The Second Son (30 page)

She laughed. “Quit dreaming, Romeo. I’ve got it on already.”

“That’s no fun,” I added as I started climbing the fence.

Pretty soon I was up behind her, proud as a peacock as we sauntered down Main Street for the whole town to see. I’ll never forget how I felt that afternoon, up there on that horse. She laughed at my timidity and pulled my hands around in front of her waist and said, “Hold on tight, let yourself move with the horse.” The back of her hat kept clipping my nose but I didn’t care. I was drunk with the smell of her — shampoo, perfume, hair — I wasn’t sure which, just knew it must be what heaven smelled like. She laughed again and said, “Don’t stiffen up, now, or we’ll both fall off.”

God, I thought, how can she tell, bouncing like this? But it must have been my dirty mind working overtime because she never said anything more about it and my embarrassment subsided as we made our way through town. We headed back up Main Street, past McDougal Street and out to the McKrimmon side road, which would eventually take us to the farm. Just this side of the cement bridge, we turned off, up the narrow lane that led to the dam. The dam was about half a mile up, across the same river that swung east under the McKrimmon road bridge. Just on the other side of the dam was the old stone powerhouse. A few hundred yards beyond that was the Second Concession, running east to west, paralleling the McKrimmon side road. You have to know all this to understand what happened.

Gail and I had just arrived at the dam and climbed down off that big horse. I was complaining about a sore ass when we heard him. It was Andrew, calling out from the other side of the dam, “Gail, I brought the car. Do you want to go for a ride?”

We could see my father’s grey Plymouth parked up by the Second Concession. “Jesus,” I grumbled, “I bet my old man doesn’t know he’s got the car.”

There was a narrow walkway on top of the dam and he crossed partway over. “Gail, do you want to take a ride?” he repeated, shouting over the sound of the falling water.

“Jeez, I don’t think so, Andrew,” she finally shouted back, “I’ve got my horse here.”

I wasn’t so polite. “Bugger off, asshole. Who invited you?”

Gail put a hand on my arm. “Don’t be so mean. He can join us for the picnic, can’t he? We’ve got lots.”

“Don’t you see what he’s doing? If he stays, I’m leaving.” As soon as it was out of my mouth I wanted to take it back, scared stiff she’d take me up on it.

It was with much relief that I heard her call back, “I promised Mike we’d have a picnic, Andrew. What do you want?”

He moved a few steps closer. “Well, I had to drive the truck home and bring the car to pick up my mom and dad at the park. So I just thought I’d swing by here and see if you wanted a ride.”

“Andrew,” she scolded him, “it’s hardly on the way.”

He turned red and blustered, “I don’t know why you’re treating me like this. Why won’t you even talk to me?”

“I never stopped talking to you. I just told you I didn’t want to go steady, that’s all.”

“Why can’t you talk to me? Just come over here and talk to me, that’s all.”

Gail turned to me and shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe I should just go over and find out what he wants. He won’t go away until I do.”

“Aw, to hell with him. He wants everything for himself, it’s always the same.” This was not the afternoon I’d been dreaming about, and I could feel the anger building.

She touched my arm. “Just the same, maybe if I talk to him he’ll leave us alone.” Even as I shook my head she started backing away. “Will you stay here with Prince?”

I wouldn’t answer, but she had already turned and was heading across the dam. So I just kicked the ground and cursed, already giving up. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I was just a thirteen-year-old kid going on fourteen who didn’t understand any more about the emotions of a fifteen-year-old like Andrew than . . . well, the undertow at the bottom of that dam Gail was crossing.

And I don’t know what I expected, when I got tired of waiting and tied the horse to a tree branch and crossed over. When Gail first went over they had disappeared around the back of the powerhouse. It had only taken five minutes for me to get mighty suspicious about what the hell they were doing over there. I crept up to the powerhouse, close enough to the corner of the building to hear them talking. I should have turned and run, or at least stepped around and told them I was there. It’s just that I froze in anger when I heard Gail tell him, “I still like you. Only you’re getting too serious for me. I told you that.”

“But I’m going crazy just thinking about you. It’s not right, what you’re doing to me.”

“What I’m doing?”

“You’re teasing me. And you know it. Letting me kiss you and touch you like that, then all of a sudden dropping me cold. It’s not fair, I’m losing everything.”

“But I told you, I’m not ready — ”

They stopped talking then and I heard some noises that I didn’t like. There was a bush at the corner of the building and I crept behind it, trying to get a look. He had his arms around her and was kissing her on the mouth, moaning and groaning like he was in pain or something. I couldn’t say how long I stood there, watching, paralyzed, my heart pounding in my ears, drowning out the noise of the dam behind me.

They must have carried on like that for a few minutes, with him working his hand up under her shirt, still moaning and kissing. I felt myself getting hard and I told myself to quit looking, to quit being a peeping-tom-pervert. Yet I couldn’t turn away, even when he pushed her down to the grass and started writhing on top of her. I just wanted so badly for it to be me, instead of him, wanted so much to be the one touching her, that I kept staring, staring . . . until I was jolted awake by a wave of pleasure that travelled up my groin and spurted into my pants.

I’d had wet dreams before, but never like this. I shuddered at the feel of the hot liquid running down my penis, and the pleasure I felt was immediately overwhelmed by a deep burning shame. I knew only a dirty pervert would spy on someone touching the girl he loved and take pleasure from it. I dropped back behind the corner of the building and sat against the wall with my head in my hands. I could still hear them. I tried to block the sounds with my hands, even as the tears started streaming down my cheeks. Then I heard a funny yelp, from Gail I thought, a couple of times, and some words I couldn’t make out.

Then I heard Andrew swear pretty loud, “Jesus Christ, Gail! Goddammit!” There was some loud thrashing about and another few yelps. Then silence. I didn’t know exactly what you did when you went all the way, as the guys in front of the Hub used to call it. Still, I figured that must be what they had done. I remember thinking it must be a sin they were committing, for Andrew to swear like that.

I sat there in the silence for a long time, long enough to get my crying under control and let the tears start to dry. I wiped my nose on the back of my hand and started to think again about that bastard Andrew. It didn’t take me long to start including Gail in my anger. The two of them, I thought, they just did what they wanted. They didn’t care about me, they never did. A new crescendo of hate began to build, in waves, coming up through my chest and into my face, until it threatened to burst out the top of my head.

Then I saw the piece of two-by-four lying by the wall. I stretched over and picked it up, turning it over in my hands, getting the feel of it, imagining it crashing down on Andrew’s head, on Gail’s head, on everybody’s head. I pushed myself to my feet and moved around the corner. They were lying in the grass not ten feet away. Andrew was still on top of her, making a funny noise, and kind of shaking. Her big white hat was on the ground beside her, crushed. I didn’t care if they were finished doing it or not. They’d already had more than their share of whatever it was.

I was on them in seconds, slamming the two-by-four down on his shoulders. He screamed and rolled onto his back. He was crying. I didn’t understand. How could he be crying? So quickly? I raised the board above my head to hit him again but he didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just kept blubbering. I didn’t understand. Why was he crying? He’d been making love with Gail, my Gail. How could he be crying? I looked to her for an explanation.

Something was wrong. She was looking at me but she wasn’t moving — not crying, not laughing, not anything. I dropped the two-by-four and moved closer. She was too still. Gail was never still. I bent down and gave her a little shove. She didn’t react. Andrew had rolled over again on his stomach and was sobbing now, shaking and sobbing as he lay on the ground. Jesus, I thought, what did he do? I touched her again on the shoulder and gave her a little push.

“Gail, quit fooling around. Wake up.” I looked more closely at her clothes. Her shirt was pulled out, but her blue jeans were still buttoned up, with that big wide cowboy belt still in place. I knew enough about this lovemaking stuff that a girl had to pull her pants down, if you were going to have real sex. I mean, wasn’t that what the guys asked all the time, “did you get into her pants?” And what about that bathing suit she had on? I don’t know how long it took for the dumb stuff to pass and the reality to sink in. Maybe one minute, maybe five seconds, I don’t know. I just know that when it finally hit me — he’d done something to her, something really bad — I started screaming the worst curse words I knew.

“Jesus fucking Christ! You fucking bastard cunt! What did you do?” I scrambled to my feet and kicked him in the ribs, once, twice, yelling at him, “What did you do, you fucking bastard? What did you do?” I kicked him again.

“Stop it,” he yelled back at me and rolled over. Then I saw the long scratch on his face and knew immediately what he had done. He had lost his temper.

He saw the look on my face and protested, “It was an accident. She started screaming, saying she was going to tell. I just put my hand over her mouth, to stop her from yelling. That’s all. It was an accident.”

I looked back at Gail. She still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been just around the corner. How could that kill her? Just his hand? She could still breathe through her nose, couldn’t she? Jesus, Jesus, I kept telling myself, she can’t be dead, not Gail, not from that. We were supposed to have a picnic. I bent over her again and shook her. “Wake up, Gail. Quit fooling. This isn’t funny.”

She couldn’t be joking. She couldn’t lie there with her eyes open all that time and not even blink, not even once. I knew I was awake, that it wasn’t a dream, but I couldn’t accept it. Then I saw some red marks on her neck. I stood up and turned on Andrew. “Get up, goddammit. Quit crying.” I kicked him again. “What did you do to her neck? Did you choke her? You fucking stupid bastard!”

He finally struggled to his knees and started wiping the tears and the snot from his face. “No, I never . . . I pushed her down with my arm, maybe, to stop her from scratching me. That’s all. I don’t know what happened.” He stood up then, shivering a couple of times. He finally looked over at her, shivering once more before he bent to pick up her hat.

He stood there, working the white hat around in his hands, popping the dents out, slowly and deliberately, almost whispering, “She went crazy on me, trying to scream, scratching me.” He reached a hand up to touch his face and added, “I lost my temper, I guess. It wasn’t my fault. I just held her down with my arm, to stop her.” He paused then and stared at his forearm, like he was surprised to see it was there, attached to him. “I don’t know what happened,” he muttered. “It was an accident.”

I swung my head back and forth between the two of them, her lying there without moving and him acting like a zombie. I was desperate to do something, anything. I pulled off my shirt and ran over to the dam and soaked it in the water. I ran back and started wringing the water out over her face.

“What are you doing? Stop it,” Andrew protested, with some life back in his voice.

“Maybe she’s just passed out. We gotta try something. We can’t just leave her there.” The water had no effect. She was as still as a painting, lying there, her eyes and her mouth frozen open, her skin so white it was blue. I turned away. I didn’t think she’d want me looking at her like that.

Andrew knelt over her and put his finger against her neck. “I don’t think she’s breathing,” he said softly, looking at me like someone who expects you to do something about it, to fix it somehow.

“You’re not a doctor. What do you know? Maybe you just knocked her out.”

“It was an accident,” he said, staring at her for another moment, like he was willing her to wake up. Then he sighed and looked up at me. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go get the doctor. C’mon.” I reached down and grabbed at his arm. “Hurry up, let’s go to town and get the doctor.”

“Okay, okay.” He laid her cowboy hat back down beside her, gingerly. Then he stood up and started moving toward the car. “Are you coming?”

I took a couple of steps, then stopped and looked back. “We can’t leave her alone, with no one here. You go, I’ll wait. Maybe she’ll wake up and be looking for me.”

“Yeah, maybe she’ll wake up.”

That’s the last thing he said to me. I sat there for two hours, at least, in the hot sun, waiting for him, avoiding her eyes, saying every prayer I knew, promising God not to commit every sin I knew, not for the whole rest of my life, if He’d just let her wake up. The hardest part was keeping those damn flies from landing on her face, and all the while not looking at her. Finally I put my wet shirt over her, figuring it was loose enough that she could still breathe. And it would keep her cool.

I don’t know what I figured out first, that my bastard brother wasn’t coming back, or that Gail wasn’t waking up. God, the thoughts that ran through my mind. Gail at the beach, Gail at the party, Gail on that chair in the backyard. How could this happen to her, beautiful Gail, my Gail? And her parents. Would her father be mad at me? Would her mother hate me? Would the whole town blame me for taking her up there and getting her in trouble? Would they find out I just sat there like a pervert and did nothing while Andrew hurt her like that? Would they just look at me and know it was my fault? And what about the horse? What about that damn big horse? How could I just leave him there? And what about Gail? How could I just leave her there? Should I just figure out how to get the two of us up on that horse and ride back to town? But how could I get her back across that dam? It was making me crazy.