CARHOPS - 2. Chapter 2

CARHOPS - Chapter 2.

Copyright 2017 by Nick Brady, all rights reserved.

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The house was empty when I got home. Mom was at work at the Corner Cafe where she waited tables, but had left some supper on the stove for me. I ate a little, then put the rest in the refrigerator and went into my bedroom. After the bike ride and our time at the creek, I was tired and got undressed for bed. I usually waited up for her, but thought I would stretch out for a little while. I slipped under the covers and thought about the day.

Maybe it wasn't cool to be friendly with a colored boy. I'd probably not tell my friends about our fishing trip, but the fact was that I liked Henry. He was the first colored person I had ever been around who was my same age. My understanding of them had been absorbed from what had been said about them by others, and I had not questioned it. But Henry wasn't stupid, he didn't steal and he didn't stink. I tried to think of how he was different from any other guys I knew.

Actually, he was different in a number of ways. For one, we worked together every day, and he was nice to be around. He did his part of our divided labor and was courteous to the people he waited on. Once we got to know each other, he loosened up and was fun to talk with. He made me laugh without really trying to be funny. He knew a lot more about fishing than I did, but never made me feel stupid.

Being kind of on the small side with blonde hair and freckles made me an easy target for bullies. Henry didn't tease me.

Besides, there was something about our swim that was exciting to me. I had been skinny dipping once or twice with other guys, but today was different somehow. I thought about looking at him from under the water, and the way it felt to wrestle with him. I liked the dramatic difference in the color of our skin and hair. I think he liked it too, because I could tell that he was looking me over, although he didn't say anything about it. In fact, he acted like swimming naked with me was the most natural thing there ever was. Maybe it was. I fell asleep before Mom got home.

“Well, did you catch any fish?” my mother asked when we got up the next morning.

“We did, actually,” I boasted. We caught some sand bass and a little catfish, but it was too small to keep.”

“What did you do with them?” she asked.

“Oh, I let Henry have them. He really caught most of them anyway.”

Mom gave me a stern look. “Is Henry that black boy you work with at Sparky's?”

“Yes. What about it? He's OK.” I felt a little defensive.

“I don't care, honey. But you should be careful about that kind of thing. You know how some people are.”

I did know how some people were. I heard all the nigger jokes that my friends liked to tell. I laughed at them, but I wasn't sure how funny they were now that I had gotten to know Henry. I just couldn't think about him that way - not now. It was kind of confusing.

I puttered around my room and tried to bring it to an acceptable state of order so that Mom wouldn't gripe at me. I wondered what sort of room Henry had at his house. I wondered a lot of things about Henry. I would see him soon enough when I showed up for work.

I rode my bike to Sparky's and arrived right at 2:00 to see that Henry was already there. He was always a little early and sitting out in back when I rolled up. He smiled when he saw me and gave me a wave of his hand. I leaned my bike up next to his and sat down.

“How you doing?” I greeted him. “How were those fish?”

“Tasty. We had them for supper,” he said. “You really don't know how to clean fish?”

I shrugged. “I guess not. I really haven't been fishing very many times.”

“You got nobody to take you,” he looked sympathetic. I shrugged again.

Henry looked thoughtful. “Did you have a good time at the creek?”

“Yeah. I really did. That was fun,” I admitted. “Thanks for taking me.”

Henry smiled and shook his head from side to side. “No, thank you, man. I think you're the only white guy who's ever been nice to me. I had fun too. Maybe we can do that again sometime.”

I wasn't sure where he was coming from. I guess it was hard for me to understand his situation. “I'd like that. Maybe we can. Maybe you can teach me how to clean fish,” I smiled at him.

We were interrupted by a pickup truck pulling around to the back. They were white, so I stepped up to see what they wanted.

“Gimme a six-pack of Falstaff,” the driver said.

“Is that all you want? Nothing to eat?”

“That's all,” he looked at Henry sitting quietly on our bench. “Who's the nigger?”

“That's Henry,” I told him. “He waits on the colored folks.”

The guy in the passenger seat said something I didn't catch. I wrote '6-pk Falstaff' on a slip of paper and told the driver, “That'll be a dollar fifty, please.” He hesitated, then gave me two one-dollar bills. I handed the slip and the money through the window and waited. In a minute Floyd handed me a paper bag which I passed on to the pickup driver. “Your change is in the bag. Thank you.”

The two exchanged something else and laughed loudly then drove away. I went back to our bench and sat down next to Henry. “They would like to make trouble,” he said very quietly.

“Those guys in the truck? Why?”

Henry spoke without looking at me. “You need to be careful when you're around me. Some guys like to make trouble for colored boys. They 'specially like to make trouble for white boys who are friendly with colored boys. You need to be careful, OK?”

I didn't know what to say. This was something that I had no experience with. Obviously, Henry had. “What did you do to them?”

“You wouldn't understand,” he looked away.

I sat quietly and thought about what had just happened. I heard people say things about coloreds all the time, the jokes, the derogatory remarks. I laughed it off like it wasn't serious. For Henry, it was serious. I had a lot to think about.

We didn't talk much that day. The next day, Henry brought a folding chair and set it on the other side of the back door from the bench. “What's that for?” I asked him.

“It's better like this,” he told me. “Jimmy, you need to be careful. You don't know how some people are. You really don't want to be my friend.”

“I don't understand,” I protested.

“No. You couldn't. Look, I like you a lot. But I let myself forget my place. It's OK for us to work here together, but riding bikes and going fishing was a bad idea. I'm sorry.”

I sat and let this sink in. I had been almost as guilty at the jerks in the pickup truck. I had said things and laughed at jokes that would have hurt Henry if he knew about them. I thought I had made a really good friend, but maybe I had only put him in danger. What should I do? How could I fix this?

“Henry, I don't care what color you are. We had fun yesterday and I want to be your friend. Screw those jerks.”

“No, you really don't, and not just because my skin is black. Just forget it,” he said, looking sad.

I was not likely to forget it, but decided to let it go for now. We went through the day and Henry's mood seemed to improve a little, but he remained distant with me. It was confusing. By Saturday, I had decided to try again.

“What do you think about going fishing Sunday afternoon?” I asked him.

Henry shook his head. “I thought I explained that to you, Jimmy. That's not really a good idea.”

“Does that mean you don't want to be friends with me?”

“It's not like that. You're a nice guy, but I don't want trouble and I don't want to cause you trouble. I guess it's hard for you to understand how this works.”

I tried again. “I've been thinking about this. What if instead of going out together, we just sort of accidentally met somewhere and fished when we got there? Would that work better?”

Henry looked puzzled. “I don't know, maybe. You're the only white boy I ever got to know. You sure are stubborn.”

“It's my blonde hair,” I grinned at him. “Where's a good place to go?”

Henry gave an exasperated sigh, then looked thoughtful. “I guess we could fish out near Toppers. You know where that is?”

I know the area. Where did you have in mind?”

“If you go out the dike road to where you turn right for Toppers, but turn left instead. About a quarter mile that way is a place we could meet. I mean if you're sure.”

“What time?”

“Two o'clock?”

“I'll be there,” I grinned.

Henry shook his head. “You sure are a stubborn cuss.”

I was waiting at two, not sure Henry would show up. The place was deserted. Ten minutes later I saw him bouncing down the rough gravel road with the bundle of fishing gear tied to his bike.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey yourself,” Henry smiled at me. “You ready for this?”

“Where do we go?”

“Follow me,” he said, and rode down to an old pasture gate and turned down towards the lake. I followed him down to a stand of willows near the water's edge where he laid his bike down and began to unload his bundles.

Now that we were in a place to fish, he was focused on the business at hand. “This is a better place for catfish than the creek. I got the stink bait and I brought a box of good night crawlers.”

He stunk up the air and threw out two lines as far out as he could. We put worms on the other two poles and tossed them out just past the willows, then sat down in the grass to watch the corks. Henry's mood had improved.

It was hot, and after a few minutes, he pulled off his shirt, which I decided was a good idea. It was shady under the willows and there was a slight breeze coming of the lake, which felt pretty good. Henry leaned back on his elbows, crossed his legs at the ankle and started to hum in a contented way. I laid back with my hands behind my head and listened. After a few minutes, he sat up to check on the lines.

“Don't stop,” I said. “That sounds good. You have a nice voice.”

Henry laughed out loud. “I was just humming. You really like that?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I do. That's really nice. I'd like to hear you sing.”

“Really?” he flashed me a smile, cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“Swing low, sweet chariot,
Comin' for to carry me home...,” he began to sing in a clear sweet voice.

I rolled over on my side, rested my head on my hand and listened.

I looked over Jordan and what did I see
Comin' for to carry me home
A band of angels comin' after me
Comin' for to carry me home

I had heard it before but he knew all the verses. When he came to the end, he sang,

“If I get there before you do
Comin' for to carry me home
I'll cut a hole and pull you through
Comin' for to carry me home

Swing low, sweet chariot
Comin' for to carry me home
Swing low sweet chariot
Comin' for to carry me home.”

Then he turned to me and laughed, “You like that?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I do. That's really nice.”

Henry smiled, looked out at the water, jumped up and jerked on his rod. “I got something!”

The rod bucked around as he reeled in a nice sized catfish. He tossed it on the bank, refreshed the sponge with stinky stuff and cast it back out. Then he took a long cord, strung it through the fish's mouth and threw it in the lake, securing the other end to a rock and sat back down. “I told you this was a good place.”

We checked the other hooks and put on fresh worms. Before long, one of the corks went under and I pulled in a nice sand bass. This was fun. We got serious about fishing and within the next hour had a good mess of fish. Then they quit on us.

“Fish are fickle,” Henry explained. We sat and waited patiently, but our brief period of excitement seemed to have passed. The breeze died and it got hot.

“I wouldn't mind getting in the water to cool off,” I said.

Henry looked around, “I guess we could. There's nobody else around here.”

With no further discussion, I shucked my clothes and started to walk out into the water.

“Not here,” Henry said. “We'll get into the lines. Let's go down aways.”

I followed Henry as he led me to the other side of our willows. The trees hid us from the road, although it was not likely that we would have company. We carried our pants so we could cover ourselves if we needed to, but were open to the air. I had to admire Henry's naked backside as he walked ahead of me.

He was the same deep ebony color from head to toe, although I noticed that the soles of his feet were white. His hips were narrow and his butt cheeks cupped in at the sides as he stepped gingerly over the rough ground. When he found the spot he favored, he dropped his pants on the shore and started walking into the lake. He looked good.

I followed him into the water and my feet sank into soft mud. The lake had been formed by a dam a few miles down on the Grand River and the water covered what had been pasture land. The lake bottom was now mud. When he got out about waist deep, he stretched out and swam out a little further then turned back towards me. I pushed off and glided up next to him. We were a contrast in color. Henry very dark, and me very white. Except for the sprinkling of freckles across the top of my shoulders, I seldom got much darker, and my blonde hair glowed in the afternoon sunlight. Henry was grinning at me.

“What's so funny?” I asked.

“I never saw a white boy naked before,” he chuckled. “Man, you got blonde hair all over.”

“Yeah, I get teased about that sometimes.”

“Hey, you look good,” Henry had a sweet smile on his face, which gave me a nice feeling.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You look pretty good for a white boy,” he laughed, then splashed me.

I retaliated, and we tried to dunk each other, thrashing around in the muddy water. I got him wet, but I was the one who went under. The lake was murky and I couldn't see him as clearly as when we were in the creek, but as we struggled for advantage, I could feel him against me. The feeling of wet skin had given me an erection, and as he grabbed me from behind, I could tell that he was in the same condition. I felt a strong sense of excitement. I struggled harder.

When I rose up out of the water, my hand ran over the front of him and let his hard cock pass under it. I felt short of breath and there was a feeling of tightness under my arms. This was exciting. Henry turned to grab me around the waist and lifted me up then threw me under the water again. When he did, I could feel his hard dick press against my ass just for a moment. I liked this play. When I came up for air, I grabbed him and pushed our cocks together, holding him a little longer than I really needed to. Henry held still and gave me a funny look.

“Sorry,” I said, wondering if he was upset with me. I hoped he was not.

We were still holding each other, our bodies very close. I could feel our hard cocks gently touching, as they swayed in the moving water. I didn't move. I could feel his hands on my shoulders. He didn't move away. On an uncertain impulse, I pulled him against me. I could feel his heart pounding as our chests touched. He closed his eyes and I could feel his hands slide from my shoulders to my waist. I found it hard to breath.

Henry didn't look angry. In fact, his face looked like he wanted to ask a question. I didn't know what to do, so I did what felt right. I laid my head on his shoulder and hugged him close. He held on to me, and our hips pushed together. He moved very slowly from side to side.

“We shouldn't be doing this,” he said very softly into my ear, but didn't move away.

I couldn't think of anything clever to say, so ran my hands down his back until they were over his firm butt cheeks. I could feel him against me, and both our hearts were pounding. After a long moment, he pushed away from me. Not hard, just enough to put a space between us, and looked in my eyes.

“We shouldn't be doing this,” he repeated. “It's wrong to do this.”

“It doesn't feel wrong,” I said. “It feels really good.”

Henry sighed and looked kind of sad. “I know, but it's wrong to play like this. It's sinful.”

I traced my fingers down his chest. “I don't know about that, but it feels right to me. I like it.”

“Oh, Jimmy,” he sighed and looked sad. “God forgive me, I like it too. I was afraid something like this might happen.”

“What made you think this might happen?”

“Jimmy! Look at you. You look so fine - your pretty skin and that blonde curly hair. And you are so nice. I never knew anybody like you,” now he looked very sad. “When we are working, I sit and look at you and I think about doing all kinds of sinful things with you. When I think things like that, I get scared.”

“Are you scared of me?” I asked.

“Not of you, but of what I think of doing with you,” he admitted.

“I think about those things too. I think about them all the time. I really like you, Henry.”

“Oh, Jimmy,” he sighed, and let himself pull me into a gentle embrace. We were both still very hard. His hands passed over my back. I laid my face against his shoulder again and held him. The pounding continued. I kissed him on the neck and he shivered.

I pulled my hips back just far enough to slide my hands between us and take both of our cocks in my hand, pressing them together. Henry moved forward and back slowly. Henry pressed his lips against my ear. I felt ready to explode.

“Oh, Henry,” I sighed. “This doesn't feel wrong to me.”

With that, Henry looked into my eyes and pulled away from me. He slowly sank down under the water and took my cock in his mouth. I was both shocked, and thrilled. I leaned into him and let him suck me, holding his head in my hands. After a minute, he came up for air, looking at me with apprehension. I smiled at him.

I took a deep breath. “Yes! Please do that some more!” Henry hesitated and went under again.

I had never been sucked before and there was no doubt in my mind that I liked this a lot. I wondered what it would feel like to be on the other end of this. When Henry came up for air again, I crouched in front of him and tried it for myself. I liked it.

I took his cock in my mouth and found that it wouldn't all fit. I could feel the hardness of him, the loose skin that passed over the head as I moved back and forth on him. He pressed into the back of my throat and it made me cough, which was a problem with my head under water. I came up for air and sputtered water on him.

“I'm sorry,” he said and looked concerned. I cleared my throat and went back down. I liked this.

This time, I sucked him harder and he responded by gripping my head in his hands and thrusting in and out. I felt something warm and strange fill my mouth. I stroked my cock vigorously and shot my wad into the murky water. I stood quickly and spit out something white. Henry's eyes were closed tight.

“Damn! That was intense,” I gasped.

Henry looked frightened. “I'm sorry Jimmy. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me. I just couldn't help it.”

I smiled at him, “Don't be sorry.”

“You're not mad?”

“No. I'm not mad. Didn't you like it?”

Henry pulled me close and held me. “Oh Jimmy. Oh yes, I liked that a lot. Honest to God, I never did that before.”

“Neither did I, but I think I'd do it again,” I told him.

The expression on Henry's face went from concern to a shy smile. “I don't know. I got to think about this.”

With this, we walked slowly out of the water and pulled on our pants. We needed to check on our fish. There was a nice catfish on one of the poles. The hooks we put worms on were bare.

Henry was kind of quiet. “I think I'm ready to go.”

“What about the fish?” I asked.

“You want to take some home?” he asked.

“I would, but I'm not sure what to do with them. Mom isn't going to want to clean them.”

“I can show you how, if you like,” Henry said. “It's really easy.”

“Sure. If we're going to fish, I need to know how to clean them. What do I do?”

Henry pulled the stringer of fish from the water and carried them up to where the bare trunk of an old tree had washed up. He took a folding knife from his tackle box and opened it up. “Watch me.”

He took one of the bass, suck the knife into the lower belly and slit it open. He turned it over and sliced through the body behind the head, stopping before it was completely severed, stuck his thumb into the cavity behind the head and ripped it off, taking the guts with it. Laying the gutted fish on the log, he ran the edge of the knife up the body from tail to head, sending the scales flying, flipped it over and did the same to the other side. The whole thing had taken less than a minute. He held it in his hand to show me.

“That's it.” he said. “Your mama will want to wash it better and get it ready to fry, but you will have done most all the work for her. You want to try the next one?”

I looked at the pile of fish and took one in my hand. I wasn't sure about this. I took a deep breath and tried to do what Henry had demonstrated. I took longer than he did, but with his encouragement, I cleaned the next one and held it up for his inspection “How's that?”

“Not bad,” Henry said. “Now you do the rest while I pack everything up.” With that, he turned and left me with the rest of the fish. I shrugged and went to work. By the time Henry had strapped the gear to his bike, I had a pile of gutted and scaled bass. My hands were a mess, and I had fish scales all over me.

“Pretty good,” he said. “Now put them in this plastic bag and go wash yourself off. Your mama will be proud.” With that, he got on his bike and rode away, leaving me to wash up.

Henry was not in sight by the time I was ready to follow. We would not be seen together. I tied the plastic bag of fish to my handlebars and started back to town. Our fishing trip had taken an exciting and unexpected turn. Now that I had time to think about what we had done, I had an uneasy feeling. Clearly, Henry had misgivings too.

This was something that I had fantasized about and had done without hesitation, but it was more of a problem for Henry. His dad was a pastor and no doubt would be horrified if he knew that his son had sex with another boy, especially a white boy. I felt kind of guilty. Not so much for what we had done, but that it was a problem for Henry. The last thing I wanted was to hurt him, even if I had no personal regrets. I would have a better idea of how he felt when I saw him at Sparky's on Monday.

When I got home, I presented Mom with my bag of fish. She was surprised and pleased.

“Well, look at you,” she said. “I guess you're a fisherman after all. And you even cleaned them for me.” I got a big hug for my trouble.

I went to Sparky's early. I even beat Henry there. I was sitting on the bench when he rolled up on his bike. “You're early,” he said.

“It's the first time I beat you here,” I smiled at him. “My mom was tickled about the fish.”

He nodded and sat down in his little chair. “Good.”

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. We sat in silence until the first customer drove around. It was Henry's customer and he took care of them politely and efficiently. I looked at him. He had a quiet dignity about him. Henry was a classy guy. How did I feel about him?

I had a lot of respect for Henry. I liked him a lot. He was fun and I found him very attractive. Just thinking about being with him in the water gave me a little rise. At the same time, I realized that he had more to lose by what we had done then I did. I needed to be very careful what I said and did until I knew how he felt. I left it to him to open a conversation. We spent a quiet day.

During the rest of the week, nothing was said about our fishing trip the previous Sunday. It was as if it had never happened. I wondered if he would ever speak to me again as a friend. It made me sad. On Saturday, nothing was said about any plans for our day off. When it was time to leave, he left.

By now, I had enough money saved up to think about getting a new bike. At the first of the summer, all I could think about was my very own shiny new bicycle. Now, I reconsidered. For one thing, the second hand bike I bought earlier was in pretty good shape. It needed new tires, but that would cost a lot less than a new bike. For another, I wondered how it would make Henry feel if I showed up with something I knew he couldn't afford. It would seem like I was showing off. Maybe I shouldn't care what Henry thought since he was so cool towards me now, but I did care. I cared a lot about Henry.

On Monday, I took my old bike to the hardware store and bought a pair of good tires and tubes. I put them on and cleaned it up. It looked pretty good, and with the new tires, rode easier. This was enough bicycle for me.

I showed up early as had recently become my custom, and Henry was there. He looked at the bike when I rode up and noticed the tires. He didn't say anything, but I could tell he saw them. I guessed he might have been a little surprised because he had heard me talk about the new bike I planned to get. If I was going to get a new bicycle, I probably wouldn't invest in tires for the old one. I wondered what he thought about that.

The next week went a little better. It was the middle of summer and it was hot as blazes. While it was uncomfortable sitting behind Sparky's in the heat, it also brought in a lot of customers. It was too hot for the women to want to cook, and cold beer sounded good to the men. We were busy. We still didn't talk much, but I caught Henry looking at me sometimes. He would look away when I returned his gaze, but then I would catch him looking at me again. I wondered what he was thinking.

By Saturday, we were pretty worn out. Floyd kept us supplied with ice water, but we were soaked with sweat and both feeling the effects of the heat. I caught Henry looking at me and when I looked back at him, he didn't turn away.

“Man, I'm about to burn up,” he said.

“It's too hot.” I agreed.

Henry sat quietly for a time, then said, “A swim in the creek would feel good.”

I nodded my head. “Yeah, that cold water would feel real good.” Henry nodded but didn't reply. That was all we said, but I wondered if he was suggesting that we might meet at the creek.

When we got off work Saturday night, we wished each other good night in a cordial way. I rode home and waited up for Mom to come home from the restaurant. She was late and looked tired. She worked hard for not a lot of money. I think she appreciated that I was working and not making any demands on our finances. We chatted a little then she went to bed. I took a cold shower and went to my room shortly afterwards. It was almost too hot to sleep, but I managed.

Mom went to church and left me to sleep late. When I woke up I fixed a sandwich and decided to ride out to Clear Creek for a swim. Maybe I would find a friend there. I took a bag of apples and a towel and wore my swim trunks. I wanted to keep this on the level.

I rode across the bridge and down underneath it to the creek. There was no one there. I sat on the bank and skipped flat stones across to the other side. After riding out here, I thought I might as well go for a dip. On a whim, I stashed my bike under a bush and walked down the creek to the nice pool where we fished earlier in the summer. It was pretty down there, and secluded. I took my bag of apples and picked my way down the gravel bank.

It was cool along the creek. I waded into the water and submerged myself in the cold water. It was hard not to think about Henry. Probably he was just talking. Probably he didn't really mean to come out here. The water felt good anyway.

After a half hour I was thinking about starting back to town when I heard the crunch of gravel and looked to see a tall dark boy picking his way towards me. I waved. He smiled and waved back. “Nice day for a swim,” I said. Henry was wearing a swim suit.

“I guess we had the same idea,” he said, and waded out into the water.

“Nice to see you,” I said

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I've missed you,” I said quietly.

“You've seen me every day.”

“You know what I mean.”

Henry submerged himself in the cold water then came up to float on his back. “Yeah, I know.”

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think about you. More than I want to.”

“Are we OK?”

“I don't know. I guess so,” he looked at me.

I wasn't sure what to say. “I'm sorry if I messed up at the lake.”

“Maybe we both messed up. I'm not mad at you.”

“It seemed right at the time,” I hoped I didn't sound like a smart ass.

“Yeah, I know,” Henry sighed. “Jimmy, I said you didn't want to be friends with me, and not just because we're different colors. Didn't I tell you that?”

“That's what you said. I know the color is a problem for you, but I don't care about that. We can be friends if we're careful.”

Henry frowned, “Don't you understand? I'm a homosexual, a queer. I guess I've known that for a long time but I never acted on it until we were at the lake,” he looked away. “I seduced you. I did a terrible thing, a terrible sinful thing.”

I shook my head. “You didn't seduce me. I wanted it as much as you did. Maybe it's different because you're a preacher's kid, but it didn't seem sinful to me.”

“But the bible says it's sinful,” he protested.

“I don't know the bible that well,” I admitted. “But what's the problem? We both wanted to do what we did. We didn't hurt each other. It was fun and I'd do it again. If you don't want to play around again then I'm OK with that, but I don't think you should feel bad about it.”

Henry looked confused. “You did? You don't?”

“I liked what we did and I don't feel bad about it, “I tried to explain. “Henry, I like you a lot. You're smart and you're funny. You understand a lot of things that I don't, but you never tease me or make me feel dumb. You're super nice to me, more than anybody else I know. If you really want to know, I think you're the best friend I ever had. The last two weeks you've barely spoken to me so I figured you were mad at me. I just want us to be friends again.” I said more than I meant to.

Henry looked at me for a long time. “You really feel that way? After what we did, you still want to be friends with me?”

“Yes. I do.”

“This is confusing,” he sighed.

“No it's not. It's simple. We like each other a lot. We played around together and it was fun. It's no big hairy deal.”

Henry looked down and shook his head. “I don't know, man. I just don't know. If my daddy ever found out he'd kill me.”

“Well then, don't tell him,” I said. “I don't plan to tell my Mom. I don't think it's anybody else's business.”

Henry sat down on the creek bank and put his face in his hands. I got out of the water and sat next to him. When he began to cry I put my arms around him. “I'm sorry,” I said. It was all I could think of to say. He didn't pull away, so I held him until he stopped and took a deep breath.

“I just don't know what to do,” he said. “I thought I could make these feelings go away. Then I met you, and when we went swimming, I just....,” he sighed. “I don't want to have these feelings. How do I change?”

“I don't know what to tell you,” I told him honestly. “I guess I didn't take what we did all that seriously. I thought we were just playing around. But maybe I'm the same as you. I guess I'm queer too.”

Henry looked up at me with a very sad face. “What will I do? What will we do?”

“I haven't thought about it that much until now. Maybe I should take this more seriously. I imagine all kinds of dumb things, but I never actually did anything before. Everybody says ugly things about homosexuals, but I don't know why it's so bad. I don't even know anybody who's queer.”

“The bible says it's a sin. At least my daddy says it does. Jimmy, I didn't ask to be this way. Why would I want to be something that so many people hate?”

I looked at Henry and said softly, “You didn't ask to be colored either, and some people hate colored people. Maybe it's something you can't change.”

“Oh, don't say that. It's not the same thing. It can't be the same,” Henry buried his face in his hands.

I put my arm around him and patted his shoulder. “Maybe we'll grow out of it?” I suggested lamely.

Henry lay back against the creek bank with his hands behind his head. “Jimmy, oh Jimmy. What will I do? You are my friend for sure. I have to thank you for that.”

“So we are still friends after all?” I asked. “I hope so anyway.”

“Best of friends,” Henry smiled. “I've never had a better friend. I'm sorry I'm so crazy.”

“I guess we're both crazy. I came out here today hoping that you would come. I guess I was hoping that we would play around again. I didn't expect us to have this conversation, but I'm glad we did.”

Henry sighed, “It feels kind of good to be able to be honest about all this. I'm glad you came. This is what I wanted really. I wanted to talk to you – to somebody, about this. It's been eating at me something terrible.”

I sat there with Henry, our feet in the water, our shoulders touching. I felt very close to him in several ways. “I said I never thought about this before, but that's not true. I have always wanted to do stuff with other guys, but pretended that I didn't. Maybe that's why I don't have many real friends. I always feel like I'm different somehow. I guess now I understand why that is.”

“I guess you aren't that different from me,” Henry said glumly.

I held my arm next to his, “Well, in some ways we are.”

Henry looked down to see his black arm next to my white one and smiled. “Well, there's that.” He turned and hugged me. “Thank you Jimmy. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Or with me,” I hugged him back. “So, what do we do now?”

“I guess tomorrow, we go back to work. At least we'll see each other there. But we can't really pal around, because, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. That kind of sucks. Why are some people so hateful? There's really no reason for that.”

“I don't know,” Henry shook his head. “I'm not old enough to understand that kind of thing.”

“I don't think I'll ever understand it,” I said, “But I think I'll always be your friend.”

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To be continued.

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