pzb.drawingblood-第55节

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oor　of　her　own　tidy　kitchen　instead　of　leaving　her　to　linger　in　some　sterile　ward；　Mr。　Henry　had　only　been　waiting　to　die　too　and　be　buried　in　his　own　small　rectangle　of　earth　beside　her。
　　But　that　kiss　reminded　him　of　a　summer's　day　he　had　hardly　let　himself　think　of　in　seventy　years。　A　vacation　on　the　Outer　Banks　。。。　a　local　boy　he　had　met　on　the　beach；　his　own　age；　twelve　or　thirteen。　All　day　they　swam　in　the　vast　expanse　of　ocean；　dozed　on　the　soft　hot　dunes；　exchanged　their　deepest　dreams　and　darkest　secrets。　Far　from　the　ordinary　fare　of　schools　and　families；　they　became　what　they　wanted　to　be；　they　were　unimaginably　exotic　to　each　other。
　　They　were　only　lying　in　the　sand　embracing　when　his　father　found　them。　But　his　father　had　been　a　deacon　of　the　Baptist　church；　a　self…styled　Old　Testament　patriarch　who；　finding　himself　trapped　in　the　immoral　whirlwind　of　the　early　twentieth　century；　had　bee　a　domestic　tyrant。　His　father　had　beat　him　so　badly　he　could　not　walk　for　five　days；　could　not　stand　upright　for　a　week。　And　his　father　had　told　him　he　never　deserved　to　stand　upright　again；　for　he　was　no　man。
　　Mr。　Henry　had　been　believing　that　for　seventy　years。　But　seeing　the　two　beautiful　boys'　lips　meet　and　the　tips　of　their　tongues　press　quickly　together　reminded　him　how　sweet　it　had　been　to。　kiss　the　briny　mouth　of　that　golden…skinned　creature　in　the　dunes；　though　he　knew　if　his　father　had　caught　them　kissing　he　would　have　killed　them　both。　Now　they　could　do　it　in　public　if　they　wanted　to；　with　the　nonchalance　of　any　young　couple　in　love。　He　wished　he　had　been　born　in　such　a　time；　or　had　been　brave　enough　to　help　make　that　time　e。
　　Trevor　saw　the　old　man　staring。　He　flushed　to　the　roots　of　his　hair　and　returned　to　his　notebook；　scowling　fiercely。　But　as　he　began　to　draw　again；　he　could　still　feel　those　faded　eyes　on　him。　He　was　sick　of　this　place　anyway；　with　its　odor　of　grease　and　boiled　coffee　grounds；　with　its　rotating　fans　that　emitted　a　loud；　steady　ratcheting　sound　but　did　not　cool　the　air。
　　He　got　up；　left　a　generous　tip　on　the　table　to　make　sure　his　cup　would　be　kept　full　again　next　time；　and　gave　the　old　man　what　he　imagined　was　a　polite　but　sardonic　nod　as　he　left　the　diner。　To　his　surprise；　the　old　man　smiled　and　nodded　back。
　　Trevor　thought　of　driving　out　Burnt　Church　Road　to　the　graveyard　before　he　went　home；　but　decided　against　it。　The　grave　of　his　family　had　felt　too　peaceful；　too　final　when　he　visited　it　on　Sunday　morning。　It　contained　no　answers　for　him；　only　crumbling　bones。　The　answers　were　in　the　house；　in　its　dampness　and　rot；　its　twenty…year…old　bloodstains　and　shattered　mirrors。
　　And　also　perhaps　in　its　strange　sylvan　sensuality；　its　lushness　of　green　vines　twining　through　broken　windows；　in　the　home　it　was　being　to　him　and　Zach；　more　than　it　had　ever　been　his　alone；　in　the　succession　of　shady　days　and　sweaty　nights　that　seemed　as　if　it　would　go　on　forever；　though　they　both　knew　it　could　not；　even　in　the　galaxies　of　dust　that　swirled　through　late　afternoon　sunlight　like　golden　notes　descending　on　a　saxophone；　there　in　Birdland。
　　Trevor　parked　the　car　at　the　side　of　the　house；　went　inside；　and　got　a　Coke　from　the　refrigerator。　He　stood　in　the　kitchen　drinking　it；　looking　at　Zach's　stuff　on　the　table。　Zach　seemed　to　have　chosen　this　as　his　room　and　insinuated　himself　here。　His　Post…its　were　stuck　to　the　edge　of　the　table　like　some　bizarre　yellow　fringe。　On　the　refrigerator　he　had　plastered　a　bumper　sticker　that　read　FUCK　'EM　IF　THEY　CAN'T　TAKE　A　JOKE。　His　laptop　puter；　surely　an　expensive　machine；　sat　in　plain　view　as　if　he　trusted　the　house　to　protect　it　from　thievery　or　harm。　He　thought　of　Zach　breaking　into　the　electric　pany　last　night；　just　skating　right　in　as　pretty　as　he　pleased；　as　if　anybody　could　call　up　and　read　the　whole　town's　power　bills　anytime　they　wanted　to。　What　a　silly　kid；　Trevor　thought。　What　an　amazing　genius。
　　But　that　reminded　him　of　the　kitchen　light　snapping　on；　off；　on　again　with　no　hand　near　it。　And　that　reminded　him　of　his　story。　Incident　in　Birdland。　He　finished　his　Coke　and　walked　slowly　down　the　hall；　past　the　bedrooms；　into　the　studio。　The　light　in　here　was　clear；　green；　pure　in　a　way　that　only　late　afternoons　in　summer　can　be。　He　ran　his　hand　over　the　scarred　surface　of　the　drawing　table。　He　stared　at　the　drawings　tacked　to　the　wall。
　　Then；　without　quite　knowing　he　was　going　to　do　it；　Trevor　thrust　out　both　hands　and　tore　two　of　them　down　and　started　ripping　at　them。　The　paper　crumbled　between　his　fingers；　dry；　brittle；　helpless。　Destroying　artwork　was　a　taboo　almost　as　strong　to　him　as　murder。　The　sensation　was　heady；　intoxicating。
　　〃HOW　DO　YOU　LIKE　IT？〃　he　yelled　into　the　empty　room。　〃HOW　DO　YOU　LIKE　SEEING　YOURSELF　TORN　APART？　DO　YOU　EVEN　CARE　ANYMORE？〃
　　The　silence　was　deafening。　The　last　crumbs　of　paper　sifted　from　his　hands。　Trevor　suddenly　felt　very　tired。
　　He　went　into　his　bedroom　and　lay　down　on　the　mattress。　The　light　in　here　was　dim；　more　blue　than　green；　the　kudzu　so　thick　it　was　like　having　the　shades　drawn。　The　rumpled　blanket　and　pillow　were　permeated　with　a　unique　blend　of　his　scent　and　Zach's；　a　third　scent　that　had　never　existed　in　the　world　before　yesterday　morning；　a　scent　part　musk；　part　herb；　part　salt。
　　He　touched　his　penis。　The　skin　felt　stretched；　tender；　nearly　sore。　The　things　he　had　done　with　Zach　were　like　nothing　he　had　ever　imagined。　He　loved　the　raw　physical　intimacy　of　it；　the　utter　sense　of　connection。　He　thought　about　having　Zach　inside　him；　wondered　if　it　would　hurt　and　realized　that　he　didn't　care；　he　wanted　it　anyway。
　　Hugging　the　pillow　to　him；　imagining　his　lover's　body　linked　inextricably　with　his　own；　he　slept。
　　
　　At　the　Sacred　Yew；　Gumbo　was　running　through　the　last　few　songs　of　their　set。　As　promised；　Zach　had　memorized　the　lyrics　Terry　had　written　down　for　him；　then　learned　to　sing　them　with　R。J。　singing　along　softly　to　cue　him。　R。J。's　voice　wasn't　awful；　but　it　was　a　flat　kid's　voice　that　had　never　been　meant　to　front　a　band。　Zach　decided　his　own　voice　had　been　meant　for　just　that　purpose。　On　the　songs　he　hadn't　learned；　he　made　up　his　own　words。
　　Terry　gave　his　cymbals　a　final　crash　and　brandished　his　sticks　in　the　air。　〃Let's　knock　it　off；〃　said　R。J。　〃It's　not　gonna　get　any　better　than　that。〃
　　Zach　had　shed　his　T…shirt　at　some　point　during　the　rehearsal。　His　chest　was　streaked　with　sweat　and　his　own　grimy　fingerprints　where　he　had　clawed　at　himself　with　one　hand　while　he　clutched　at　the　mike　stand　or　gesticulated　wildly　with　the　other。　He　had　snarled　his　hair　around　his　fingers　as　he　sang；　pulled　at　it　until　it　stood　out　in　a　hundred　directions。
　　He　saw　Calvin　looking　at　him　and　grinned。　〃What　do　you　think？〃
　　Calvin's　eyes　were　brazen。　〃About　what？〃
　　〃My　highly　original　vocal　style；　of　course。〃
　　〃Of　course。〃　The　guitarist　let　his　gaze　slide　from　Zach's　face　to　his　chest　to　his　midsection；　then　back　up　again　just　as　slowly。　〃I　think　it's　very　attractive。〃
　　〃How　old　are　you？〃
　　〃Twenty…three。〃
　　〃Will　you　buy　me　a　beer　and　pour　it　in　a　cup？〃
　　〃Why；　of　course　I　will。〃　Calvin　grinned　evilly。　〃But　only　if　you　buy　the　next　round。〃
　　〃Hell；　I'll　buy　this　one。〃　Zach　pulled　a　five　out　of　his　pocket　and　held　it　out　to　Calvin。　〃Leave　the　change　for　Kinsey。〃
　　Calvin　waved　the　money　away。　〃My　treat。〃
　　Terry　came　over　to　the　edge　of　the　stage　toweling　his　hair　dry　with　his　bandanna；　sucking　some　kind　of　throat　lozenge。　The　sharp　odor　of　menthol　hung　around　his　head　like　an　invisible　cloud。　〃That　was　some　heavy　mind　groove；　Zach。　You're　quite　a　crazed　front　man。〃
　　〃Thanks。　You　guys　are　pretty　crazed　yourselves。〃
　　〃Yeah；　we　try。　You　wanna　e　over　for　a　shower　and　a　toke？　I　can　drop　you　off　afterward。〃
　　Calvin　came　back　with　two　sloshing　plastic　cups。　Their　fingers　touched　damply　as　he　handed　Zach　one。　〃Where　are　y'all　going？〃
　　〃To　my　house；〃　Terry　told　him　hoarsely。
　　〃Can　I　e？〃
　　〃No。　Go　home　and　take　a　nap。　I　know　you　were　up　until　dawn　eating　mushrooms　last　night。〃
　　〃That's　okay。　I'm　going　to　eat　'em　again　tonight。〃
　　Terry　rolled　his　eyes。　〃Great。　Can　you　wait　until　after　the　show？〃
　　〃Maybe。〃　Calvin's　gaze　sought　out　Zach's；　fairly　sparkling　with　wickedness。　〃It　depends　on　what's　happening　after　the　show。〃
　　For　the　first　time；　Zach　felt　a　spark　of　annoyance　toward　Calvin。　He　was　cute　as　hell；　he　played　a　mean　guitar；　and　he　obviously　entertained　a　healthy　lust　for　Zach。　But　he　also　obviously　didn't　give　a　damn　about　Trevor。
　　Well；　maybe　Calvin　just　hadn't　picked　up　on　the　fact　that　they　were　together。　Zach　didn't　mind　the　attention　or　the　free　beer。　Calvin　probably　meant　no　harm；　and　if　he　did；　that　was　too　bad。
　　But　Zach　saw　no　reason　to　piss　off　his　new　bandmate　if　he　didn't　have　to。　Calvin　might　even　have　extra　mushrooms；　Zach　thought；　and　be　willing　to　share　or　sell　some。
　　And　he　was　awfully　cute。
　　
　　Trevor　woke　alone　in　the　dark　bedroom。　For　a　moment　he　could　not　feel　the　mattress　under　him；　could　not　even　be　sure　he　lay　on　a　solid　surface；　he　might　have　been　spinning　in　some　directionless　black　void。　Then　gradually　the　dim　square　of　the　window　became　visible；　and　the　larger