Authors: Lou Harper
Between Friends (3 page)
I dont know why Jules put up with it, but he did. I knew it pissed him off too. He kept pushing me, kept telling me Id have to make a choice eventually. I kept hedging. I clung to the conviction that if I ignored the whole problem, it would go away. Well, it did—in a fashion.
I knew we were tempting fate by going to Keegans, barely fifty miles from Buford, but it was a true dive bar, dark and crowded on a Friday night. Jules and I sat at the end of the bar, drinking beer, talking. We werent holding hands or anything stupid like that, but we sat close, and I didnt stop Jules from occasionally leaning into me. We were having a real nice time til Ellis fucking Harlan showed up. When he slapped me on the back and said, “Hey, Luke, buddy,” in that booming voice of his, I nearly choked on my beer nuts. At least the choking and coughing gave me time to recover from the nasty surprise. Ellis was one of the mechanics from the garage. He knew about me and Cheryl being on the rocks, but to the best of my knowledge, he didnt know Jules at all.
I introduced them and hoped that Ellis would move the fuck on. He didnt. He decided we were all buddies hanging out together. It was one of the most fucking miserable nights of my life. We played pool, drank beer, talked. Ellis, being a fresh divorcé, was there to find company for the night. He assumed that was what we were there for too, and I wasnt about to contradict him. In desperation, I started flirting with some random chick. She flirted right back. I know Im a good-looking guy—tall, dark, and muscular—but I dont think it mattered much. She was drunk as a skunk. The more we flirted, the more pissed off Jules got. If looks could kill, I wouldve been flayed alive, drawn and quartered. After going off to the bathroom, he didnt bother coming back to us at all. So there I was, making the moves on this chick and showing off to Ellis, while furtively watching Jules chatting up some guy across the bar. When the two of them left together, I wanted to go after them so fucking bad, but of course I couldnt. It was a long half hour before I could extract myself at last.
lights were on at Juless place when I got there. I burst in, fully expecting him to be fucking the guy from the bar, but he was alone. All my angry, jealous words stuck in my throat at one look at him. He was beautiful and scary, shaking with fury. Like a seriously pissed-off angel. There was that tightness in my chest again that made it hard to breathe. I barely opened my mouth before Jules unleashed his rage on me. He called me every name in the book at least twice, til he ran out of breath. Being the stupid, clueless idiot I was, I tried talking “reason” to him. “Jules, you have to understand….”
“Oh I do, and Im not gonna do this. Im not gonna be
your dirty little secret!”
“Hey, I work with Ellis. I couldnt let him go around
telling everyone I was queer,” I said as calmly as I could. “Why the fuck not? You are.”
“I aint gay.”
“You fucking cowardly, spineless shit! I knew it was a mistake from the start, but I thought with time youd figure out who you are. But you never will.”
Unfortunately, I picked that time to go on the offense. “I know just fine who I am. I dont need some puffed-up college kid to tell me! And Im not a fucking fairy!” I shouted back.
He looked back, like he wanted to spit in my face. He probably did. “Then be yourself somewhere else. I dont ever wanna fucking see you again!”
“Jules….”
“Get out! Get the fuck out!”
Im bigger and stronger than Jules, but people get extra
strength in extreme situations. Im sure Jules coulda thrown me down the stairs at that moment. I was three kinds of pissed too, but at least some of it was at myself. So I left, slamming the door behind me as hard as I could.
word Jules said that night burned into my memory as I went over them again and again. They stung. The next night, I parked my bike right behind the shop. I wasnt sure what I was going to say. I owed Jules an apology, at least.
When he didnt answer my knocking, I let myself in with the key hed given me. The place was empty. The futon was folded up and pushed against the wall. His clothes were gone. Hed taken every last scrap of his personal belongings. The only thing left bearing a trace of Jules was a pillow that still smelled of him. I spent the night lying on the floor under the skylight, my face buried in that pillow. At dawn, I slipped out of the apartment like a thief. I stopped by the store later in the day to pick up some tools. I learned Jules had gone back to school early.
I told myself it was all for the best. Life went back to how it was before. I thought I was fine, but then when Jules didnt come home for Christmas, I was more disappointed than his family. As if I was looking forward to seeing him. When, one night down at Coronet Pub, Kev dropped that Jules was dating some guy and wouldnt be back the next summer, my guts burned.
Cheryl and I got back together; then we broke up again. I spent a lot of time at the Coronet. I was in the worst kind of rut, I tell you. When the chance came to take a job with my uncle in Albuquerque, I jumped at it. Uncle Joe had a body shop, but he also restored old cars and needed someone who knew engines. I went just to get away from Buford, but it turned out to be more than I expected. I didnt care much for New Mexico, though. I missed the weather, the trees, the familiar Illinois landscape. I was homesick as hell, but I loved the work. See, Id become a mechanic cause thats what the men in my family did. I have a real knack for it, though. Ive always liked working with old clunkers better than those modern cars that you just hook up to a diagnostic machine and it spits out whats wrong.
Working with those classic cars in Uncle Joes garage was like a revelation. It was more than just a job. When you see a neglected rust bucket transformed into a thing of beauty, well, that gives you a real sense of satisfaction. It had never occurred to me before that you could enjoy what you got paid for. I spent almost two years there, learning everything there was about car restoration.
The thing about being out there, where I didnt know a soul aside from my uncles family, was that I had too damn much time to think. I promised myself to put Jules out of my mind, but that was easier said than done. He was a tenacious little bastard, even in memory. I tried to call him once or twice, but he neither answered nor called back. After a while I resigned myself to living with that dull ache for the rest of my life.
I spent a lot of my free time riding my bike up and down Route 66. You know what, it did me good. Being out there on the open road with the wind in your face has a way of blowing rubbish out of your head. Its not like I didnt try going back to “normal” and acting like that whole thing with Jules was nothing important, but it wasnt working. Hell, me and Cheryl had been seeing each other off and on for three years at least, and I cant say that I ever thought of her much whenever we were “off.” Meanwhile, there I was, not being able to look down on a long stretch of road without wishing Jules were there with me or wondering what hed say about one thing or another. Id never felt so fucking lonely in my life before. The absence of Jules was like a real, physical pain that only kept getting worse. I missed him both as a friend and as a lover. It took me a long time, but eventually I came to realize that Id fucked up big time.
What really kicked me into gear was a strange incident. I was riding my bike one day down a long stretch of highway at dusk. My mind was not on the road as much as it shoulda been. All of a sudden, there was this coyote on the road right in front of me. It just stood and stared at me. I swerved, lost my balance. As I struggled to get it back, my life flashed in front of my eyes: it was a short clip and not very interesting. I wondered how long til anyone would find me out there if I died or got hurt. I tumbled, but by then I was going slow enough, and both the bike and I got away with a few bruises. I looked back at the road, but the coyote was gone. There was nothing but empty, flat land for miles to either side of the road, but the fucker was nowhere. I aint superstitious, but I took that as a sign: it was time to stop running and fix the shit I broke.
Uncle Joe was none too pleased when I told him I was going back to Buford, but in the end he even gave me a parting gift. He picked up his cars from everywhere, from online ads to junkyards. On one of his trips, hed found an old bike. He didnt do bikes, but he knew how much I was into them.
had changed in the two years Id been gone. Kev had had a kid, and another was on the way. Johnny was engaged. He and his bro had started up their construction business together. Jules had got a job and stayed in Chicago after finishing school.
Every summer, the Reids—who had the biggest backyard on the block—held a big potluck party on the Fourth of July weekend, and the whole damn neighborhood was invited. Our street was only two blocks north of Sherman Park, where the yearly fireworks show was conducted. That was always the main attraction. To me, though, the only thing that mattered was that Jules would be there.
It was a beautiful, warm afternoon. There was beer and barbecue, kids bouncing on the trampoline—that was new too. Everyone brought a dish; a folding table was packed with them. There was a sea of familiar faces, and Id never been so fucking nervous in my life before. I just wanted to catch Jules alone somewhere, but it was impossible. There were people everywhere, and Jules was avoiding me. Our initial greetings seemed friendly enough, but he wouldnt look me in the eye. After that, whenever I got close to him, he slipped away to greet someone, help in the kitchen or whatnot. It was frustrating.
In the end, my mother came to the rescue. She and Jules were chatting. He wouldve probably made a dash for it as soon as he spotted me coming in their direction, but Mom was holding him by the arm.
Mom was famous for her pies. She made three of them at every Fourth of July party: cherry, apple, and key lime. Shed started baking them late this time, and they were still too hot to transport when we came over to the party.
Jules seemed as enthusiastic as a horse headed for the glue factory, but in Moms clutches, he had little choice but to join us.
off the tarp with a flourish.
I yammered on about the engine, the restoration stuff Id learned in Uncle Joes garage, the paint job I planned for Elly. Jules asked little questions here and there. I babbled on about wanting to start up my own business, restoring bikes. I had some money saved up. It was like the old days, before everything, when we could talk to each other without the awkward shit. When we were friends. I wanted more, though. I talked too much, working up the nerve.
“Luke….” His voice sounded almost begging. There was hurt in it, I could hear.
“There was that guy when I left, but I dont know anything since, and youre here alone.” I tried so very hard to do this the right way, but I was never very good at this stuff.
“Jason and I split up, but that doesnt matter.” His defenses were going up, and I didnt know what to do to stop them.
He kept inching towards the open garage door, and I kept following.
“It matters to me,” I said, taking one step toward him. He took two steps back.
“Luke, lets not do this. It wont work.”
“Is it because Im just a grease monkey?” I had to ask, because there was always that possibility. Two years is a long time, and he had a proper degree and fancy job by now.
“Dont be stupid!”
That familiar anger flashed in his eyes. I knew we were skidding the wrong way, but I couldnt stop either. I got another step closer, and this time Jules stood his ground. That stubborn bastard I knew so well was back.
“Then why?”
“You know why.”
I realized then how angry and hurt he still felt. As stupid as it sounds, it made my heart beat with crazy hope, cause it meant I still mattered to him.
“Jules, give me another chance. Ill prove it to you.” “No. Fucking. Way,” he said. Stubborn fucking bastard.
He spun on his heels and marched straight down the driveway, leaving me with my anger and frustration. I took it out on the nearest object I could find: I kicked the toolbox as hard as I could. The heavy metal box skittered loudly over the concrete floor, spilling its guts across the garage. All it got me was a sore foot, a mess to clean up, and my mother coming out of the house.
I really didnt want to explain, but of course, like a typical mother, she wouldnt leave things alone.
“Well, go after him,” she chided me.
“You wouldnt understand.” I swear I must have sounded like a whiny twelve-year-old. I dont know how she does it to me.
She rolled her eyes. “You boys are real dense sometimes. Have I ever told you how your father proposed to me?”
“He didnt. He couldnt make up his mind. So I proposed to him, in front of his whole family. You shoulda seen him. He was so embarrassed, but I sure got his attention.”
