Fairview - 1. Fairview

Fairview

"Wow! I’ve never seen this before.” That was me.

“What?” James wandered over to look at what I was pointing at.

“See this painted stone here? ‘Stage Coach Driver’ and a single date from 1867”

“I’ve never seen a painted rock used for a headstone before, Casey. I guess they didn’t think enough of him to pay for a real marker, huh?”

James and I walked around a little more, and found the section we’d read about in school, five years ago. The babies were buried here – the ones stillborn, or born and died out of wedlock during World War II, sired by soldiers at the army camp, just up the road from here. A statue of an angel overlooked the little area. There weren’t any markers here, aside from what the historical society had just put up, telling the story of the little ones. It had such a sad feel to it, with the wind sighing through the trees. We kinda had the feeling from what we’d read, the women were like the old Roman camp followers. Women without much chance in life, hanging out near the soldiers in hopes of landing odd jobs, or entertaining a soldier for some spending money, or trying to catch a young man’s eye.

I don’t know which of us brought it up, or why, but the story brought us back to Mary. James told me she’d been so happy, just glowing. That was before Tom died. This morning, we’d come down to be with her during, well, ya know. At times like this, ya just gotta support your friends any way you can, and we’d known them both all our lives.

We got here early, in case anything needed to be done, but found everything under control. The funeral home had done a good job. The service was so sad, with Mary sitting there in widow’s weeds, baby bump showing.

Afterwards, me and James, we decided to hang around for a while. It was such a quiet place. Peaceful. Dunno why people get freaky about graveyards. Always said I’d like to live next door to one. At least the neighbors are quiet.

We came to a family plot with a tall stone, over twelve feet tall. Somebody had planted a maple tree nearby, and it shaded the whole plot. The leaves had already turned bright red. Walking around the stone, it had words carved on each side, but most were too worn to read or covered in moss. But when I got to the fourth side, plain as day, it read, “Memory is possession.” Ain’t it just like somebody rich enough to have this large a stone to carve it with something about possession?

We’d been walking around a while, and got to feeling a bit hungry. James asked, “How about we break out some of those snacks we picked up at the store?”

“Sounds good, but I’d like to climb Bald Knob, and eat up there, where we can look around while we eat.”

So we started trudging up the hill, taking our time, just enjoying each other’s company. Every once in a while, our hands would brush each other. I kinda liked it when that happened. I think he did, too. He sure didn’t shy away, or miss a step.

Fairview is right at the edge of the river valley, where the land starts to slope sharply, and Bald Knob stood up jagged from the land just a few feet to the west. It’s called that ‘cause no trees will grow there, and being right at the edge of a pine forest, a bare rise like that would have to stick out. I guess there were just too many rocks in the soil there to hold a pine tree’s roots.

The road led around the back side of Bald Knob. After a little bit, we crested the rise. James had gotten a little ahead of me and stopped dead still. He was looking at a grave, different from any I’d ever seen before. A small tree was growing out of one end, stunted and gnarly. The grave stood about three feet high and covered in brick, but the dirt inside was starting to spill out where the mortar had failed and bricks had fallen. Up on top of the rise there, you could see clear down to the road, hundreds of yards away and at least a hundred feet below. People sure prize a view, living or dead. I walked up to James, staring at the grave, and nudged him. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Casey, I know you always say there’s nothin’ as peaceful as a cemetery, but I got goose bumps.” “C’mon, let’s park it under that tree on the other side and watch the world go by,” I replied.

We skirted the grave site to get to our lunch spot. I thought James went a little further away from it than he had to. But the day was pleasant, and we sat down in the shade and watched the traffic on the road below. There’s nothing like the feel of a fall afternoon in Texas, when the heat’s finally turned, and it finally feels good to be wearing long sleeves and long pants. The sun was out, the breeze just right, and it seemed like the easiest thing in the world to just lay back and watch the clouds drifting overhead.

Suddenly, there came a ruckus, and we both started up to see what it was. Down below, over an open field, two crows cawed and fussed, chasing something on the ground. It was a fox, running across the open field. While we watched, two more crows flew down, and all four began to worry the fox. First, one would dive and strike. Then, another. Already, there was blood showing in the fox’s grey pelt in several places, as it ran for its life toward the bare trees. Racing, it turned to avoid a crow coming at it from ahead and stumbled. Suddenly, it seemed all four birds struck at once, as the poor fox jumped and snapped at the air, stumbling again and again before it fell. It never rose again.

The flurry of activity gradually slowed. It’s tough to describe how this all made me feel. Uneasy is the best word I can come up with. After a few minutes, the crows flew off.

“What the fuck?! Damn! What a way to die! And for what?! They didn’t even eat it!” James has been hunting since he could hold a rifle, but his folks always held that if you kill it, you eat it.

I finally asked James what had happened to Tom. He got real sad, and started talking real slow and soft. “He had gotten mixed up with meth without even knowin’ it, and got caught in the middle of a deal gone south. The other driver didn’t know Tom had just borrowed the car when he ran Tom off the road deliberately. A big old live oak was growing right by the roadside there, and Tom ran straight into it, and was killed instantly. He was home on a weekend pass from Camp Swift, driving a buddy’s car. Sheriff’s department investigated, and found the owner of the car Tom was driving had left a couple of “rocks” in the trunk. Sure enough, they tested out to be meth, but it was cut with god-knows-what. They arrested the owner of the car, and Mary had to buy a black dress. The other driver was caught and killed by state troopers when he started shooting at them. They figured he was a disgruntled customer who’d been ripped off. Tom and Mary were getting married next month."

“So, how’d you hear about it?”

“My sister called. I went home and left right away. Boss said I wasn’t any use to him, and sent me packing. Driving down, I picked up my cell phone and dialed, hoping the number was still good. It was a long drive. But it was worth it to see you again.”

James’ eyes lit up as he smiled, kinda shy. “You remembered the number,” he said, kinda soft, like he was talking to himself.

Last time we were here, our folks brought us out here for a picnic, when we were little kids. I reminded James of it. “Shit,” he said, “I remember that day; we stayed ‘til dark and caught fireflies down by the stream! You fell in, and your mom was fit to be tied.”

I felt my nerves jangling something fierce, but I had the answer. Something I’d been saving special. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a blunt I’d bought off my uncle. I was thinking to have a little party with James later, but figured now was the time, and this was the place to take the edge off. James looked at me as I brought out my old Zippo and sparked it up. His smile got bigger as I sucked in a monster hit, and passed. Me and James had been doing this since I don’t know when.

Something about this county, it doesn’t have a lot of jobs, but lots of folks stay high enough not to care. A couple of buddies of mine had lost the tips of their noses from too much crystal. One of ‘em, Jake, played shortstop and was always working out, with a great body and the finest hair. He wore it fringed ‘til it started getting messed up from all the drugs. That’s why me and James just stuck to smoking weed. Figured less harm could come from it than from something somebody cooked up outta cough syrup and Drano.

So, now, up on Bald Knob, laying back next to each other, watching the clouds, that uneasy feeling from the service passed before we knew it, and the sunshine felt so good. Neither of us planned on falling asleep, but with the sunshine, the breeze, and the stress of the day easing, it just happened. I woke from a nap I never intended to take, not sure for a minute where I was. Then I turned and saw James, and a smile just crept up on me.

I looked around and saw the sun was getting low, and nudged him gently in the ribs, saying softly, “Hey, boy, it’s about time to get moving. Gates are gonna be closed by the time we get down. Sun’s going down.”

Then I did something without even thinking about it. I bent down and gently placed my lips on his. I’d never done that to a man, or even thought about it, but the moment, his soft smile, and those eyes as brown as a Hershey bar, I just can’t figure it out, even now. But it didn’t matter when he kissed me back. I didn’t realize he had his hand in my hair, holding my face to his, ‘cause I didn’t want to pull away for anything. Then he gently pushed me away a few inches, smiled, and sighed, “I been wonderin’ for five years if you’d ever love me back.” God bless, how long had I known this man, only to figure out tonight how I felt? Both of us were smiling, kinda shy.

“You know, as much as I’d like to continue this discussion, there’s not gonna be much of a moon tonight, and a cold front’s coming in. I already feel a chill in the air.” Around here, a cool front can mean a fifteen degree drop in just a couple hours, it was gonna take fifteen minutes just to make it back to the entrance, and neither of us had a jacket. The truck was outside the gates, so we wouldn’t get caught up in the funeral procession, and it would take even longer to get to it and turn on the heater. I stood up and pulled him to his feet, and he just kinda slid into my arms and molded himself to me with his head nuzzling my neck.

“Take me home, stud. I want to tell you some things there are no words for.” It felt so good, with him standing there pressed into me, and my arms circled around him, slowly stroking his back. I kissed his forehead as his hands dropped down and gently squeezed my butt.

Funny thing about James. He talks all cornbread until he really has something to say, then you realize just how much he’s read, and thought, and remembered. Every librarian in town knew him by name. Whenever he really spoke his mind, his voice would change, too, and he’d drop his accent. You wouldn’t even notice it, ‘cause what he had to say would always leave you thinking and wondering. He didn’t know I knew, but he even wrote poetry. I’d found some he’d written one day in his room, waiting for him to come out of the shower, years ago. I never talked to him about it. Now I wished I had. If he said there were no words for it, there really weren’t.

He was the smartest boy I’d ever met. Even as kids, though, he kinda kept that hidden. Only a few folks knew him, but lots of folks thought they did. Guess I was in one group until tonight, and another, now.

Suddenly, there was a soft sound overhead, and a screech owl ghosted by. That got both our pulses racing and we started running toward where we thought the little cemetery road was, but we must’ve gotten turned around, ‘cause we didn’t find it where we thought we would.

After a few minutes casting around, we thought we had the way down, and started following it. By this time, the only light was stars, but the night was clear, and I swear I could’ve read by them, they were so bright. I never noticed when his hand fell in mine, only that it felt good, and right.

The road wound down and around, and we realized it was turning the wrong way. We started looking for a side road to turn off onto, but the road just kept going until we got to a place where the markers were all new, down in a hollow. A creek ran down through there – we heard it clearly – and we were getting closer. A small stand of hardwood trees rose up on our right. Looking that way, we saw the fireflies dancing underneath the limbs.

“Late in the year for ‘em, isn’t it?” I looked over at James.

“I don’t care, it’s magic, and I don’t ever want it to end.”

“Me, neither,” he breathed. I leaned toward him, and he met me halfway. He kissed me on the nose before my lips found his. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I just melted on the spot. That was at a crossing of two cemetery roads. Old stories tell of strange things happening at crossroads. Stories the old folks used to tell when they thought the kids were all asleep. Maybe they knew we were listening, just outside the circle of light, as we grew older. But they never let on.

As we turned to take the road out, we saw a light mist rising not far away, and in it we saw two young men, hand in hand, walking unconcerned, bumping each other’s shoulders from time to time, turning and smiling at one another, slowly walking away. Then it struck me. Though they were walking through tall grass, they didn’t disturb it at all. It only moved with the breeze. A feeling of peace came over me, as I turned to James, turned his face to mine, and lightly rubbed noses. He reached up and held my face in his hands, then leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss I felt down to my toes.

The gates were closer than we thought, but they were locked. “C’mon, let’s follow the fence. It gets shorter just a few yards along.”

When we got to the low spot, James turned and hopped the fence. Damn, that boy moved so smooth. I followed and walked up, put my arm around his waist, and we walked slowly to the truck, savoring each step, lost in the moment. Every once in a while, he’d rest his head on my shoulder, and he slipped his hand into the back pocket of my jeans. I never would’ve thought anything could feel so pure, so right, as he did right then, and wished it would always be like that.

The ride back was quiet. He sat in the middle of the seat, next to me, with his hand in mine. It felt like that ride just went on forever. It was so magical, I still can’t remember getting back to his place, or what happened after. All I remember is being next to this boy, and how he made me feel, and still does. I woke up, but didn’t remember falling asleep.

I turned and saw James lying next to me, and couldn’t help but smile. The sun was getting low up on Bald Knob, so I nudged him gently in the ribs, saying softly, “Hey, it’s time to get moving. The sun’s going down.” Then I bent down and gently placed my lips on his. I’d never done that before, or even thought about kissing another man, but somehow, the moment, the way his smile lit up his warm brown eyes, it just seemed so perfect, so right, like I’d done it a thousand times. And then he kissed me back, holding my face close to his.

“I been wonderin’ for five years if you’d ever love me back. Casey, don’t ever let this end.” And he kissed me again. We went for a walk under the stars that evening, down from Bald Knob, and I held his hand, and kissed his lips, and he told me things for which there are no words. The fireflies were magical.

*

They pulled up in silence, Mary and her daughter. Mary wiped at her eyes and opened up the door. She climbed out and opened the back door to pull out three bouquets of wildflowers.

While she waited, her daughter got out, and walked around the car to stand next to Mary. Together, they walked up the short road next to the creek, where the grass grew tall, and stood for a moment before slowly bending down to lay the flowers down on three graves – Tom’s and two others beside it.

“Mommy, who were they?”

“Honey, they were a couple of men I knew before your daddy died. The last time I ever saw them was right here in this cemetery, right after your daddy died, and just a few weeks before you were born. We went to school together. They were your daddy’s best friends. While they were driving back home, there was an accident. There was something wrong with the heater in their truck, and exhaust fumes came in. The doctor said they probably just went to sleep behind the wheel without realizing it.”

“What happened to them, Mommy?”

“Honey, they went off the road, and never made it home. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of them. I figure as long as I remember them, though, they’re not really gone. C’mon, now, honey, it’s gettin’ late and we need to get on home. The sun’s going down.”

“Oh, Mommy, look at the fireflies!”