Picturing Will (14 page)

Haveabud, out of the pool, rubbed the towel/epaulet over his chest and swiped the back of his swimming trunks. Dripping water, and gesturing for the two of them to follow, he pushed open the gate’s creaking door and began walking barefoot toward the motel room.

“Bologna and apples!” Spencer hollered, running behind him.

“Liverwurst,” Haveabud bellowed.

It was the daily debate about pizza toppings, starting from the most ridiculous and working toward something feasible.

Will called out that he wanted hamburger. He saw that something had bitten him in the crook of his arm: an itchy pink welt had risen. His mother would put medicine on a Q-tip and paint it over the bump. Mel would use his finger—if he had brought anything for insect bites. Will raised his arm and licked the bump. His skin tasted like chlorine.

“In here, in here,” Haveabud called, motioning him into the room with a sweep of his arm. “In here, the person who wants hamburger on his pizza.”

As Haveabud talked he entered the room and stepped out of his wet trunks. He was not tan, but his skin looked even paler when he took off his clothes. Haveabud turned around, scratching his pubic hair. He reached into his suitcase and took out a pair of black silk briefs and pulled them on as Spencer was closing the door. The pizzas he ordered by telephone were one medium with hamburger and extra cheese, and a large with shrimp and onion. Haveabud declined their offer of a liter of RC cola for ninety-nine cents by saying that he preferred to drink Jack Daniel’s with his pizza. He gave the name of the motel and his room number and asked that the pizzas be billed to his credit card. He recited the number from memory.

Spencer pushed the back of Haveabud’s knees from behind so his legs would buckle.

“They wanted me to commit suicide by drinking RC cola,” Haveabud said, dipping a little as he hung up. “The stuff tastes like rusted nails and cherry pits. You can get your beverages from the machine outside, while I imbibe something stronger.”

Haveabud opened the canvas drawstring bag he had brought into the room. Inside was the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, which he said was his only concession to currying favor in the South.

“What’s curried favor?” Spencer said.

“Please,” Haveabud said, rolling his eyes. “It is all right for you to be a child, but you have to also grant me my rights as an adult. I cannot give a running narrative of the meaning of all expressions. I keep telling you to remember that I like to talk. It
seems
like I’m talking to you, but actually I am talking to myself.”

Haveabud switched on the TV. Gene Kelly was tapping through puddles, singing his heart out. Haveabud changed the channel: A camera zoomed in on otters sliding down a waterfall. On the next channel, a blond woman in a dress that made her look like a mermaid was playing with a telephone cord, licking her lips as she pulled it this way and that, inclining her head, so that her flickering eyelashes recreated the motions of the ascending and descending otters. She whispered a telephone number to call. “Let’s party,” the woman said. This was followed by a commercial for Drano.

Spencer picked up Haveabud’s bottle of Jack Daniel’s and, using it the way the woman had used the telephone, held the neck to his ear and batted his eyes seductively, then held out the bottle to Haveabud, who was coming out of the bathroom holding a glass. Haveabud laughed, grabbing the bottle away and pouring two inches of bourbon into the glass. Spencer continued to mime the actions of the woman on TV, looking at himself in the mirror. Haveabud reached into the clutter that had materialized on top of the dresser and picked up Spencer’s Triceratops. He, too, pretended the plastic animal was a telephone and shrugged his shoulder suggestively. Then, from amid the clutter of keys and suntan lotion and handkerchiefs, brochures of scenic attractions, a handful of change, an aspirin bottle, and spare Missoni socks, Haveabud lifted a tube of lipstick in a silver case, removed the cap, and stroked it on his parted lips. When he was done he puckered his lips, and Spencer and Will both screamed with laughter.

“Where did you get that?” Spencer said. “Where did it come from?”

“It was in my overnight kit. I have no idea where it came from. My wife must have dropped it in by mistake.”

“Put it on my lips,” Spencer said, jealous that Haveabud had started toward Will. Will put his hands over his mouth in protest, but actually Haveabud could see that he liked the idea. It was Haveabud’s notion that they could all be wearing lipstick when they opened the door to take in the pizzas.

“Open your mouth like you’re saying ‘Oh,’ ” Haveabud said. “I don’t know how to put this stuff on other people very well.”

Will’s smile disappeared when he opened his mouth wide. Spencer sat on the bed and stared while Haveabud slowly colored Will’s lips. Will’s eyes blinked every time Haveabud moved the lipstick a fraction of an inch. When Haveabud had finished, he got up and looked at his face in the mirror. Haveabud had done a good job. His mouth was so bright that he couldn’t focus on anything else—not even the other insect bite that had swollen on his forehead. He was afraid to talk for fear the lipstick would smear.

Spencer ran the Triceratops up Will’s back and brought it to rest on top of one shoulder, its three horns pushing into Will’s neck. Will swatted it away, examining his transformation. He had tried to walk in his mother’s high heels, but he had never had on makeup before. It was going to shock Mel. Mel was going to laugh.

Haveabud was stretched out on the bed. With the remote control, he switched channels and stopped by popular demand when stampeding elephants raced across the screen, sending up clouds of dust.

“Elephants are no good,” Spencer said to Will. “Why couldn’t they have disappeared and all the Mesozoic creatures have lived?”

Spencer picked up the tube of lipstick and went toward Haveabud.

“Don’t attack me with that,” Haveabud said.

Spencer jumped on the bed and began to wrestle with Haveabud.

Haveabud got the lipstick away from him and held it tightly in the palm of his hand. Spencer sat on Haveabud’s chest and pretended to be smothering him.

“Let up!” Haveabud said. “What do you want?”

“I want the lipstick,” Spencer said.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to put it on my lips,” Spencer said.

Haveabud raised an eyebrow.

“I
am
going to put it on my lips,” Spencer said.

Haveabud uncurled his fingers. Spencer pounced on the tube and held it aloft. Then his expression changed. “You put it on,” he said.

“I’m resting,” Haveabud said. “Go look in the mirror. You can put it on.”

Spencer pouted. “Come on,” he said.

Haveabud took the tube, and instead of putting it on Spencer’s lips, began to dot it in concentric circles around Spencer’s nipples. Spencer’s eyes were wide. He started to pull away, then decided to sit still and see what he looked like with a painted chest. On TV, people in a Jeep were bumping through the forest, binoculars raised in the direction of stampeding elephants. Dirt got in one woman’s eye, and she began to cry. “That’s it! Your tears will wash it out, Stephani,” her companion said. Dust billowed backwards so that by the time Will looked away there was nothing to see on the screen. Music played loudly and occasionally there were close-ups of the tires, bouncing through the rutted floor of the jungle. Will walked over to the bed to inspect Spencer’s nipples. The lipstick looked much stranger there than on Will’s mouth. Spencer asked Will if he wanted to have his chest painted too.

“Whatever you do, please sit somewhere other than my rib cage, crushing me to death,” Haveabud said, pushing Spencer aside. Spencer braced himself and didn’t move. He looked down at Haveabud and laughed. Haveabud sighed, turning his head, and stared at the television. For a few minutes they watched the dust storm clearing. Haveabud reached for the Kleenex on the night table, pulled one, and told Spencer to wipe off the lipstick.

“Suck it off,” Spencer said, thrusting his chest closer to Haveabud. “Suck it off and your lips will be more lipsticked.”

“You can put more on my lips if you want,” Haveabud said. “Just don’t sit on my chest while you’re doing it.”

“No. I want you to get it off,” Spencer said, jutting his chest forward again.

Haveabud started to speak, then hesitated. Will looked at Spencer and Haveabud looked away. A commercial came on then: a woman rushing around trying to kill a cartoon ant with a broom. As Will looked back, Spencer bounced a little closer to Haveabud, and Haveabud began swabbing the lipstick off his nipples. At first Will thought he was just being careful, then realized he was rubbing it in instead of removing it, moving the Kleenex the way his mother lightly stroked the brush against her face when she was applying color to her cheeks. Haveabud continued doing this during the commercial, which ended when the woman put down her broom, got an aerosol can, and began spraying what was now a battalion of ants, who all died and were seen in close-up with big white
X
marks that looked like jacks over their eyes. When the show resumed, the woman who had gotten dust in her eye was sitting in a restaurant, raising a glass of champagne as the man, very dapper in a tuxedo, toasted her: “To you, my darling. And to your courage.”

Spencer’s fingertips were on Haveabud’s nipples. He was not making the same motion Haveabud had made, but a light stroking motion, back and forth, the way the woman in the commercial had been sweeping before the cartoon ant jumped into her path. The pillow on Haveabud’s lap was Spencer’s seat cushion; Haveabud had drawn up his knees so that his thighs became a backrest. Spencer looked over his shoulder at Will, who was pretending to watch TV, and then went back to what he was doing. The air conditioner had been running for a long while, and the room was so cold that Will was getting goosebumps. He got up and put on Haveabud’s shirt. Then, curious, he walked to the side of the bed where Haveabud lay with his eyes closed, Spencer’s fingers lightly tickling his chest. Haveabud also had goosebumps. Spencer smiled at Will and said, “You do it.”

Will sat on the side of the bed. He thought that Haveabud would open his eyes, but he didn’t. The lipstick tube was on top of the bedspread, and as Haveabud breathed it rolled against his side.

“When is the pizza coming?” Will whispered, as if Haveabud were asleep.

Spencer shrugged, looking across the room to the door. Will followed his eyes. Nothing could be heard beyond the air conditioning. Will suddenly had a vivid image of the pool. Then an image of the room next door, where Mel was sleeping. Or maybe he was no longer asleep. Maybe any second he would knock, or if that did not happen, perhaps the person would arrive with the pizzas and soon they would be outside again, by the pool, with Cokes and pizza. Will’s mouth felt dry. The bite on his forehead itched, but he remembered what his mother had said about scratching just making it itch more. He resisted scratching. He looked again at the door.

“I can show you how to do something,” Spencer whispered.

Will stopped thinking about a knock at the door.

“He’s asleep,” Spencer said, tilting his head toward Haveabud.

Haveabud was very silent, but Will did not think he could be asleep.

Will sat on the bed and looked at Spencer. It was the same way he had sat dangling his feet in the water. The way he had been sitting in the backseat of the car. He thought it would be wonderful to be grown and to plant his feet on the ground instead of having them dangle. That was what was nice about the swimming pool: being able to swish his feet through the water.

“Lie down,” Spencer whispered.

It was a queen-size bed. Will shifted and did what he was told, lying at the edge. Then he moved in a few inches so he wouldn’t fall. He didn’t know if he was supposed to imitate Haveabud, or what. Spencer climbed off Haveabud and slipped into the space between Haveabud and Will. “No,” he said. “Don’t open your eyes. Close them.”

Will closed them and kept them closed, even when Spencer got up. For a few seconds Spencer was standing, but then he climbed back in the gully between them and put a pillow over the lower part of Will’s body. Will shivered; the instant warmth made him realize how cold the rest of his body was. Spencer’s fingers, as he began moving them on his chest, were warm, and when Will’s nipples began to harden, they also felt warm. Soon the area between his nipples, which Spencer stroked, stayed warm when Spencer moved his fingertips from left to right and right to left.

“Put your hand on yourself, under the pillow,” Spencer whispered. Will opened his eyes and frowned. In the second before he closed them again, Will saw that Haveabud’s arm was under the pillow that lay over his own crotch. There was some slight movement even though the bed itself seemed still. Will put his hand on his penis. He waited for Spencer’s next instruction, but there was only silence. Then Spencer shifted his weight on the bed and began rubbing Haveabud’s chest. He chewed his lip as he did this. Will closed his eyes. After a minute or so Will felt Spencer’s fingers on his own chest and, to his surprise, began to relax the minute Spencer’s hand returned. Spencer stroked slowly with his palm, then gently rubbed Will’s stiff nipples between his thumb and first finger. Will was falling asleep. It was what happened when his mother stroked his forehead, and because he felt hot and cold at the same time, he suddenly remembered being sick, his mother at his side, his mother sitting on his bed. He was conscious of the sound of the air conditioner. On the highway, a car slammed on its brakes and skidded—a sound loud enough to be heard in the room, but to Will it was like wind rustling in a tree, nothing to take notice of. Haveabud whispered to Spencer, and Spencer’s hand abruptly stopped moving on Will’s chest. Haveabud whispered to Spencer—and because Will’s eyes were squeezed shut, his sense of hearing seemed more acute—that he should not stop, that he should do it even slower, much, much slower because … And then the bed jolted, and Will opened his eyes. Spencer was on his knees, looking down at Haveabud, his cold heel touching Will’s hipbone. Spencer stretched out beside Haveabud and curled on his side, but almost immediately Haveabud rolled out of bed and went toward the bathroom, inhaling deeply to get his breath.