happen to good people."
Timothy turned and started walking on toward the park. "But, why does God let bad things happen to good people? Daddy believed in God. He prayed every night. We went to church every Sunday. He never lied or was mean to anyone or cheated or did anything wrong. Mommy's always getting mad and lying. I mean, I didn't want anyone to die, but why did Daddy suffer and die when Mommy is so much more… bad, I guess… than Daddy was? Why does God do that?"
Trevor shrugged as they walked. Timothy shook his head and said, "Granddad says it's all God's plan and we never know what God's plan is. He says God needed Daddy in Heaven to help him out."
Trevor took a deep breath as they reached the next corner. The park was in front of them. It was deserted except for a single, lone figure, a teenage boy on the other side, slowly walking, head bowed, through the dormant grass, kicking an occasional twig on the ground.
Trevor said nothing in response to what Timothy had said. He knew what he wanted to say, but wasn't sure how to say it. Silently, they crossed the street and Trevor led the way into the park. They walked slowly across the damp grass, an occasional drop of water falling on them from the limbs and branches above (them)x. As they approached the pavilion, Timothy sniffed and Trevor took his hand. They sat down at one of the green-painted wooden picnic tables on the concrete patio under the extended roof of the building.
"You want a Coke?" Trevor asked.
Timothy shrugged and the other boy nodded and walked over to the old, red Coke machine. He dropped his coins in and removed two small, green-tinted bottles. Popping the caps off, he turned and handed one to Timothy, who automatically looked at the bottom.
"Tulsa," he said softly.
"Omaha," Trevor read as he sat down across from his friend. "Once, when I was real little and Dad was working on his PhD at UT, we drove from Austin to Chicago to see some friends of Dad's and we stopped and spent the night in Tulsa."
Timothy nodded and said, "I have an aunt and uncle in Omaha, actually Bellevue. Uncle David's stationed at SAC headquarters at Offutt Air Force Base."
"One of the people who's going to destroy the world?"
Timothy started to protest, but then saw the grin on Trevor's face and smiled.
"Hey," Trevor exclaimed softly. "That's the first smile I've seen on your face for weeks."
Timothy nodded and said, "It's only because you're my… my… I don't know. Boyfriend? Can a boy have a boyfriend?"
"Yeah. Sure. Why not?"
Timothy shrugged and said, "You know. People say that…"
"Fuck what people say."
Timothy looked up with shock.
"I've never heard you say the word. I've heard your dad say it, but I've never heard you say it."
"That's because this time, what I had to say was important. You remember what your dad said to you in the hospital, about always being your own man and not giving in to what others think? Well, who cares what other people think? I don't. I love you, Timothy, and I think I fell in love with you the day we met. It almost killed me when I thought I'd fucked it up and insulted you that first day. I'm so glad you gave me a second chance. If I believed in God, I'd say that he brought us together. But, I don't, so I'm glad that we happened to run into each other, because I'd have been miserable in this Podunk town without a friend like you."
Timothy smiled and said, "Yeah. I know."
He paused a moment and then asked, "You really don't believe in God?"
"Do you?" Trevor asked. "I mean, really, underneath all the stuff where we're supposed to believe and we tell everyone we do and act like good boys and girls. Underneath all that, deep inside your brain, do you?"
Slowly, Timothy shook his head.
"I think I stopped believing when Daddy told me there wasn't a Santa Claus and I realized that sometimes we believe in things because they make us feel better. Kids like to believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy and grown-grownups like to believe in God because it makes them feel better. I guess they're closer to dying than we are and they get afraid and believing in him makes them feel better, but like you just asked me… deep down, inside, underneath all the stuff that says we're supposed to believe, underneath it all, I think they know the truth, but they don't want to admit it because it scares them not to believe in him."
Trevor smiled and said, "You're pretty smart."
Timothy shrugged and said, "I just can't believe that a God that really loves his people would only send people who believe in him to Heaven or that he would let Hitler kill all the Jews and start World War Two and… That tornado in Topeka a couple of years ago… it went right through the middle of the city and killed people and tore up hundreds of houses and Washburn University and tore the gold panels off the dome on the state capitol. Why would he do that? Why would he let those three astronauts burn to death in that space capsule? Why would he let Daddy get a brain tumor and suffer and die? If a God who can do anything would let this stuff happen, then I don't want to believe in him."
Trevor took Timothy's hand across the table and saw a new look on the boy's face. It was as if Timothy had suddenly changed from a boy to a man—a man in a boy's body. Trevor pressed his lips together and Timothy looked up.
"Maybe this is what your dad meant when he said I lost my innocence," Timothy said softly.
Trevor nodded.
"Tim, would you like to come live with us?"
Timothy looked up with surprise.
"I mean, not like legally and officially and all that. But, Mom and Dad were thinking that maybe you could sleep over at our place all the time. It's not like you don't almost anyway. But, Dad was thinking your mom might let you. I mean, you could still go see her and visit your grandparents and go home for holidays and special occasions and dinner sometimes and all that. But, you'd sleep with us—with…me. Would you like that?"
Timothy looked him in the eyes and slowly, silently nodded.
Trevor smiled and said, "Dad's over at your house right now talking to your mom about it. He's pretty certain she'll say yes."
"But what if your dad gets a job at a better university?"
Trevor snorted. "Dad was right. You don't go from UC Berkeley to a teacher's college in Kansas and then back up to a first class university. We're going to be here for a while. Don't worry about that."
Timothy smiled and squeezed Trevor's hand.
"This is where you were sitting when I met you."
"No. I was sitting on this side of the table. Daniel was sitting where you're sitting," Trevor replied with a grin.
"Yuck," Timothy groused as he scooted over.
Trevor giggled and then said, "You know, there's probably a reason Daniel's the way he is."
Timothy looked down and said, "Yeah. Sometimes, I feel sorry for him because I know he's lonely. I know he wants friends, but…he's so…pushy and weird and… I don't know. Maybe he's a decent guy underneath all that pest stuff and everything, but… I wish I hadn't blown up like that yesterday, but it all just got too much for me. I mean Daddy dying and Jimmy Blankenship always giving us trouble and Daniel being Daniel and… I just went crazy. Daniel was right. I was crazy."
"Everyone snaps," Trevor replied. "Sometimes, everything just gets too much and we snap. There's a reason for everything we do."
Timothy nodded and said, "Maybe that's the way it is with Daniel. Maybe there's a reason he's such a pain in the butt."
Trevor nodded and said, "Maybe his dad pushes him too hard or insults him or something or maybe his mom is mean to him or… I don't know. There's probably a reason he's the way he is."
Timothy sighed and looked across the park at the statue of John C. Fremont, under which Timothy had lain the afternoon Daniel had bugged him about having a stiffy, the afternoon he had first met Trevor.
"When you went to the bathroom that day I met you, when you were sitting here reading and Daniel was being a pest and you got up to go to the restroom," Timothy said, "Daniel seemed so proud when he said, 'This is my friend, Trevor.' It was like he'd just won the Soap Box Derby or something. He was so proud and then you went to the restroom and I said something and he almost cried when he said, 'He was my friend before he was yours!' It was like, he was so lonely and so thrilled to have a friend. I've really hated Daniel, but… I think about that. I think about that a lot and… it doesn't make me feel good. I don't like the way I acted to him then."
Trevor nodded and said, "Yeah. I wonder about him, too, sometimes."
Timothy frowned and looked up. "Maybe… I should apologize to him Monday and, well, maybe…"
"Yeah?"
Timothy swallowed and said, "Maybe we should try to be his friend. Maybe he wouldn't be such a jerk and a pest then and maybe he'd be happy."
Trevor smiled and said, "Maybe you're right. Maybe…"
He pressed his lips together and said, "You know, this park is special. We first met here, and I realized I loved you here. And, now I see what a special person you are. Sometimes, when terrible things happen, people learn and grow. Maybe this has all made you a stronger person, Tim."
Timothy smiled sadly and looked down.
"Maybe, your dad is right. Maybe I lost my innocence, and maybe I found something, too."
"You're wiser than your were," Trevor replied. "You lost your innocence, but gained some wisdom."
Timothy nodded and said, "It's weird how life does that."
Trevor nodded. After a long moment, the boys squeezed their hands.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
Holding hands, they stared into each other's eyes until Timothy saw movement to his side. The lonely teenager was slowly walking toward the edge of the park, past the giant, black railroad engine. He looked so sad that Timothy felt the urge to run over to him and ask… what?
He could not think of what he would ask, but he turned back to Trevor and said, "If you hadn't moved here, that would have been me."
Trevor smiled and released Timothy's hand as he rose from the bench.
"Come on," he said softly. "Let's go home. We can do it when we get up to the room."
"Are you sure?" Timothy asked cautiously.
Trevor smiled and nodded. "I want to."
"Me, too," Timothy replied.
He rose from the table and silently, the two boys walked through the park toward Trevor's house, their arms brushing back and forth against each other, content knowing the other was at his side, all their love expressed by their silence and the occasional contact of their arms, and Timothy smiled. Walking across the damp grass, under the wet branches of the trees and the gray, overcast sky, he realized that it was actually quite a beautiful day.
The End