In the City of Shy Hunters (37 page)

Bobbie's pink thumbnail was bleeding.

Just the wind and the way things sound at sunset.

The horrific whisper: Promised?

What did you promise? Bobbie said.

My breath in. My breath out.

To always tell the truth to each other, I said. That our secrets are always safe with each other, I said. We promised to always respect each other and never forget each other.

Bobbie's big brown eyes. She reached her hand across from her swing to my swing, put her hand palm up against my open palm.

Just then was perfect, the exact moment in between dog and wolf.
Entre chien et loup
. The world went from day to night, the wind stopped, the cottonwood trees stood perfectly still, and, in the whole world, Bobbie's whisper was the only thing you could hear.

Bobbie's whisper: Charlie and me. We got to do that.

THE WAY BOBBIE
figured it, she and I were the same in blood and Charlie and I were the same in blood, so she and Charlie had to be the same in blood too.

So the next day we saddled up ayaHuaska and Chub, and Charlie rode ayaHuaska and Bobbie and I doubled on Chub. The spots on ayaHuaska's butt said: wind.

Big wind, Charlie said.

Horse farts, Bobbie said.

We tied the reins together and let the reins go and we played Going Slack. Charlie and ayaHuaska in the lead, Bobbie and me on Chub, just behind. Just like old times, the three of us riding free, the wind in our hair, the long yellow grass fancy-waving, the blue sky coming down all the way around us.

Charlie did the Hooker Arm Drag and the Saddle Spin.

Bobbie wasn't going to be outdone so Bobbie and I worked it out, and Bobbie and I stood up on Chub, and Bobbie and I did a Duet, our arms sticking out, and Bobbie and I felt the way we'd always wanted to feel. The way the ocean feels, rolling rolling, or why birds like to fly so much.

Double Hippodrome Stand.

Through the paths in the willows to Spring Creek, galloping, willow leaves and branches stinging our face and arms, Charlie ahead on ayaHuaska, Bobbie and me on Chub, we rode until we got to our willow tree.

Who can get their clothes off first?

Bobbie was the first, way ahead of Charlie. Charlie was still on his Levi's buttons when Bobbie dived off the bank, the smooth round white arc of her in the blue sky, big splash into the blue-green water.

Charlie's body, then mine, one arched uninterrupted muscle each, one long breath through clear water, one long hot dusty day; our youth.

Whooping and hollering, water in our ears and nose, our breath in and out, in and out, the mud under our feet sticky and deep.

THEN LATER, LYING
on the grass in the sun, naked on our towels. Bobbie's towel a cornflower-blue rectangle. My towel a white rectangle. Charlie's swimming-pool blue. Bobbie lined up the three towels, just so, facing north and south, Bobbie in the middle, each one of us chewing on a stem of the good kind of grass, swatting deerflies, frogs and crickets going, a blue jay yakking in the willows, dragonflies, a water snake through the soggy grass. The sun heading west, the sky yellow bright.

Bobbie got up, walked to Charlie's Levi's and picked them up, took Charlie's red Swiss army knife out of the pocket. I turned my eyes away when Bobbie walked back. The hair of her down there, I never did get used to.

Bobbie knelt on her cornflower-blue towel and sat down on her calves, her back to the sun. Bobbie took Charlie by the wrist. Charlie sat up.

Bobbie's first slice across Charlie's wrist drew blood.

Charlie looked at the blood coming out of his wrist, then up at Bobbie, over to me.

We got to be equal in all of this, Bobbie said.

Charlie's hair was wet and hanging down his back. So black and wavy in the sun. For a while, Charlie didn't know what to do with his face. His black eyes under his broad brow were two dark holes. Then Charlie smiled. The gap between his two front teeth was another dark hole.

Bobbie handed the knife to Charlie and held out her wrist. Charlie laid the knife blade on Bobbie's wrist, but he didn't cut.

You son of bitch! Bobbie said. Cut me or I'll cut your fucking balls off.

Charlie pushed the knife and sliced. You could hear the slice.

Blood coming up out of Bobbie's wrist, rolling down her forearm. Blood coming up out of Charlie's wrist, rolling down his forearm.

Charlie pressed his wrist to Bobbie's wrist and with his other hand grabbed Bobbie's forearm. Bobbie put her hand around Charlie's forearm. Charlie leaned his forehead against Bobbie's forehead.

Magpies in the willows, blue jays yakking, frogs, crickets. The sun on the down side. All at once, everything loud and bright and full.

My sister, Charlie said, I promise to always tell the truth to you. I promise that your secrets are always safe with me. I promise to always respect you and love you and never forget you.

A drop of blood fell on Bobbie's cornflower-blue rectangle.

Now you go, Charlie said.

Bobbie reached behind Charlie's neck and pulled Charlie to her, forehead to forehead.

My brother, Bobbie said, I promise to always tell the truth to you. I promise that your secrets are always safe with me. I promise to always respect you and love you and never forget you.

I promise, Bobbie said.

I promise, Charlie said.

CHARLIE AND BOBBIE
slid down the bank to the water and washed the blood off. It took awhile for the bleeding to stop. We tore my T-shirt in half and wrapped one half around Bobbie's wrist, the other half around Charlie's.

We were lying on our towels again, Charlie on his swimming-pool-blue rectangle, Bobbie in the middle on her cornflower-blue rectangle, me on my rectangle of white. Chub and ayaHuaska were snorting, tailswatting deerflies, munching on the green grass.

Charlie was up on his elbows, looking over at Bobbie's breasts. Charlie's cock was getting hard.

Charlie getting hard started getting me hard.

I tried to think of something else. Starving Korean children. President Kennedy getting shot. The Mormon church taking over the world.

Bobbie pulled herself up and leaned back on her elbows.

Bobbie's hair was wet and pulled back off her face. Her cheeks were rosy from the sun. Her neck was long and her breasts curved down to her nipples, the slope under her breasts. Her belly was flat and in the sun the light blond hair on her white skin. Then, farther down, the dark hair of her crotch.

Never did get used to that hair.

THAT WAS WHEN
you two first made love, Bobbie said, Wasn't it?

When? Charlie and I said together.

When you became blood brothers, Bobbie said.

Charlie slapped a mosquito on his back. Bobbie slapped a deerfly on her ass cheek.

Well, I said, Not really. Charlie was always jerking off, and sometimes I'd help him out.

But, Bobbie said, That was the first time the two of you
made love
, right?

Made love?
I said.

Charlie sat up, crossed his legs, and crossed his arms over his crotch.

That's right, Charlie said. That day was the first time.

We made love, I said.

A big old rainbow trout jumped up out of Spring Creek right then, and Charlie and Bobbie and I all saw the trout, and we went: Ah! Wow! Fuck! Did you see that? That was a rainbow!

All of us sitting up, pointing. All of us all one thing. All that was left of the trout, a circle of water going out.

YOU
'
RE GOING THIS
way and then shit happens and then you're going that way.

Fatum.

Trouble in my forearms, up my arms, down through my heart, splash down into stomach.

So that's what we should do, Bobbie said.

Bobbie didn't look over to Charlie or to me. The sun was straight in her face, the circle of water on her face, sun reflected.

Do? I said.

We should make love. Bobbie said, All of us.

What? I said.

Charlie's eyes two black holes in his face. Underneath his hands, in the shadows, the head of his cock poking through, leaking cum.

You're brother and sister! Charlie said.

And Cotton Parker is my father, Bobbie said.

And you two are both males, Bobbie said. Homos. They throw you in jail for that. So what the fuck?

Bobbie, I said.

Bobbie pulled a piece of grass out of the ground, the good kind, stuck the stem in her mouth, chewed on it, then took the grass out of her mouth, held the stem like a pointer, and shook the pointer in Charlie's face. In my face.

Listen up! Bobbie said. All of us, each one of us here, is fucked up.
Goddamned square pegs in a world of round holes. Ain't one of us fits in anywhere. And we never will. Ain't one of us got a friend in the world. And I doubt we ever will.

Charlie 2Moons, Bobbie said, You're a half-breed oversexed homo.

Will Parker, Bobbie said, You're a crybaby and a homo and don't have the gumption to hurt a fly.

And me, Bobbie said, Me, Barbara Lynn Parker, I'm a sixteen-year-old slut who's fucking her daddy.

Now I might be wrong, Bobbie said, But I don't think so. There ain't a whole lot of hope for us. We ain't got a prayer, Bobbie said. Not one of us.

Bobbie lifted up her shoulder nearest me, leaned her head in to the shoulder.

Unless we win the lottery, Bobbie said. And fucking Idaho don't even
have
a lottery.

Fuck hope.

But we got each other, Bobbie said. And now we got each other's blood, and you two got each other's cum. And I feel left out, Bobbie said. We're all in this together. We've promised to love and respect each other and keep one another's secrets. This will be our secret. The thing that we'll never tell. The thing that will bind us together forever.

Bobbie poked Charlie in the arm.

Charlie 2Moons, Bobbie said, Your fucking dick's hard just thinking about it!

The strips of my T-shirt around Bobbie's wrist, Charlie's wrist, big red splotches of blood.

What about a baby? I said.

The wind in the tules, the willows. Frogs and crickets, deerflies. Mosquitoes. The whole noisy afternoon.

Bobbie turned her head around to me, spit out grass juice. Bobbie's big brown eyes.

Baby? Bobbie said, Baby? What fucking baby? I ain't never going to
have
no fucking baby!

ON HER CORNFLOWER
-blue rectangle, Bobbie spread her legs just as wide as her cornflower-blue towel and put her hand in her hair down there. She pushed off her hips. She pulled the folds of her aside down there. The red-pink hole in the dark-brown hair.

With her hand up and down, Bobbie showed us how to make the little man in the boat stand up.

Deep Flower, Bobbie said.

First Charlie put his hand down there and rubbed up and down with two fingers like Bobbie did. Bobbie made a low sound and lay down off her elbows, her hair spread out against cornflower blue, her eyes staring up at the sky.

Then I put my hand down there. I was surprised it wasn't a small hole down there like the hole at the end of my cock. And how gushy Deep Flower was and warm and endless. I pulled my fingers up and down on Bobbie's man in the boat.

The clitoris, Bobbie said, The clit.

It was like a piece of gristle you wanted to bite.

Charlie kissed Bobbie full open kiss on the mouth. I kept pulling my fingers up and down and Bobbie was arching her back and making little cries. Charlie was hard, his cock poking straight up at his belly button like it does. Cum tracks and love strands all over his belly, his leg, Bobbie's leg.

I was hard too and I reached down and put Charlie's cock in my mouth. Bitter in the back of my throat. Charlie pushed his cock in and out, in and out, Charlie humming some tune.

Then I put my mouth into Deep Flower, on the clitoris, bit gristle like I wanted, sucked on it, made a line around the clit back and forth, up and down, with my tongue. Bobbie's pubic hair softer, browner than Charlie's.

Equal in all of this.

Charlie put his cock in her first. His cock up into her all the way. All around me, on my skin, I felt the miracle the way Charlie and Bobbie fit.

Kiss me, Will, Bobbie said.

I put my lips on my sister's lips, just touching. Bobbie whispered, and when she whispered sometimes her lips touched my lips, sometimes not.

It's our secret, Will, Bobbie said.

I closed my eyes tight and pretended she was Charlie and kissed her.

Charlie had Bobbie's legs pushed up high and Charlie was in and out, in and out, faster and faster. His eyes were up to Saint Theresa Gone to Heaven, his back was arched, chin up, Charlie looking back at the sky. Then Charlie started screaming and I put my hand over Charlie's mouth, and Bobbie pulled my hand away from Charlie's mouth.

Let him scream, Will! Bobbie said. It's what we all live for!

Charlie's scream howl yell sob, like Indian music, high, off-key, full with everything.

MY TURN WAS
like the first time with the Hippodrome Stand. I just couldn't get my cock to stay hard to do it. Not till Bobbie turned around and knelt down on her hands and knees on the cornflower-blue rectangle, and pushed herself into me. Charlie held my head with his hands, looked at me way down inside me. Then Charlie kissed me, one of his soft kisses that I wanted to last all day.

My lips against Charlie's, Charlie humming some tune.

The silent rising of the phalli.

Warm and wet and tight inside Bobbie. The smooth soft round of her hips. Connected at the hips. A feeling like dragonflies on my tongue, creek mud in my balls. Wind all around my head, rainbow trout jumping, willow leaves for hair.

My cry yelled out into Charlie's mouth, the savage beast, the sweet, sacred secret cry we all live for.

Bobbie's cry at first I thought was me. When my ears heard the cry was hers I knew it in my blood: It was the cry inside Bobbie all her life.