I screwed up again.
At least I didn't think how it would make Sid feel. We stood alone talking on the porch, the waves roaring as a backdrop, and at first I wondered why he was so bothered by me feeling him up in front of Les and good ol' Smith. I thought it was just a bit of fun.
I didn't think.
He told me, "Don't ever do that to me again." The hurt in his face just cut me in two.
"It took everything inside to pull away from you in there. This isn't a fucking game, Wes. Stop it."
Maybe the cause for my serious lapse in judgment was because I've never had much self-control or at least never exercised it much. To be cliché, self-control and Sid were almost synonymous. To Sid losing self-control was like driving bamboo under his fingernails. To me it was more like a biting off a hangnail.
Hangnail or not, I did know what he meant. I shouldn't be playing games. This was serious. Thinking I could win playing a game with Fate was ludicrous. I worried that changing time was like shooting craps. Nothing and everything had changed. My family still suffered. Sid suffered. I suffered. Every time I rolled, fate slapped my hand. My life had become just one helpless tumble after another. I had to admit, I enjoyed some of the helpless tumbles (falling into to bed with Sid for one), but the others were nasty falls. Sometimes when a person falls, the best thing to do was to roll with it. Why try to hold on anymore if the end result was being bloody and bruised?
As he stared out at the lake, his knuckles white, gripping the railing with one hand and his coffee mug with the other, I imagined he was trying to wrestle the dice away from Old Man Fate. For someone who didn't want to play games, he was struggling to play. Didn't he know the odds were stacked against him?
My eyes fixed to the same point as Sid's in the distance. We watched as the dark flickering clouds boiled over the lake clashing against the bright starched sky surrounding us. The wind was gusting and white caps on the waves broke on the sand, slapping rhythmically. The storm would be here in an hour, maybe less. I sucked the ionized air into my lungs, waiting for Sid to speak.
"I don't know anymore how much is you," he said, "and how much is this sickness."
Part of me wanted to reach for him, but another part of me knew better-- knew how he'd react. How he'd step back from me, and his back would stiffen. He couldn't lose his self-control. He was too close to me right now. I could smell and feel him through my pores like the sparks of ionized air around me. Even now I wanted him, and I knew he felt the same about me.
Only weeks before, I thought the same way he did now, that this feeling was a sickness. Now it'd become part of my life like breathing. Something I couldn't live without, needed but could calibrate. Hadn't Sid taught me? Breathing slow and quiet. Sometimes I'd forget and breath only through my mouth in long hard drags. The need I had for Sid was the same. I was sorry I'd lost myself earlier in front of Les and Smith. Sometimes, like before I'd forget and take Sid in like a sudden gasp from my lips.
But this was new for him. Part of the process of turning into an immortal was a loss of self. That part was horrifying for me too.
I blamed the roses and the Lancasters. What would he blame? A vial of serum and me? I should have seen it. Since self-control was so important to Sid, he would feel trapped losing it.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I know what you did in front of those two was just you being the Wes I love. Only I feel so different now, like you're some kind of charged electron that I keep falling into. I don't know. God, I can't stand to be without you. It's fucking painful. When I went to go change, I thought I was some heroin addict. Christ, Wes I was shaking. Right now I trying my best not to touch you, and I hate it. I want to touch you. I just don't want to feel like I have to touch you. Do you understand?"
I nodded. Yeah, I knew that feeling. I remember groping him in the back seat of Alan's car. That first kiss in the apartment and my anger when he denied me.
I knew he didn't doubt I loved him. I was sad that he still wondered how much lust was mine, and how much was in bed with my DNA. I almost asked to go for a walk on the beach to talk about it, but that would be counter productive.
As I stepped tentatively beside him, I noticed Sid's faded gray sweatshirt blotched with wet coffee stains from the cup he was holding. It bothered me. Spilling things all over myself was part of my nature. I was a klutz. Sid? He never spills so much as a drop of beer when he was falling down, shit faced, drunk.
As I watched him frowning at the horizon, I wondered if I'd been fooling myself. Maybe I had no idea at all what it was like for him. He was bound to me. What did that mean? We could stand out on the porch and talk about it, but I didn't want anyone to overhear.
"Maybe we should go for a drive," I suggested. After all, Sid's car was parked around the side of the house. He nodded.
"I'll get the keys," he said. I gave him space to breathe, letting him walk off alone to his room. This sadness was a chisel chipping at my heart. Hearing the sliding door shut felt like one more tap. I walked around the side of the house to the car. As the sand pushed cool between my toes, I thought maybe I should put on my tennis shoes. While sand and shoes don't mix, we'd be in the car, and it was going to rain. Ah, I knew it was an excuse to go into the house with Sid. Instead I opened the door to his '72 Cutlass S and waited in the passenger seat, brushing the sand off before I stepped inside. Same white interior, in the same pristine condition-- minus one cracked windshield and bloodstained upholstery.
He came out the back door, head down watching his feet. He had on his old scuffed-up loafers. I wiggled my toes and sighed.
He stood with his hand on the door handle, hesitating. When he opened the door, it gave the familiar groan of raw metal grating against raw metal.
"Needs oil," he commented, flopping into the white bucket seat and fiddling with the keys. "You wanna drive?"
I hesitated. I was pretty sure he was just being polite, but I wasn't positive. Still, I think he'd be nervous with me driving his car-- shit, I'd be nervous with me driving his car.
"No you," I answered.
He pumped the gas once and turned over the ignition, smiling-- at least his car was reliable. As he backed out he asked, "Where to?"
Now that was the question. I had in mind cruising around with no particular destination. Now for Sid driving aimlessly was a waste of time. Since I knew the area like the back of my hand, and the only thing he knew was that Lake Michigan was west, it was up to me to decide. Besides, there was a place I was dying to go to.
"Turn left up ahead. We can go to Cherry Point-- it's about twelve miles from here outside of Shelby."
"Cherry Point? Let me guess. They sell cherries. Lots of them."
"Yes, and the best cherry strudel you'll ever have in your life. Almost as good as sex."
Sid frowned and gave me the-- what the fuck did you say that for-- look.
"Well," I protested. "It's the truth. And the macadamia nut cookies are almost as good."
"You aren't going to make any smart ass cherry jokes like Lynn are you?" Sid asked. "Because I'm not in the mood."
"No, why would I?" I asked. "They're always at my expense anyhow."
What was he all pissy about? He usually laughed at them the loudest. I tinkered with the seat belt, I wondering what Lynn was doing now. Not cooking, thank God. That I didn't miss. But I was hungry.
Mmm, strudel.
"Seriously," I added. "I love the place."
I rolled down the window part way, just enough to taste the lake.
"Ok, we'll go there-- direct me."
"Turn north on South 16th-- it's up ahead. Then take until it ends. That's Cherry Point. On the corner of West Buchanan and 16th. It used to be this little roadside stand, but now it's a bit more commercial, landscaping and all that. They sell tourist stuff-- t-shirts and books along with the cherries and fruits and vegetables like you'd find at farmers' markets. But it's their baked goods that I crave."
"So you say. Sounds like you've been going there since you were a kid."
