Something Like Summer (5 page)

“
Leg’s fine,” Tim
answered, turning his attention back to the bloody limb that looked
anything but okay. “My ankle, maybe not.”

Ben dropped to his knees to
get a better look. The ankle might have been a little swollen, but
the flesh torn away from the shin was worrying. There wasn’t any
sign of exposed bone, thank god, but it was bleeding way too
much.

Ben couldn’t take his eye
from the injury. “We have to get you to a doctor. Can you
walk?”

Tim lowered his leg a
second time, managing this time to only hiss in pain instead of
screaming. “You’re going to have to help me,” he said.

“
Wait.” Ben unsnapped the
straps on his skates and starting digging through his backpack for
his shoes. The five most awkward minutes of his life followed as he
struggled to get them on and tied, Tim watching him silently the
entire time. “Right,” Ben said as the final lace was tied. “How do
we do this?”

Tim craned his neck around
to examine the steep slope they would have to ascend before they
could get him to his feet. “You pull me up there, I
guess.”

“
Pull you how?” Ben asked,
suddenly feeling even smaller than he usually did.

“
Just grab me under the
arms and pull. I’ll try to help as much as I can.”

Ben got into position
behind Tim. There was a very silly moment where he stood and
stared. Both of Tim’s arms were raised to his sides, as if he were
going to start flapping them in an effort to take flight. Ben felt
like asking if he really had permission to touch him, before he
remembered the seriousness of the situation. He hooked his arms
underneath Tim’s armpits and pulled. He only managed to heave the
victim of his idiotic actions half a foot, but on the next attempt
Tim kicked with his good leg, bringing the movement to a little
more than a foot. They proceeded in this manner until they were
both on level ground again.

Ben was breathing hard from
the exertion, Tim most likely from the pain. After a moment of rest
they tackled the job of getting Tim upright. They managed after a
brief struggle, with Tim putting pressure on the injured leg twice
more out of habit. Soon enough he was stooped but standing, with
one arm over Ben’s shoulders. They tried a few experimental
hopping-steps and made it to the sidewalk.

“
I guess we make it to the
nearest house and have them drive me home,” Tim said.

“
Your house is really
close if we cut through the trees there,” Ben said without
thinking. His right arm was around Tim’s torso, and he could feel
the muscles tense in reaction. How could he have been so stupid?
Not only had he revealed himself as being an insane psychopath who
physically lashed out at boys he liked, but he had followed it up
with confirmation that he was a stalker to boot.

“
Let’s go then,” Tim
muttered a moment later, choosing not to question how a stranger
would know where he lived.

The effort of holding Tim
up was a welcome distraction, both to the self-depreciating
thoughts going through Ben’s head and the excitement of being so
intimately close to him. Now was not the time or the place to get
aroused over physical contact, and Ben was determined to end the
day with only two strikes against his sanity instead of
three.

They shuffled through the
brief width of woods until they reached a wooden privacy fence, the
only thing that stood between them and the civilized suburbs
beyond. A glance left and right confirmed that any neighboring
houses had the same barrier installed against the wilderness
outside.

“
Fuck,” Tim swore. “How
much further would it be if this fence wasn’t here?”

“
Half a block,” Ben said,
looking away to hide his embarrassment.

“
Support me,” Tim said
after hopping one step closer to the fence and reaching out to grab
the top of it.

Ben thought he intended to
climb over, but grabbed on tighter to his torso when Tim began to
pull instead. He almost toppled backwards when the plank gave way
to Tim’s efforts and came loose, swinging to the side as it fell.
This process was repeated for a second time, and then a third,
creating just enough of a gap for them to squeeze
through.

Tim went first, holding on
to the top of the fence for support once Ben let go of him. He
stumbled on his way through and landed on his ankle, screaming as
he righted himself. Ben hurried through to assist him, feeling that
the owners of the house would hear the commotion in their backyard
and come to help. As they made it halfway across the lawn, they
could see through the sliding glass door that the house was empty,
having not been sold yet. At least they wouldn’t have to explain
the vandalism.

They made it through the
gate to the front yard, not encountering another living soul as
they made their way down the sidewalk. That was the funny thing
about the suburbs. So much trouble went into a neighborhood looking
as presentable as possible, but rarely was anyone there to
appreciate it. Hire a boy to the cut the grass and pull up to the
mailbox before parking in the garage. Ben wondered if most of his
neighbors had ever set foot on their own lawn. No, the suburbs were
all prettied up and left to sit alone, like a beauty queen awaiting
an audience that would never come.

Ben tried to smooth over
his earlier revelations by feigning ignorance as they reached Tim’s
house. “Which one is yours?” he asked.

“
You tell me,” Tim said
smartly as they turned to hobble past his car.

“
Is anyone home?” Ben
asked, partly out of concern but mostly to change
topics.

“
No.”

“
Then shouldn’t we drive
straight to the hospital?”

“
I just need to take my
weight off it,” Tim said irritably as the reached the front door,
which was unlocked.

They stepped into cool,
dark air conditioning. The curtains in the house were mostly closed
to help keep the Texas heat at bay. Tim flipped a few light
switches and led them to the living room, which was tastefully
decorated but very, very unwelcoming. The room had the soulless
presence of a model home. Sure, it looked nice, but it was obvious
that no real living went on there.

They reached a pale,
peach-colored couch that Tim eased onto. As he settled onto the
piece of furniture that was probably being used for the first time,
he sighed contentedly.

“
There’s a first-aid kit
in the bathroom,” he said. “Bring me a wet washcloth. A towel,
too.”

“
Where is it?” Ben
asked.

“
I’m surprised you don’t
know already. It’s right down the hall on the left.”

Ben hurried out of the
room, mentally chastising himself for triggering a series of events
that would haunt him for his final years of high school. He found
the bathroom, a simple affair reserved for guests, and collected
the items that were requested.

“
Are you sure we shouldn’t
go to the hospital? Or a doctor at least?” he said as he reentered
the living room.

“
No need.” Tim took the
washcloth and began patting at the crust of dried blood on his leg.
“Same thing happened to me freshman year. I still have a brace
upstairs and everything. It’s not a big deal. A couple of days with
that on and I’ll be fine again.”

Ben had to admit that the
leg was looking better now that much of the blood had been cleaned
up. Once bandaged it probably wouldn’t need medical attention. The
ankle was a different story, swollen on each side like a chipmunk’s
cheeks and turning a dark, unhealthy color.

“
It’s just--”

“
Thanks for helping me get
home,” Tim interrupted. The finality in his voice was clear; Ben
was expected to leave. He turned to do so, spluttering more clumsy
apologies as he went. He stopped and turned at the door. “Are you
sure you are going to be all right? When do your parents get
back?”

“
In about two weeks.” Tim
grimaced as he wrapped the cloth bandage around his shin. “They’re
in Switzerland.”

Ben swallowed, but it
failed to flush away the guilty taste in his mouth as he left the
house and began his walk home.

__________

Chapter 4

Ben was back in front of
Tim’s front door, a book tucked under one arm. He had done nothing
but worry since he had left a few hours ago. First Ben had returned
to the scene of the crime where he had so carelessly left his
Rollerblades. They were still in the ditch, not far from a sharp,
blood-spattered rock that jutted out of the ground. At least the
culprit for the shin injury had been discovered, Ben thought, well
aware that he was trying to shift the blame away from
himself.

Once he was home he
declined his mom’s invitation of a snack and instead went to his
room. Ben anguished over the foolishness of his actions for the
better part of an hour before his self-pity gave way to a growing
concern for Tim’s well-being. A million nightmare situations played
out in Ben’s head, the worst being that Tim would contract some
sort of infection and have his leg amputated or would die. The
morbid medical fantasies piled up until Ben decided to seek out
facts from his mother’s family medical guide.

The gruesome book had
provided Ben with hours of entertainment as a kid. Not only did it
show nauseating pictures of diseases in their most advanced and
repulsive stages, but it also featured self-diagnosis charts that
were all too easy to navigate successfully. Ben had previously
utilized their wisdom to diagnose himself with everything from
vaginal yeast infections to critical brain tumors. Now for the
first time he was turning to it with all seriousness.

What Ben had learned had
brought him scampering back to Tim’s house. Stomach bubbling
nervously and palms breaking out in sweat, Ben rang the door bell.
Someone called out in response. Thinking that Tim had fallen
somewhere and was helpless, he opened the front door and gave a
tentative, “Hello?”

“
Hey! Come in!”

Tim certainly sounded more
cheerful. Ben rushed to the living room and found Tim lying on the
same uncomfortable couch as if he had never moved, which couldn’t
be true since an open can of Coke and a bottle of pills were on the
coffee table. The leg was now bandaged and elevated on the arm of
the couch, but Tim looked pale and cold. He was still wearing his
jogging shorts and tank top, and with the air conditioner going
full blast, it was no wonder. The ankle was just as swollen as
before, but now it had graduated to a deep shade of
maroon.

“
Good that you’re here,”
Tim croaked, sounding very much like Leon before he cleared his
throat. “I think it might be worse than I thought.”

“
Yeah,” Ben held the book
up, brandishing it as if it were a medical degree. “I think you
have a third-degree sprain. Either that or it’s broken. You really
need to get to a hospital.”

“
Probably should,” Tim
nodded with glassy eyes.

“
Er, I know this is a
really stupid question, but are you all right?”

“
Yeah. After you left I
dragged my ass into the kitchen and remembered some pills from last
time. They’ve got me feeling--” he gestured with his right arm
before letting it flop onto his forehead-- “Oh man,” he
finished.

Ben cast around for a
phone. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“
No, fuck that,” Tim
muttered. “I’m not dying or anything. We’ll take my car. You can
drive, right?”

“
Yes,” Ben said a little
tensely. He
could
drive, but he hated it. Since winning his driver’s license
with solid “D” in driver’s ed, he had driven all of three times,
each occasion forced on him by his parents.

“
Well get me up and we’ll
be on our way.”

Tim appeared cold, but his
skin was hot when Ben wrapped an arm around his back to help him
up. Maybe it was a side effect of the pills, or maybe he had a
fever. Either way, Ben was relieved that they were finally taking
action. Getting Tim to the car was very much like all those movies
Ben had seen where a drunken man hung like a limp doll on a
supporting friend. Just how many of those painkillers had he
taken?

There was a brief and
harebrained argument where Tim insisted that no one but him could
drive his car, but eventually he was safely buckled into the
passenger seat and Ben was behind the wheel. He put the key in the
ignition and turned it, Beck’s voice exploding out of the stereo
system. Ben jabbed at the controls until the voice died, leaving in
its wake the noise of the engine, which sounded powerful. This
wasn’t the usual sports car noise that, frankly, sounded a bit
unhealthy. Instead it was a subtle, constant hum that rose
delicately into a growl once they were cruising down the
road.

“
Nice,” Ben said, not
knowing if it really was but feeling it was a good
guess.

“
Yeah, she’s my girl.” Tim
proudly patted the dashboard.

“
So this is a, uh--” Ben
squinted at the steering wheel, hoping for a hint. “Firebird?” he
said, once he spotted the three diamonds.