Early on Saturday morning I went to the wholesale market and picked up fish for bait and then drove to the marina where I met my uncle and the rest of the crew preparing to take the
Tammany Jo
and
Sorsha Lynn
out for a day of fishing. As I dumped the chum in one of the tanks I cheerfully greeted the other four guys, all in their late twenties, and they responded in kind. Being the nephew of the owner has never given me any special privileges and I have paid my dues. Hard work alongside them has made me an equal, not a better.
I found Carl below in the cabin. It was an exceptionally nice salon considering what he used the boat for and had a big kitchen, known as a galley, and a dining area. There were two bedrooms, which are called berths, and one even had a queen-sized bed. The bathroom, uh... head, had a huge shower. You could comfortably live down there.
Carl smiled at me apologetically and reached into his pocket for his wallet. He drew a check from the worn leather. "Sorry I forgot your raise."
I shrugged to indicate it wasn't a big deal. "Um, thanks, Uncle Carl for not telling my dad about Jesse," I said.
He hitched his eyebrow up and asked, "What was I supposed to keep such a secret?"
I started to turn red and looked down at my feet, wishing he'd just accept the gratitude without making me talk about it. "You know, that he and I..."
"Look, Shane," he interrupted. "It's none of my business what you do with your private life, okay? You're a good kid, and I see you working hard here so I presume you do at school too. That's what's important in this world. I disagree with your mom and dad because, frankly, they don't have the right to tell you who to love. So no, I will never discuss you and Jesse with either of your parents."
I smiled at him, feeling a little self-consciousness over all the heart-felt encouragement. This was probably the longest string of words I'd heard Carl utter since I moved here. Then he leaned over and gave me a hug, and that turned into a
big
sense of awkward. Clearing our throats, we sort of pulled away from each other, causing us both to laugh. He ruffled my hair, and I went up on deck to begin my chores.
Over the next couple of weeks Jesse got three more suspicious notes, two in his school locker, one taped to his car. Each one was a little more ominous and little less vague. The last, received on the sixth of April, asked 'How red is Ur fag blood?' I was starting to get scared that someone was truly out to hurt Jesse but he passed it off like it wasn't of any importance and he wasn't intimidated. As he reminded me every time the subject came up, what the stalker wanted was the satisfaction of upsetting Jesse, and if he didn't give into the fear the person would eventually stop.
At least he didn't throw out any of the written threats, storing them in a zip-lock bag in the back of his school locker under a tattered hoody he kept for sudden weather changes. After the eighth one I actually considered swiping them and handing them over to the school principal; we knew each other's locker combinations and it would have been easy enough. But Jesse had such an easy-going way about him and was good at soothing and convincing me I was over-reacting. I didn't think we could be accused of being careless but his refusal to heed them was at least simplistic. We just wanted it to all go away.
And then there was the ongoing discussion of showing affection at school. Jesse was proud to be my lover and wanted to show me off. I wanted that too but I was still afraid. I had at last come to the conclusion that how the other students felt about me wasn't what was significant. No, my concern was that Jesse's name would be linked to mine in a conversation in front of a parent, and that adult would know my father and it would get back to him that I had a boyfriend. As Dad joked about at least once a week, he couldn't stand my mother but at least she had some common sense when it came to the matter of what hole my dick should be playing in.
I tried to explain it to Jesse, and he was more patient than I deserved. Actually, my vacillation made me feel like a wimp who needed his protection. It wasn't as if I'd lost all my self-confidence in the past three months, but I definitely was not the same happy-go-lucky guy I'd been in Rancho Martinez. I guess I could be getting more mature, but mostly I think I was scared of graduating high school and becoming an adult. Jesse was the only person I could talk about my fears to, and I wondered what he saw in me. He would grin and say it was my long blonde hair. Or that my eyes were such a unique shade of turquoise they complimented
his
hair, so we had to be a couple. It would pull me out of my funk, and I'd be alright for a couple of days.
By early April it came down to the wire where I couldn't put off making a decision on which university I would attend the following year, and Jesse and I disagreed on this subject too. I told him of my plans to attend Hope Ranch Community College with him in the fall, and he said I was throwing my life away by refusing my football scholarship and staying put in Calberia.
He had followed me home after school to find Dad's car mysteriously in the driveway, meaning we couldn't go in, so he left his Jeep in an inconspicuous spot up the street. Now my Impala was parked behind the baseball bleachers of a nearby playground. Taking advantage of the privacy that would evaporate once the younger grades finished their classes for the day, we were making out on the wide back bench-seat. He was at first shocked by my choice.
"How can you just blow off tens of thousands of dollars like that?" he demanded in a strangled hush. "Do you know what I'd give if some school offered me that kind of money for college?"
"It isn't blown if it means we can stay together," I explained, planting a kiss on his neck right below the fringe of his black hair. His pink lips were all swollen and kiss-bruised. "If I was going to college far away I wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway from missing you so much."
"Shane, I... I don't know what to say. Part of me is happy you love me that much, but I wish I didn't feel that you're making a big mistake. Playing football in college meant so much to you."
"But that's the beauty of it," I urged, almost bouncing excitedly on the seat. "I'm not giving up playing football. I can join the Hope Ranch team. The major schools scout community colleges too, and in a couple of years I'll transfer into a university as a junior. By then you'll be graduated with an AA. I will take you with me, and you can work or act or whatever you want to do. We'll be together, Jesse."
