CARTER'S SHADOW
Chapter 16 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
He stood, one foot on the steps to the big house, suddenly uncertain.
It was only a few steps away; he could get up them, press the bell and...
He was terrified; his first-ever date, and he was terrified.
He swallowed as he nervously adjusted his tie, wondering if
he should just bolt for the car and drive till he hit the border. Just run
away from a lanky dark-haired guy with a killer smile before West found some
new and inventive way to screw it up.
He swallowed, finding his nerve, and climbed the steps again.
He reached out to ring the doorbell, stepping back a step respectfully, and
nervously fiddling with his tie again.
The huge oak door swung open and Blake stood there, a quizzical
smile on his face as his eyes slid over West's shirt-and-tie ensemble, and
back up again. A radiant grin broke out across his face.
"Hi," he said, still smiling.
West stood there impressed at the white shirt, white Dockers,
and white vest Blake had put on. They weren't his colours--his skin was far
too pale--but they accented the blue in his eyes and his dark hair. And West
was immediately swept up into them, trying to find words to fit the rush of
awe he felt at that moment.
"Hi," he managed lamely, producing a box of Tim Horton's
muffins from behind his back. "You're supposed to bring something with
you on a first date, and, well, chocolates were lame, and flowers...I don't
see you and flowers being a good combination, but you can't go wrong with
muffins!"
Blake looked down at the carton of muffins that West held out
to him, amusement growing in his eyes as he accepted them and peeked inside.
"They look good," he said, chuckling as he leaned back to set them
down on the hall table just inside the door. "My dad used to make me
play cricket when we lived in Toronto, it's the only outfit I had that didn't
have any black in it."
West nodded. "You look great," he replied truthfully.
Blake grinned again. "I need a tan to pull off white,"
he replied, pulling the big doors closed behind him and following West down
to the Bronco.
"I don't know, it sets off your freckles," West observed,
going around to hop into the truck. "Normally I don't notice them...
they're neat."
Blake blushed a bit. "Yeah... well... your hair looks good
like that," he offered up, getting in beside West. "So, where are
you taking me?" he grinned again.
West chuckled, "That is a surprise." He started the
Bronco, and they officially began their date.
* * *
"The river?" Blake asked as West closed the Bronco's
trunk, hefting a large wicker basket as he moved forward to the bank.
"Yep," West said with a smile, "are you coming?"
Blake scratched his head, looking out across the sun-drenched
water of the Ottawa river that flowed through the heart of the Canadian capital.
"Where?" he asked cautiously.
West said nothing, as he stooped to unfasten a rope. He hauled
on it and lightly stepped into a small boat that had been sitting in the reeds.
It was painted a bright royal blue, white boards on the inside and a tarped
sail was sitting along the gunwale. It wasn't very big, just large enough
for the pair of them, and Blake stared at it in surprise--he'd never sailed
before.
West secured the basket and picked up an oar; resting on it
to keep the boat in place he held out his hand as Blake gingerly stepped down
into it. "Careful," West said. "Brace your foot..." and
to Blake's surprise he was seated in the stern of the boat next to the rudder.
"Wow," Blake said as West shoved off, sculling the
boat away from the shore and out into the river proper. "I've never been
on a boat before."
West nodded, "My dad uses this boat to fish come the fall,
I grew up with it."
"That has to be cool," Blake said as he leant back
into the seat and surveyed the long oars, the rowlocks, and all the myriad
of fittings around as the boat swayed gently beneath him.
"It is," West replied solemnly, as he leant forward
for his next stroke. "I love it, I've been sailing since I was little..."
"Aren't I supposed to be wearing a life preserver?"
Blake asked, looking about for the notably absent safety device.
"You are," West replied truthfully. "I didn't
bring any though, I... this was kind of a last minute idea."
"A-ha!" Blake said triumphantly. "You had no
idea where you were taking me after all."
"Busted," West replied with a grin as the boat continued
to cut its way through the water, skimming the surface of the small waves
heading for deeper water. "But if you fall in, grab onto one of the cushions--they
double as floats, you should be able to swim to shore with one."
"Look out!" Blake cried suddenly.
The call came too late as the boat struck the far bank of the
little inlet they were trying to clear. The amused hockey player lay on his
back in the bottom of the boat, his feet still up on the bench he had been
sitting on.
"That was fun," West grinned as he picked himself
up, taking a moment to laugh at himself. He pulled off his sweater and tossed
it into the bow, rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie as he sat back
down again. "The problem with rowing is you can't see where you're going.
It's just in and out, all about the rhythm of it, you kind of lose track of
stuff when you do it. It's not so much where you end up, but..."
"...the journey," Blake finished. "Never knew
you to be a poet, West."
"No--you're the writer, I just like to read," West
replied, glancing about him as he pulled the boat around on one oar and angled
back out from the shore. "So here's the plan: I am going to take us down
river a bit and hoist the sail, and we can watch the sunset if you want."
"You sure you can find your way back in the dark?"
Blake asked, looking back over his shoulder.
"Yep," West said. "It's all about navigation;
my granddad rigged up some nav lights a few years ago for night fishing. It's
a set pattern and I know it well. So are you okay with the plan?" He
leaned forward into his oars.
Blake shifted in his seat, and smiled happily, "Well, I've
never been on a date like this before. You're the captain."
"Good," West said nudging the basket beneath Blake's
feet, taking to the sculls once again. "And I brought supper."
"What did you bring?" Blake asked, looking down at
the fat basket beneath his feet.
"There's cold chicken inside it," West recited from
memory, a smirk escaping his lips. "I got cold cuts, salad with French
dressing," he looked thoughtful again as he pulled on the oars again,
"cheeses--Brie and Stilton, I think--and there's a sandwich platter...
and a surprise dessert."
"Wow," Blake looked up, "you really went all
out."
"Really?" West asked with a frown. "I cheated
a bit; I stopped at the deli counter and asked them what they would recommend
for a picnic. It really wasn't all that expensive..."
Blake wasn't listening; he was staring about him at the water
as the boat moved out further. His hand trailed a bit as he gingerly touched
the warm water's surface, sending ripples out around it as the evening sun
continued its lazy course towards the horizon. He was enjoying the gentle
lapping of the small waves, the rhythm of the oars and the scents out on the
open water. West trailed off and smiled at Blake, realizing how much of this
he took for granted.
"I like you in those clothes," West remarked after
a short time of silence had passed. "You look preppy."
Blake blinked, realizing he had been drifting in his own thoughts.
"I look like a geek," he responded, sitting up. "I like your
tie, though."
"Thanks," West replied, standing up carefully and
moving back, the boat rocking as Blake grabbed onto the gunwale. "Steady!"
West warned, "I don't want to go for a swim tonight."
He stowed the oars, stepping back and untying the tarp from
around the sail. He had done this for years. Setting the mast into its mount
was an easy task; unfolding the boom from it and securing it all, he stepped
back and ran a bright yellow sail up the mast. The material flapped as it
rose, filling out as it swung lazily to one side.
Blake jumped as the rudder tapped him on the leg.
"Hold that steady," West ordered, tying off the sail
in a bowline knot and coming back to fall into the bench beside Blake on the
other side of the rudder. He reached out to wrap his hands around Blake's,
and guided the rudder, "There we go, much better."
Blake looked down at the hand circling his own and up at West.
"Why sir," he said assuming a perfect southern belle accent, "I
do declare, you are taking advantage of me."
"Well," West replied, doing a perfect impression of
John Wayne, "that's kinda the idea, little lady..."
Blake grinned, "I'm not that kind of girl." The sail
flapped as the boat caught the wind again and they began to move in one of
the oldest, cleanest and safest fashions man had ever devised. Man and nature
intersecting in a way he was meant to do. "This is beautiful..."
he commented in awe.
"Never been on a boat, huh?" West said with a smile.
"Glad I could change that. I love to sail--it's just me out here, and
at this time of the year, before all the tourists invade and clog up the river
with jet skis, motorboats and noise, it's just mine... you know?"
"So what other surprises lie in there?" Blake asked,
turning slightly to look right into West's eyes. They were close--a mere six
inches apart--and West felt Blake tense slightly under his hand.
"Plenty," West replied. "Do you know I'm an amateur
astronomer?"
"Star watcher?" Blake asked in amusement. "You
somehow don't seem the type."
"I don't seem the type to do a lot of things," West
fired back. "Tack..."
"Huh?" Blake asked as West cut the rudder, the boom
of the sail sweeping across to the other side as the boat angled for another
long swing--this time upstream.
"So...I have you all alone, you might as well tell me a
bit about yourself," West replied. "I know you're a writer, you're
always happy, and that you live in a big house... but...well..."
"What do you want to know?" Blake asked. "I'm
sixteen, I have black hair and I've never been on a boat before."
"Where were you born?" West fired off.
"Here...you?" Blake shot back.
"Here as well. Where are you going to university?"
West asked, guiding the small craft, just enjoying the feel of the wind stirring
his hair.
"I'm going to Queens, my dad wants me to get a good education.
How about you?"
"I've got a couple of options," West answered, "but
I want to go into the military, follow in my dad's footsteps."
"Oh, like the Canadian army?" Blake asked with a nod.
"No," West answered uncomfortably, "I am being
offered a large scholarship from the States..."
"American?" Blake blinked, drawing back a bit. "Like
the United States?"
"Yes," West said distantly. "I met the Marine
Corp recruiters last fall; I passed everything and they offered me a great
scholarship for the program I want, providing I do ROTC stateside."
"That's like an officer?" Blake whistled.
West nodded, "Yeah."
"But..." Blake looked down at his hand in West's,
"what about-?'
"Don't ask, don't tell," West said with a shrug. "Sad,
but it's my future."
"That's..." Blake began.
"This is our backwater," West said, cutting in and
pointing as he steered the boat off of the main river into a small inlet.
Grass hung low down either bank, intertwined with brown mossy roots that dipped
into the crystal clear surface of the water, while ahead of the boat a small
waterfall bubbled as a stream emptied itself over rocks into the river.
It was quiet, shrouded in overhanging trees, and still. The
dull noise of the city seemed so very far away from them at that moment, as
West pulled down the sail, pulling an oar as he sculled the boat again, like
a gondolier, pushing the sailing boat up alongside the bank.
He hopped ashore and made the boat fast, stepping the 'land
lubber' ashore safely before darting back to recover the picnic basket and
lifting it up triumphantly. But Blake took it from him, insisting that he
do something rather than let West do all the work alone.
They shook out the blanket and spread it out on the fresh grass.
West sprawled out, his back resting against the crook of a tree root, watching
as Blake began to set the carefully prepared Tupperware containers around
the blanket, looking thoughtfully for the mysterious dessert.
"What are you looking for?" West asked pleasantly,
sitting with an amused look on his face as Blake fished through the containers.
"I wanted to find this mysterious dessert," Blake
said innocently.
West crooked his finger lazily, smiling, "Over here."
Blake frowned suspiciously, a smile cracking over his face,
his sapphire eyes glinting in the evening light, "That has to be the
oldest trick in the book."
"Oldie, maybe," West admitted, "but you fell
for it."
Blake smiled as he came over and sat down next to West, shaking
his head, "So how many guys do you lure here under false pretences that
there is dessert?"
"You're the first," West replied.
"Yeah, I've heard that one before," Blake said shaking
his head.
West cocked an eyebrow, "I'm telling the truth, you're
the first guy I've every been on a date with. In fact, this is my first date,
period."
"Oh..." Blake said, his eyes widening, "I...
I just thought, because... well..."
West reached out and picked up one of the containers with a
tuna salad sandwich in it, and he cracked it open, "So how many have...?"
Blake fell quiet, his eyes frowning distantly, "I..."
"A couple?" West guessed.
"N-no..." Blake said, "it's just... a bit more."
"Five, ten?" West pressed, his curiosity getting the
better of him, and he stopped, "You don't have to... it's wrong of me
to pry."
Blake shook his head, smiling again, "No, it's okay. It's
nothing to be proud of, I guess, but thirteen."
"Thirteen?" West asked in awe. "You dated thirteen
guys?"
"Dated isn't quite..." Blake shrugged, "I think
this is the first real date I've ever been on."
"You mean..." West shifted a little, in surprise.
"Wow."
"I've been... active since I was twelve," Blake admitted.
"I've been getting into bars since I was fourteen..."
"Wait," West shook his head to clear it, "you
had to be...but that's..."
"Yeah," Blake shrugged, "they didn't ask, I didn't
tell." He met West's eyes, "Funny how that justifies absolutely
nothing, but still makes it sound better."
West chewed on his sandwich, letting them both lapse into silence,
broken by the sound of water lapping the sides of the boat. West turned again
to look at Blake, "Well, looks like this is your first date as well then."
Blake smiled again, as West put his arms around his shoulders
and drew him in close. "So why'd you ask me out?" he asked after
a bit.
"Well, because..." West frowned.
"You're not in love with me, and you're not after sex,
so..." Blake turned and looked up smiling, "Why?"
"I wanted to," West said firmly. "You're a great
guy, you seem really cool and you like me."
"Yeah," Blake admitted, "I do, you're amazing,
but..." he shook his head, "there's no chemistry, is there."
West shrugged, "I thought it was going well."
Blake studied him and shook his head. "Oh, it's a fantastic
date, I'm having fun, everything's perfect, but... you're not..." he
finished lamely, "I can't explain it better than there's no spark. It's
like you're playing a part in a play..."
"Ouch," West said, his brow furrowing, "I'm trying..."
"I know," Blake said still smiling, "and it makes
you a really great guy for trying. I mean, you must like me a lot to try to...
to do all this, but like isn't... it's not the right kind of like, is it?'
"I'm trying," West insisted again, running his hands
up Blake's shoulders.
"Because you think you're supposed to, because it's what
I want?" Blake caught West's hand and just held it, "I'm pretty
good at knowing you, I've studied you for... a long time. You're...why? Why
do this?"
"Because I want to feel real love," West said quietly.
"I don't know, like I'm supposed to at my age. I'm supposed to be out
doing..."
"Thirteen guys," Blake said, raising an eyebrow and
nodding.
"Yeah..." West said. "But I don't want sex...
you know, my best friend is willing to jump into bed with me at the drop of
a hat."
"You can add me in there as well," Blake offered,
"if it counts."
"I know," West said running his fingers through Blake's
fine hair, "but I mean, it's not what I want. I want the whole package,
love, the works."
"Would you like fries with that?" Blake smirked.
"Goof," West pushed Blake's arm lightly. "But
you know...like I want to fill a hole..."
"In the soul," Blake finished. "Yeah, I can see
it in your eyes, it was my first clue."
"Does it make me a freak that I don't want to just get
laid?" West asked worriedly.
"No," Blake replied just holding on to West's hand
a bit, "It makes you a really cool guy, and the fact you were willing
to try for me... means a lot."
"I'm sorry," West insisted.
"Don't be." Blake said. "I wish more guys were
like you; hell, I wish I was."
"You're a cool guy;" West said, tracing Blake's face
with his hand, "and I must admit, I like this closeness."
"I do too," Blake said. "Feels safe...comfortable;
I mean, knowing you're not just after sex and playing with me. It... it's
nice."
"And that picnic's not going to eat itself," West
observed.
"I'm still bitter you lied about dessert," Blake responded,
sitting up. He turned and kissed West gently on the cheek, "There, I
got something sweet out of this."
West smiled, "I think I did, too."
