Every Time I Think of You by Jim Provenzano Page A

more aimless grazing.

    “That day … in the forest?”

    “Mmm,” I mumbled.

    “... was like I conjured you.”

    “Hmm?”

    “I wasn’t just doing that to do it. I was hoping for someone as daring, as crazy as me. And there you were.”

    While I considered our meeting a mere accident of good timing, I couldn’t disagree. I remembered a feeling of urgency, unlike so many times before in more reasonable seasons, since my outdoor pleasures had become almost routine. I’d never thought some other boy would consider the option, the location, as perfect. It had been purely solitary, a gesture in defiance of the thought of a potential companion.
    That happy accident had led to all this. But the line of our proximity, between the field and the forest would in a matter of days stretch further than he or I would be able to bear for long.

 
     
    Chapter 9
     
    Despite the quiet joy of being so close to him in the bed, Everett’s tousling shifts and our mutual body heat had kept me half-awake for most of the night. By morning, in my drowsy state, I tried to keep still after repositioning myself alongside him, an arm slung over his side. I wanted to cherish this quiet time of our bodies touching.
    But soon he rolled over, and after a bit of affectionate nuzzling he led me to the bathroom for a shared shower that led to some playful soaping and, surprisingly, Everett’s almost reverent gesture of toweling me dry.
    Our preparations for breakfast roused a rumpled bathrobe-wrapped Holly, who jokingly slumped into a kitchen chair like a disgruntled diner patron.
    “How are my two love birds?” she said, perking up after a few sips of coffee. Everett had learned a few tips from his family housekeeper, and presented each of us with plates of scrambled eggs and buttered toast.
    Holly’s conversation, more of a monologue, as Everett had predicted, revolved around her version of her year spent living in Paris. We listened attentively, and at one point, Everett casually placed his hand over my own.

    “You really should go sometime,” she suggested.

    “Oh, I could never–”

    “Yes, you could,” Everett said. “We could go this summer.”

    “Actually, I might have plans.”

    “Which are?” Holly sipped her coffee.

    “If I get accepted at Temple, I might get a summer job at Allegheny State Park, and that’s good for advanced credit.”

    “Keeping grizzly bears from eating the tourists?” Everett joked.

    “There aren’t any,” I half-scowled. “Just black bears.”

    “I know,” Everett patted my shoulder. “Really, though, what would you do?”

    “Give tours, probably; lead hikes for summer school, keep the tourists from getting lost.”

    “Ranger Reid! Those brown uniforms are hot.”

    “Sounds nice,” Holly said, glaring at Everett for demeaning my budding career move. “Is that your passion?” Holly asked.

    I told them of my shared hobby of gardening with my mother, something I’d enjoyed even as a child. Around the time she started working, as her interest waned, mine had continued beyond our yard.
    Perhaps the actual passion had been planted on a summer weekend my parents and I spent at Twin Lakes Park. Although tiny by comparison to my possible summer job, while only a few miles northwest of Greensburg, Twin Lakes was magical to my boyhood eyes.
    Then ten years old, I’d become lost on some little adventure, and met a tall handsome park ranger. After calming me down by pointing out various wildflowers, he playfully scooped me up in his arms and carried me back to my parents, who hadn’t even noticed my absence. They never understood why I begged them to return.
    As I decided to withhold that story, I glanced at Everett. “It’s funny, I think I started becoming fascinated by nature when I heard, you know, elsewhere, not from my parents, that homosexuality is unnatural. I remember asking my dad how something that existed on earth could be unnatural, when if it was a life form,