Sex and Death in the American Novel (24 page)

“I don't make you feel like that, do I?” The gravity with which he said this made me want to laugh.

“Jasper. Two things…One, I haven't known you long enough for that level of disappointment. Two, every time I talk to you, you ask some question that makes me think I never understood what I was talking about to begin with. It's like you're there listening but also trying to offer something at the same time. You're nothing like my father. You even do your own work! You're miles ahead of my father, unless you tell me you have a secretary.”

“No.”

I drove around on Highway 20 so we could go over the bridge at Deception Pass. After the way he got so excited about the height of the trees just driving around Seattle, I had to see what he would do with something really dramatic.

“We don't have woods like this…this majesty, this…” He groped for the words as he craned his neck around to see both sides of the bridge.

I pulled off at a small parking spot at the scenic overlook. The air was warm but the wind blowing past made us both cinch up our coats at the collar. He rushed over to a cement pad with the little monument before the awesome view of the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

“Your expression has to be goofier than mine when I was in New York.”

He turned, his face cleared and he focused again, approaching me. “Really?” He looked around again. “There is so much to see all at once!”

I nodded and headed down the steep path that went under the bridge. Above us hung the iron structure of the bridge; underneath were rocky hillsides, small pines and brush that grew from the clay-hued rock face. I moved to where I could reach a heavy beam. He came over and helped me up. When I planted myself there, the cold of the steel chilled me through the fabric of my jeans.

“You're not going out there are you?” he asked.

“What? You never jumped off a bridge before?”

“Absolutely not. And you're not going to either.” He got up on the beam and eyed me with a stern face. “I would rather not have to come out there after you.” He was so serious I had to give him a pout.

I had already worked twenty feet farther from where I started. He looked down, swung his legs back and forth and turned to assess the area below my feet. I followed his gaze. If I fell I would drop at least fifty feet, and if I was lucky I would hit the spiny trees instead of bouncing to the water far, far below.

I worked my way farther out, bracing myself both by tightening my thighs against the hard edges of the cold steel and locking my wrists. If I did slip, I prepared to hold myself upside down by my legs, though I was sure it wouldn't come to that.

“Vivi, what are you doing?” Jasper said, his voice trying to maintain some sort of authority, and when that didn't work he gave me a firm look.

I surveyed the landscape and swung my legs back and forth, loving the sensory illusion that I was part of the wind as it whipped through the gorge out to sea. Cars sped over the concrete and the metal above us, making soft booming sounds. Jasper jumped, his head twisting toward the direction of the noise.

“There's something about the air here, it's full of energy from the ocean currents. Can you smell it? And something is hidden down there in the deep gorges and cracks in the earth. There's so much,” I tightened my thighs and lifted my arms out to both sides, “space.”

“You're making me incredibly nervous.”

I continued to hold my arms out. “Just stay where you are, hold your arms out.”

He held my eyes, raised his eyebrows as if in doubt, then readjusted himself and slowly let go of the beam, raising his arms until they were level with mine.

“Now close your eyes,” I said, already doing so and feeling the world tilt, reduced to the scents of fresh ocean air, wet concrete, rusty metal, and my own oily fear.

“Wow.” His voice sounded shaky.

I didn't respond, wanting him to appreciate the world's notes and harmonies without judgment. I wanted him to hear the man-made orchestra above, the varied sounds of the bridge adjusting, and nature's chorus below. The grasses and brush moving in the wind, the distant sounds of the surf crashing on the rocky beach far below, and the wondrous accompaniment of our own bodies as our clothing moved with every adjustment, as our breath moved in and out, and our blood pounded through every vein.

I peeked with one eye to see if his eyes were still closed. “Can you hear everything? Just let it all in.”

His face had grown peaceful; each time another car passed overhead, his forehead furrowed, then he let that pass and his face remained the same, his lips closed, his nostrils only faintly moving. I looked behind me to the deep green water below, and felt a pang of longing to see if I could make it all the way across.

I crept toward him. He stirred and tensed at the forehead and his hands tightened over the beam but he didn't open his eyes. It took me a few minutes to reach him going so slow, but as I got closer I thought the corner of his mouth was fighting to curl up. His hair blew back, and I felt the same icy wind whip under my jacket.

When I reached him, I got close enough so I knew he could feel me, but I didn't touch him. His eyes moved beneath his lids, as if he were searching for something. He braced himself with one hand, the skin stretched tight over white knuckles. I scooted forward, placed one hand over his, and braced myself so I could get close enough for him to feel my breath.

With one arm and leg bracing me, I swung the other leg over his thigh, and he tensed and his eyes fluttered. He smiled but didn't open his eyes, understanding the game, something I'd done once already on the couch at home. Where our legs met, I swung the other so that I had both my legs over his and I held him so that he couldn't move his arms. He was all mine, and it was only my body shielding him from the elements.

I enjoyed the delicious pleasure of holding him until he finally said, “How do you expect to get out of this?”

“I don't care.”

A laugh rumbled in his chest.

He stroked my back and then put his hand behind himself on the beam to steady us.

Sensing that he was ready to go I said, “Whenever you're ready.”

He slid back several more feet to hop down onto the dirt and dry grass below. When he was on the ground he held his hand up. I braced myself on his shoulder and jumped.

Near the foundation of the bridge was a path. When I got to a curve that dipped in behind some bushes I looked back and waved him on. I crept into the bush further and there was a small area where we could both sit comfortably. The grassy hillside slipped away only ten feet from where we sat on the edge of the world.

My body still thrummed with adrenaline from sitting over the gorge. I grasped his neck and pulled him on top of me. He looked up from his position above me. “Anyone can see us from that part of the bridge.”

“I don't want to wait until we get home.”

He looked toward the bridge, said more to himself than to me, “No one's there anyway.”

I secured him with my thighs against his slender hips, working his pants open with hands chilled by the wind. He gasped and laughed through our kisses.

I worked my pants down, twisting my hips but keeping ahold of him, not wanting to break the contact. When he pushed inside I kept still, delighting in the transition. Now we were together, a second ago separate. This was the best part. I marveled that I was really holding him inside of me. I tightened my muscles around him. He groaned and kissed me harder, bruising my lips, then drawing away until I pulled him back with my hand at the back of his head.

He ground himself against my hips, moving deeper. I pulled my hand from his hair, and held the lower half of his face as I kissed him, trying to hold him with everything I had so I could make the union last longer. Just then he tipped his head back and met my eyes. I almost looked away, his gaze was so intense. I had never let anyone look at me this way. He held me with eyes like the green gullies of Machu Picchu, like the stones worn by kings, like jade from the heart of ancient Amazonia.

A new sensation began; at the time, my thoughts shifted from having him inside me to the look on his face. It was in his eyes, in how close he was, in the sweet scent of his breath. An intensity began to build that was both familiar and not. I pondered the fact that I was close enough to be able to distinguish each short hair that made his eyebrows. And to feel his heartbeat, his life's breath—and a familiar rush of heavy pleasure that swept me at the beginning of any orgasm was there, but fuller. I could no longer feel
the pebbles and specks of dirt that were an annoying presence seconds before. My eyes closed, shutting him out even as my limbs held him to me. He made a sound like he'd been hit, then he took several gasps of air. On and on it went; stars bursting behind my eyelids, beautiful curses, giddy laughter, until I became aware of myself again and let out a low laugh. When I began to get my senses back I could feel my bare skin against the prickly grass and the cold zipper of his jacket pressing against my side.

“So strong,” he said into my hair.

I slapped my hand over my eyes, sensing the absurdity of feeling shy. I laughed, drunk on the competing emotional and physical sensations, intense release and a childish awe.

We lay like that until he said thoughtfully, “My ass is going to freeze off.”

He pulled away and we spent several minutes knocking random bits of landscape from our clothing. His figure was a dark shape against the violet and pink horizon, and his hair blew around his head like a crown.

He finally turned. “The way I feel out here, with you, it's so easy…I'm really happy. That, what we just did…everything feels so real.”

He placed his hands on both sides of my head and said, “I feel so alive. Thank you.”

He took a few steps back and spun around with his arms out, a huge smile on his face. “The world is totally different with you. So much possibility. I'm sure of everything, of me. The world feels
solid
.” He pointed to the water, then the trees, then the rapidly disappearing horizon and the waves that blew toward it into forever.

In the morning, Mom slept in, as I knew she would, given the extra glasses of Tinto she consumed. Dinner had been pleasant. Mom asked Jasper all about his family. There was the weird moment when he explained that both of his parents were dead, but after he switched the conversation to her décor and the pork chops, the mood lightened again.

Now we sat in the kitchen, working on large mugs of Mom's gourmet coffee. Jasper looked toward the hallway, as if he was worried she could hear us. “Do you think she will care that I didn't sleep in the guest room?”

“Most definitely not. I think if you didn't, she would worry that I had already screwed things up with you. She just had to put on that whole show about setting you up in there for appearances. Something in her won't let her acknowledge I am sleeping with someone.”

“Mom thing…”

“Yep. And really, she hasn't had much practice with boyfriends. It's not like I've ever brought anyone else out here besides Eric. She is just adjusting.”

He wrinkled his forehead. “But you've had boyfriends…”

“Don't look so worried. It's not like I'm damaged, but I haven't found anyone until now that was worth bringing home.”

“Sorry, you just continue to amaze me.”

“Why? Because I fuck who I want? I do what I want and don't want to trade my freedom for routine sex and male insecurity; that's why you do the commitment thing.” To soften my last words I reached over and slid my fingers beneath his chin. “Nobody was worth the hassle until now.”

He wrapped my hand up in his. “Vivi, can I see your brother's room?”

My hands grew cold. “Why?”

“There are several reasons. One being I would understand both of you much better that way. Second, I've been thinking that understanding what he took from me, what he processed that was like me—how he thought—maybe I could find some truth about the way I live through that.”

“He thought you were so disciplined working all the time, all that pseudo-religious stuff around reading and work. He took everything too seriously.”

He crossed his arms. “Does my life look as bad as that?”

“One writer's group was all you could cite for fun and it doubles as your social life …
when people are in town
.”

He shook that off. “Maybe I can understand the both of us better if I do.” He pinched my elbow and waited for me to respond.

I turned and he followed me to the basement door. Our steps echoed in the tight space of the stairwell. The basement was dark except for dusty strips of light that filtered from the window wells. I pushed open the door to Tristan's bedroom with one finger. The swish as the door passed over the carpeting was the only sound until water rushed through the pipes upstairs. I entered the room and stood aside to let Jasper in.

He moved through the doorway as if he were entering a church. He caught my eyes but didn't say anything and walked softly through the room with his hands out, brushing his fingers across the top of the television, then the nightstand with a stack of books on it.

“That's how he left them. I worried that someday I would want to know what order he kept them in.”

I stepped out.

Jasper Caldwell followed me into my brother's study.

He stood before the heavy oak desk and paused to examine a framed picture of himself on the wall beside it. A torrent of feeling rose in me, nausea.

He reached out to gently touch the wood framing a photo that never looked anything like him.

“I always wondered why you had glasses in that picture.”

His voice was thick. “Only when I photograph. Or speak. My agent's idea.” He gave me a weak smile. “He thought I would look older and more
serious. Now it seems odd, but when I was twenty it was important to look like I had my shit together.”

He hesitated with his hand on the frame.

I cleared my throat. “Go ahead.”

He took it down and sat heavily in the chair, his head tipped to gaze at the image of himself. A hand went up to his mouth. Jasper ran his fingers over the glass and pulled a folded slip of paper from behind it. He caught my eyes and then unfolded the paper with two fingers. I wanted to go over and claim it, but right then decided I was done keeping him away from the darkest parts of my heart. Maybe now where my brother and the weight of his memory were concerned, I would be able to rest.