Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/92

 "Remembering ain't good at times. Take life as it comes. That's the way I've got it figured out. If you want something, try to get it and if you can't … well, there's no use fretting about it. At least you tried … no use to sit home and cry over it … look for something else."

"I'm going to stop looking."

"You are?" Blake resumed his survey and a burning desire to bring the other close grew within him. He sat in half-surrender until he heard at some distance the wail of a train coming from the west. It seemed to moan, "Don't Bob … don't. People love to gossip and they'll find out. They're always looking for sweet young flesh to crucify. He's been through enough. Don't touch him."

Then suddenly this image was shattered by the apparition of Joy Clay. He saw her pointed breasts beneath a sheer green dress, and his hands felt moist and sticky. He remembered her shapely legs and wondered why he had never tried again after that night on the lake.

Other girls swept his vision but the naked form under the shower came and stayed in front of him. He remembered the shivering boy he had held so tenderly. He hated himself for his thoughts now. The world, if they knew, would always be ready with its glances and its whisperings wherever and whenever he should face the eyes and tongues of men again. No, Gay, he thought, I can't … even if I want to … I can't. So he sat where he was until Gaylord faced him and said honestly,

"Bob?"

"What?"

"What's the best exercise to make arm muscles?"

"To make arm muscles? Hell that's easy … I'll teach you a couple. I'll make you so damn strong you can whip anybody. Even me."

"I don't want to whip you."

"You may want to sometimes."

"I don't think so."

"Sure?"

"That's one thing I'm real sure of."

So Blake submitted, filling his eyes with a different determination.