10. River

RIVER

I was determined to put Roxanne out of my head and focus on my night out with Clarry.

When the working day was done, I tidied the workshop in record time and hurried home to shower and change. I put on my best jeans, a white short-sleeved shirt and my favorite boots. I combed my short black hair and even applied a little gel, something I hadn't done since I was a teenager.

I sprayed on some cologne.

I unbuttoned the shirt a little, popping open one button, then another.

I positioned the key on the chain just so between my pecs, letting it rest comfortably in the center of my chest.

I looked in the mirror one last time, happy with what I saw, then raced out of the bathroom and across the living room floor.

"Well don't you look handsome." My old man was sitting at the dining table handwriting price tags and sale signs in colored markers. "Where are you headed all dressed to the nines?"

"I'm taking Clarry to Aunt Bea's for a drink or two."

He nodded with approval. "I like Aunt Bea. She speaks her truth. I'm sure you'll have more fun than I will tonight. "

"Dad, you know you can get a printer to make those signs. You don't need to handwrite them yourself."

"I've got a printer, but I can't make the settings print color. Maybe someday I'll work it out."

I gave in and said, "Or maybe someday I'll work it out for you. Let me look at it tomorrow. In the meantime, put that aside and enjoy a night to yourself. And don't wait up for me."

"Of course I won't. At my age you don't wait up for anyone anymore. It's not a matter of choice, it's a matter of getting into bed before you fall asleep on the sofa and can't move your neck the next day."

I smiled. "Then make sure you get to bed. Goodnight Dad."

Absently he turned back to his price tags and sale signs. "Goodnight son."

As I left our home at the general store and crossed Main Street Bridge, the summer air danced on the skin of my forearms. The sky was still light, slowly melting toward a yellow-hued twilight. The warmth of the night made me so buoyant; it gave rise to a mood of joy and excitement.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this way.

Over the past few years, I'd experienced so much intensity, so much shock and despair, so much loneliness and aimlessness that there were times I thought I'd never feel joy again.

I had known loss.

I had been lost.

But that night, I truly felt like I was beginning to retrace the steps to where I belonged.

The water babbling under Main Street Bridge was music to my ears.

The sight of the ice cream parlor down the end of Riverside Promenade was a sight for these sore, weary eyes.

Yes… I was retracing the steps to Clarry's door once more.

I touched my finger to the key hanging around my neck and turned onto the promenade .

When I got to his door, I debated whether to knock or let myself in.

Initially I thought it'd be rude to just let myself in when we were about to go out for the night.

But then again, I'd always let myself in.

That's why he gave me a key, right?

I gave a shrug and figured Clarry wouldn't care, then turned my key in the lock, let myself in and climbed the stairs.

When I got to the top, the first thing I heard was a shriek.

"River! What are you doing up here? I'm still getting ready!"

There in the living room was Clarry in nothing but his Y-fronts, snatching a selection of shirts off the couch and using them to cover up his pale body.

His face was flushed.

His hands trembling.

His eyes darting all over the room in a panic, settling anywhere but on me.

"Clarry! Clarry, it's okay, it's just me."

"I know it's you. I just wanted to be ready before you got here. Are you early?"

I hadn't even looked at the time before I left my place. "Maybe. I don't know. Does it matter?"

"We said seven. You said seven."

"I did. I'm sorry. I should have checked the time. Maybe I should have knocked. I didn't think… I'm sorry." I bit my bottom lip, not sure how to help settle him down. He was clearly anxious about going to Aunt Bea's. "Do you… do you need me to help you pick out a shirt?"

"No. Yes. Maybe. Can I at least put some jeans on first?"

I went into negotiation mode. "Of course you can. You do whatever you need to do. Go into your bedroom and put some jeans on, and maybe I'll have a look at your shirts and see what'll look nice on you."

He nodded timidly. "Okay. "

Slowly he laid the shirts back on the couch, covering his chest and crotch with his hands before turning and racing into his bedroom.

I felt bad.

I felt terrible.

I'd accidentally humiliated him once again, just like I had when we were eighteen in the tent.

I knew Clarry wasn't as comfortable with his body as I was.

I needed to constantly remind myself of that.

But then again, maybe I needed to remind him there was nothing about his body that he should ever be ashamed of. Sure, he had a few pounds on here and there, but who the fuck cares? There was so much more to life than how someone looked on the outside. There was so much more to him than how he looked on the outside. And if I'm honest, I kinda loved how he looked.

He was who he was.

Authentic.

Adorable.

And to me… irreplaceable.

While Clarry was in his bedroom, I looked over the three shirts on display on the couch.

One was white with pink flamingos all over it.

One was pink with yellow pineapples all over it.

And one was yellow with blue sailboats on it.

My lips curled upward at the sight of them, at how playful and cheerful the patterns were. Just like Clarry.

"Definitely the one with the blue sailboats," I called toward the bedroom. "To match your eyes."

Clarry poked his head around the side of the door and looked at me as though I was crazy. "Not that one! That's my pajama top. I left it on the couch to change into the second I get home." He disappeared into the bedroom again.

"Oh. Sorry. It kinda looked like the other two. Um, if that's the case, I'm leaning toward the flamingos. The other one is too fruity."

"You think the pineapples are too gay?" he called from the bedroom, his voice panicky.

"No! I didn't mean that at all. I just mean they're fruity… as in… they're actual pieces of fruit."

"You don't think the flamingos are too pink? I wear pink every day in the parlor."

I shrugged. "Yes. But this is more casual than the apron and bow tie. Besides, it's a nice color on you. It's your color. Whenever I see anything pink, I think of you."

"You do?"

"Sure I do. I think of you a lot, you know."

"Why?"

I barked out a laugh. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it. I just do."

Clarry appeared in the bedroom doorway again, this time in full view, wearing shoes, jeans and a dressing gown over the top.

"Okay then, flamingos it is." Timidly he walked over to take the shirt off the couch, then turned to retreat back into the bedroom to put it on.

I stopped him by grabbing the back of the cord on his robe. "You don't need to go back in there to get changed. Just put the shirt on here." I pulled him back toward me, ignoring the slight resistance he put up. "Here, let me help."

Before he could stop me, I took the shirt out of his hands and tossed it onto the couch. I spun him around to face me, untied the cord and lifted the robe off his shoulders, sliding it down his arms. As soon as it was off, he tried his best to cover his chest and tummy with his hands.

I threw the robe onto the couch. "What are you doing?"

"I… I guess… it's cold in here."

"It's not." I picked up the flamingo-patterned shirt, slid it off its hanger and had to peel his arms away from his torso. There was more resistance this time.

"Are you always this hard to dress?"

"No. I don't know. I guess I just don't want you to see my body."

"What? Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I forgot to do my morning push-ups… and chin-ups… and crunches."

"Clarry, the only crunch you do is your Crunchy Peanut Butter Brittle. And it's amazing. Just keep up those crunches and the world will be a happy place. Now here, put your arms out so I can get this shirt on you."

For a few moments it felt like trying to bath a cat, but soon Clarry gave in and relaxed enough for me to get his arms in his sleeves. As I started buttoning him up, I couldn't help but ask, "Why don't you want me to see your body?"

He didn't answer for a few seconds, and then when he tried his words came out in croaks and murmurs, until eventually he was able to put a sentence together. "Because I'm embarrassed. Because I'm fat. Because you're… gorgeous, and I'm… anything but."

"What? No." I stopped buttoning him up and placed my hands on his chest. "Clarry, don't say that. Don't ever say that. Be happy in your skin. Be happy you're alive. You should be happy with who you are."

He gave a defeated huff. "That's easy for you to say."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"River, take a look at yourself. You're tall and you're anyone's definition of handsome and even your muscles have muscles. You're everyone's idea of the perfect male specimen and you know it. You even shower naked in front of people."

"God, I knew that made you feel awkward, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Why should you be sorry about the way you look? You should be proud. You should be happy with who you are. "

I paused a moment, blinking on my thoughts. "I guess I should be. But I'm not."

He gave me a puzzled look. "What do you mean you're not?"

I plonked myself down on the couch. Clarry buttoned the bottom button on his shirt and sat beside me. "I don't know," I told him. "But I have to ask myself, if it took me two years to come home after I finished my service—two years of riding across the country with nothing but time to think—what was holding me back? I know my old man and me don't exactly see eye to eye. He's always trying to get me to embrace my heritage and I'm always blaming him for letting Mom go. But I can't help but think it's more than that. There's something I can't quite put my finger on, and I just don't know what it is."

I wanted to add what happened to me overseas… the fear, the pain, the trauma that I wasn't sure I could ever shake. But I didn't want to burden Clarry with that, not when it was his insecurities that had led us to this point.

Instead, I took a deep breath and slid my hand into his.

His palm was warm.

His fingers trembled ever so slightly.

But when I clasped them around mine, we fit together just fine.

"So, neither of us is completely happy with who we are," I sighed. "But maybe one day we can be. In the meantime, why don't we just muddle through life together? Because if there's one thing I know… I'm happy with who I am when I'm with you."