Waterways (39 page)

“Yeah,” he said. He squeezed Samaki’s paw, and smiled.

The eyes did light up, Samaki’s black ears stood straight up, and he lifted his muzzle and smiled back broadly. “You’ll go?”

Kory nodded. “Yeah,” he said again. “Yeah, I will.”

Samaki leaned forward and kissed him, and didn’t pull away even when they heard his parents come in. It was the best birthday Kory could remember.

“Good for you,” Malaya said when he told her the next day. He’d stayed over at Samaki’s, but she’d taken the bus home, refusing all offers of a ride with the assurance that she actually liked riding the bus. The Rodens didn’t believe her, even when Kory assured them after she left that it was true.

“You think so?” Kory hadn’t thought about the decision much until now. He was starting to wonder whether it had been a mistake. Of course, he was committed, so there wasn’t much he could do about it, but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

She had dropped from her bar onto the couch when he walked in, flipping agilely over in mid-air. Now she was sitting with her wings spread over the back of the sofa, looking up at Kory as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “Sure,” she said. “I mean, why not, ya know? Fuck the system.”

“The system?”

“The boy-and-girl system. The establishment. Toss me a Coke?”

Kory reached into the fridge. “This isn’t a political statement,” he said, as he lobbed the can to her.

“Sure it is.” She popped the top and guzzled a good third of the can.

Kory folded his arms. “No, really. I only said yes because I want to go with him. I feel like…” He hesitated.

“You love him?”

“I feel like part of his family. So why not? I mean, he thinks it’ll be fine. We won’t get attacked or anything.”

She burped, and settled back. “Doesn’t matter what you think it is. It’s definitely a statement. How many other gay couples you think will be there?”

“None.” The thought depressed Kory. He looked down at the dirty kitchen floor, rubbed his upper arms with his hands, and tried not to think about it. The idea of making a political statement, of deliberately calling attention to himself, made him feel weighty and exposed. The air seemed very dry around him. 

“I’m going to go swim for a bit. Wanna come?” 

Malaya laughed. “Dunk myself in water? On purpose?” “Fine.” He managed a grin. “The municipal pool sucks anyway.” It did, but it had been there that he’d met Samaki, a memory which came flooding back to him the moment he stepped into the locker room. Right there, by the dryers, he’d seen the sleek body, a tangible shadow with a bright white patch at its center, and another between its legs, drawing his eye for reasons he hadn’t understood then. He stood, lost in the memory, until he noticed that the chubby older skunk standing at the dryer was looking askance at him. Ears burning, he turned back to his locker and slipped his swimsuit on quickly.

The water, warm and comforting, felt as natural as if he’d never left it. He swam lazily through the deep pool for a while, dodging guppies with ease and staying submerged as long as he could. A shadow thrashed toward him and he ducked instinctively out of the way as a wolf cub struggled by. The first time he’d met Samaki, it had been as a shadow in the water, hurtling toward him and sending him into the wall to avoid it. In the end, he hadn’t been able to avoid the shadow or the brightness at its heart. He swam to the surface and rested, elbows on the edge of the pool, watching the wolf make his way laboriously to the other side.

Lots of non-aquatics here today. He watched them splash through the pool while the otters, beavers, and the lone mink flowed gracefully around them. It was rare for him to feel comfortable and confident; when he wasn’t at the pool, he was thrashing around in an element he hadn’t had enough training to navigate. But there was a small female wolf swimming with grace and ease, and in the other pool, a pair of middle-aged bobcats who looked like they’d been born wet, proving that one could adapt to a new environment. And two red fox cubs who reminded him of Ajani and Kasim surfaced only long enough to shake water from their ears before diving below again, while their mother watched tolerantly, reading a book from the poolside peanut gallery.

That’s what he and Sal’d called it, all the years their friends were coming to the pool. At Caspian, the peanut gallery was a level above the pool floor and included a sandwich counter. Here, the parents sat in plastic deck chairs arrayed around a pair of vending machines. A mother wolf and raccoon were talking to each other and staring into the pool. Kory followed their gaze, but couldn’t see any raccoons near where they were looking, and the only wolf there was the sleek female wolf who looked too old to be a daughter of the one on the chair. Maybe they were talking about something and just looking toward the pool? No, their muzzles moved back and forth as they talked. They could be watching the thrashing wolf cub, maybe?

Or they could be watching the bobcats, one of whom sat on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water, leaning down to the other. Kory glanced back at the wolf and raccoon and saw that they were indeed staring fixedly at the couple of bobcats.

Couple? Now he looked, he noticed the intimacy of their closeness, a couple inches closer than mere friends would sit, more solicitous than colleagues. They could be brothers, maybe. Or they could be partners.

The wolf cub, who had been on the other side of the pool, now launched himself past Kory, splashing and giggling, toward the bobcats. He was only a few feet away when the female wolf called out, “Remy! Remy!”

He stopped in mid-splash, lost his momentum, and disappeared under the water. The bobcats turned; Kory slipped off the wall, ready to swim over there, but the cub resurfaced a moment later and dog-paddled over to his mother. She leaned forward on her chair. “Don’t play over in that end where I can’t see you,” she said, though the pool wasn’t that crowded. Kory saw her eyes flick to the bobcat couple as she said it.

They had turned back to each other, and the one who was out of the water was massaging his calf. They hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the wolf calling her son away from them, but Kory had. Part of him wanted to swim over there and ask her what she thought was going to happen to her son if he swam near a gay couple, and whether she’d known that he’d swum past a gay otter just a second before. Part of him wanted to slink back to the locker room and get out of here. So he let himself slip below the water, let its buoyancy hold him up, let its warm thickness block out the rest of the world.

Is that how it would be at the prom? Chaperones calling their children away from him and Samaki? How long would they be able to ignore it? At the prom, he wouldn’t be able to just dive into the water to escape, not unless the gym floor opened up like in “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

The doubts resurfaced later, when he saw the bobcat couple in the locker room, already dry and changing. They weren’t being affectionate, and nobody in the room was paying much attention to them. But as he watched them, he gradually saw their intimacy as a negative impression, all the deliberately casual actions leaving a void between them. It reminded him of walking through the city with Samaki.

He stepped into the shower and lathered up his fur with the shampoo he’d brought, getting the water and other scents out of it. So what would be the point of going to the prom? To be stared at? What would that prove?

Get a grip on yourself, he said. The prom’s going to be all kids, and kids who know Samaki. He’s probably out at school. There’s no reason it should be a big deal. You’ve talked to Father Joe, and Samaki’s parents, and Nick, and Sal… 

And Sal had been okay, until he hadn’t been. Kory pushed that memory aside, rinsing off and stepping out of the shower. Maybe he was making this all too difficult. He’d already agreed. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he backed out now? Likely it would be fine. He just had to trust Samaki and do his best not to think about it.

Fortunately, he had his driving test to keep him occupied for the next couple weeks, and Malaya didn’t bring up the prom again during that time. She did ask what good it was to have his license if he didn’t have a car, but Kory had a ready answer for that one. “Samaki has a car, and if I save up some money this summer, I could buy a used one.”

“Public transportation is cheaper and way more fun,” Malaya said.

“You can’t smoke on the bus,” Kory pointed out.

She grinned at him. “You don’t smoke.”

“If I get a car, you can smoke in it as long as you keep the window open.”

She rubbed her chin. “Okay. Point.” She opened the practice manual again. “You better keep studying, then. What is the speed limit on a residential road where no sign is posted?”

The written test proved to be the easy part. Kory only missed the questions about insurance and an obscure parking law. He still felt nervous, because the questions had been so easy and the driving test was yet to come.

They’d promised him a 2:15 spot when he’d arrived at one, but at 2:30 he was still sitting in the waiting area, and the ocelot behind the counter hadn’t so much as glanced his way. He wanted to ask her when he’d get his test, but the line at her counter never went away. Just when it had gotten down to one person, three more would march up.

Kory wasn’t feeling all that comfortable waiting. He’d made his appointment at the downtown DMV because it was walkable from his apartment, but the convenience now seemed less important compared to his uneasy feeling. A wolf who kept scratching at his side wandered back and forth, seemingly without a purpose, his patched green jacket stained and frayed. When he came close to Kory, the otter could hear low mumbling, but couldn’t make out any words. The smell of the wolf made his nose wrinkle, and then he worried that the wolf had seen it. And two seats over from him, a young marmot was smoking next to his overweight father, both dressed in plain white t-shirts and jeans with holes in the knees.

Silly of him to feel uneasy, he thought. After all, these were his neighbors now. He knew they were poorer than the people who lived near his mother. It was just that seeing it close up, looking at the shy young ferret holding the baby and wondering if she were any older than he was, looking at the grey fox with the twisted, useless paw, made him uneasily aware of all the advantages he’d had that they didn’t, and made him feel guilty for having them, even if he didn’t have many of them any more. Would the ferret be going off to college? Would the marmot? He fixed his gaze back on the ocelot at the desk and tried not to think about those questions.

What seemed like an hour later, he looked up at the clock and found that it was only 2:40. Frustrated, he grabbed one of the pamphlets they had lying around and buried his nose in it, trying to read, but unable to get past the title, Handbrake Handy Do’s And Don’ts. Instead, he tried to review in his mind the driving lessons he’d taken with Mrs. McKay. Three-point turns. Check your mirrors before starting out. Check your mirrors regularly while driving.

A familiar voice caught his ears, “… can’t believe this is taking so long.”

He caught a glimpse of a pale green dress and the faintest whiff of skunk, along with a musky perfume. Along with the voice, the scent clicked into place for him: Flora McGuister, one of the other students in his driving class. For a moment, he debated whether to say something, but the decision was made for him.

“Kory?”

He put the pamphlet down and looked into Flora’s black-and-white muzzle. Behind her, an older skunk, obviously her mother, was looking disapprovingly at the ocelot behind the counter. “Oh, hi,” he said.

She plopped down beside him. “I didn’t know you’d be coming to this DMV or we could’ve come together.” He opened his mouth to answer, but she gestured at the older skunk, still standing. “I stay with my mom on weekends and my dad during the week so I can take the bus to school. But I wanted to take the test with my mom. So do you live down here too?”

“Uh… yeah,” Kory said. “I—we moved a couple months ago.”

“Cool. You go to some of the shops down here? There’s that bookstore on Badger Square.”

“I’ve been there.” The bookstore was right near Rainbow Center, much closer to there than to here or to his apartment. He glanced at the ocelot. She’d just called the marmot up to the counter. He was sure he was next.

“I love that whole area. The thrift shop is great. I found this amazing purse there.” She held up a small purse, green leather covered with yellow spangles.

“That’s cool,” he said. “I’ve been to the thrift store a couple times.”

She looked up and down his shirt and pants. “Don’t buy clothes there, though.”

“I might.” He’d actually been thinking about it. “I don’t know if I can get away with it.”

“I’m sure you have a good fashion sense,” she said.

He blinked, not sure he’d heard her correctly, but before he had a chance to ask her anything, the ocelot behind the counter called, “Kory Hedley.”

“See ya,” he said, lifting a paw as he got up.

She waved back. “Good luck!”

His tester, a bear who crammed into the passenger seat next to him and said nothing more than, “Let’s go,” made him nervous from the start. Besides that, he was still worrying about what Flora had said. He’d only known her in passing until the driving class. Of course she could have heard what everyone else in the school knew, but did she mean that he had to have a good fashion sense because he was gay? Or did she think he had a good fashion sense because of how he was dressed?

He realized he hadn’t checked his mirrors since getting into the car, and did so quickly. For the rest of the test, he tried to focus on the bear’s grunted instructions. He only got confused once, when the bear told him to turn and he went right instead of left, into a shopping center. The bear ticked off a mark on his clipboard but didn’t stop the test. And when he got to the end, he glanced over to see the large paw writing a “9” on the board.

His spirits soared. 9 points off was a passing grade, easily enough to get him his license. He wished Flora were still sitting in the waiting room when he got back in, because he wanted to tell someone right away and the DMV didn’t allow cell phone use inside. All through the final paperwork for his provisional license, he fidgeted from foot to foot, and when the ocelot had handed him the paper and told him his real license would be in the mail in two weeks, he practically sprang out the door, his thumb on the phone.