Jericho's Wall - 12. Chapter 12

We didn’t sleep much and when the alarm went off we decided not to rise. “We can skip walking the fence today, do it tomorrow instead since the rest of the day will be shot. Okay with you, Mat?” “Okay with me, Jer.” “Cool, cool.” We made love, slowly, sweetly, and while the filth was still there so was the tenderness. As the time for church approached, we groaned and showered and grabbed a quick leftover sausage biscuit on the way out the door. June and the girls rode with Rand, Jericho and I took Caddy and as he drove his grip on me with his free hand was tight and I tugged at his fingers. We sat between our friends, Bud on my right, Ron on Jericho’s left, and listened to Sister Sarah’s simple, logical sermon on the intersection of religion and science. “God used the laws of physics and evolution in His/Her/Their long-term plan to create and sustain life, and Adam and Eve or even just Mitochondrial Eve came along after millions or billions of years—God is outside time, after all, and ‘seven days and seven nights’ are an expression of unknowable time, like ‘forty days and forty nights’. Just because we understand some of the laws doesn’t mean we know how or will ever know how to manipulate them as God did to create miracles. I see no reason science and religion should be mutually exclusive.” I can’t emphasize enough how much the thirteen sermons (less the one I couldn’t pay attention to) I heard her preach that summer influenced the rest of my life; I truly believe the woman to be a latter-day apostle. I folded a twenty into the collection plate and Jericho and I were served our last portion of Jesus’ Blood and Flesh and Blessing. Having not eaten breakfast we pigged out at fellowship and damn near every member of the congregation including Clarice found time to hug my neck and wish me well. Sister Sarah also hugged my neck and promised I’d always be welcome in her congregation. With June’s permission we followed Bud and Ron in Caddy to their shotgun house, Jericho’s free hand once again tight on mine. Bud made sure I had their phone number and both AOLs and extracted my promise to call as soon as I arrived home and that I’d email him regularly. They even had some gifts: the remainder of Bud’s previously published books (but no despised “clit-ticklers”), all autographed, and a framed copy of the artist and the curly-haired boy sitting on the porch watching the endless train roll by while the full moon watched over them from above. Touched doesn’t begin to express my appreciation. We hugged them goodbye, Bud and I for an especially long time, and I promised again to call when I arrived home in Atlanta and to email him with my thoughts on his books, which I planned to read in chronological order so I could watch his writing skills develop, and he was so thrilled at the notion he printed up a numbered spreadsheet with the dates of publication listed. After we left we drove up to the electric plateau but as it was a full moon tonight didn’t hang around past dusk, just left the Satanists one more rag of our essential fluids in the bonfire pit. As we walked in the door at the farm the phone rang and it was my mother. They’d arrived back in Atlanta early that morning and were still planning to show up around lunchtime tomorrow. As I hung up I marveled at my ambivalence; I ached to see them but at the same time I was resentful, the sense of this is how it feels to have a life apart from them ringing fresh in my head. I didn’t want to give it up. Didn’t want to give up Jericho or Bud and Ron or June and the twins and the farm. But I knew the wind was rising. I knew we were about to be blown off the porch and there wasn’t a goddam thing I could do about it. We watched MST3K with my head in his lap but I can’t remember if it was a good one or not and I’ll bet if you asked Jericho he couldn’t either. After we hugged and were hugged goodnight we went to bed. No more rock/paper/scissors for the bathroom, we crowded in together.

“What’s this?” he asked as I pulled what I’d bought for him from my dresser and handed it over.

“It’s a present for your birthday.”

“Aw, you didn’t have to get me anything, but I appreciate it.” He opened the box to reveal the cheap dog-tag engraved “M+J 1992” strung on a more-expensive-but-still-not-dear stainless-steel chain. “I love this, Mat. Truly. Thank you.”

I reached into my pocket for the dog-tag he’d given me and the identical stainless-steel chain I’d threaded it though. “I thought maybe sometimes I could wear mine and you could wear yours and we could think of each other.”

He nodded solemnly. “I will. I promise. But I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh, Jer, you already gave me everything I might ever need.” We stripped down and started kissing, and I was really getting into it when he suddenly pulled away. “What?”

“Let’s go down to the stream and make love in the moonlight.” I was game but as I reached for my boxers Jericho stopped me. “Let’s just go naked. Not like you haven’t walked bare-butt across the field before.”

“True,” I grinned. I grabbed the lube as he grabbed a blanket to lay on the ground and we slipped into our shoes and left the house via the old coal-chute door in the laundry room. The stars were bright and the moon full and we had no trouble picking our way to the bank and I refused to worry about June or the girls peeking out the window and seeing our naked asses. We made love in the moonlight but Jericho didn’t spew much filth, in fact we didn’t talk much at all beyond endearments and pleas for more, and instead of ‘Mat’ and ‘Jer’ we used ‘Mateo’ and ‘Jericho’. Afterward we made our way back up to the house but didn’t go inside, simply cuddled naked in our glider on the back porch and watched and listened to the bright night and I swear I heard a train whistle blowing someplace lonesome and far away. No trains came to Chisaw County anymore, even I knew as much, but still I swear I heard the whistle.

Since we hadn’t slept much the night before we fell off quickly, waking late and making love one more time; the filth was back but so was the tenderness. When we finally walked into the kitchen hand-in-hand at 6:30 no one said a word, June simply presenting us with the breakfast she’d held for us. As we were eating Janey came inside and announced she thought Cow was close enough to pop soon. “Cow is pregnant?” I asked, amazed. I’d just thought she was fat.

Jericho grinned. “Cows have to stay pregnant to keep their milk production levels up.”

“What are you going to do with the calf?”

“Usually we trade them back to whoever provided the bull but this year we decided if it’s a female to pay the stud fee and keep her. Cow is getting old and will start drying up soon.”

“What are you going to name it?” I asked, then laughed as all of us answered at the same time, “Calf!”

After breakfast we walked the fence and once out of sight of the house we clung together, kissing and whispering our feelings for each other which, again, I’m not going to share. We didn’t make love. We held hands and saw no kicked-loose wires, no snakes at all. The wildlife had decided to give us a break and we were grateful. Back at the house June and the girls were in the process of making an extra-large lunch so we headed downstairs for a shower. Once under the spray we again didn’t make love because doing our thing and making love was done, we simply stood under the spray and kissed until the hot water ran out, as it had not once during my entire stay. After I packed up my possessions we went upstairs to wait for my parents on the slanted front porch; the time for sitting on the back porch was done. We didn’t talk, the time for talking was done, we simply sat on the steps and waited for my parents to arrive, me inhaling the last drops of elderberry wine, him allowing me to tug at his fingers. We both wore our dog-tags.

Mom and Dad were early, to my dismay, and as I watched the familiar car crunch out of the tunnel of trees rage roared through me, so intense it hurt my stomach, but as they parked in the turnaround my anger dissipated and I was suddenly racing to meet them while Jericho waited on the porch and I regret I didn’t notice when our fingers slipped apart. Mom threw her arms around me and clung, Dad put his around the both of us. “I swear you’ve grown!” Mom marveled. “And you’re absolutely glowing with health!” They seemed easier together and walked with their arms around each other to the house, something I realized I’d not seen them do in a long time. “Why are you limping, son?” Dad asked, and I was glad Juanita wasn’t close enough to hear, she wouldn’t have been able to hold back her giggles. “You work your tail off in a garden all summer and see if you don’t hurt some!” I retorted, and we laughed.

Lunch was huge and delicious and June didn’t hog all the conversation, just told my parents I’d been no trouble at all, they’d been happy to have me. Mom and Dad talked about all they’d seen and done and I told a few stories about our summer while Jericho and I exchanged glances and looked away before we started bawling. Afterwards Dad sent me to the car for the souvenirs they’d brought back. “We left yours at home,” Mom told me, “but we brought plenty for everyone!” June was presented with salt- and peppershakers from all over Europe, Jericho and the twins with t-shirts and postcards, and while they were all nice enough I couldn’t help but notice almost every tag read some form of “Made in China”. June brought out gifts of her own: a crate of fresh and canned vegetables and the portrait of the stream she’d begun when she usurped our napping spot earlier in the summer. “I finished by looking out the window of my studio,” she confided. She’d painted Jericho and me laying in the sun in our underwear, the details hazy but Jericho’s auburn hair and my own tight, dark curls were clearly visible. I was touched, aware both of the time it had taken her to complete and the knowledge of how much money her creations were worth. But at last it was time to go.

Jericho and I loaded the car and I had to force myself not to look back into our bedroom at the twin beds shoved together and the mismatched dressers separated by the sliding closet door. “What’s this?” Dad asked, indicating the wrapped framed sketch Bud had given me. “Just a gift from a close friend,” I replied. “I’ll show it to you later.” And I did plan to show them, I just needed to explain first. I hugged everyone one final time, first Juanita, then Janey, then June, who made me promise to call as soon as we reached home. I hugged Jericho last, clinging tight, and we didn’t kiss. The time for kissing was done too. Ready or not, we were being blown off the porch, the train rolling on. When we at last we either had to let go or never let go again, he stepped back, his faded-blue eyes bright, but all he said was, “Hey, did you hear that, Mat?”

“Hear what, Jer?”

“I swear I just heard a dang deer kicking at the fence.” I hadn’t heard anything. “Would you like fresh venison for the weekend, Mom?” he asked, backing away. He didn’t look at June, didn’t flinch at Janey’s outraged squawk, kept his gaze on me until he reached Truck. He unlocked the shotgun and took off for the woods, his meaty rump twitching as he ran, tight but definitely not careless. “See ya, Mat my brother,” he called over his shoulder. “Be safe and stay in touch!”

And he was gone.

We climbed into the car, my heart beating like crazy and my stomach twisting. Tears threatened but I refused to let them fall. Dad backed out and I waved at June, Janey and Juanita as he shifted into drive, and I watched through the back window as we crunched down the driveway, not losing sight of them until we were in the trees. I turned to face forward and before my nerve failed said, “Mom, Dad, I’m gay.”

Mom smiled at me, happy as I’d figured she’d be to hear her suspicions confirmed. Dad slammed on the brakes, the car sliding slightly on the gravel. “Dammit, Mateo.” He stared at me and I stared right back, undaunted. “Why the hell couldn’t you wait until Christmas? Now I owe your mother an expensive bottle of wine!”

I laughed too loud, the relief zinging through my body. As he let off the brake I figured what the hell. “And I want to go to college to learn how to build video games.”

His eyes met mine in the rearview. “We’ll talk,” he conceded, and I smiled. As we turned out onto Milk’n’Honey Lane I heard two distant shotgun blasts then a few seconds later two more, and I pitied the ugly boogers who’d surely die today. Tears threatened to spill again but I held them back. Dad clicked on the radio and no, we heard no weeping guitars, Dad was a jazz fan. “Tuesday’s Gone” never charted as a single, at least so far as I can tell (I’ve googled and can’t find a Billboard ranking), and while still reasonably popular and well-known (at least in the South, where Lynyrd Skynyrd are regarded as legends if not demigods) it’s always been overshadowed by the bigger songs such as “Free Bird” or “Sweet Home Alabama”, and I’ve never heard it spun as frequently as I did in the summer of 1992. We passed Bud and Ron’s street and I strained to catch a glimpse of their shotgun house; Ron was teaching but Bud’s Grand Am sat in the drive as he wrote from home. We passed “June’s Produce”, now closed but due to open in the next hour or so. We passed the Waffle House where we’d eaten our weight in scattered smothered covered. In Athens I strained again to catch a glimpse of the roller-rink from the interstate but couldn’t, it was around a curve and out of my sight. Dad stopped for gas on the outskirts of “up the city” and while he was busy Mom turned around in her seat to ask, “Did Jericho break your heart?” So she’d noticed the looks we’d given each other across the table during lunch.

I started to answer but stopped, thinking hard, and I surprised myself with my reply. “No, I don’t think he did. My heart is cracked, there’s no doubt, cracked so deep I don’t think it’ll ever be whole again, but it’s not broken.” Mom smiled and faced forward as Dad slid back behind the wheel and bitched about how much higher gas prices were in Atlanta. The further we got from Jericho the more my urge to cry faded; I’d be sobbing into my pillow for weeks if not months, I already knew this, but I found I was looking forward to being home, in my own space again. So all the way across the state line and into the teeming peoples and horrible traffic of the largest metropolis in Georgia we swapped stories about our summer. I didn’t talk much about Jericho and me but everything and everyone else was fair game; Mom was glad I’d found a mentor (or “auntie” to use Bud’s word) and Dad chortled hard enough to swerve the car at Janey and Juanita’s battle over rattlesnakes.

My room at home felt too wide, too bright, too unoccupied, and the first thing I did was to hang June’s portrait of Jericho and me napping above my bed and the framed sketch above my computer where I could lean back in my chair and look at it. Neither Mom nor Dad was thrilled with the obscured nudity of the artist and curly-haired boy but conceded my room might be decorated as I wished, which was a good thing because I was prepared to go to war. They gave me the several bags of souvenirs they’d brought and once again I couldn’t help but notice almost of them had been made in China. Before unpacking I called Bud to let him know we’d made it home okay. “Are you doing okay though, hon?” I gave him my truest answer. “Right now I am.” He seemed satisfied, just made me promise to call anytime, day or night, whenever I needed him, collect if necessary. I promised and also promised to start his first book this week. We chatted for a few minutes and as I hung up I realized the true reason Jericho had introduced me to Bud and Ron the way he did. Sure, there was the obvious, that he’d wanted to expose me to a genuine and loving gay couple in their natural habitat, but he’d also wanted to ensure I’d be taken care of; Jericho had known as far back as our first week he wouldn’t be able to take care of me after the summer so entrusted me to someone who would. I hesitated before dialing again, and the only reason I called the farm was because June had asked me to. She was glad we’d made it home safely and we talked for a few a minutes before I inquired about Jericho. “He’s out in the barn.” She didn’t need to add preserving; I already knew. She paused before asking, “Did you want me to get him?” She didn’t sound like she thought it would be such a good idea and I didn’t think so either so I said, “Nah, just tell him I said . . . Mat said . . . hi.” She said she would and then told me everyone there loved and missed me. I caught on to what she was saying and replied I loved and missed everyone there back. She caught on to what I was saying too.

The tears finally came when I slipped into bed. I felt so alone without Jericho’s happy slumber mumbles, and I didn’t jerk off—not only was I not in the mood my balls had been wrung dry over the last several days. I dreamed of elderberry wine and when I awoke at six a.m. (five a.m. Chisaw County time) I cried again because I was thirsty. At seven, unable to lay there any longer and all sobbed out for the time being, I climbed out of bed to face the day. Mom and Dad were surprised and pleased when they strolled into the kitchen at eight and found I already had breakfast prepared. They weren’t due back into their offices until next week, so they showed me pictures from their trip all morning and after lunch (too small) we went to the mall, where I picked up my SNES and three extra cartridges including The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past; the game blew me away and cemented my desire to build a career in the field. I also bought a CD of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s first album but only listened to “Tuesday’s Gone” once and I don’t know to this day where the disk ended up. After dinner (too large) I introduced my parents to Are You Being Served? They loved it and we laughed but somehow it didn’t seem as funny without Jericho’s guffaws and knee-slapping. In bed I once again didn’t jerk off but did cry.

The next day, Wednesday, we started searching for a car for me, and Dad was impressed and a little envious when I insisted I wanted a stick; he’d never learned to drive one and I promised to teach him. When I went to bed I jerked off thinking of Jericho, missing his thickness rearranging my insides, and I cried again but somehow for not as long. School was due to start on the next Tuesday (the day after Labor Day and Jericho’s birthday) so on Thursday I went to eleventh-grade orientation, sitting with friends I hadn’t seen since the previous semester and, deciding to follow Jericho’s advice, I came out to three of them. One “friend” (with whom I’d masturbated and swapped head in the past) called me a homo and refused to have anything to do with me ever again (and boy didn’t I laugh when I spotted him across the bar in a gay disco several years later) but the other two were supportive, albeit with the caveat “just don’t make a pass at me” (don’t claim you’ve never heard a wigged-out-but-trying-to-hide-it straight guy say this before, you’re a liar if you do) and although I didn’t say so they were perfectly safe; they weren’t attractive to me, not having auburn hair, faded-blue eyes and a meaty rump. When I got home I started the first of Bud’s books and read until bedtime, where again I jerked off and cried.

Friday was awful. I craved a brownie from the diner so bad I could taste it and missed Jericho so fiercely I thought I might die. Luckily Bud was home and he soothed me down then, not wanting to run up our phone bill and risk my father getting mad, hung up and rang back so we could discuss both his first novel (he was pleased at some of my insights) and my plans for the coming year, and while I wondered if Ron had been fielding similar calls from Jericho I didn’t ask; none of my business. In bed I didn’t jerk off and cried a long time but somehow my sorrow wasn’t as deep as before, and this made me cry too. Saturday we went to my mom’s mother’s house and had dinner and showed off the pictures from Europe and on Sunday did the same at my dad’s father’s. I cried some, jerked off some (still missing Jericho’s thick dick inside me), played some Zelda and finished Bud’s second novel. It was good and I immediately sent him an email telling him so. I also asked him for a favor; when UPS delivered the package a few days later Mom asked, “What’s that?” I replied, “You don’t wanna know,” and was surprised when she let it slide. The dildo was not as thick but longer than I was used to and though it took me a few insertions I adjusted.

On Monday, Labor Day and Jericho’s birthday, I procrastinated most of the afternoon before calling. I didn’t want to hear his voice but I did too. When he answered I didn’t identify myself, simply said, “Happy birthday, Jer.”

“Thanks, Mat,” he said. I asked him how it felt to be an adult and he said it sucked, and though he laughed I knew he wasn’t grinning. When I asked what presents he’d received he said June had finally caved and bought him a goat, an angora kid he swore was the cutest thing he’d ever seen, and this time I did hear the grin in his voice as he confirmed my suspicion they’d named it “Goat”. I asked about the ugly boogers and the garden, he filled me in: crack-shot Juanita had returned to shotgun duty on walk-the-fence days and they’d decided to hire a neighbor’s teenage daughter part-time to help out in the field. “She’s a decent worker but not as diligent as you.” I told him school started the next day and he told me the twins’ did too but his college classes not until next week. Halfway through our phone call a voice I recognized called gaily, “Is that Mateo? Tell him I said hi!” Bitch. I told him to tell Jill I said hi back. He gave her a few seconds to go away before he confessed he’d changed rooms. “The pushed-together beds were too big so I separated them again and then it was too small so . . . so . . . I gave up and moved upstairs.” I told him my bed was too big and too small also, I understood exactly what he meant. We talked a few more minutes before he asked if I was wearing my dog-tag. I told him I was and he said he was wearing his too. Then he hesitated and said, “I’m glad to hear from you, Mat, more glad than I can say, but don’t call back for a spell, okay? Not forever, just for . . . a spell.” I said I understood and before he hung up he finally told me what I already knew. “I love you, Mateo.” I heard the tears in his voice and I’m sure he heard the tears in mine when I replied, “I love you too, Jericho.” As I gently placed the phone on the hook I realized I’d been wrong in what I said to Bud on the day of my meltdown. Jericho not only understood what he’d sacrificed for the farm, his heart had been torn to pieces when he did.

But he did it anyhow.