Comfort and Joy (22 page)

A week later, with the arm healed or at least mostly healed, theyheaded to GraytonBeach.
Lunar Cove stood just behind the dune line. When they approached the house frombehind, Dan thought there must have been some mistake. The size made him certain this must be an apartment building, not a house. They stopped at a garage large enough for three cars. No entrance was apparent from outside. Ford idled the car, "The realtor said you have to go in through the garages. It's for security."
the garages. It's for security."
"This is it? That's allone house?"
"Sure,"Ford said. "It's not that big."
Ford, at the garage door, fumbled with a series of locks. He gave a heave and rolled the heavydoor upward. "Remind me not to let youdo that. Youdid pack medicine. Right?"
"Yes. I did."Steppinginto the huge garage.
Ford tossed him the key and he caught it. Stairs led to the back door of the house. The lock turned smoothly, and the house opened witha smallintake ofair.
Afternoon light flooded a neat anteroom leading immediately to a broad kitchen, windows facing the dunes on one side and the parking lot on the other. The room outclassed any kitchen Dan had ever seen, even in houses where people resided year round.
HearingFord onthe stairs, he went into the next room.
Broad windows opened onto the sea. Past the dunes azure waves were breaking, the white sand gleamed. Blue sky burned fiercely beyond the broad-beamed posts of a porch, beyond the carpet, the fireplace, the carved wooden doors, the staircase sweepingupward to more rooms.
From the kitchen came sounds of Ford's cautious entry. "Dan,"he called, his deep voice echoinginthe kitchen.
"Inhere."Dantouched the coolstone mantle.
Ford carried their luggage to the bedroom. The suite proved as spacious as anythingonthe lower floor. The same broad glass windows and heftywoodenbeams. Frenchdoors opened onto a balcony, where theyfaced the oceanwind.
"How is your arm? No pain?"
"None. I think it's okay."
After a moment, Ford asked, "Do youlike the house?"
"It's reallysomething."
Watching Dan earnestly. "I wanted us to have something
Watching Dan earnestly. "I wanted us to have something nice."
Inside, Dan opened his suitcase to begin unpacking. On impulse, and without stopping to consider his actions, he opened Ford's as well.
"What are youdoing?"
"Unpackingyou."
There was somethingtouchingabout his surprise. "Why?"
"I wanted to do it."
When he was done, they walked beyond the dune line, where heat rose from the sand in waves. Blue-green water glittered all the wayto the horizon.
"This is great." Dan turned from side to side, noting the bare expanse. "There's nobodyhere."
Ford gave him a playful slap on the shoulder and trotted toward the water. Wind tugged at Dan's loose shirt and tossed his curls to tangles. Feeling the sharpness of it in his face and the heat on his arms and neck, he closed his eyes and sighed. The surf penetrated his consciousness, soft-rolling and repeated waves surging one over another and whispering across sand. Shore and sea curving toward the horizon. He rolled up his jeans and slipped off his sneakers and socks. Nearly October, but the sunwas stillwarm. Nestinghis shoes inthe sand wellclear ofthe waves, he headed toward Ford, who was splashinginthe water.
On the horizon along the beach, half-obscured by haze or low clouds, a city lay before them. Its glass towers gleamed in the color along the horizon, the flame of pink where the sun had begun to settle and refract. They waded past an abandoned sailboat, block clanging dully against the mast. Deeply tangled happiness and something else mixed strangely inside. "This was a good thingto do. I'mglad we could manage it."
"It was touch and go there for a while. Russell wanted me to take his next couple of shifts. He's got a bad cold. But I told him he'd have to be a lot sicker to keep me from taking my week off."
off."
"You're bothback at Gradywhen? Four weeks?"
Ford sighed. "Almost six."Kickingat the water.
After dinner, they sipped armagnac in the broad porch swing. Spread before themwere the glittering tops of waves, the carpet of luminous sand, the speckled backs of dunes, under stars and moon. He glimpsed a large, dark bird, escaped from the marshes, flying low over the water. Headlights swept past them as a jeep drove toward the beach and parked along the water's edge. Dan, inspite ofhimself, felt proud to displayhimselfbeside Ford on the porch of the biggest house on the beach. The liquor bit his throat with smoke and dusk. Each beat of wave onto shore released that urban tension. In the silence their bodies continued to speak. Wind blew out fromland to gulf.
Helicopters patrolled the lower reaches of clouds along the shoreline, repeatedly, and Danwondered whether some invading navy were poised beyond the horizon. "Must be looking for drugs," Ford murmured after the sky patroller passed ominously overhead. He moved his head against Dan's shoulder for just a moment and sighed. "We're the squires of the beach, you and me."
"What is Dorothy going to say when she sees this place? She always acts like she's insome kind ofcontest withyouanyway."
Ford laughed, spreading his arm along the swing back and pushing gently with his foot to make the contraption sway. "She'll go down to the realtor and see if there's something bigger she canrent."
"We should all go to dinner tomorrow night. Someplace up the coast." Adding, slightly sardonic, "Of course we'll have to take two cars. Dorothy's going to bring her little sports car too, I bet."
"Sure she will. What else? There's nothing wrong with taking two cars."
"Waste ofgas."
"Yousure are onmycase today."
"Yousure are onmycase today."
"I just think it's funny for you and Dorothy to drive your little sports cars, both of you, every time we want to go somewhere. She'llbe tryingto race you. Mark mywords."
Ford chuckled. Setting his glass on the side rail, he scanned the beach as if to check for spies, then sprawled in the swing with his head in Dan's lap. Satisfied with himself, Ford said, "I'm not as scared as youthink I am."
Their bodies became conscious of being bodies, of being together and ofwarmthkindling. Dansuppressed the thrilloffear that always accompanied this moment, the slight shrinking at the thought of desire; he traced the line of Ford's jaw with eye and fingertip.
Astruggle played itself out on Ford's face, acute, hungry. But then he looked away, and the link between their bodies dissolved as suddenlyas it had formed.
Abruptlyhe said, "Let's go for a walk."
Dan forced himself to stand at once, refusing hesitation. He told himselfit was onlyhis fear that let himhear anythingominous in Ford's tone. Ford's white shirt glimmered in moonlight. Dan trotted toward himthrough the sand. Ford had struck out for the darker edge of gulf, the opposite direction from their afternoon walk, and Dan caught him near the water. He settled his hand firmlyonto Ford's shoulder and theywalked side byside through the darkness, brushing against each other, aware of their solitude alongthe darkened strand. There was somethingFord wanted to say. Presently he extended his arm around Dan, almost shyly. "There's no gettingawayfromyou, is there?"
The tentative question left Dan speechless. Ford continued. "I halfway thought I was bringing you here to break up with you. Either that or to make you move in with me, once and for all. I thought I knew what I wanted to say."
Chilling, even on the summer night. Dan forced himself to speak before ice took hold inside him. "You want to break up? Is that what yousaid?"
Ford shook his head. "No, that's not what I said. I mean, I
Ford shook his head. "No, that's not what I said. I mean, I can't help thinkingabout it sometimes."Adreadfulpause ensued. "Do youever think about it?"
"No." Closing his eyes, he suddenly hated the warmth of the arm around his waist. At the point of pushing it away, he felt Ford's armtighten.
"Don't runaway, okay?"
What surprised himwas not the urge. What surprised himwas the need to stay.
They stood in the dark, Ford's fear overcome by his wish to keep Dan close to his body at that moment. Dan's heart was thudding. "So is that what youbrought me out here to do? Is that what you're doing? Breakingup?"
"No."Drowned inwind.
"Thenwhydid yousaythat?"
Gripped by the arm, Dan wondered how they had both arrived at this moment, so suddenly. "I'm scared," Ford repeated. "That's why."
The simplicity of the statement disarmed them. Dan faced the waves, the shimmering undersides of clouds overhead, and he counted patches of stars in tatters among the cumulus. He felt himselfmore and more amazed, because he was not afraid. Even now. Evenwithallthis reason. He could onlygo onbeinghappy, that in the concealment of blue-black night they could share loose embraces on the beach, in the open. Ford allowed the intimacyto go on, and that was allthat mattered.
"What are youafraid of?"
"You,"Ford answered.
"Why?"
Ford laughed softly. For the first time, the sound lacked gentleness. But his voice, after he composed himself, was gentle. "Youreallydon't know, do you?"
Draping an arm across Dan's shoulder, then glancing around. Too much light, he withdrew the touch. Then realized what he Too much light, he withdrew the touch. Then realized what he had done and put his hands inhis pockets.
"Let's go back."
His suggestion completed the failure. During the long walk home theykept more distance, as ifeachhad grownmore tender since leavingthe porch.
Lamps threw trapezoids oflight alongthe bedroomwalls. Dan opened the curtains and sliding doors, wind flowing in curves through the fabric. He stepped onto the balcony. Out ofrange of Ford for the moment, he wanted to collapse, and the panic continued to spread inside. Ford unbuttoned his shirt and let it drop fromhis shoulders.
When they met eye to eye across that distance, Dan no longer lay out of Ford's reach. Ford stepped onto the balcony and stood near. The warm light poured over the curves of his bare back and arms. His presence indicated invitation, clearer than words but more dangerous. The wish to give in, to lay his hand on that shoulder's lush curve, coursed through Dan with an ache that made him tired. A hint of resentment seized him, since he understood the limits of the offer, that sometimes it offered more thanit gave.
Now Ford watched him. Now Dan lay his hand on the curve of forearm, pulsing beneath his palms, and the contact evoked in him desire that was real enough. The bare body moved. Ford played out what he comprehended of the gestures of seduction, and Dan lay his hands on the large body of the boy and worshiped him until they were both aroused. No condom separated them that night; Ford would not stop to find it. But beyond, through Ford's heavy first sleep, lay the long stretch of empty hours, marked by the breaking of waves beyond the dunes.
Dan wakened after a dreamhe never remembered afterward, but it had frightened him while he was in it. When he emerged into consciousness, light spilled into the room from the adjacent dressing room, and there he saw Ford's bare thigh through the doorway. An ache radiated from the room, along with the light. Dan sat up, sheets rolled around his waist. Slipping across the Dan sat up, sheets rolled around his waist. Slipping across the room, silent, he appeared in the doorway before Ford even heard him.
The familiar face, the tender gray eyes, locked onto Dan without surprise; within Dan the unstoppable softening commenced and he knelt. Ford lay a hand in his hair. "I couldn't sleep."
"I had a bad dream and it woke me up. I guess I couldn't sleep either."
"We're a mess."Dan could have predicted the next sentences. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you tonight. You know I couldn't break up—"trembling, "—I can't evensayit now."
"Hush."
Shaking his head. "No. I can't do that either." Rubbing his eyes dry.
Clearly, he had been panicked; clearly the panic faded now that he was no longer alone. Dan felt the same ease in himself, the loss of terror from the dream, the certainty of Ford's protection. They rested near each other in the small dressing room. Ford asked, "If you were a woman, would you marry me?"
"What ifyouwere a woman?"
"Answer me."
Dan lay his lips along the edge of Ford's knee, the light feathering of leg hair on the tip of his tongue. What a wrongheaded question, really. But he answered. "Yes. But I think it would stillbe hard to do."
"But youwould want to."
"Yes. It's what I want now."
"Is it?" Ford shook his head. The motion suffused his body with sadness, genuine and bone deep; Dan pressed himself against the younger man. "I meanit."
"Then why won't you move into my house with me? That's what I want. Now." The words rushed out all at once. In their what I want. Now." The words rushed out all at once. In their wake, silence.
Dan might have laughed;
but only a few hours ago you said you wanted something else.
"You know I can't move in with youand leave mycats."
"That's anexcuse. I'mtired ofhearingit."
"What would you do if I moved in with you? You're already so scared ofwhat the neighbors think you won't even walk in the front yard with me. What do you think would happen if I lived there?"
As if each word were painful pressure, Ford shrank, as if he would like to disappear into the wall. They had reached this point of discussion before, hitting the same wall.
If we live together everybody will know. Your parents will know. Your sister will know.
"How do we get past this?" And suddenly Ford felt tears coming out of himself, running along his face. "Danny, this won't last if we don't do something. If we don't try to live together we won't staytogether. We have to do something."
So that was why they had come here, why the big house, why the public contact on the porch. After a moment, Dan stood. "Let's go for another walk. Okay? I can't stay here anymore. And I don't want to sleep."
On the beach, feet in the cool sand, they walked without hurry, unmindful of the hour. The topic which they had suspended in the dressing room of the beach house returned to themalongthe strand. "IfI move inwithyou, mycats come too."
"Fine,"Ford said.
They pushed forward into solitary darkness, a sense of peace spreadingacross their shores like anenteringtide. Theysat inthe sand watching the water, Ford's head in Dan's lap. He let himself get lost, and this time, the weight of Ford seemed sweet. Water lapped around them near the end of its journey, sand streaming beneath them, drawing them downward, then streaming in to lift themagain.