First Flight (5 page)

“The ravens and magpies,” Chris managed, before he fled kitchen and house alike through the back door.

Jesse bolted after him, the memory of Chris naked and silent in the back of his car flashing through his mind. It didn’t really matter if Chris was delusional or crazy or… or
anything
, he wasn’t going to let him go off on his own. “Chris!”

He turned to his left as a harsh sound caught his attention, surprised by the ferocity of his relief. “Chris.” He knelt beside the other young man, who was scrunched up in the same corner he’d retreated to that disastrous first day he’d lived with the Swansons.

Chris shuddered, another rough noise escaping him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t look at Jesse, could hardly breathe
.

“Chris, it’s….”
Okay
would have been a lie. Whether Chris was imagining things or not, it was clearly affecting him. “Hey. I’m gonna go call Betsy and let her know we’re gonna be late or something. Do
not
go anywhere. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

He nodded, though he stayed tucked into the corner.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Jesse returned within two minutes, his phone held to his ear. “Uh-huh, I’ll let him know. Okay. Yeah. Yeah, if we can, we will, and I’ll definitely be in today, I swear to God. Yeah, thanks, Betsy. Bye.” He sat down beside Chris, leaning against him. “Betsy says she hopes you feel better,” he said.

Jesse was warm, and it felt good to have him so close. It didn’t take away the press of sorrow, though; it didn’t make him feel any less alone.

“I don’t understand, you know?” Jesse copied Chris’s pose, knees drawn up and arms around them, though he kept his head up. “I still don’t know how you got into the back of my car, but there you were. I brought you home, even though I didn’t know anything
about
you except that you weren’t on drugs and you needed help.

“I still don’t really know anything about you, Chris, even after all this time. You don’t talk about anything. Your mom and dad, your friends, nothing before I met you. If you don’t know, you don’t know.” He shrugged.

“Mother and father….” Chris could only remember red mouths and warmth, raucous mornings and quiet nights. It was the same with friends, with anything from before, it was all a jumble of pictures and feelings. He tried to remember names, but there were none like
Jesse
or
Christopher
or
Ellen
or
Betsy.
It was all just feelings. He felt that they were things like
feeds-and-straightens
and
feeds-and-laughs
and
plays-with-stones
and
fell-from-tree
. And other than the red mouths, there was nothing but black—blue-black, green-black, gray-black, brown-black; glossy and matte and leathery.

“You don’t even talk about where you came from. And like I said, if you don’t know, then there’s no way you can, so it’s not a big deal.”

“I fell,” Chris said, turning his face toward the porch rail. “There was light and dark, and I fell and then…. Then I was awake. And my wings were gone. And I have stupid feet, and I’m not doing things right.”

“Who said you were doing things wrong?” Having stupid feet was weird, but what else was new? Jesse leaned his head on his hand and propped his elbow on his knee, looking at the back of Chris’s head.

“No one said. I see it,” Chris said, and a fresh wave of misery broke over him. Again, he hadn’t really thought about it, but now it was obvious. “I found things, and I make food, but—and I can’t
fly
and I’m all
wrong
. And you….” How could he have fooled himself into thinking that Jesse would want him?

Jesse was torn between putting his arm around Chris and calling his mom to ask her for advice. Instead of doing either, he decided to start with the thing he knew the most about and work toward the rest. “People can’t fly, not without an airplane or a hang glider or something. I can’t fly either, you know? And what about me?”
I chose you
. The idea was distracting, so he ignored it again.

“I don’t
know!
” Chris’s voice cracked on the last word, and he buried his face in his arms, fighting for breath. Each exhalation hurt, the air forced out in a choked sob.

Jesse gave up and put his arm around Chris’s shoulders. By the time he’d calmed down, Jesse’s backside had started to go numb, but he could live with it. “Better, now?”

“Don’t know,” Chris said and took a shuddery breath.

“Uh, you started to say something, about me, earlier. You said ‘And you’, but then you stopped. Was it, uh, important?” Jesse hoped the question wouldn’t upset him again.

“Don’t know,” Chris said. He felt muffled, empty; the thought of facing the public made him want to hide for a while. There was only one other place he could think of, besides the corner. “Want to go back to bed.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Come on.” Jesse got to his feet, then leaned over and helped him up. “Do you want to be by yourself for a while?”

“I think so.” He must be doing something wrong, if Jesse wasn’t interested in his offerings. In
him
. Maybe if he thought about it, he could figure out the
right
thing to do.

“Okay. Will you be okay if I go to the store?”

“Wait,” Chris said, as he stepped into the house. “You have to finish breakfast.”

“I’ll take the muffin with me, I promise,” he said, and gently pushed Chris in the direction of the stairs. “I gotta get some clothes on, anyhow. If I show up in my jammies, Betsy will have a fit.”

Chris let himself be jostled, remembering the night he’d been carried into the bathroom and bumped into Jesse and the stranger. They’d been
kissing
, that was the word for it. But then they’d stopped, Jesse had dragged him outside and…. He sighed and climbed the stairs. “Okay.”

Upstairs, Jesse pulled back the covers on his bed. “I know you like sleeping in my bed, so in you go.”

It wasn’t so much the bed itself as it was being wrapped up in the scent that was
Jesse
, but it was one more thing he wasn’t sure he could explain. “Thank you,” Chris said solemnly, and crawled in. He caught Jesse’s hand as he pulled the blankets up to his chin. “I would tell you.”

“I know you would,” Jesse said and ruffled his hair. “Get some rest. If you want to come in for the afternoon shift, Betsy wouldn’t mind, but you don’t have to. I’m gonna be a little late, maybe as late as after dinner, so don’t worry if I’m not home before then, okay?”

“Okay.” Chris turned onto his side and wriggled around until he was curled up in the corner, watching Jesse dress through mostly closed eyes. “Have a good day.”

“I’ll try,” Jesse said, buttoning his shirt. “You too.”

Chris closed his eyes and everything faded away.

T
HE
world was spread out below him, a lumpy carpet of greens and browns and grays, shot through with silvery flashes of water and human-made things. The sun shone on him, warm and comforting. The cool fresh air held him up and brought him little bits of information.
This way
, it said,
there is food this way
.

He ignored it in favor of looking at the familiar shape that hung just off to his right. A bird, black, with the sun bringing out blue and green and even violet glints in its feathers. “What is your name?”

“Sings-like-water. What is yours?”

“My name is— I am— I don’t know.”

“How do you not know your own name?”

“I don’t know anything except your name. I have lost everything. Even flying, even my wings.”

“That cannot be.”

“It is! I have lost
everything!
”

“Then this is impossible.” Sings-like-water’s claws locked with his and they wheeled in the sky, falling for one long heart-stopping instant before parting and soaring joyously upward again. There was a cloud before them, just a small puff of gray-white vapor. The two of them scythed into it, but when he emerged on the other side, he was alone.

“Hello, little one.”

Not alone, after all. He looked up and up and
up
. He was standing at the feet of the largest raven he’d ever seen. It was larger than an eagle, than a tree, than the buildings in the city. “Hello,” he said, softly.

“You watched that man for a very long time.” The big bird tipped its head and he could see the man, smiling, his mouth open and moving—Jesse.

“Yes. He’s interesting! He makes unusual sounds that I like.”

“You gave up food to watch and listen.”

“Yes.” How did he know that? He had, and he’d do it again.

The big raven was suddenly much, much smaller, just a little larger than himself. It carefully straightened some of its feathers, then said, “You wanted something you could not find in the sky.”

“Yes,” he said, only mildly surprised by the statement. “Yes, I wanted to know more. About the man. About the sounds.”

“Ah,” the raven said, straightening a few more feathers, “and have you learned about them?”

“Yes.”

“Has the price been worth it?”

“Price?”

“The cost. You are as a hatchling: hungry and knowing not what you hunger for, flightless and wanting flight. Aren’t you?”

“Yes. I am. Who am I? Why am I like this?”

“You wanted what could not be had in the sky, and you gave up all you knew to have it.”

“Who are
you?
”

“I held you close until your mother joined with your father; I whispered to you as you pipped. I know the names of your hatchlings, and I know the names of your hatchling’s hatchlings.” The bird stepped toward him and put a wing around him, tucking him close to its body like a mother. “I gave you what you wanted. Is it worth it?”

“I don’t know. I am missing parts. He wants to know, and I can’t tell him.”

“You gave up all you knew for something you could not find in the sky.”

Chris woke up enough to turn over, wondering vaguely if the dream meant anything. He certainly didn’t feel like he’d found anything except unhappiness, and if he couldn’t find that in the sky…. If he couldn’t find that in the sky, then why had he wanted it in the first place? Nonsense, as most dreams were. He closed his eyes and drifted off once again.

Chapter Seven

C
HRIS
was putting the last of the dinner dishes in the dishwasher when Jesse came in. “Hello.”

“Hey.” Jesse held up the bag he carried. “I, uh, brought you something.”

“A gift? For me?” Uncertainty nibbled at the edge of his delight, and he didn’t smile.

“Yeah,” he said, a corner of his mouth turning up at the seriousness on Chris’s face.

“Thank you.” Chris closed the dishwasher, washed and dried his hands, then gave Jesse an expectant look.

“Here you go,” Jesse said, handing him the bag.

“Eggs!” The carton was decidedly smaller than the egg cartons he was used to seeing. Ah, the picture on the top explained it all. “Quail eggs. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Jesse waved a hand and headed out of the kitchen.

Something went warm inside him and the little voice whispered
Maybe? Try again.
“Jesse?”

Jesse glanced over his shoulder, then turned back at the expression on Chris’s face. “What?”

Chris held the carton out. “Would you stay? Share these? I will cook them.”

He hadn’t meant the eggs to be anything more than a treat, something to maybe take Chris’s mind off of the morning’s unpleasantness, but he hadn’t thought about how
Chris
might have interpreted the offering.

Or had he?
You are important
.
I chose you.
Chris’s words had been chasing themselves through his head all day, and now he absolutely had to think about it. Jesse took a deep breath and nodded. “Only cook a couple for me, okay? ’Cause I’m not sure if I’ll like them or not.”

“Okay.” Chris’s smile was bright, and Jesse wondered briefly why he hadn’t tried to make him smile more often before now. Then they got busy with a pot and water and salt and wondering if quail eggs cooked more quickly because they were smaller.

“Wow, these things are tough to peel,” Jesse said, frowning at the tiny egg. Then he shrugged and sliced off the end of it. “Oh, I see, the lining of the shell is
really
thick.”

“That is good to know,” Chris said, retrieving another paring knife. He gingerly worked the point of it into the shell and pried the top off, revealing the precious contents. “Ah!”

Jesse watched as Chris tilted his head back, his own eggs forgotten as he stared at the line of his throat, as he followed it down into the collar of the shirt Chris was wearing. He
wanted
, suddenly, wanted more viscerally than he had before, wanted to follow that line all the way down, wanted to
touch
and
taste
and— “Huh?”

“They’re delicious,” Chris said, holding up the empty shell. “Try it.”

The eggs! Right. “Oh, great! Yeah, uh, hang on.” He fought with the tough membrane, managing to get the egg out in almost one piece. Jesse popped the little bite into his mouth and chewed. It tasted like any other hard-boiled egg he’d ever eaten, which was both a relief and a mild disappointment. He nodded, humming appreciatively. “Those are good.”

A
WEEK
and a half later, Jesse’s curiosity got the better of him. “Chris?”

“Yes?”

“Uh, have you changed your mind?”

Chris glanced at him, then went back to watching the city go by. “Changed my mind about what?”

“About me. You said, uh, that I was important, and that you, um, chose me. But you still make me breakfast and lunch, only you don’t give me stuff, anymore. Or did you just run out?” Jesse smiled a little, but it faded into concentration as he slowed to make a turn.

Chris looked over at him again. “I thought you did not— You said you did not collect any of the things I gave you.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jesse said, as he turned into a parking lot. “But I didn’t mean to make you think that I, uh, hated ’em or something. And I didn’t throw ’em away.” He found a parking place and pulled in. “We’re here, so c’mon.”