The River Leith (28 page)

A train to Penns Grove would have been faster and cheaper, but the taxi was private, dark, and lonely. Leith was in a rocking womb hurtling through darkness back to someplace older than he could ever dream of being, someplace that held memories he hadn’t forgotten. A place that might clasp him tight, push his hair off his face, and kiss his cheek while murmuring that everything was going to be all right.

The old house was right where he’d left it. It was somehow a surprise to see it there, though of course it couldn’t get up and walk away. It was small and brick, with a garden-lined path that was neater than Leith could remember it being since his mother had died. He paid the taxi driver and tucked what little money he had left back into his box of treasures.

He heard the taxi pull away and saw the vague shape of it drive off into the dawn light. He stood on the sidewalk outside the iron gate and stared up at the second window on the left. His bedroom had been the smallest room in the house, more of a closet really, but it had a window. So his mother had declared it a room, and she’d painted the walls blue just for Leith.

The room had been a surprise on his seventh birthday. There’d been a party that day, too, with some friends and streamers, and a birthday cake made with chocolate frosting and decorative sprinkles. His father had come home drunk and bitching about the expense of a party for such a little kid, and Leith had spent his first night in his own room listening to Arthur’s pounding stereo and the shouts of his mother and father.

As daylight crested behind the house, making it glow as though it were on fire, Leith looked at the living room window and remembered the soft green sofa his mother would sit on. She’d knit, or fold laundry, or simply stare out the window and hum under her breath. Her voice had been warm and safe like cocoa on a cold night.

Thinking back now, she’d always seemed so sad. Leith had often crept up by her and knelt at her side, resting his cheek against her knee, just listening. He bit his lip, remembering the soft cloth of her skirt and how it had felt so cool against his hot face.

Leith wanted to go to the backyard and look across to the fields he’d run as a child, to see if he could find the spot where he’d first seen that golden-crowned kinglet. But he didn’t belong here now. It was morning and the house would be waking soon. At best his presence would be tolerated and at worst he’d be accused of trespassing, but most of all he didn’t want to interact with anyone. He felt that if he were to speak now, the words would break him open and he’d spill everywhere
—
a fount of grief, fear, and tears.

He started walking. The streets were familiar and his feet knew where to go. It didn’t take long, and by the time Leith entered the shadows of the woods, the sun was an orange ball just over the horizon. In the forest it was still dim and cool, with dappled morning sunlight flickering on the dark, leaf-strewn ground.

The place he sought wasn’t as far in as he’d remembered, though. He supposed it had been quite a walk for his child legs to carry him. As an adult it wasn’t even three minutes off the road.

The ground was still clear, and there were remnants of a cooking fire. Leith crouched down and poked at the ashes with a stick. He wasn’t surprised children still camped here, but it was so familiar he might turn around and see himself with Arthur pitching the tent, or hear his father’s footsteps approaching from the road to give them final instructions and a strong goodnight hug.

“I’ll see you in the morning,”
their father would say, handing them both an extra flashlight.
“I’ll kiss your mother for you. Be smart, my boys. Stay safe.”
For all his faults, in the early years their father had been more good than bad.

After their mother died and Arthur had left, Leith camped here alone. His father would come to tell him goodnight only if he was sober
—
only if Leith hadn’t escaped to the woods to get away from the phone that rang endlessly with creditors wanting their money, or bookies who wanted the same, or the neighbor who‘d decided Leith was her responsibility and always wanted to check in.

Sober nights were rare, and yet when Leith sat by the ashes and looked up at the gray-blue sky beyond the branches, he could almost feel his father there
—
almost hear his footsteps on the ground behind him. He felt that if he turned around, his father would be there with a flashlight and a grin.
“Good morning, my boy. Did you dream enough for both of us?”

Leith whispered, “I didn’t dream last night, Dad. I didn’t even sleep.”

He waited for an answer and heard nothing except the rustle of squirrels in the bushes and the twitter of birds waking up. Cold in his t-shirt and jeans, Leith fell back onto the earth, his head cradled by the dirt and his arms and legs spread out limp. The sky was deep and endless, and somewhere up there it turned into space, and space turned into the observable universe, and the observable universe turned into
we just don’t know
.

Leith didn’t know a lot of things. He didn’t know if there were police knocking on the door of the apartment to take him in on assault charges. He didn’t know if Zach had found him gone yet. He didn’t know if he wanted Zach to be mad, or sad, or scared. He didn’t know if he
wanted
Zach. Hell, he didn’t even
know
Zach.

And yet there it was, that feeling he couldn’t shake. It was like a pull against his skin, something constant and ever present, as though it was part of him down to his cells, an emotion strong and compelling and rooted without logic. It was something he could only name as love.

The day swam in and around him in slow hours spent sifting through memories and emotions he couldn’t contain. Alone in the woods he felt tears slide down the side of his face and drop off to the ground below. He alternated opening his eyes to stare up into the well of blue and closing them, taking comfort in the shifting colors under the black of his lids.

He sorted through the box he’d brought with him, reading again a beautiful letter from Naomi. She had loved him, and she’d left him because she believed he loved Zach. He read the words his father had penned to him in prison on the card he’d kept on a shelf by his bunk long after Christmas had passed.

He touched the worn-out photos of his mother, and one of his father standing with him and Arthur, a rare day without a fight between them. Then in the very bottom of the box was a note written on a glossy page torn from a magazine.

“I’m off to the store and then to work. You looked too peaceful to wake. Sweet dreams. I love you.” Zach’s name was signed. Leith ran his fingers over the letters and wondered why he’d kept this. Was it the first time Zach had expressed his love? Was it something else? What had moved him to save this scrap of a note?

Leith sighed and put it all back in the box, flopping back on the ground again to stare at the sky and let it all soak down into his bones. After the day passed through pink morning, white noon, gold afternoon, and into an amber of twilight, Leith stood, dusted himself off, and ran a hand over his sun-burned face.

The walk into town seemed longer than the walk into the woods. He felt raw and vulnerable, and exhausted with sun exposure and dehydration. The café was one he’d been to as a kid, and when he walked in, he half expected to see the old guy named Paul behind the counter, his French accent blurring the edges of his word. But there was a young woman there instead, a blonde with brown eyes and a happy smile.

She looked familiar, and Leith recognized her as he sat at a table in the corner. They’d gone to school together. She’d dated his friend. And they’d played Seven Minutes in Heaven together when they were nine. Leith had felt her flat breasts and kissed her dry lips in Marcus Neimbaum’s closet. Her name was Eliza, and she’d been his first love Jennifer Dunaway’s best friend.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Eliza said, putting a glass of water down on his table. “Wait a minute now
—
Leith Wenz? Is that really you?”

Leith tried to smile and nodded his head. If it wasn’t for the water, he’d have been out the door the moment he knew who she was.

“Wow, it’s been years. You
—
you look good. Tired, but good.”

“Thank you,” Leith said, turning his head away and looking out the window.

Eliza sat in the empty chair across from him. “Are you here alone?”

“Looks like it,” Leith said, biting back a sharper reply.

“I’ve heard good things, Leith.” Eliza leaned forward. “Aren’t you a boxer now or something? My mother was telling me about it, how you came out and got a ton of media for it. How you were in some magazine kissing your boyfriend
—
”

“We broke up,” Leith said, surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure if they were true.

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Eliza brushed her hair out of her eyes and smiled.

“Yeah, it is,” Leith whispered.

Eliza pressed her lips together and her eyes grew empathetic. “So, what can I get you to eat? Something filling? My father-in-law makes an excellent Firehouse Chili.”

Leith wasn’t hungry, but he knew that he should eat. He had never liked chili, but it seemed like too much trouble to consult the menu. “Sounds great,” Leith said, hoping that after taking his order she’d go away.

Eliza stood up but didn’t make a move to leave. She leaned against a chair and continued, “Yeah, Adrien and I got married last year and I started working here this fall. My father-in-law was never very good with the patrons, so he’s mainly in the back now.”

Leith nodded and smiled with tight lips. He couldn’t have this conversation right now. He cleared his throat and managed to say, “Yeah,” and closed his eyes in hoping she would take the hint.

“It’s good to see you, Leith. After the…well, when you ended up in prison I was really worried about you. When my mom told me about your boxing career, it was a relief to know you’d turned your life around.”

“Thank you.” His throat felt tight, and he downed some water in several long gulps.

“I’ll get your chili,” Eliza said, and put her hand on his shoulder. “And more water.”

Leith nodded and looked out the window. The street was just the way he remembered it, houses that backed up to fields down the east side, and a row of small businesses congregating toward the west. The sun was setting now, and the sky behind the buildings looked smudged with purple and pink.

Eliza put another glass of water down on his table and left without a word, leaving Leith thankful and ashamed at his lack of social grace. She’d been a nice girl. He hoped she was happy with Adrien, who was, if he remembered, a tall guy with dark hair and thick glasses. He glanced at Eliza as she sorted menus and noticed that her breasts were far from the flat nubs he’d run his palms over.

He considered them for a moment, thinking of the fleshy weight of a woman’s breasts in his hands. He didn’t find it unarousing, and yet when he thought of Zach, with his hard, strong chest and his biceps that fit perfectly in Leith’s hands, Leith was shot through with a pang of lust. He drank more water, and watched an old lady balance several bags as she walked down the street.

The Firehouse Chili was filling, and as he finished it Eliza sat down at his table again, her eyes searching his face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “Do you need a ride? Or to call a friend?”

“No, thank you. I’m just…visiting.”

Eliza nodded but didn’t look as though she believed him. She put out her hand and touched the back of his. “You know, Leith, when we were teenagers, I always wished you could see past Jennifer.”

“Jennifer? Wasn’t she was your friend?”

“Yes, and she never thought much of you.”

Leith exhaled sharply. It shouldn’t have stung after all these years, but it did.

“I did, though. I thought of you a lot back then.” Eliza looked down at where her hand rested on his and pulled her fingers away, tucking her hand under the table. “I don’t know why I’m telling you. I’m happily married and you’re…gay, but I just wanted you to know that, for me, you were always the one who got away.”

Leith remembered a flash of wings as the kinglet lit into the bush. “I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered, but
—
”

“There’s no need for a ‘but.’ This was a confession, I guess. I just wanted you to know.”

“Okay,” Leith said, slowly. “Thank you.” He swallowed and tried to smile. “Given how things went down between me and Jennifer, maybe I would’ve been better off if I had been able to see past her.”

Eliza chuckled. “Well, her red hair was rather blinding. I had a hard time seeing past it myself.”

Leith sighed and smiled as he stood. “I should go.”

Eliza touched his arm. “Listen, if this sadness you’ve got going on is about that guy you broke up with, just…how can I say this? Well, I guess just make sure you’re not being blinded by something
—
red hair or I don’t know. Whatever. Okay?”

Leith swallowed hard, and then used the rest of his money paying Eliza. He thanked her again and wished her joy in her recent marriage before stepping out into the cool dark of evening. As he walked out of the café that several people were on their way in, and Eliza greeted them with a smile.

It took a while for Leith to find a phone, but he located one finally behind the supermarket where his mother had bought their groceries. He pulled the slip of paper with the number on it from his wallet and dialed. He slumped against the booth when the voice at the other end was who he wanted to reach.

“Hey, it’s Leith. Will you come and pick me up?”