Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/345

 of this mess." Blake shrugged. "You go to New Orleans and let those queers paw you, come back here and go out in the woods with this guy. What the hell do you expect me to think? Or do you just think I should say, ‘Did you have a nice time, Gay, with the nice boys?' Shit." Again he shrugged his shoulders. "What's the use?" Then he growled, "What I'd give for a good stiff drink."

Words, words; Gaylord couldn't hide from them. He was silent. He had never felt more helpless in his life. Blake fumbled in his pocket and drew out a package of cigarettes. His hand shook as the lighter contacted with the white column of tobacco. "Here," he said in a bass voice, "don't you want another cigarette? You're getting good at that too, aren't you?"

"Don't … Bob … don't," Gaylord cried out miserably, pushing away the package shoved under his nose.

"You mean you don't want one? What's the matter? Mouth tired too?"

Somehow he lived through the mixed sentences; his despair so great, he felt sick and dizzy. He sat there looking out into the vast unprotected sky. He gazed intently as if there was nothing he wanted from it. Nothing could ease the dullness or be found there or any place else. "It's all over," the thought was like a white-hot iron rod drawn quickly across his mind, searing a deep burn that would never heal. His hopes, desires, and dreams, were all gone. His hands lay limp on his legs and the damp trouser cuffs made a chill run through his body. He wished he could cry, scream, do anything besides just sitting there. He thought of the cool creek and the woods. Why couldn't he have drowned? Died with the knowledge Blake loved him, wanted him … instead of this.

"Bob?" Gaylord began uncertainly. "Why didn't you call me last night? You said you were going to. I stayed home all evening waiting … I was so … oh I don't know …" His lips quivered. "I don't know." His voice was mute and dejected.

Blake turned on him. "For your information," he began, "and I don't know why in the hell I'm going to the trouble of telling you … I went over to Joy's … She called and wanted to talk to me … You know what she wanted?"

"No … I don't."