Dream Boy (15 page)

The
three close on Nathan, and there is something brotherly in their buffets of
affection. “That was great,” Randy says. “Jesus.”

“I
could swear something was touching me,” Roy says.

“Me
too.”

“It
was like there was something in the house looking at us. I could feel it.”

“We
should go in there,” Burke says. “We should go in the house.”

Silence.

“We
should.” He sets his jaw and looks at Roy. They cannot meet each other's
eyes. Burke is breathing hard.

“What's
the matter? You don't think there's a real ghost in there.”

“I
ain't scared even if there is a ghost.” Roy speaks calmly.

“How
about you?”

“I'm
not scared, I just don't want to go in there,” says Randy.

“Chicken
shit.”

“You
damn right I'm chicken shit.” But he stares at the house, fascinated. He
licks his Up. “You think it would be all right? You think we can get
in?”

Burke
laughs. He eyes Nathan up and down. “What about you?”

Nathan
faces the house, tracing its shadow against the sky. “Going inside is fine
with me.”

Roy
faces Burke belligerently. “See, asshole? Nobody's scared. The only thing
I'm thinking about is we'd have to be careful. That house is liable to come
down around your head if you step in the wrong place. It's dark and we won't be
able to see. It's dangerous.”

“Oh
yeah? Well, I say you're scared. That's what it looks like to me.”

They
glare at each other. Roy holds his place, quiet and determined. He is a match
for Burke, Nathan thinks. But Burke carries himself more aggressively, his chin
juts toward Roy and trembles. His face flushes with emotion.

Nathan
still faces the house. “It's a full moon. If we wait a little bit,
there'll be plenty of light.”

Roy is
watching him, Nathan can feel it. But Nathan holds fast to the house, faces
that direction, and breathes the scent of late blooming jasmine.

Roy
studies the sky. He leans close, a warm presence. “You really want to do
this?”

“That's
what he said.”

“I'm
asking him.” Waiting then.

“Why
does he get to decide?”

But
still Roy is silent. The moment is rich. Nathan can taste each fluttering of
Roy's pulse, each rise of scent from his body. “It would be fun.”

Roy
scratches behind one ear. When he begins to smile, the tension eases.
“Well, I know I don’t want to go in that front door. We'll never get it
open.”

Burke
and Randy laugh. “All right,” Burke says, “we won't go in that
way”

Randy,
generously, adds, “You know the house, Roy. How do we get inside?”

Secure
in his leadership, Roy studies the problem. The rising moon brings soft light
to the lawn, marinating the overgrown azaleas along the sweep of what was once
a front yard. Eerie white glaze obscures the windows and washes the facade.
“There's a door at the side. And there's broken windows. And there's doors
at the back, too. Me and Uncle Heben tried a door back there. But we couldn't
open it”

“Did
you get in?”

“We
could of climbed in a window. But Uncle Heben changed his mind.”

“He
probably got scared, too,” Randy says.

“Maybe.
It was a long time ago. I don’t remember.”

They
all stare at the house somberly. Burke walks toward it a few steps. This time
he passes the flask to the others, and everyone drinks but Nathan. The moment
has come. Roy finds his flashlight. “Just in case we need it,” he
explains. They trot across the yard in the moonlight, Roy leading. They are all
following in no order, but Nathan runs close to Roy.

Beyond
the layers of trees, white as anything, a full moon blazes. The ivory face
threatens to make day, even glimpsed in pieces through branches. Nathan sees a
woman in the glittering, the face of a woman staring into a high wind of
whiteness, and soon she will be clearing the trees and rising into a sky filled
with stars.

They
travel in the shadow of the house. The size of the place surprises Nathan again
as they approach. How could people need so much room? In the darkness the
shuttered windows are like lidded eyes. It is a different feeling, to approach
with the knowledge that they are going inside. The darkness seems darker, the
sense of invisible presences more acute. They halt a moment at the foot of the
stone steps leading to the main porch. Roy checks the windows nearby, slipping
fearlessly up the steps and along the porch, sliding his hands along the
shutters. Nathan's heart is pounding, but he keeps his eyes on Roy. From shadow
to shadow he moves, and the others move parallel to him along the side of the
house. He returns further along and whispers, as if they are all concealing
themselves from something inside, “Everything's nailed shut. Like I
remembered.”

They
reach the place where the tree has fallen against the house, and once there
they climb onto the porch and review the wreckage. Roy clambers over the old
tree trunk, peers at the splintered wood of the porch above their heads, the
one that circles the second floor of the house. The bulk of the tree rests
there. “The tree's leaning on the house,” Roy whispers, “It
didn't bust through.”

“The
windows?” Burke asks. “I bet it knocked some loose.”

“Looks
like it could have.”

“You
want to try up there?”

Roy
considers. His face lost in the shadows of the tree. “Not yet. We can come
back if we don't find something better.”

Beyond
the tree, they enter a fenced garden that runs the length of the house,
adjoining the place where the house swells out and the porches stop.

Through
the shadows of the trees they can see the stone barn and some of the
outbuildings. The trees thin near that part of the house and the moonlight
falls through in showers of whiteness, clear and clean. The whole farmyard is
etched, as if a portrait of itself, a study of wreckage of what was once
inhabited. They pick their way through the garden, where the night carries a
thousand smells. Nathan is mindful of snakes underfoot, though not quite sure
what to do if he steps on one. Roy keeps them to a path that he seems to know,
at the same time scanning the house carefully.

“We
can't get to these windows, they're too high,” he says. “Too bad.
Half of them are broke.”

“This
is weird,” Randy says. “Look at this place. What kind of garden was
this?”

“You
still want to go inside?”

“Oh
yeah.” But he studies the shadowy garden nevertheless.

“Do
you?” Burke asks Roy.

“You
bet.” By now they are crossing the back of the house, in full moonlight,
through waist high grass.

The
stark outline of the house leaves Nathan breathless. The upper floor swims out
of darkness into stark clarity, so well illuminated he can count the cracks in
the outer boards. A porch encircles the kitchen building and then crosses by
means of a short gallery to the main house. Roy tests the porch, finds it will
hold them. They follow him.

Now
they are close to the house, sliding along the walls, near the shuttered
windows. Roy still leads, though now Burke has claimed the place beside him.
Randy and Nathan follow. It occurs to Nathan that with the windows shuttered
the fact of moonlight will make no difference inside, the house will be very
dark. But he says nothing. They cross the gallery to what must have been a door
for kitchen servants.

“This
is the door me and Uncle Heben tried.” Roy's tone is quite soft, though
not a whisper. “Now it's boarded up.”

They
follow along the porch, their footsteps ringing. They walk more quietly, each
without prompting. They find stairs and Roy tests them. One is broken but the
next is sound. They climb to the second story porch now, and with each step they
sink into the quiet shroud of the house.

The
porch is solid in most places, and they move with confidence. They cross the
front of the house again, then along the side gallery, where the windows are
also shuttered. At places the porch protests their weight and they space
themselves by the sounding of the floorboards. The floor holds despite its
protests. Roy has brought a flashlight but uses it sparingly.

They
pause to study the darkness in the direction of their camp. Not even ghost
embers of their campfire can be seen.

On the
other side of the house, where the tree has fallen, they find a window with
shutters that have been partially loosened. It takes both Burke and Roy to pry
the shutter open. Roy makes the first attempt, alone, and then Burke tries, alone.
They are watching each other, each hoping the other will not succeed. Nathan is
near enough to admire the moonlight along Roy's straining arms, the snake play
of muscle along Burke's back. Their separate efforts fail, and they position
themselves to work together. Roy, affecting that he will dirty his tee shirt,
takes it off. But instead of looping it through his belt, he hands it to
Nathan.

Nathan
takes the shirt. Roy stretches his shoulders a little. The moment is small and
passes easily beneath the awareness of the others. Burke and Roy pry the
shutter free of its remaining nails and swing it slowly on its hinges. The
wooden frame is still solid and the shutter soon lies flat against the house as
it used to do.

Roy
shines the flashlight and carefully brushes away the remains of old glass from
the windowsill. His bare back drains a streak of moon down the spine. Burke,
near him, drinks from the flask again, offers to Randy, offers to Roy. Roy
straightens from the windowsill, takes the bottle and flashes a warm grin to
Nathan. He lifts the bottle. He is beautiful to Nathan, he is clearly aware of
the fact The swallow of liquor becomes a performance. He wipes his mouth and
hands the bottle to Burke. Then he leaps through the window.

Burke
follows him the next moment, with a look of reckless bravery; but he is still
only the second one to enter, he has been diminished by Roy. Randy clambers
over. Because he is thickwaisted, to get inside takes effort, and he breathes
heavily; though maybe this is as much from fear as from exertion. Nathan slides
over the windowsill, careful of the glass. His heart is pounding. They are
inside the house.

The
room they have entered is small and oddly shaped. From inside one can hardly
tell the fallen tree is there. The place would be pitch dark except for the
flashlight, which Roy washes over the floor. Randy takes a step and the
floorboards groan but hold steady. The boys walk carefully.

They go
through a door and then down a hallway, and suddenly they are steeped in
moonlight. They are standing at the top of the gallery overlooking a grand
staircase. From a skylight overhead, partially broken, wind rattles through
empty panes. Moonlight falls strong from there, and the vaulted space floods
with light. The lower floor is dark.

Beyond
the sound of the wind, is there something else? A thread of music suggests
itself to Nathan, who follows the melody in his head. As if someone with a
clear voice is singing softly in a distant room. He misses the words, but the
sound is very pure.

Roy
keeps the flashlight at his side, in spite of the darkness. They pick their way
forward carefully. The floor is solid all the way to the top of the stairs, and
the stairs seem solid too, but there is the hole in the skylight and a pool of
water beneath it. One can see the water from the gallery, a patch of reflection
in the deep darkness. The four of them stand at the top of the stairs looking
at each other.

“We
should explore up here first.” Randy's tone makes it clear that he is
reluctant to descend into that well of darkness.

“But
after that, we have to go down there.” Burke squares his shoulders.

The
rooms on the second floor are small and plain, like the rooms in any farmhouse
Nathan has ever seen. The floors have held up, though the boards sag in a few
places and groan in many. The rooms have a desolate feeling, containing little
beyond scraps of furniture, the chimney from an old gas lantern, a tin plate
with a bit of candle. In one room, beside an unshuttered window, they find a
nearly whole chair, casting its long moon shadow across dust and cobwebs. It
has a delicate look, like something that might once have faced a woman's vanity
table, with slender, curved legs and one thin, spidery arm. Beneath the cake of
dust that shields the cushion is a dark stain. Roy uses the flashlight here for
the first time, and they see the startling pink of the cushion, the patina of
dust. The dark stain's resemblance to old blood is unnerving; even Burke,
buffeted by his bravura, seems wary at the sight. “I wonder why they left
this,” he says. “They took everything else.”

“That's
blood, ain't it?” Randy asks.

“It
looks like it might be.” Roy's answer is bland.

“Maybe
this is the room where the slave cut the master's head off,” Nathan
suggests, and they all look at him.

“Jesus.”

“Or
maybe not.” Nathan looks around. “There would be a lot more blood
than just this.”

That is
enough for the others. They head out of the room, all but Nathan. He goes on
standing there. He finds a place in the wallpaper, another stain like a bloody
hand outlined in a pane of moonlight thrown from the window. “There's
another stain,” he says. “Maybe this is the right room, after
all.”

Nor is
he teasing them, entirely. He is seeing the room a different way. His hands
glide along the back of the chair, and when he realizes where he is again, he
is counting strands of spider web on the fireplace mantel.

Then
without another thought he carries the chair to the fireplace and sets it at an
angle to one side. He lifts it by the remaining arm. He studies the chair from
behind, as if judging its placement. Then he backs away.