Nowhere Man - 7. Chapter 7: Summer Rain

I woke up Sunday morning with a clear head and an intense thirst. I rolled over. Tyler was still fast asleep next to me, his body curled peacefully. I watched him breathe for a few seconds, seeing his rib cage expand impossibly and contract beautifully. He looked downright perfect as he slept.

I sat up and felt the back of my head with my fingers. Where the blood had clotted was a thick scab that I wanted to pick, but knew better. I’d need two mirrors to see what damage had been done.

I hugged my knees and looked around. From the time I had fallen asleep in Tyler’s arms to now, the camp we had rigged together had disappeared. The fire had dwindled to ash, the log I had dragged was back among the trees and our stuff—the pot, cooler and back pack—was back in the truck.

As I waited for Tyler to wake up, watching the sun move slowly upward from my right, I thought about everything that had happened during our short trip to nowhere.

‘I killed her.’ Why? How? Did he mean it figuratively or literally? Had he actually turned the knife? Pulled the trigger? Again… why? It bothered me that there were more questions than answers.

It also bothered me that I wasn’t hightailing it away from him right then. I should have known better than to stay there, sleeping in the arms of a killer. I could have hopped in his truck and sped off, while he slept beautifully.

Instead, I watched his rib cage exercise, my questions multiplying. Why?

When he finally woke up, the sun was up and beating against us. There was a thin layer of fog hovering and the dew was beginning to dry. Tyler sprang up with a start, as if an alarm clock only he could hear had gone off.

He picked up his shirt and walked towards the truck.

“You gonna stay here or are you gonna get up?” he asked when he’d almost reached the truck. No bacon today. No good mood. No dancing.

I joined broody Tyler in the truck and before I could wipe the crust out of my eyes, we were speeding down the road back towards Easton Park.

“You gonna tell me about your wife, or no?” I asked. I had spent most of the morning thinking about how to approach the subject. I decided directly, with little wiggle room, was the best method.

“You gonna ask me a question about her?” His face remained forward, eyes squinted. I wanted the Tyler who sang and hummed and smelled like bacon and watched the stars back. This Tyler annoyed and scared me.

“How’d she die?”

He turned and glared at me, his eyes emitting hot fire. “You don’t waste any time do you?”

“You can’t tell me something like that and expect me not to ask.”

Tyler slowed the truck and pulled it over to the side. When the truck came to a complete stop, he hopped out and walked around the cab to my side. He yanked me by the collar of my shirt and pushed me to the side. White heat flashed in front of my eye from the jerky movement. I hit the ground and looked up to see Tyler standing over me holding the gun.

“You think I’m a murderer don’t you?” he said. I inched backwards. This is what I should have been afraid of all along.

I tried to say something, but was unable to form words.

“You’ve been waiting for me to do this all fucking weekend, haven’t you?” he continued. “The big, bad country man is going to fucking shoot you, huh?” he cocked the gun. “Say it! Say it, fucking faggot! Say you think I’m a goddamn murderer.”

“Just tell me what—“

“Say it! Say the goddamn words!”

“I think you’re a murderer!”

There was a split second I could have sworn I heard the gun cock. I shut my eyes and braced myself. I wanted a quick death, bullet straight to the head. No pain.

I felt nothing.

I opened my eyes just in time to see Tyler toss the gun as far overhead as possible into the trees next to us. Where I’d been sure my body was going, the weapon went instead. He glared at me for a second as if to ask if I was satisfied. He huffed around the cab, hopped back into the truck and gunned the engine.

The first hour of the return trip was brutally silent. I wanted him to say something. Anything. I needed validation that my suspicion, however unfounded, had been justified.

The second hour was worse. Not only had neither of us said anything since gun-gate, Tyler hadn’t even looked at me. I was sure whatever progress we’d made over the weekend was floating somewhere in that lake we’d left three hours earlier.

It was around the third hour that we should have been getting close to home that I started to feel especially stupid. There were a million and one plausible explanations for what he meant by “I killed her.” He’d said she was sick. Maybe he had pulled the plug on the entire operation, in his mind killing her, although she was already dead. Maybe he had caused her illness and was unable to nurse her back to health. A tragedy, but nothing that characterized an axe murderer. Maybe they had been in a wreck. There had to be an explanation.

And the only reason I clung to that hope as we rounded the third hour and entered the fourth was because he’d had his chance. A dozen times since I’d gotten into his truck two days ago, he’d had his chance. And he hadn’t pulled the trigger. I was still alive and now, he had no gun.

“I’ve never told anyone.” He finally broke the silence. The roller coaster I’d come to expect the unexpected from continued.

“You don’t have to say,” I replied.

“I do. If I don’t, you’ll always think I’m dangerous. Scary. You’ll flinch if I…” he put his hand on my thigh and squeezed it.

I flinched.

“If I touch you.”

His voice was barely above a whisper. I leaned my head back, ashamed and embarrassed that I’d been afraid. Tyler had never put me in danger. He’d never lifted a finger towards me, and yet I flinched.

“Look,” I said softly. His hand pressed firmly on my thigh and I moved slowly to reposition myself. “You tell me whatever it is you want. Anything else can wait.”

He drove a little longer gathering his thoughts. I expected him to offer a short explanation. One that would placate me until we got home and I had a chance to process everything alone.

Instead, the rollercoaster took a detour off the main road and pulled into a small convenience store. I checked the gas gauge. Half-way down. He parked haphazardly on the side of the corner store whose prices were inflated to take advantage of the poor-planning traveler who had no choice but to stop. He leaped out of the truck and walked confidently inside. A minute later he returned with a small paper sack and tossed it to me. A minute and one head-scratch later, we were back on the road chasing pavement.

“Open it,” he commanded. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw inside. I pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds, a small vial of Vaseline, and a turquoise pack of Trojan condoms. “Have you ever?”

He didn’t say the words, and I was glad. I wasn’t ready to have this conversation with a man I could barely tolerate and marginally trust. Was he actually ready to go down this path?

“Once.”

“Did you give it or take it?” What happened to the silent, scared nowhere man? What happened to my touch repulsing him, driving him away? No way he was ready for this.

“I gave it,” I replied. “Do you actually want to have sex?”

“That’s what’s next, isn’t it?”

He was right. We’d kissed, we’d done oral and we’d slept together. The natural progression was more intimacy. He didn’t have to tell me at all that I’d be taking it. He was still repulsed by touching my dick, there was no way it was going inside of him. I didn’t even know if I was ready to take a dick in my ass, but I’d have to get there. We did things by the beat of Tyler’s drum.

“What does it feel like?” he asked.

I tried to think of the most exhilarating feeling in the world. The most comfortable and stimulating.

“It feels like a summer rain,” I replied. The comfort of a warm summer rain. The way it makes the ground mushy under your touch. It stimulates every sense: your nostrils, eyes, touch, taste. Everything.

He glared at me. A minute later, without saying anything else, he pulled off the main road and immediately into a roadside motel.

With no pomp or circumstance, he grabbed the brown paper sack, the back pack from the back and walked to the front desk. I saw him exchange cash for a room key and I followed him outside.

“What the fuck are we doing?” I asked, one step behind him as he scanned the doors for our number.

“Summer rain.”

His stride quickened with every door we passed.

“Are we ready for this?”

“As we’ll ever be.”

“Why can’t we—“

“Goddamn! You’re shooting for a special kind of annoying today.” He stopped abruptly, inserted the key card and we entered a smoky motel room fit for a psycho.

He tossed the bag to the head of the bed, sat down and pulled off his shoes. He pulled a beer out of the back pack, cracked it open and sprawled across the entire bed. I was mesmerized how much space his skinny body took up.

“You know how to sit, right?” He asked. I stepped in, took my own shoes off and joined him. He made just enough room that I could lay next to him sipping my own beer.

“Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming,” he said three beers and seven mind-changes later. I’d been back and forth since we’d started drinking in silence.

“You’re right,” I said tartly. “I saw it coming right around the time you lost your lunch after I sucked you. Maybe it was when you refused to kiss me by the lake. Or better yet, maybe it was the time you left me in the lake because touching me repulsed you so much. That’s when I realized you and I would be in a hazy motel making love. You’re right.”

Instead of saying anything, he finished his beer, tossed it aside and undid the button on his pants. He pulled the denim off, followed by his shirt and he lay there, sprawled out before me, his dick hard and leaning against his stomach. His intentions were unmistakable.

Lying in the manufactured darkness, you could have mistaken Tyler for someone truly beautiful. I was drawn to him for reasons I couldn’t understand but he terrified me in ways I couldn’t diagnose. I was about to cross a line. A line I hadn’t really been saving for anyone in particular, I just hadn’t thought about crossing it yet. As I watched him lie there silently, I finished my beer and decided that I could cross this line with him.

I tossed my can to the floor, took off my own shirt and undid my pants. I leaned over and kissed him. As if we’d kissed a million times, our mouths opened in sync and Tyler put his arm around my head like he’d done it a million times. He rolled so that he was on top of me, between my legs and our bodies sort of melded together.

As we kissed, I felt Tyler get more into it. I felt his body writhe more. His Best Western rubbed against mine, impossibly hard and extremely wet. I moaned into his mouth.

Tyler sat up and pulled me around by my shoulder so that I was on my stomach. I turned my head to watch him. He grabbed the brown sack and pulled out the contents, rolled a condom over his stack of quarters and started massaging cold Vaseline into my Holiday Inn. I arched my back and lifted my ass towards him and a second later, he slipped a finger just passed my sphincter.

“Fuck!” I shouted in pain. “Fuck that.” I pulled back and I turned around so that he was looking down on me.

“Relax,” he instructed. “It’ll get better.”

“How the fuck do you know? If a finger hurts like hell, how the fuck am I supposed to take that whole thing?”

“Let’s try it slow. Come on.” There was a grit to how he said ‘come on’ that reminded me that Tyler was an incredibly sexual creature. He’d pulled off the road for christsake. This was happening, and it was happening now.

He lubed up with even more grease and went back to playing with me. It was almost surgical how he was prepping my body for his invasion. This felt like a lot of work. It was certainly more complicated than me fucking the rodeo clown, but it wasn’t his first time taking it and that was now painfully clear.

One finger became two and another bout of pain shot from my ass. I pushed my face into the pillow to keep from screaming again. I figured the other people spending a casual Sunday afternoon in a motel didn’t need to know I was getting fucked for the first time.

The only indication I got that Tyler was ready was feeling the head of his dick approach my hole. He held my shoulders down so that I couldn’t squirm and slowly pushed all of his weight down into me. I felt a pop in my ass and I let out the loudest scream I’d ever heard.

“Shhhhhhh,” I heard behind me. He kept pushing down. I was in excruciating pain. It was like the Vaseline he had used had all dried up. I wanted out. I wanted out and very far away. “Relax, relax. Breath out. Come on, babe.”

The words were comforting but did little to ease the heat that was radiating around my ass. He pushed in as if he was forcing a key into a jammed lock.

And then he stopped. He was all the way in and I lifted my head up from the pillow. I realized I was sweating a little.

“God, fuck!” I shouted. “Jesus fucking tittie!”

“Relax, relax,” he coaxed. He wasn’t moving above me. As he waited for me to adjust to his length and girth, he whispered soft things in my ear. “Summer rain,” he said as he kissed my neck.

I began to soften and before long, the pain subsided. The moment I felt comfortable underneath him, Tyler pulled out and the pain returned, only less this time. He pushed back in a little quicker and I readjusted.

He gently and slowly pumped in and out of me, encouraging me the entire time. His words evaporated into grunts and moans as the pace quickened and each stroke brought me closer to pleasuretown. The mixture of pleasure and pain was like taking a shot of cheap bourbon. The sweet woody heat sent chills down my body just like Tyler was creating chills on that spring afternoon in a dim motel that smelled like American Spirits and anal sex.

The faster his thrusts, the hotter I got. I can’t explain it in a way that gives it justice, but as Tyler began truly fucking me, I felt nothing but joy.

He rose onto his hands and knees and I bucked backwards to follow. My cock was impossibly hard, and I used the cotton sheets to satiate my need for friction.

Once he realized I loved being filled by his rock hard dick, Tyler turned into an animal. His grunts were pure and unadulterated. His movements were fluid and athletic. I was turned on by everything. Even his sweat rubbing against my back brought me closer to the edge.

Six glorious minutes later, Tyler pulled out, turned me around like a rag doll, and yanked the condom off his cock. A second later, a rope of cum spewed right across my face. The second rope hit me just under the chin, then my neck, then my shoulder. I could have wondered how much fucking cum this guy had, but I was too consumed with my own orgasm. The second I felt his American honey on me, I lost my wad as well. I wondered if things were always this perfectly timed, but I figured we’d just gotten lucky.

I lay there motionless wondering what Tyler was going to do post-coitus. He leaned over me, panting, on his hands and knees.

“That was incredible,” he panted, barely breathing as he got down next to me. He reached over me for the brown sack and pulled out a Marlboro Red. I inched my way up and hobbled over to the bathroom to wash my face. I felt empty.

I went back to the bed and tried not to be bothered by the smell of the smoke. I wondered how long we’d lay there before heading home.

“You don’t want to know what happened,” he said, his face firmly planted upward.

“I don’t think I’m going anywhere,” I replied. I wanted to know. If I was going to be having sex with him when we returned to Easton Park, I definitely wanted to know.

“You want to know what drives a man to send four copper shots into the flesh of his sleeping wife?” the words rang off the cheap motel furniture and finally found their way to my ears. I tensed up and he felt it. He turned his head to glare at me. “I came home early,” he explained in a voice that seemed too casual and too low for a confession. “And I knew as soon as I walked into the house, something was wrong. Something was different.”

It was more words than he’d ever strung together in one sequence.

“I walked in and all of the lights were out. The house was dark for midday and I knew… something was off. There was a jacket on the couch that didn’t belong to me. There was a jewelry box on the counter that I hadn’t bought. I walked to the back of the house and before I even opened the door, I knew exactly what I’d see in there. It was like a premonition or somethin’. So instead of opening the door, I put my coat back on, walked outside to my truck and pulled a gun out of my glove compartment. I stood there for an hour, maybe two. I asked myself if I could actually do it. Could I really open that door and do it?”

He whispered and I noticed a tear streaming down his face.

“And when I opened the door, everything I’d expected to find was lying there right in front of me. The two of them were in my bed, holding each other. She had a beautiful diamond ring on her finger and I knew. I sent one shot through him and he never woke up again. She screamed my name, pulled the sheets over her and she pleaded. I don’t… I don’t remember what I did or what I said to her, but I know I sent four shots her way and I watched the blood. So much fucking blood.” He chuckled. “Who has that much blood?”

God took her.

I cleared my throat, unable to think clearly. I was in bed with a raging lunatic who’d blacked out and killed his wife and another man. Every part of me wanted to get up and run. Every part of me wanted to be a million miles away. Every part of me wanted to be back in Easton Park, the hellhole I called home.

“Please take me back,” I croaked, my tone unmistakable. I’d made a huge mistake opening up to him and needed to distance myself before I ended up in a similar state as his late wife. “Please, take me back, please.”

He turned and faced me with a look I’d never seen in his eyes.

They were bloodshot and full of regret. He shook his head slowly then faster. Another tear streamed down his face.

“I’m sorry, Trav,” he whispered.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

I knew exactly what he meant and my heart sank as low as it could go.

We weren’t going back home.