16. MAX

Chapter sixteen

MAX

I think maybe I just wanted to check. I wanted to see how he would respond. When I was in prison, I learned how to spot when someone was checking you out, when you got to know what they wanted from you.

When you're inside, there is a lot of leverage in someone desiring you, even if you don't act on it, but there is danger, too: you can only string them along so far, and if you don't go any further, they can turn on you. It makes me sad that I even know these things.

And this wasn't about leverage. It was about that memory I had of him, all those years ago: him in my room, looking at my things, the sensuality, the possibility of connection I had felt in seeing it and remembering it now. All these years later, I still felt such a strong connection to him. Did he feel it toward me still?

And what would it mean if he did?

Honestly, I didn't know. All I knew was I had to check that I hadn't imagined it. And I saw his eyes on my body, my skin.

I knew then that I hadn't imagined it.

But the question was: what next? What came next between us?

***

But for now, the river beckoned to us, sparkling, shimmering in the sun. Once Jared and Eddie were changed, all of us ran toward the water's edge, the soil beneath our feet. Jared led the charge and let out a long war cry of a yell just before he hit the water.

He was the first one in, over the rocks along the bank, splashing straight in. I followed him next, Eddie last. The cool embrace of the river enveloped us as we plunged beneath the surface, the shock of the cold sending a jolt through me, no doubt all of us.

We surfaced with gasps of exhilaration.

"Oh, man, that's cold!" Eddie cried.

"You'll get used to it!" I said, laughing.

"But when ?"

We laughed and got used to it quickly, in fact. Soon, we were at one with the water. We swam out into the deeper part of the river, near the middle. The current was gentle, softly caressing our skin as we half swam, half floated along, lulling us into a state of tranquility.

It was nice, existing like that, but of course, a fifteen-year-old boy got bored fast. Jared issued the challenge of a splash-off. He said that we had to stand up in the water – it was always shallow enough for that – and then splash our competitor until they lost their footing or admitted defeat.

So that was what we did: he wanted to go against me first, and I let him win; then, he wanted to go against Eddie, and I couldn't tell if Eddie let him win or just didn't have that innate machismo needed to keep going, which teenage boys usually do. Then, it was me against Eddie, but the two of us never really took it seriously enough.

Our laughter as we splashed each other echoed along the riverbank. The water erupted into cascading walls of silver as we unleashed torrent after torrent upon one another, but never enough to really topple each other.

"Do it properly," Jared ordered.

So I unleashed a particularly enthusiastic splash that hit Eddie with some force, and as I caught sight of Eddie's surprise, I felt bad. Was I being too rough?

"I'm sorry, man!" I said.

But he laughed, wiping water from his eyes and blinking.

"I'm good," he said. "I'm good."

Sensing the shift of mood, Jared suggested capturing the swim with his phone camera. He dashed off back to the tent. Left alone with Eddie for a moment, the gentle current naturally guided us to the river's edge.

As we floated lazily in the water, a sense of serenity enveloped me. In that setting, surrounded by nature, I felt so good and calm. The warmth of the sun pierced the surface enough to warm my body.

"Do you remember the last time we came here?" I asked.

"No," he replied.

"The summer before you went to college. We came for a few nights."

I looked at him and saw how recognition flickered in Eddie's eyes.

"Oh, yeah," he said, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile. "We went skinny-dipping. Do you remember?"

"Of course," I replied.

Momentarily, our bodies brushed against each other in the water, creating a fleeting connection of skin. I felt it then: that same curiosity about our connection, back then and now, too.

Then, in recalling the incident with my underwear, I had been able to recapture that I had felt some desire for him in the past but that I had pushed it away, found it all too threatening.

Years had passed, of unsuccessful relationships, of never quite feeling I had met someone who just got me and was part of me.

Had I been waiting for connection all that time, the depth of connection I had had with him, that sense of trust and safety with another person? I thought of what Jared said about differences in generations. Did it actually matter what the gender of a person was if you felt that way about them?

Then I heard Jared hollering:

"I'm back! I'm back!" We turned to look at him, up on the bank. "Come on, guys! Let's make this epic!"

Jared waded into the shallows, his phone held aloft.

"If you drop that phone, I am not buying you another!" Eddie cried jokily.

Jared sighed.

"Phones are waterproof these days, Granddad !"

"If I end up seeing my ass on YouTube, you're in trouble," I chuckled.

Jared laughed.

"YouTube would blur your ass out and demonetize me."

***

Eventually, I said, "We should try and catch something for our supper." It would be easier to catch fish now, with evening approaching, as they came to the surface to feed. Even though we had brought enough food for the night, it seemed like a fun idea.

We made our way back to the riverbank, the fading sun casting a golden glow across our skin as we dried ourselves off. We pulled on T-shirts and didn't change out of our swimming trunks, which also dried in no time.

As we gathered our fishing gear, there was an air of anticipation. Eddie said he hadn't been fishing since the last time we had been up here, and Jared said he had never been.

"What, didn't your mom force you to go with Frank?" Eddie joked.

Jared shook his head, smiling fondly at the mention of Megan.

"No, Mom hated eating fish!"

I rigged up the fishing rod. I knew what to do. As I made our final preparations, we worked in near silence. The serenity of our surroundings, the sticky warmth of the evening sun, the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees, and sharp lines of birdsong surrounded us.

We set off along the riverbank to a promontory I remembered Max and I used to fish from. The river was wide there and the current slow, and the fish were plentiful as they fed around the shore.

We sat down and set up our fishing rods, settling into a rhythm of casting lines into the tranquil waters. Time seemed to stretch out before us, and we chatted in slow spurts and then fell silent. Now and then, we heard a plop of a fish's mouth at the surface but caught nothing initially.

Jared was the first to feel a tug on his line. I went up to his side and told him to get up, to let his weight drop back, and to pull the line back. He easily reeled in his catch, the gleaming silver scales of a good-sized bream shimmering in the late sunlight, but the exhilaration of the moment seemed to overwhelm him.

"You have to give it a whack," I said as the fish gasped at his feet.

"What?" he cried, confused.

"Whack its head."

His eyes went round. He didn't seem to realize that catching fish involved killing them, too.

It was Eddie who stepped forward and knocked the bream on the back of its head. It immediately went still.

"Jeez, this is brutal," Jared cried. "I'm turning vegan."

"How do you think fish get caught?" his uncle said.

We returned to the fishing. I soon followed suit and reeled in a catch of my own. Not to be outdone, only seconds later, Eddie yelled, "I've got one too." And so our supper was caught.

Back at the campsite, we finally changed out of our swimming things and hung them on a tent line to let them dry. Once dressed, I said to Jared, "Alright, let's get this fire going."

"Awesome. I've never done this before," he replied.

Again, I thought of our generational difference: what kid in the old days didn't know how to start a fire?

"First, we need some kindling to get it started," I explained, gesturing to small twigs and dry leaves scattered around the campsite. "I have a lighter with me."

As we worked together to build the fire, Eddie cleaned the fish.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I asked.

Eddie glanced up from his task, a small smile playing on his lips.

"New York."

I laughed.

"Hudson River?"

"No," he said. "A fish preparation evening. Only $120!"

He cracked me up.

"Man, $120? I would have taught you for five bucks."

He shook his head, grinning.

We wrapped the fish in aluminum foil and placed them over the fire. In a few seconds, the sound of sizzling filled the air, followed by the sharp smell of fish skin blackening.

Eventually, supper was done. Eddie picked up the aluminum packages with his bare hands, scorching his fingers.

"Ow! Ow!" he cried.

He unwrapped the foil to reveal perfectly cooked fish inside, skin golden and charred, flesh white, juices running out.

"Looks delicious," I said, passing a fork to Jared. "Dig in."

"Oh, man, looks amazing," Jared said. "I'm holding off being a vegan, then."

We sat by the fire, eating in silence, along with some bread we had brought with us. It was such a simple meal, such a simple moment, but I loved it.

As we ate, we exchanged stories and jokes. Time passed, and it grew later. The evening air had grown cooler against our skin as the last rays of the sun began to fade. The sky itself changed, too, with hues of orange and pink turning to purple and blue. The river changed its color accordingly, reflecting the colors of the sky at first, then fading to a dark violet color in the distance, hardly distinguishable from the night.

"It doesn't get much better than this," Eddie said.

"No, it really doesn't," I replied.

As the fire crackled and the night grew darker, I found myself reminiscing about our childhood. The night grew black and still. Birdsong disappeared, replaced only by the occasional, distant owl hoot.

"Remember when we snuck into Old Man Walters' barn and tried to ride his bull?" I chuckled.

Jared's eyes widened, golden in the firelight.

"What the hell! What happened?"

"Nothing," Eddie replied. "The bull started shrieking, and Max took fright and ran out, and Old Man Walters chased us with his rifle, threatening to shoot us."

" What ?" Jared squawked.

"I didn't take fright," I insisted. "I merely assessed the situation and realized it was time to leave safely."

Eddie looked at his nephew.

"Screaming for his life the whole time."

Jared listened intently.

"Wow, you guys were wild!"

"We really weren't," Eddie said. "We were just good pals."

I looked at him.

"Yeah, we were," I replied. I felt so good in that moment.

"Did the farmer shoot at you?" Jared asked, still wrapped up in the story.

"No, of course not." Eddie was laughing. "That old coot couldn't have hit a carnival coconut shy."

I started laughing quite hard.

"Okay, time for you to hit the hay, I think," Eddie said to Jared.

"What, why?"

"It's getting late, Jared."

"But I'm not tired yet!" Jared protested.

"Come on, bud," Eddie said. "You need your beauty sleep."

Jared moaned a bit but did as he was told. Maybe he was quite tired, after all. He got up and hugged us both tightly, his small frame engulfed by our embrace.

"Good night, guys," he said. "I'm really glad we came up here."

"Me too," I replied, and we nodded as he pulled away.

"Thanks, Eddie," he said, last of all. "For letting me come up here with you two. I know you two are the real friends, but I'm happy you counted me in."

Eddie shook his head.

"No problem at all. I wouldn't want it any other way."

"The three amigos," I said.

Eddie groaned.

"He doesn't understand that reference. Too young."

With a final smile, Jared disappeared into the tent, leaving Eddie and me seated at the fire. We shifted our positions across the crackling flames so that we could sit closer to each other. I reached into the cooler, grabbed a couple of cold beers, and offered one to Eddie.

"Let's get a bit drunk," I suggested, popping the cap off my bottle.

Eddie hesitated.

"Okay, but I don't want to drink too much," he said.

I chuckled, taking a swig of my beer.

"You're a lightweight," I teased as he took the cap off his.

We leaned back and savored our drinks.

"He's in love with you," Eddie said.

I didn't understand.

"Who?"

"Jared."

I laughed, shaking my head.

"Metaphorically," I said. "He likes having, like, a big male presence around."

Eddie's eyes glowed.

"Then what am I?"

"Someone who pays $120 to learn how to take fish guts out."

He grinned.

"Fair."

"It's nice for him, you know. Megan was a great mom, but maybe he is a bit hungry for male influence."

"Well," Eddie said, "he's getting plenty of it off you."

I raised my beer in a mock toast.

"You're welcome!"

Eddie and I watched the fire, our faces illuminated by its flickering. The scent of woodsmoke, of pine from the burning twigs, filled our senses.

Eddie talked a bit about how glad he was to see Jared happy, even if it was just for now, even if a lot of decisions were ahead.

We also reminisced a bit more about old times, and he asked me about people I still knew from high school. I told him that Lindy Bloom had married and divorced Chad Hanley, and Abby Wong had had an affair with Joey Juarez, and he'd left his wife and kids to be with her, then gone back to his family. He shook his head.

"It's all so weird," he said. "You go off to New York, and you forget."

"Forget about people?"

"No, you forget that everyone else's life carries on. You kind of imagine everyone is still eighteen, but look, we're all grown up, we're all older, and making the same mistakes, living the same dramas, just in different locations."

I looked at him for a moment.

"Maybe we're not finding the right person. If we found the right person, we wouldn't need all the dramas and mistakes."

His eyes were held to the fire.

"Do you believe in the ‘perfect person'?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's finding them that's the problem."

"Have you found them?" he asked.

I felt myself catch my breath. What a question. It was the only question. And as the pieces of my feelings were secretly coming together for me, I stared at him as he looked into the fire.

"Maybe," I said, and he looked up at me.

We were looking for each other for a few seconds, and it was almost the same look that day in the bedroom when I caught him with my underwear.

But now, we weren't scared eighteen-year-old boys anymore. We were grown men who knew that the world – that life – was hard, and it was difficult to find happiness. But we were free to pursue whatever path we wanted: in life, in sex, in love. And yet had that made us happier?

In the hazy glow of the firelight, I allowed my mind to wander for a split second into the realm of a possibility of something between us. In this dream, it was just Eddie and me cocooned away from the prying eyes of the world.

Our bodies lay next to each other, naked, our skin warm and touching. It was an erotic moment more than a sexual one: it was about the closeness of our connection, not just fucking .

In the fantasy, I reached my hand up, brushing my fingers against Eddie's cheek, the softness of his skin in contrast to my own big, work-callused hands. His breath caught in his throat at my touch, and the sound of his wonder hung between us like a delicate thread. I drew closer, the space closing us, as I finally fully embraced his body.

Then he turned his face toward mine, my lips meeting his in a tentative kiss. His lips were soft and yielding. We moved together with a gentle rhythm, our bodies pressed so close now. I felt my cock very hard. Was it hard in the fantasy or in real life?

"Maybe we should go to bed," he said.

I was shaken from my reverie. He was looking directly at me. My penis was hard. But nothing else had been real.

"What?" I faltered.

"You're off in dreamland, and I think we should get an early night. Well, earlyish."

"Oh," I said. "Oh, okay, sure."

Together, we rose from our makeshift seats by the fire. I wasn't sure if my bulge was obvious in my shorts. He didn't seem to notice anything.

"Should we let it burn out?" he asked of the flames.

"Yeah," I said. "Will keep any critters away."

Eddie looked back at the tent.

"We need to be quiet so as not to wake Jared."

"He was probably listening in the whole time," I said.

"Listening to what?" Eddie asked.

"Nothing," I replied.