Guardians and Angels | Chapter Three (Part 10)

We headed into the night together, two boys on the cusp of forever, heading west, chasing a sun settled just over the horizon onto the Pacific Ocean. Backpacks on, baseball hats backward, sweaters pulled over our tee shirts, stepping out in unison, choreographed in our marching.

Synchronized

It was late in October, the thick fog from Bodega Bay was rolling in through the gap that opens at the southern edge of the Mayacamas mountains. It crept its way inward, spreading into the valley until it bumped against the Sonoma mountains to the east, and then it whirled in the valley like cream in coffee overnight, settling into a milky haze by dawn. No school tomorrow, Friday night was waking up.

A golden full moon peaked over the summit, spying down onto the wineries and farmland that wrapped around the edges of the valley, the street lights from the newly developed suburbs in the center sparkling through a foggy veil. We cut across the manicured soccer fields, looped around the outfield fence of the baseball park and headed toward the small opening in the park fencing that lead to the creek. As our shadows shimmied under the scoreboard I mentioned I was the home run champion last season, bragged that 'I hit ten home runs, one over the trees!'

"Everyone knows that, Christopher" he said with a mocking tone, rolling his eyes.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I asked, honestly.

"I'm from over that mountain back there and I heard all about you, all summer, long. I saw you playing at the All-Star tournament in Rincon Valley in July. I was on the Sonoma team. Everyone wanted to see you hit. That's all they talked about about. That kid from Cotati... number seven"

"Wait, you knew of me... before you moved here?"

"Yeah"

"That's weird"

"Not really," his voce trailed off.

We were walking fast, really hustling, he was quick on his feet, a light stepper. That would be good. Maybe we could sneak in.

"Weird would be admitting that I knew we'd be best friends as soon as I saw you," he said, looking straight ahead, puffs of breath on the tips of his lips, aura whispers.

I stopped walking, turning to him. We'd really been making time, both of us breathing a bit heavy.

"What?" I said, gunmetal blue air gripping me, casting my face into shadows.

"I knew you'd be my best friend from the moment I saw you." he smirked. His cheeks rose a bit as his dimples peeked out. He was bashful about it, but serious. "They called your name, and number, and you walked up to the plate. I was right behind the backstop, the catcher said something to you and you smiled. That's when I knew it. I had gone to see you thinking I would find the same thing, some hick from the ranches, dumb, arrogant, full of himself. And I saw you were all of those things....but I saw you were really sweet too, you were nice. That's what I thought, at least. I thought, "Wow, he's really sweet, he's nice. Hard to hate"

"Sweet!?" I practically screamed at him.

That's the worst thing he could've said

Here I was trying to be tough around him, puffing up around him, acting hard. Impenetrable. The whole time he thought I was... 'sweet'. I mean, I would go easy on him sometimes just to be...

Nice

"I'll never lie to you, Christopher, you are sweet as they get"

Ouch, he said "lie" That solidifies it. He knew I lied.

"Oh my god, if you say the word sweet one more time to me..." I said, more serious now.

He laughed, "What are you going to do? Be mean to me?" You are a sweetie, like chocolate covered cherries, Christopher. You always remind me of cherries." he teased.

"Cherries? Okay, well I actually like cherries, just don't call me 'sweet', please"

He cocked his head.

"You love Walter Payton, and they call him "Sweetness"

Pause

I hadn't thought of it that way. He was right, he seemed to be right about a lot of things. He looked at me standing there, stuck in my pause, and he reached out and touched my cheek, a soft swipe of his thumb, a wink from his non -purple eye

"I like everything about you, Christopher. You can try to change yourself... and I'd probably like that too."

I felt another clench. This time it was in my chest. I wasn't going to cry but it was approaching swiftly. He was a spear-fisher and I was a Pisces, swimming in circles, lost in his seas.

"I like you too," I said. Confident. For once

"I know," he said, turning and starting to jog down the embankment that led into the creek bed we would trace to find our way under the 101 highway bridge.

"I read your story!," he called out over his shoulder, his black Vans skidding down the dirt slope.

"WHAT!?" I exclaimed.

oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god

Such a good mantra. Covers it all.

He reached the bottom, and stood upon a winding creek path lined with cattails and the type of fluffy weeds they sometimes placed within vases at nice houses. The water from the creek was low, we hadn't seen any rain the whole time I knew him. Last time it rained would've been around Easter, back in April. We'd changed schools, he'd changed towns, and we'd found one another in the six months since it last rained in Northern California. All that would change around Halloween usually, by Thanksgiving for sure.

"Yeah, your story," he said nonchalantly as I slid down to join him. "The one about the kid on the island, Icarus, whose Dad made him angel wings, and the Dad would always make him train with the angel wings, everyday, over and over, training nonstop. I mean I know you stole the basis of the story, but I loved the twist you did. How the boy couldn't stop thinking of his best friend who he'd left behind. How he thought of him the entire time his father barked at him." He looked away into the fog settling through the creek bed, the moonlight growing brighter. Everything was gunmetal blue.

"The Dad thinks he's training the kid to get off the island to save them, but the kid can't stand the Dad, he just wants to get to his friend. See him one more time. Does whatever the Dad says, training, pretending to listen, and thinking of his best friend. Thinking some of the most beautiful things I've ever heard someone think, if I'm being honest."

I turned and started walking down the windy path, he wouldn't know where to cross, once we went under the overpass to the 101 we entered my territory. He'd have to keep up with me or he'd get lost. I heard his footsteps following.

I wasn't angry, embarrassed a bit, relieved in some ways, but not angry. He must've went through my backpack when I left it over at his house. Which meant he read my poems. Saw my drawings. Found the mixtapes. I never said his name, but he didn't need to read his name to know everything was about him. He knew all my thoughts... omnipotent about me all week. Circling above like a house cat looking into a fishbowl.

"Why are you so fucking nosey!?" was all I could think of saying as I headed away into the fog. It was a genuine question. I had been wondering it constantly in more pleasant tones until now. I never had a brother but I was starting to realize what one would be like.

"When are you going to finish the story, Christopher?"

I stopped. He hadn't read the ending.

I had the ending at home, still. The last two pages.

I wasn't sure about them.

Was the ending right?

"You stopped right when it was getting good. He was flying, getting higher... looking for..."

Pause

"He was looking for you," I said. My turn to be bashful.

"Yeah... Looking for me. It's about me isn't, Christopher. Your story?"

"Yeah"

He reached out through the fog and found my hand. His hand was cupped into a kung-fu grip and slid perfectly into mine. I felt his warmth before I felt his touch. a soft warmth. and then a squeeze. A slight squeeze.

Synchronized

Magnets Locked

"I love everything you wrote, Christopher. I'm going to give you so much to write about"

He squeezed my palm twice, some kind of code. Tapped on my chest twice with this fist, and then his lips touched mine fot the first time.

Squeeze, squeeze, knock, knock, kiss

A slight touch of the lips.

Nothing crazy. A soft, tentative, knowing but not sure, first kiss.

Two lips connecting under the moonlight, veiled in the mist.

Our souls sparking