Please Wait for Me

"Very."

"Stay that way. I'm going to move my hands away, but I'll be right here. I won't let you sink."

When I moved my hands away, Luke floated perfectly.

"Good. Just like that," I said, wading away from him. "You're doing it. All on your own."

Luke was like a kid with a new toy, floating around the pool with his eyes closed. As he did, the borrowed red board shorts left little to the imagination. As he was in his briefs, he was down and to the right. I climbed out to get a better view and another beer. He was beautiful, his hair floating loosely over his head and his hairless body relaxed and splayed.

"What's next?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"I think that's plenty for today," I answered. My groin was already aching, and I knew teaching him to swim freestyle would mean holding him again, only this time with my hands on his chest and stomach. I wasn't sure I could handle that.

He didn't give me a choice. "I think we should git while the gittin's good," he insisted.

I adjusted myself and dove back into the pool, grabbing Luke by the ankle and towing him to where I could stand. I explained the freestyle stroke and then showed it to him. Unafraid to put his face in the water, Luke was eager to try the new stroke. I put my hands out, and he moved right over them. My left hand was under his stomach, and my right hand was under his chest. I walked him side to side as I explained the need to kick and how to turn his face to the side and breathe. It was much more difficult to teach than the back float, so my hands were on Luke's front far longer than they had been on his back, which meant my balls were again aching by the time I lowered myself until I was again supporting him only with my fingertips.

I do not know how long we were in the pool. But, it was dark and I was hungry when Luke swam from the shallow end to the diving board and back. When he reached my hand, he stood and grinned. I held out my hand to high five him and, when he grabbed it instead, I pulled him into a full embrace. He tensed as I did, my arms around him and his arms at his side and then, ever so tentatively, on my forarms.

"Sorry," I said, pulling back and fearing I had gone too far. "I just got excited for you."

"I, uh, it's okay. I just don't really know how to hug."

"What do you mean, you don't know how to hug?"

"I've never hugged anyone before."

I scrunched up my face and asked "Really?" I was dumbfounded.

"Really. My parents don't do it. And, I wasn't supposed to touch anyone like that. It could only lead to sinful things."

"But someone, a friend, a teacher, someone somewhere had to have hugged you."

"Not as far as I remember."

Instinctively, I reached out for and grabbed his arm. "When I put my arms around you, you do the same to me, under mine. Then, just relax into the hug and give me a squeeze when I give you one."

"I dunno, Sir."

"James."

"I dunno, James."

"Just try, Luke. Nothing bad's going to happen. And, you need to know how to hug someone properly. We all do."

I squatted a little and pulled him into me, putting my arms around his shoulders. He slid his arms around me under mine. I moved my right hand to the back of his head and just held him, chest to chest, until I felt him relax. When he did, I gave him a squeeze, and he squeezed me back.

"Hugging is one of the best things, Luke."

"It feels good."

"It is good."

I held him longer, careful not to press my groin to him and take the moment from something beautiful to something base. I scratched his head with my right hand and told him I was going to let go.

"You don't have to, if you don't want," he whispered.

"I dont' want."

I held him longer, my right hand on his head and my left hand between his shoulder blades. As I did, I realized I had stopped breathing.

"I have to let go now," I insisted.

"Okay," he whispered again.

When I did, I turned and dove into the water. I couldn't look at him. I was afraid I'd kiss him if I did. I also didn't want him to see that the hug had affected me in a completely non-platonic way.

When I emerged at the other end, I turned to see Luke climbing the steps out of the pool. Look back, I thought to myself. Please look back.

He didn't.

Chapter Six

Disappointed, I followed Luke out of the pool and into the house. I did not follow him upstairs. Instead, I went to my room and showered the chlorine off of me. While I did, I coated myself with conditioner and relieved some of the ache that having my hands on Luke had caused. I braced myself against the shower glass with my left hand while I watched myself in the full length mirror on the opposite wall. I finished quicker than I usually did, imagining my hand or my body or both belonged to someone else.

I dressed in gym shorts and a Royals t-shirt and headed to the kitchen to make dinner. I was well into a making a chicken salad and draining a bottle of wine before Luke joined me. He was clean, in another Hollister shirt, and back in his cutoffs. He looked like a hustler, in an adorably innocent way.

He settled in a chair at the island.

"Something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I've swallowed enough water for a day."

"It was a big day. You learned to swim. And to hug."

"I did."

"Had you really never been hugged before? I just find that so hard to believe."

"I don't know," he answered. "If I was, I don't remember it. My parents are, well, they're really different."

As I cooked, he unlocked a little more. His parents were hyper-religious. They thought most everything was sinful. They drank only natural liquids, like water and milk. They ate only things that were harvested or butchered. They didn't watch television. The only book they owned was the Bible. They didn't celebrate birthdays or holidays. They had intercourse only to procreate, which they had achieved only once, late in life. They had raised Luke strictly. He had few toys. He was not allowed to play with other children, to ensure he would not be corrupted by them. He did not speak unless spoken to. He attended school only because it was required. He had led a solitary life. He had never dated anyone. On good days, his parents kept him at arm's length, seen but not heard. Once his mother found his letters and there were no more good days, they had little use for him. They now thought he was a lost cause, and they were not going to lose themselves in a futile attempt to salvage him.

I was so sad listening to him. "My gosh, Luke, that sounds like a terribly isolated, lonely way to grow up."

"It wasn't so bad. I didn't know any different."

"You seem pretty social for an unsocial little boy."

"That's why I love the Army so much. You have to be social. It's all about cohesion and being each other's keeper."

"Your unit must think you're bat shit crazy."

"No," he said, smiling. "But they sure think my parents are."

"Why were you so excited to see them? You were almost jumping out of your skin."

"I dunno. They're my mom and dad, for better or for worse. And, if you haven't ever been away from someone that long, you don't know what it's like."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," I answered, more petulantly than I intended as I thought about Jess.

"Sorry. I'm sure you do."

I poured another glass of wine for myself and one for Luke. "What's this?" he asked.

"You had a big day. We're going to celebrate. One glass and that's all. You'll have the tolerance of a fruit bat."

"I dunno . . . ."

"Luke, you're not going to make it as a teetotaling soldier. It's wine. Jesus turned water into it. It's not evil or sinful. It's . . . ." Before I could finish, Luke picked up the glass, drained it, and plopped it back on the marble island with a crisp clink.

" . . . . not really for chugging," I finished.

"It was good. I'll have another."

"Okay. One more glass. But, you have to drink it slowly, with me."

He did while we ate on the porch, facing each other across the small table. Without being asked, I showed Luke how to hold his fork properly, to remove the food with his lips not his teeth, and not to allow his elbows to touch the tabletop.

"I never learned any of that," he said.

"I'm not trying to be a PITA," I said. "But, it's all stuff you'll want to know. I'm happy to help you."

"A PITA?"

"Yes. A Pain In The Ass," I said, holding up a finger to mark each new word.

"Ah. That's a good one."

"I love this porch," I said. My mind was jumping hither and yon over the intimacy of our dinner.

"Me, too."

"I'm out here almost every night."

"I would be, too."

I cleared the dishes and returned with two more glasses of wine. We settled on the couch, I turned on music, and we listened to the cicadas sing the song of Summer. As we did, I reached over and picked up Luke's hand. As a ruse, I held it up to mine, pretending I wanted to see which was bigger. Mine was, but only by a little.

I intertwined my fingers with his and lowered our hands.

"James, why are you holding my hand?" He asked.

"I want to. I dont' have to, but I want to. I think both of us deserve to be touched a little more."

Luke said nothing in response, but he relaxed his hand, leaving it in mine. I dozed off holding it, my wine in my right hand. The wine spilling into my lap woke me up. I let go of Luke's hand with a start.

"It's okay," he said. "You don't have to let go."

"I didn't. I mean, I did, but only because I dozed off and spilled my wine."

"Oh."

"I'm going to head to bed."

"Me, too, in a minute. This is the nicest place I've ever stayed. I'm going to stay up and enjoy it a while longer."

"Be my guest."

"I am," he answered, a wink in his voice.

When I climbed into bed, I was too tired to masturbate. Besides, it seemed a base way to end a beautiful day.

Chapter Seven

When I returned from yoga the next morning, Luke was up and in the pool, practicing. I stood at the kitchen window and watched him swim down and back, down and back, his muscled back gliding across the water far more gracefully than I expected from a novice. I cut up a plate of fruit and took it and my coffee to the porch. I was absorbed in my iPad when Luke joined me, his board shorts and hair wet and a towel draped around his neck.

"Good morning, James," he said.

I almost didn't recognize him. He seemed far more comfortable and confident than the boy who had called me for help the day before.

"Good morning, Luke" I answered, smiling at him. "You looked great. You're a natural. You took to the water like a duck."

"I finally understand what the fuss is about," he answered. "Water always seemed silly to me. But, now, I feel, I don't know, weightless in it."

"I feel the same way. Weightless and, I don't know, at peace. Whenever it all feels to be too much, I try to swim the heaviness away."

"That's exactly what I felt like I was doing. Swimming the heaviness away. I feel like a different person."

I stood up and asked Luke to stand up. When he did, I wrapped my arms around him, and he wrapped his arms around me. As I had the day before, I moved my right hand to his head and held it against my chest.

"Just relax and soak it in," I said.

"Soak what in?"

"The affection. That's what a hug yields. Affection."

When Luke pressed his head to my chest, I squeezed him as hard as I could. He squeezed me back as hard as he could. Before I could not, I pulled out of the embrace and returned to my chair.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"Like I said last night, I think we both deserve to be touched a little more."

"You can say that again. I think I've been cheated my whole life. I ain't hardly ever been touched."

"If you want to talk like me, you can start by eliminating 'ain't.' Ain't ain't a word."

"I know, but that's a hard one. I've been talking like that my whole life."

"Hard isn't impossible, and you should try to do impossible things, in any event. It builds character."

"I'm a solider. I've got people building my character every day."

"I have people building my character every day," I corrected.

"I have people building my character every day," he repeated.

After lunch, we went to a matinee showing of Mad Max: Fury Road. As we drove, I strongly suggested he not eliminate the end Gs in words when he spoke. We practiced everythinG and nothinG and somethinG.

About halfway through the movie, Luke whispered "here" and held his hand out, palm up and open. I was shocked, but not so shocked that I didn't take it in mine. He then slid them between the seats where anyone not minding their own business would not see that the two men in the middle of the middle row were holding hands. Every once in a while, Luke squeezed my hand with his. Each time, I squeezed back. And smiled inside.

After the movie, we got monstrous frozen custards and headed home. Luke was like a child, his cheeks and chin covered with his cookies and cream concrete. Obsessive, I was the opposite, eating while driving and not getting even the hint of a drop anywhere other than my tongue.

When I awoke from my nap, Luke was again in the pool, alternating between his freestyle stroke and floating on his back. I liked it best when he floated, his creamy white chest and mounded board shorts sticking up out of the water.

I stood up to join him. "Luke," I called. "Come out for a second. You need sunscreen on your back."

"And my front," he said, climbing out. "I didn't put any on."

"New rule. You can't go in the pool without sunscreen."

"You, too?"

"Fine. Me, too."

I watched Luke apply sunscreen as I applied my own. When it was time, he turned to me, accepting that I was going to cover his back and sides. I loved the feel of him and the contrast between my large, tan hand and his creamy white skin. Unlike the last time, he was not taut this time.

When I was finished, Luke covered my back. His hands on my skin was too much for me, and I got a little lost in it. I shocked myself when I moaned. He paused when I did, but then continued on.

When he was finished, I again dove into the pool to hide what he did to me. He followed me in with more of a flop than a dive. I climbed aboard a raft and settled back. I must have dozed off. When I woke up, Luke was on a raft next to me, facing the opposite direction and holding my right hand in his.

"Hey, Sleepy," he said, when he noticed I was awake.

"Hey, Guppy," I responded.

"Guppy?"

"Yep. You're a new swimmer. You're like a guppy."

"This is nice, isn't it?"

"It's more than nice," I answered, squeezing his hand.

Over dinner, I asked about being a soldier. He walked me through what seemed to be a mundane and routinized existence.

"And you like it?" I asked.

"I do. I ain't never . . . I haven't ever really fit in anywhere. I fit in there. No one cares about anything other than whether you're either a good soldier. The guys either feel like you've got their back or they don't."

"And you're good?"

"I'm better than good. I'm the best. I just get it. There are lots of things I don't get, but I get being a soldier."

"Like you get swimming?"

"Oh, way more than swimming. I get being a soldier the way some people get math. It's just easy for me. I felt it when I first cleaned my rifle or shined my shoes. It's what I'm meant to do."

After dinner, Luke and I shared a bottle of wine on the porch. We sat at opposite ends of the sofa, our legs intermingled as we each leaned on one arm and talked. Luke asked me about Jess, and I told him as many stories as I could bear. Most had been locked away since before Jess died. As I talked, I absent mindedly traced a trail with my right forfinger from mole to mole to mole on his left calf.

"You have a lot of moles," I observed.

"I have a lot of beauty marks," he corrected.

"Is that what they are?"

"Yes. Every single one of them."

"I'm not surprised," I said, taking a risk and then winking at him. As always, he winked back.

I awoke on the sofa at just past 2 a.m. Luke was dead to the world, so I extricated myself, pulled him flat, and covered him with my favorite throw before going in to bed. He was still there the following morning when I left for yoga, the corners of his mouth turned up. He appeared to be smiling as he slept.

Chapter Eight

I hated the date as I scanned in to class. July 18, the first of the last three full days before Luke returned to the U.S.. Army. Unexpectedly, he had shattered my isolation. Now, I couldn't imagine him leaving. I felt like he might be my savior.

I found no peace in downward dog or any other pose. Halfway through class, I left. If I had only three more days with Luke, I didn't want to waste any of them in a yoga class that I now visited more out of habit than enjoyment.

Luke was in the kitchen in only his underwear when I got back home. My early return surprised him.

"I thought class was until 7."

"It is."

"Why'd you leave early?"

"Can't say."

"I was making coffee and breakfast. Take over, and I'll go put some shorts on."

"You're fine like that. No one can see in."

"I feel self-conscious."

"Fine," I answered, slipping my shorts off. "Now we're both in our underwear."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe, but I feel less so every day," I admitted, again taking a risk.

We took our coffee and our fruit on the porch at the small table. When we were seated, I put my right foot on top of Luke's left foot. He answered by putting his right foot on top of my left foot. He suprised me. When I looked up, he smiled at me.

"You have big feet," I said.

"And big . . . shoes," he answered, laughing at himself.

"What do you want to do today?"

"If it's okay with you, I'd like to run your wife's route with you. I'd like to know where it happened."

I was suprised and vexed. I thought the request odd and feared it'd be painful for me, although I was not sure why. I ran the route almost every day.

"Okay," I said. "What about after that?"

"Nothing. Just hang out. I've never lived like this. I feel like a King."

"Then hang out it is. I have to do some work after breakfast, but I should be finished by lunch."

"Awesome. Maybe we can learn a new stroke today."

I looked up. He didn't appear to be using a double entendre. He was talking about swimming.

When I finished my work, he was dressed and ready for the run. When we got to the spot, I stopped, and he stopped beside me. As I crossed myself, he put his hand on my shoulder and leaned his head against my arm. He mumbled something that sounded prayerful, said "I'll leave you two be," and started off. He needn't have. I didn't think of Jess as there. I caught up to him quickly. We ran home in complete silence. As expected, it had been painful for some reason, so I went directly to my room to regroup.

When I emerged, Luke was already in the pool. Since he hadn't asked for my help, I knew he did not have any sunscreen on his back.

"Hey, Guppy," I called. "Out of the pool."

"Why?"

"What's the rule?"

"Oh crap, sunscreen."

"That's right, sunscreen."

Luke climbed out of the pool, walked toward me, and stopped right in front of me. He spread his legs and arms and stood there like a scarecrow.

"What're you doing?" I asked.

"I'm wet. Do it for me."

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere."

I grabbed a towel and dabbed his skin dry. I squirted some cream in my hand and rubbed my hands together. I started with his face, gently covering his forehead and his cheeks and his temples. I moved to his ears and to his neck. I added more cream and moved to his shoulders and arms.

"Raise your arms," I said. He did, and I covered his arm pits and sides. He squirmed as I ran my hands down his sides.

I looked at him with a question on my face. "Keep going," he answered.

I added more cream. I worked over his chest and stomach before moving behind him and covering his back. I was taking my time, hardly believing what I was doing and being extremely detailed in my work.