Date: Sun, 11 Mar 2001 06:11:32 -0500
From: C. E. Jordan <c.e._Jordan@MailAndNews.com>
Subject: THE VILLAGE BOY - Part II

Copyright c.e. jordan


The Village Boy: part II


Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle
Everything I do is stitched with its color

w. s. merwin

  ******

     I lay trapped to the bed in a tangle of limbs while
somewhere in the distance dogs were barking. It was an annoying
sound, a vague distraction. Hidden by a fragrant curtain of
long hair, a face hovered just above mine. Silky black strands
moved with each puff of my lover's breath as I reached up to pull
that beautiful head closer. But it seemed I could never quite
touch that veiled softness, never quite trace those elusive lips,
or gaze into those dark and hungry eyes.

     The excited dogs howled, they were much closer now it seemed.
I was panting hard; hurry, we had to hurry. Desperately, I pulled
at the unresisting body as I tried to satisfy an impossible desire
to press him all the way into myself--to become one with him. But
the dogs were almost here. In anguish I called out a name: "Jeremy!"

     I rolled over, only to find myself tumbling through open space.
My head smacked hard against the wooden bedroom floor and my eyes
flew open. Lucky for me the thick gold-coloured carpet softened
the blow. Almost knocked silly, I was now wide awake, quite alone,
and much more pissed than hurt.

     "Shit!"

     It was only a dream! It had been weeks since my encounter
with the Village boy, yet I couldn't get him out of my mind,
either awake or asleep.

     The little mutt next door was yapping again. At least that
part wasn't a dream. His name was 'Legal'--because he wasn't.
Nobody was supposed to have dogs in our condo. But the management
pretended not to know he was there. His owner was a famous and
friendly retired actress who was away with him most of the time.
When they were in residence, Legal's early morning barking was
like clockwork. But because he was such a cute little mongrel,
or perhaps in deference to the beloved old actress,
nobody complained.

     I sat up on the floor. The pale yellow bed sheet with
its pattern of tiny multi-coloured blossoms sprinkled across
it, cascaded off the bed and snaked around my naked body.
I tried to stand. What the hell was I thinking when I bought
this garish thing I wondered as I escaped bright knotted
folds of cloth and struggled to my feet.

     Jeremy. That's a name I'd not been able to forget recently.
For years I'd been successful in keeping loneliness--or perhaps
I should say-- 'aloneness' at bay by preoccupying myself with
various projects which kept me constantly busy. But my careful
existence was finally collapsing in upon itself. Uninvited,
a marvel of a boy had come crashing into my  life and it seemed
as if nothing was ever going to be the same again. Was he
thinking of me too? I wonder if he even remembered me? Boys
are a fickle lot and tend to forget in a hurry. Doesn't matter;
I had to see him again. I had to try and find him today.

					*******

     It was already five in the afternoon when I exited the
subway at the same stop I'd last seen Jeremy. I walked several
blocks past crowded St. Marks Place and lingered on the spot
where he'd appeared with his armful of magazines. In the light
of day what happened between us seemed distant and unreal, and
for a moment I felt unsure of myself. What the heck was I doing
here? Would I even recognize him if I saw him again, after all
it was quite dark that last time. And what would I do, what
would I say to him if I did find him? I had no idea.
I thought I caught sight of him once, but when I got closer it turned
out to be a girl. I smiled ruefully and continued walking. About
eight blocks later I didn't notice the person leaving a store
specializing in comic books until I heard a hesitant young voice
calling out my name.

     "Charles....?"

     I halted, and turned slowly. No, it couldn't be, this is
too incredible...too easy, I thought. But there he was, warm
and glowing in the afternoon sun. My Village Boy, my Jeremy.
He positively flew over to me.

     "Oh Charles, I knew it! I knew it was you...I didn't think
I'd ever see you again!"

	I was speechless, just staring at him...he was a dream
suddenly materializing before my eyes. I was searching for him,
but it turned out he was the one who found me. A big smile lit
up the exotic face that was even more beautiful in daylight.
"Oh god...Jeremy..." was all I could get out.

     The boy laughed and boldly took my hand in his. "Hey...could
you come to my house? I want you to meet my mother." He sounded
excited.

     "Huh? Your mom..."

     "Yeah, our apartment is just down this block a little ways."

     He must have noticed the uncertainty on my face and laughed
again. "It's okay, I told her all about you already."

     "What?" I halted. "Um...exactly what did you tell her Jeremy?"

     He frowned, then laughed again as it dawned on him what I
was thinking about. "Oh, no Charles...don't worry, I didn't tell
her `bout what happened on the subway steps..." But as I exhaled
in relief, Jeremy slipped his hand into mine again and continued
with a mischievous grin, "...well, I haven't told her that
part......yet."

     I just groaned.

     As we neared his home, Jeremy explained what happened after
we parted that night. "Mom woke up sober near daylight before I
got home and she started to worry when I wasn't anywhere in the
house. So she went out and starting walking up and down the
streets looking for me. Luckily, it wasn't too long before she
ran into me going home."

     "Geeze...what happened then?"

     "Well, she was just cryin' and going on, I didn't know
whether she wanted to beat me to death or hug me to death...damn,
I felt sooo guilty..."

     "And you ought to feel guilty kiddo....you should have been
safely tucked away in bed at that time of night instead of
...instead of..."

     "...out playing around with you? He looked slyly at me from
the corner of his lovely slanted eyes.

     "Well...yeah." I said trying to sound sincere. He tossed
his head and his heavy black hair, now plaited into two long
shiny pigtails, whipped around to his chest then back. "I told
mom I wasn't alone," he continued, "that a nice guy named Charles
was with me all the time so I was quite safe."

     I thought guiltily to myself that `safe' in this particular
situation was a relative thing. Did I compromise Jeremy's safety
by making love to him? Does his own mother compromise his safety
by getting drunk when she knows she's got a child to take care of?

     But Jeremy was still speaking, "She said I shouldn't have
been out there anyway, and she didn't believe me about the nice
stranger, and I got grounded for a whole week!"

     By this time we had arrived at Jeremy's place. Out in the
tiny  front yard, a woman was bent over pulling weeds from what
New Yorkers would call a garden; a spit of earth, some green
bushes, and a sprinkling of bright little flowers.

     "Hey Mom!..." Jeremy yelled too loudly, the woman looked up,
startled. And I was surprised by how young she seemed, barely
more than a girl. She was a pale fragile blonde, the opposite of
her son's dark drama. She stood slowly, almost floating up. The
thin material of her long white summer dress rippled around her
legs as her pale earth-stained fingers fluttered aimlessly toward
her face then back down again.

     "Mom..." said Jeremy, softly this time, "this is Charles,
remember I told you someone stayed with me that night?...Well,
here he is." Jeremy was smiling with a smug `I told you so' look
on his pretty face.

     "Oh! I...didn't believe you...I'm sorry baby....." Her hands
did that fluttering thing again and came to rest against her
stomach, fingers tightly entwined together. She continued
speaking, "but that still didn't make it right for you to stay
out so late."

     Turning to me with a little smile, she said, "It's so nice
to meet you Charles, thanks for taking care of my son..." She
held out one of those small fluttering hands for me to shake,
but withdrew it suddenly, just as I was about to take it.

     "Oh, my hands are all dirty..." She mumbled softly to
herself. She spread her stained fingers and stared at them as
if mesmerized. Waving them back and forth like they were strange
attachments to her body, the look on her face was so sad,  I
thought, for a moment, she might actually break into tears.

     "That's okay, Ms.....Mrs......."

     She snapped out of her strange reverie to say, "It's
Bell......and I'm not married....just call me Eliza."

     "You wanna come in Charles?...We got coke...and Pizza....."
Jeremy drew near me and slipped his hand into mine once more.
It was beginning to feel very comfortable there, but I glanced
uncertainly at his mother wondering if she noticed any of this.
Her eyes, blue--and pale as the rest of her, blinked, and I knew
she saw the way we touched.

    Eliza nodded,  "Yes Charles, why don't you come in for
awhile."  And she led us down the narrow pathway of flat stones
to four steps which descended to their basement apartment. I
noticed for the first time she was barefoot. Small and fragile,
Eliza still didn't look old enough to be Jeremy's mother.