Memorizing You (29 page)

The day would be a scorcher. Even before nine a.m. it was over eighty degrees and thick with humidity. We pumped up in the basement. My arms were rock hard and difficult to bend. My chest and shoulders felt like I was wearing a suit of armor, and my legs looked like tree trunks in the mirror. And yes, I admired myself. A lot of hard work went into this body reconstruction. And I had to work harder than Connor. He was bigger, and by the nature of that genetic design, I was a dwarf next to him.

What we were going to do was new to me. Not to him. Every time he stepped onto a field, he had the admiration of others.

I tried on several combinations of the outfits Judy had made for me. I settled on the white top and black shorts. Connor went with the red top and blue shorts. We admired each other in the mirror with smug grins. What we were going to do was so egotistical, and so damned fun. We each tried to convince the other it was about firing up our inspiration.$. I my

“Damned. We are so sizzlin’ hot!” he remarked with another pivot in front of the mirror to examine his backside. He flexed his cheeks. “Now, that’s what Christmas dinner should look like.”

No shortage of self-appreciation on his part. When he wasn’t looking, I checked my own and flexed them.

We took to the streets to run, staying with the traffic, close to the curb. Traffic had picked up as it did around noon, the small neighborhood businessmen and women heading into the heart of the district to hit the diners, snack shops, and restaurants.

The Maplewood business district consisted of one street, Manchester, that had seven blocks of small, usually family-owned businesses. A KMart built atop a huge parking garage to serve the community became the heart of the district. Branching out from that was the bank, a Woolworth’s, the Katz drug store, and then all of the smaller individual retailers. Sprinkled in between these were the places to buy food. So the one long street was a flurry of activity around the lunch hour.

We planned on running straight up Sutton, the main thoroughfare to approach Manchester, and then switch from the streets to the sidewalk where everyone would be. Our audience.

As I ran alongside him in the sweltering heat, I asked, “Why again is it we’re doing this?”

“Because if you’ve got it, you flaunt it!” he answered with the devilish twist of his full lips.

“Oh, that’s right. Inspiration.”

I saw a finger raise in my peripheral vision.

Now the whole time we were running toward our destination I was very aware of how powerful my body felt. Every muscle felt taut and efficient, hot and full of blood. My movements seemed machine-like. Everything was strong and streamlined. I was also very aware of how the clothing clung to me like a second skin.

We found a tempo between us that had a military sound to the slapping feet on the hot asphalt. As we neared the Pentecostal church anyone who thought they

“That was so embarrassing!” I said under my breath.

“Oh get off it. Your mom was probably tripping off what a nice butt her boy has.”

“I really didn’t need to hear that!” I informed him.

We’d barely made it to the corner of Sutton and Manchester by the jam-packed Courtesy Diner when we got the first “Woo-hoo!” from a carful of women dressed like bank tellers. Arms waved out windows. Connor saluted, gave his most-practiced come-hither look, flexed a bicep. More “Woo-hoos!” followed, and we made the turn to the main street and onto the crowded sidewalk.

The folks dining in Woolworth’s, seated at the window, got the first real full-on gawk at the two muscle guys in the skin tight suits. Children pointed, mom’s froze, teenage girls tittered, men in suits glowered. People on the opposite side of the street looked, looked away, and then looked back. Catcalls and whistles came from all directions. Teenaged boys tried to mock, but their jealous-green eyes and up-and-down visual evaluations unmasked their real sentiments. This followed us all the way to the Sinclair gas station which was, officially, the end of the business district.

We had made it to the ballpark by the railroad yards from the opposite way. After getting our sip of water from the fountain, Connor made a victory lap around the diamond waving his arms and yelling.

“Who’s the talk around the office water cooler today, huh?” he yelled. “We are! We are! What’s that make you want? More, more, more!”

I had to admit, it was a heady feeling to have that much positive attention.

“We just made half of suburbia want to hump our bones, buddy!” he slapped my back, did a country jig. “And you. Look at you, buddy. Like the perfect P. T.!”

“P. T.?” I asked. It meant noth to the panties. auping to me.

“Opposite of prick tease. Showing the ladies something that
cannot
have!” He emphasized the word cannot. “You can look, but cannot touch. They’ll be sitting in their air-conditioned offices, dreaming ‘bout licking the sweat off your nuts! Tell me that didn’t just feel great!”

He was incorrigible. “It felt great,” I admitted.

“Round two!”

“What?”

“Round two. We’re going back and giving a taste more of this!” He made a sweeping gesture of his body with his hands.

“You’re kidding?”

He wasn’t. We doubled back just in time for everyone to be getting out of lunch and hitting the streets. We were heading dead-on into the crowded sidewalk when he yelled out to me, “Strip and strut!”

Having no idea, I looked over at him. He yanked off his shirt, clenched it in his fist and repeated the phrase. He gave me a disparaging look twice when I didn’t immediately comply. Relenting, I pulled off my shirt, held in my stomach and flexed as I ran next to him. Heads turned everywhere. Adoration came from both sides of the street, and from passing car windows. There was no way to un-plaster the grin from my face.

As we headed back down Sutton Avenue, we saw my mom outside of the shop talking to a customer. She saw us and rolled her eyes. I invoked the helpless hand gesture as if I wasn’t a willing, half-naked participant in the exhibitionist escapade. Connor waved at the two women, enthusiastically. He relished being a spectacle.

We returned to the house, feeling high and happy. We barely made it into the yard before Connor leaped up to piggy back me, yelling in my ear. “That was far out, man. Far out!” anyone who thought they

His sweat stuck him to my back like a postage stamp. He peeled himself off. We ducked inside the cool house. I checked the fridge for some Chocolas, and grabbed the last two. They felt like ice in my hot hands. We both drank them in two gigantic gulps.

“Did you see the look on your mom’s face? Was that not like the best?” His face lit up.

“I’m sure I’ll have nightmares for at least a year about it.”

“And be the wet dream of almost every girl in the neighborhood…well, of course, after me.”

“Just what I wanted. To turn on a neighborhood of women. My life is perfect.”

“The price of being a sex symbol,” he quipped, heading down to the basement.

I liked the sound of the last thing he’d said. Sex symbol. I never would have thought of myself as a sex symbol. I found that exhilarating. Even exciting as I passed the dresser mirror propped against the concrete pillar where we worked out and caught a glimpse of my sweaty torso. It was like looking at someone else.

Connor thumbed through one of the bodybuilding magazines as if it was a study manual.

“What’re you looking for?” I inquired.

His face was intense. “Not for,” he replied. “It’s what I’m looking at. These guys shave everything. Legs, arms, the works. You see muscle definition better if you shave off all your body hair.”

He stood back, examined himself in the mirror. Flexed his legs, then his arms. His fingertips grazed the fine blond hair that ran over his pectorals, trailed down the center of his belly to his navel and beyond. He turned and gave me the same scrutiny. I didn’t have the upper torso hair that he did, but my legs were fairly hairy, even though it mostly consisted of transparent blond fuzz. anyone who thought they

“You got a razor?”

“You’re joshing me? You think we need to shave?”

His expression was mocking melodramatic disbelief. “Are we being serious about this or not?”

My eyes gravitated back to my reflection. This had become serious. We’d graduated from ordinary workouts weeks ago.

In the bathroom, I found the razor, popped in a fresh blade and tightened it up. Gave this and a can of shaving cream to Connor as he hopped into the shower, pulled the curtain, and went to work.

After a few minutes, curses emanated from behind the plastic and the sound of shower spray. Then more. Then louder ones.

“What’s up?” I finally felt compelled to ask. “You didn’t cut yourself, did you?”

“No.” There was a hesitation, then grunting. Another curse. “Damned muscle bound arm. I can’t get the back of my leg without…Ow! Cramping.”

I listened to his panting. It was agitated. Frustrated.

“You okay?”

“Just a little ticked off.” The response was potent with self-contained anger.

He spread the curtain back and held the razor out to me.

“What?”

“Do you mind? A little help?” to the panties. aup

Reluctantly, I took the razor. “You want me to shave you?”

I could see small mounds of hair accumulating near the drain. He looked mostly shaved. There was no more armpit or torso hair. He’d shaved his pubes completely bald. It looked odd. Most of his legs looked shaved. Until he turned around to display the back. Unshaven patches were scattered all over.

It made me nervous. “I cut my own face shaving, and you want me to shave your legs?”

There was no disguising his suppressed temper. “Trust me. You will probably stand a better chance of doing it right now more than I would.”

I slipped out of my clothes and into the shower with him. Took the shaving cream and applied some to the entire backside of one of his legs. He’d pressed his hands against the front of the shower to hold himself steady, and stiffened his legs. Gingerly, I dragged the razor through the foam. Then rinsed the soap and hair from the blade, and continued onward. It was strange to see the wake of hairless, tanned flesh I left behind. I grew aware, as I was doing this, that this was only the second person in my life I had ever touched in such an intimate manner. And in this proximity, it was like stroking the leg of Michelangelo’s statue of David. I couldn’t deny its beauty.

“How’s it going back there?” he inquired, feeling my pause with the razor.

I was trying to concentrate on keeping my body under control. I used to go to the parks to sneak eyefuls of guys as handsome as Connor. And here I was in a shower, naked with him, shaving his legs. If I wasn’t in abject terror of my body betraying me, it would have been a nifty little moment of fantasy. I looked down at myself. The damned thing was still climbing upward. I quickly applied cream to his opposite leg and began tidying it. I was trying to devise my escape without revealing my predicament.

“There we go,” I said, backing up quickly to make my exit when he spasmed with a leg cramp.

“Ow!” he screamed , clutching his leg and accidentally backing into me.$ made Imy

I stood to get out of the way of his tumble when he turned and fell into me. Our bodies fell face-to-face into each other against the shower wall. His eyes were barely an inch from mine when he looked down to see what was pressing hard up against him. His eyes latched back on mine as vermillion crept up me from head-to-toe.

“Well, there’s a fine howdy-do,” he said, flatly.

“I’m sorry about that.” I tried to offer an apology. An explanation. Words failed.

He stepped back a polite few inches. “Actually. I think that’s the best compliment you could have given me.”

I couldn’t retreat from my chagrin. “I really am embarrassed,” I said, placing the razor in the soap dish beside him.

“Well, as long as we’re having awkward moments, I might as well get this out of the way.” And with that he moved back into me and planted a thirty second kiss on me. His lips wouldn’t let go of their lock as my head pressed the back of the wet shower wall.

It took me off guard, startled me. I stared at him like I had no eyelids. Surprisingly, it had an effect opposite than the one anticipated. I’d lost my arousal. Instantly.

After what seemed an eternity, he said, “Sorry. I had to do that. I was curious after that first time if I didn’t feel anything only because of the situation. You know, the nervousness and stuff? I’ve thought about it ever since, and it was just driving me nuts. I wanted to know if in a different situation I’d actually…you understand, get into it? You know, the stiff dick has no conscience and stuff? That stuff can weigh on your head like a bag of rocks if you don’t know the answer.”

He pointed down to himself with his eyes. I tracked and could see it had no effect on him whatsoever.

“Oh,” I muttered.

“I think I need the breasts, and the lack of…you know the other stuff.” He pointed at my genitals.

The look of horror must have frozen my face. My mouth could hardly move. “Gotcha.”

“It’s kind of a shame though.” A faint curl to the corners of his eyes made him look introspective. “Knowing the gayest moments I’ll ever have in my life were with you, and I didn’t feel a thing. Because if I were gay, I’d definitely want to be gay with you. And that just blows. I mean, you’re everything I’d want in a girlfriend except you’re missing the girl parts. And I just kissed you because I cared about you and long after I got to know you. All the things you said to do it right. And nada.”

I found myself refreshingly relieved. “Guess we weren’t meant for each other,” I joked.

“Good thing. I’d hate to have to fight Ryan to get the goods.”

I pushed my water soaked hair back from my face. “You are so weird,” I told him. “Now I have to go through life knowing a straight man kissed me in the shower because he was looking for a girlfriend. I’m damaged for life.”

I could think of no more original way to bond with someone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I missed the daily interaction I used to have with Ryan. Though Connor was filling the spots, in a much different way, Ryan’s presence was missed. Even Connor noticed the empty space Ryan should have been occupying. My nightly trips to his house seemed to be a sojourn to convince myself he was still in my life. And that was a sad realization.