Quabbin - 9. Chapter 9

“What you doing tonight?” Cameron asked when I walked into the office. He’d come back right after the service, when the other security guys went home. I might’ve thought he’d ask, “How were things at the cemetery?” or “You all right?” but maybe he didn’t want to pry.

“Thought I’d fight with Dad,” I joked. “See how pissed off I can get him. Maybe I won’t have to go to church on Sunday.”

“You still doing that?”

“Oh, yeah -- every week.” “As long as you’re home, James,” Dad had lectured, “some things need to be done.” And maybe it did matter -- God knows what the neighbors thought of me, or of my family. After the deaths. After my accident, then my ditching college and disappearing around the world. We all cleaned up well, and Ted, and Ann, and Ron were beginning to prove themselves in their careers. But maybe Dad was so increasingly stiff because he felt a need to pay publicly for what he thought were some of our not-so-private self-indulgences.

“Going to confession, too?” Cameron dug.

“Wanna see St. Al’s burn?”

He laughed again. Cameron wasn’t Catholic, and I doubt he really knew much about confession. And it’s not like I ever talked about religion, with anyone. Once, a grade school buddy, a Jewish kid, conned me into thinking his bar mitzvah meant he’d be stripped, ritually circumcised, and humiliated in front of all his relatives and friends. I sat through the whole ceremony terrified that I’d be the one who screamed.

“Wanna work out?” Cameron went on. I knew he was going to, so he was just saying to come along. Afterwards, we’d go for the usual beers, and I’d make my usual call to Dad, telling him to freeze my dinner. Then I’d show up, very late, borderline drunk, and not get enough sleep.

“Let me do rounds,” I told Cameron. Each of the night crew guys, being alone, pretty well stayed in the office during his shift, watching the monitors, answering rare phone calls, surfing the net, and reading. The two catalogue folks who worked midnights on the 24-hour phones had a room just across from ours, so occasionally Larsen or Godinez would wander over there -- especially if one of the college girls was pretty. Cameron always carried a phone, too, so if anything really went wrong, he was called immediately, when the town cops were alerted. But it helped if we locked up everything we could before we left.

I started on the east side of the Mill, with the old maintenance building, then hit the newer, larger, electric plant -- it used to burn coal. Opposite that was a blocky garage, but I wouldn’t go in there till I came back across the street. Before that, I had to check the present equipment shack, then a half-dozen rounded wooden huts, mainly used to store old surplus. Finally, before walking all four floors of the Mill, starting at the top, I’d check the Founder’s House. It usually took about an hour.

Except in front of the Founder’s House, I ran into Kevin Orr. He didn’t seem to recognize me from the church, maybe because I’d dumped my jacket, rolled the sleeves of my white shirt, and wasn’t wearing a tie. And I had on sunglasses.

“Just locking up,” I said, grinning. Then I rattled my keys.

He smiled. “It’s a beautiful house. I can never walk by without stopping.”

“Have you been inside?”

“No. Not really.”

“Wanna see?”

Asking him that possibly wasn’t the brightest idea -- what kind of guy invites a man he doesn’t know into an empty house? But I knew I wasn’t going to pull anything, so it seemed safe. “I work here,” I said, just to make that clear.

“I figured,” he told me, smiling again. Then he followed me onto the porch. Reaching the door, I eased off my sunglasses, and, as we moved inside, we slipped into conversation. Walking room-to-room, checking windows and doors I absolutely didn’t have to -- normally, I never went into the house -- I told Kevin what little I knew about its history, and the Mill’s. He listened while checking things out, then asked, “Have you lived here all your life?”

“Yep,” I said, grinning again. This was all very smooth.

“Is it safe?”

An unexpected question and not exactly simple. “That depends,” I waffled. “Safe for what?”

He was straight forward: “I run.”

“Run?” I suddenly pictured him in sweat sox and running shorts -- I needed a cold drink.

“Jog,” he corrected. “Five miles every morning -- at least, I’d like to. I’ve seen other people run around here, and they seem comfortable. But I keep meaning to ask the police.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him. “I’ve been here for the last five years, and we’ve never even had a break-in.” Actually, I’d only been there for three of the past five years, but this was no time for details.

He thanked me, then, as I locked the front door, started to leave. I was fine with that, figuring I’d had my opening. Next time we met, we could easily talk. “Do you run?” he suddenly asked.

I laughed. “Mornings? You got the wrong guy. I get up two minutes before I need to jump in my car, take the world’s fastest shower, then shave while I crank the twelve miles here.

“You’re so lucky,” he said, laughing. “I can’t go out with wet hair.”

“What time do you get up?” I pressed, kind of half-imagining that curly hair wet. My question was so personal it practically meant nothing.

“Six,” he said. “I know that’s early, and it means I’m no good after ten at night. But I always think clearer in the morning.”

What can you do? I’m better at night, and I’m normally up till at least one. “Running’s too rough on my knees,” I told him, again not explaining why. “I lift more than anything.”

“Is there a decent gym?”

I didn’t know. Waldron was still pretty undeveloped compared to Northampton and Amherst. “I just moved back,” I had to admit. “I use a gym near Smith. You’re welcome to join me later.”

While he considered, I told him I was halfway through rounds and would probably need another twenty or twenty-five minutes. He said he’d have to go back to his apartment anyway, for clothes, but that he sure could use the exercise. “It’s been a terrible week.”

“Great!” I said, instantly thinking, He’s been to a funeral, you jerk! “It’s been a bad week for all of us,” I tacked on, soberly. He nodded, and we quietly worked out where the gym was, while all the time I was thinking, Cameron’s gonna piss! Then I realized, Cameron was gonna be with us.

“See you soon,” he said, and I watched him slowly walk off.

When I told Cameron, he kind of whooped like a three-year-old. “Ease up,” I insisted. “It’s not like I’m giving you a present.”

“You’re not fighting me on this!” he challenged again, as he had at the church.

“Who knows?” I said, laughing. I had enough other things to figure out. But I wasn’t completely sure how I felt about Kevin Orr.

Though it’s not like anything about him even began to make me forget Dane. I’d been more involved emotionally talking with Carrie over the past couple of nights. Still, I felt very sorry for Carrie, and there was none of that with Kevin. But how much did we really have in common? We worked for the same company. Big deal. I didn’t even want to be there. And we worked out. So did almost everyone I knew. It wasn’t something you spun past conversation.

Which brought up something way bigger: “What do you want to do, Jim?” Dane had asked, maybe six months after my accident. I think it was part of his checklist with “Jim” heading one column and “Slumlord” topping the other. I’d been in pre-med, but three weeks of even the best university hardly makes you a doctor. My oldest brother Ted had chosen pediatrics, Ann was teaching at Trinity, Ron was a structural engineer, and Carol was heading towards grad school at MIT. But what did I want to do?

I wanted to marry Dane. There it was again. And if that meant having to compete, dead on, with a minor real estate millionaire who had two years on my oldest brother, so what? And how could I manage that? Other than stunt travel, it was up for grabs. I had to head back to college; I knew that. But after that? And during? What could I do that would absolutely take Dane away from him husband and keep him? Damn good question. So with all that, just brewing in my head, why would I possibly arm wrestle Cameron for Kevin Orr?

Since it wasn’t a real issue, Kevin, Cameron, and I simply had fun on Thursday night. The gym was nearly empty, I guess people being off in more interesting places. After working out, we soaked in the hot tub, showered, then went to dinner. That was Cameron’s idea, along with the place -- a noisy Italian restaurant walking distance from the gym. But the food was great, and the small room quieted down after ten.

We didn’t. After we ordered dessert, then coffee, we started on rounds of ever-crazy-sounding drinks. It seemed like none of us wanted to go home.

“Hell of a way to end a week,” Cameron finally joked, more than a little gone.

“It’s not over yet,” I reminded him, cheerfully. “Still gotta work tomorrow.”

“You don’t,” he said, laughing. “Not if I say so.”

“And I’m off,” Kevin added. “With the Mill still closed.” He had a little trouble with mill still. “But I’ll probably go in anyway. Like this afternoon, when I couldn’t find anything better to do after the funeral.”

Which is why I’d run into him.

“I could send the kid in tomorrow,” Cameron offered, loosely pointing towards me, “and show you Boston.” The second “you” was aimed kind of towards Kevin. Earlier, we’d discovered that he’d just moved east but hadn’t had time yet to explore.

“We might just be able to drive by noon,” Kevin kidded. “Maybe even later.”

“Boston’s sweet by moonlight,” Cameron almost purred.

“Let’s see if we can walk first.”

The other thing Cameron and I had learned during dinner was that Kevin was newly separated. Plus, he’d just finished his MBA. And this was his first big job.

“I settled down way too young,” he admitted. “It was something we didn’t even think about. I’d left home. Steve had been living on his own for a couple of years. Once we started seeing each together, it just made sense.”

They’d been together for almost for seven years. But the more he’d gone to school, the further apart they got.

“He’s a mechanic,” he said. “God, he loves cars. And not cheap ones -- the best there are. He’s really good with them.”

“So he’s not at the local gas station?” I goofed.

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t have wanted that, even at seventeen,. But I can’t tell you how…” He suddenly stopped, then laughed. “Oops, can’t tell you that.”

“What?” Cameron asked, leering comically.

Kevin laughed again. “Let’s just say that… well, even when Steve’s completely wrong, he looks great. And that was a problem. I mean, we’d be fighting, and I’d be right -- I’d be the one thinking clearly. And we’d be yelling about something completely dumb, like him buying yet another wreck to fix up. Then we’d suddenly be in bed. Or not even close.” He smiled, his eyes closed. “It’s something I’ll always miss.”

Cameron was missing it, and he’d never even been there. He pulled out the collar of his shirt and poured his drink down his chest.

Kevin broke up. “You’re gonna hate yourself in a minute.”

“Nah. It feels great. Wanna try?” He offered Kevin a glass.

I was at least trying to stay sober, so one of us could drive. “What finally ended your relationship?” I plowed on. But Kevin was still laughing at Cameron, so I had to wait.

“We split when I got this job,” he finally said. “Of course, I was looking for jobs as far from Chicago as I could get. I knew Steve had a great business, and I’d never make close to what he did -- so I knew he wasn’t about to quit. And he’d never find the kinds of cars he likes in Springfield.”

“Lots of money in Hartford,” Cameron pointed out.

Kevin shrugged. “I took that chance.”

And it seemed to have worked, though he’d only been in town for a month.

“He’s still really mad,” Kevin went on. “Can’t believe I walked out. He’s sure I’ll come back.”

“Was it honestly that bad?” I asked, blindly taking the side of a guy I didn’t even know. There must be a frat house of the dumped.

“I didn’t love him anymore,” Kevin said. “At least, not enough. There are just so many interesting guys in the world. And the more I took classes, the more of them I met.”

This was very familiar.

“And I started getting more interesting myself… taking better care of myself. I used to think I looked great, but I can’t believe it now. Those clothes… and my hair, all bleached and straightened. And don’t even ask about working out...”

I’d seen him in the shower. He was very well worked out. And now he looked great, though he just had on a T-shirt and jeans.

Did I want him? Oh, yeah. Did Cameron? He was licking the table. And how did Kevin feel? I couldn’t really tell. But I would’ve put Cameron’s chances at several million above mine. Still, when we started to leave -- when the restaurant finally closed, and they politely kicked us out -- Kevin asked me to drive him home.

Why? Maybe he realized Cameron was too drunk. He only lived down the block, so it wasn’t a huge problem. But we’d brought three cars from Waldron, so no one would have to double back. “I’ll leave mine here,” Kevin insisted. “I’m not driving.”

“Stay at my place,” Cameron offered. He knew what was at stake.

“No… really,” Kevin told him, smiling. “I sleep better in my own bed.”

“I’ll be gone by eight-thirty,” Cameron promised. “You’ll have the place to yourself.” He grinned his best grin, but seemed no competition for the sexy mechanic.

“Thanks,” Kevin said, and then they shook hands. “But call me in the morning. I’d love to see Boston. We can make weekend plans.”

That seemed to buy Cameron off, and the last time we saw him, he was walking happily home.

Now I figured I’d drop Kevin off and be back in Amherst, snoozing, in thirty minutes. But when I paused in front of his building, he said, “You’re coming in.”

It wasn’t a question, any more than there was a question of our clothes coming off the moment he closed his door.

A couple hours later... no, when I realized the room was getting light… I also realized what time it was. By then, we’d somehow made it to the bed and had probably even slept a little. Or I had. Or he had. Or who knows? Time wasn’t very important just then.

But something else was: the fact that this wasn’t just sex with someone I’d paid for. Something bigger had happened. Something could start from here.

Though I loved Dane. And I wasn’t forgetting that the last thing Kevin said to Cameron was about weekend plans. And there was something else I couldn’t figure out: Was I something Kevin had planned? Or had something changed in his mind as we drove the four miles to Waldron?

He woke up while I was watching him and smiled in a way that seemed pleased. But his first words were, “I know you have to go.”

Again, it wasn’t a question. And though I hadn’t worked out the details, I knew I’d be driving home to Amherst, sleeping for five minutes, cleaning up, then racing back to the Mill.

“Gotta go,” I said, giving nothing away.

“I’ll call you guys later,” he nearly whispered. “You coming with us? To Boston?”

Now there was an idea: completely warped. The three of us. Together. In Boston.

“I have no idea,” I answered honestly.

He kissed me and was curling back to sleep as I left.

Confused? Not me. Oh, no, I was thinking as clearly as I ever do when I’ve had too little sleep, was edging up on a hangover, and just spent the night with someone I barely knew. And while I had no trouble driving home, I had a little problem facing Dad, who was stupidly frying eggs when I walked into the kitchen.

“Didn’t think you came in last night,” he said. And I wondered if the smell coming off me carried across the room.

There was nothing I could say. He didn’t need me to lie, so I didn’t explain. “Gotta be at work at nine,” I told him. Then I stumbled upstairs and fell on my bed, first making sure the alarm was set. Just after that, it rang.