Something Like Spring

  “You’re married?” Jason asked. “That’s more bad news for me.”

  Michelle eyed him and laughed. “I hope you aren’t flirting with me. Not that you aren’t cute,” she added quickly, “but you remind me too much of my brother.”

  “Right, right,” Jason said. “You’re just letting me down easy.”

  “You really do,” Michelle insisted. “It’s hard for me to put my finger on why… Did I mention I have a daughter? She’s only eleven years old, but she’s bright. She’s in all the gifted classes at school. Maybe we can do one of those arranged marriage things, plan ahead like royalty used to.”

  “Do I get half the kingdom?”

  “I can’t promise you that much, but my husband is one of the most successful realtors in Houston. There’s at least a house in the deal for you. Maybe a couple of cows and a goat too.”

  Jason laughed. “In that case, yes. One day I shall marry your daughter.” They stopped, having circled the block and reached the Hubbard’s home again. His home, he supposed, but first he had some bridges to repair. “I was getting picked on at school,” he said. “The bully goes to the same church. That’s why I didn’t want to go.”

  Michelle thought about his excuse and nodded. “Very nice. Might even be good enough to get you out of going to church altogether.”

  Which would leave him home alone with Caesar every Sunday, transforming the week’s most holy day into one of temptation.

  “Nah,” Jason replied. “It’s time for this old sinner to redeem himself.”

  The main reason he had shunned church before was to spend time with Caesar. If need be, Jason would become a man of the cloth just to avoid him. His priority now was protecting his wounded heart, which meant he couldn’t be alone with Caesar. Oddly enough, it also meant he couldn’t stray too far from him either.

  Chapter Eleven

  No wheelchair can support damaged self-esteem until it learns to stand upright. No cane can help emotions limp along until they can walk. A cast or brace can’t protect a vulnerable spirit, and not even the strongest painkiller can stop the ache caused by a failed relationship. No, the only way a broken heart mends itself is with stitches of time and the sticky tape of hastily rearranged dreams.

  Jason’s recovery didn’t come swiftly, but over the next month, he found little ways of coping. He would hang out with Steph, who both shared his feelings for Caesar and understood the agony of having lost him. Or he would spend time with his new family, finding that he didn’t have to force himself anymore. Jason was happy for the companionship, since this also made it easier to move on. He would visit the shooting range with Mr. Hubbard and Peter, honing his skill and enjoying the sport. Or he would help Mrs. Hubbard around the house, maintaining an unspoken truce with her. He was always happy to play the guitar for Amy, or help redecorate her doll house.

  Throughout all of this, Caesar kept his distance, which Jason was grateful for. Occasionally they would meet, Jason walking into the living room to find him there, but one of them always made an excuse and left. Once Jason spotted Caesar sitting at the kitchen table, eyes on the phone as he texted. Instead of entering the room, Jason had taken a step back from the doorway, remaining near enough to watch Caesar, those old cuts on his heart tearing open again.

  Jason knew he would never move on completely. Caesar was right: There was no getting over a first love. Jason tried as best he could. As the school year came to an end, he found his strength tested on more than one occasion. First was the dinner celebrating Caesar’s acceptance into Yale, conversation focusing on his plans and how he would soon be far away. Such talk did little to comfort Jason. Later came a party in honor of Caesar’s high school graduation, countless relatives and friends lining up to shake his hand and bask in the perfection of his smile. Jason felt trapped in the audience, while on the stage of life, spotlights and applause were directed at the person everyone loved most. “Isn’t he great?” the world seemed to shout. “Isn’t Caesar the most wonderful thing ever?”

  Sadly, Jason couldn’t help but agree.

  Then came the increasingly discussed hunting trip. Jason hoped Caesar wouldn’t come along. With school out, they found avoiding each other more difficult than before. The decent thing would be one of them finding an excuse, but Jason wasn’t having much luck. Besides, Caesar could get away with anything. Surely he could weasel out somehow. Or so Jason thought. He was loading his luggage in the back of Mr. Hubbard’s Land Rover when Caesar appeared next to him, carelessly tossing in a duffle bag.

  “Just one of those things I have to do,” he said. “One of my father’s dictated obligations. Sorry.”

  Jason nodded his understanding, his discomfort increasing when they were on the road. Peter insisted on riding up front, which wasn’t a surprise. Whenever Mr. Hubbard was around, Peter tended to monopolize him, asking him questions or saying anything to gain approval. Normally Jason didn’t care, but with the back of the vehicle full of luggage and hunting equipment, he and Caesar had to share the bench seat in the middle.

  While they had plenty of space to avoid touching each other, Jason felt odd not conversing during the nearly five-hour trip. He kept looking at Caesar’s exposed legs out of the corner of his eye, wishing the weather was cold so more than shorts and a tank top were required. When Caesar fell asleep halfway through the trip, Jason stole glances at the rest of him. Then, during a break at a gas station, he returned from the restroom to find Caesar standing behind the SUV and texting. That’s when he realized he hadn’t heard a peep from Caesar’s phone over the last few hours.

  “You don’t have to keep it off for my benefit,” Jason told him.

  Caesar looked up, as if gauging how serious he was.

  “Seriously. It doesn’t bother me.”

  The rest of the trip was easier. With the phone now on, Caesar was frequently occupied, and Jason had countless reminders of why it wouldn’t work. He asked to borrow Peter’s phone, playing one of the games, but also pretending to send desperately passionate text messages to an imaginary boyfriend. This made him laugh, Caesar responding with puzzled expressions.

  One last dreadful challenge remained when they pulled up to the private cabin Mr. Hubbard had reserved for them. As Caesar had promised, the cabin had two bedrooms, each with two beds. The last thing Jason wanted was to end up in one of those rooms with Caesar. This apprehension was replaced by a new one when they entered. Everything seemed to be hewn from wood or draped with Southwestern-style rugs. The living room was equipped with a large television, an adjoining kitchen styled more like a bar at one end. All of that was fine. What disturbed Jason were the countless animal heads mounted on the walls.

  Deer, elk, buffalo, boar, and any other species with antlers or tusks. For a brief moment, he almost laughed. The scene looked ridiculous, like tons of animals had inexplicably charged through the walls of the cabin, busting through with their heads before getting stuck. But then their stillness and the unblinking glass eyes reminded him they were all dead. Jason dropped his luggage on the floor and stared.

  “It’s fine,” Caesar said quietly, stopping next to him. “We never bag any big game. Even if we get a nice juicy turkey in our crosshairs, we can’t shoot it because it’s not in season. Not much is aside from really small game and animals that aren’t indigenous, like axis deer. Unless one of those saunters by—and they never do—it’s all shooting at squirrels and missing.”

  That made him feel a little bit better. After a brief tour—the other rooms in the house also filled with dead animals, even the bathroom—they debated the sleeping situation. Jason wasn’t alone in his concern.

  “Want to be roommates, little brother?” Caesar asked.

  The look Peter gave him wasn’t very friendly. “Dad and I always share a room.”

  “Actually,” Mr. Hubbard said, “seeing as this might be Caesar’s last trip out here for quite some time, I thought he and I would bunk up. If you don’t mind, Peter.”

  “I gu
ess that’s okay.” Peter looked over at Jason, seeming to make peace with the idea. “Come on. I’ll show you ours.”

  Down the hallway was a room smaller than the first with two single beds. Jason could imagine him and Caesar pushing them together, lighting the oil lantern on the side table, and spending the entire night in each other’s arms. Instead he would be listening to Peter’s snores and farts until dawn. Jason glanced at the head of a wild pig on the wall, then looked over at his roommate.

  “So, what’s the plan?” he asked.

  “The first day is always boring,” Peter said. “We’ll have to unpack, then go to a grocery store for supplies. Dad likes to grill while out here, so no restaurants. Tonight will probably be poker, which sucks. Or maybe some night fishing if we can convince him. Anyway, the real action starts tomorrow. Ready for your first hunt?”

  Jason eyed a stuffed squirrel on the window sill. “Can’t wait,” he lied.

  * * * * *

  Boring. Wet, miserable, and absolutely dreadfully boring. Jason smiled contentedly. The third day hunting, and this one appeared even more hopeless than those previous. The skies above were overcast, the rain a ceaseless drizzle. So far, hunting had consisted of tromping around in the woods while wearing camouflage, or pausing for long periods when Peter thought he heard something. Or they would take note of trails frequently used by animals, setting up base some distance away. There they stood, kneeled, or lay, waiting for forest animals to make their daily commute to work. Must have been a holiday, because they weren’t seeing much.

  Peter had managed to shoot a rabbit yesterday, which Jason found upsetting, but then they ended up making a stew of it for dinner. He ate a bowl, feeling disgusted, but also not wanting the animal to go to waste. Later that night in their room, Peter made a good case about this being more honest than how they usually acquired meat. Animals were still dying to make the burgers Jason loved so much, although they had a much less pleasant life—bred in crowded and filthy captivity and dragged off to die a terrifying death in a slaughter house. Jason almost suspected Peter was trying to sell him on a vegetarian diet. But then he pointed out how the animals they were hunting had lived a good natural life in the wild, and even in death served a purpose.

  After thinking it over, Jason was convinced, although he didn’t see how this meshed with the heads on the walls or the excited chatter Mr. Hubbard and Peter exchanged when browsing through hunting magazines. They oohed and aahed over antler sizes like they were discussing another sort of rack. Since no one would be eating the antlers, Jason struggled to understand their excitement.

  At the moment, he and the Hubbards were on their bellies, due to more of the phantom sounds Peter always heard. The guy with the magic ears was to Jason’s left, tense as he held his gun at the ready. To his right was Mr. Hubbard, eyes small and intent on the clearing ahead. Past him, Caesar was very casually poking at his cell phone, which he’d hidden among a few leaves.

  “Put that thing away!” Mr. Hubbard hissed. “I told you to leave it at home.”

  “I did,” Caesar said. “It followed me out here like a loyal pet.”

  “This trip is your last chance,” Mr. Hubbard replied. “You need to keep your eye on the prize. Do you really want to have a conversation with a client about hunting, only to explain that in all the years you’ve been out here, you’ve never bagged any game?”

  Wow. Was that the key to good sales? Locker room bragging?

  “Gee, that would be horrible,” Caesar said sarcastically. “How would I ever live that down? Oh, I know. I could lie.”

  Jason couldn’t help smiling. Mr. Hubbard was less amused, glaring at Caesar until he pocketed the phone and picked up his gun. Jason adjusted his grip on his own. What he wanted to do was tie a pillow around the stock so he could take a quick nap.

  Next to him, Peter tensed up even more, which seemed impossible. When he spoke, his words were so quiet they were hard to make out, but from the way he raised his gun, their meaning was obvious. Jason looked at the clearing, the breath catching in his throat. Long elegant legs picked their way across the ground. White spots like pinpricks of sunshine shifted as muscles moved beneath chestnut brown fur. Dark eyes sparkled in a way glass marbles in a mounted head never could. And those antlers were huge, covered in velvet that Jason imagined felt soft to the touch. Now he understood the fascination with them because the buck was beautiful. He’d never expected it to be so large, to move so slowly and deliberately like a god inspecting his kingdom. Jason didn’t want to steal those antlers or put that head on his wall. He felt like bowing to the sheer majesty of the creature.

  “I’ve got it,” Peter said.

  “No!” Mr. Hubbard hissed the very word on Jason’s mind, but his relief was short-lived. “Let Caesar take it, son.”

  “But—”

  “This is his last trip! You and I have plenty more together.”

  Jason glanced back and forth between them. Peter’s jaw was flexing hard, his brow low. Then Jason turned the other way, saw the look of surprise on Caesar’s face before he gave a curt nod, adjusted his gun, and placed his cheek against the stock, just like he had once laid his head on Jason’s leg so his hair could be toyed with.

  Jason looked back at the clearing, at the buck whose head had turned to consider them, as if asking what they intended to do.

  “He’ll never hit it,” Peter muttered.

  He couldn’t miss! The animal was ridiculously close, and Jason had seen Caesar pick countless clay pigeons out of the distant sky. Even without the benefit of buckshot splaying wide, the slugs loaded in their guns would be enough to bring down the deer, no matter where Caesar hit it.

  The shot rang out, Jason flinching at the same time as the deer. He waited for the beast to cry out in pain, to topple over and never move again, but instead it started running. Not understanding, Jason glanced over at Caesar just in time to see him lowering the barrel, the angle much too high to hit anything but the tree tops. Caesar glanced at him, a hint of warning in his eyes. Jason understood and looked away. Caesar had fired into the air on purpose. He had saved—

  BOOM!

  Jason’s left ear went numb from the sound, his body recoiling instinctively. Next to him Peter was on his knees, eyes and mouth wide with wild abandonment. Jason looked at the clearing to see the deer on its front knees, the back legs still kicking as it tried to escape. It toppled over just as Jason got to his feet. He raced across the leaves to reach it, not caring if Mr. Hubbard was aiming a kill shot that would hit him instead. Up close, the buck was gigantic. Jason could smell the musky scent, feel heat radiating off its body. Most of all he could see the panic in its eye as it huffed. The once flawless white crest on its neck was now stained pink with splatter from the hole in its shoulder. Jason saw the wound and acted instinctively, dropping on his knees to press a palm against it, but there was so much blood that his hand slipped off. He tried again, a guttural sound coming from the animal’s throat, causing him to worry he was hurting it further. Jason stared into its eyes, wanting to communicate that he was trying to help, but the animal wasn’t watching him anymore, its eyes growing dim. The dark orbs became distant, unfocused, and then still.

  The tears came then, accompanied by an angry snarl. Jason stood, marching back toward the others who were standing now. He wanted his shotgun, wanted to put a bullet through Peter to see how he liked it. The little shit was laughing, pleased with himself for having taken down an animal with technology it couldn’t comprehend. What a fucking hero! Forget the gun. Jason would wipe that smile off his face with his fists.

  He was shouting something unintelligible when arms wrapped around him, lifting him off his feet and spinning him around. Confused, he looked up into Caesar’s concerned face and the anger inside him broke. The tears really started flowing then, and the snot. Jason pulled away and wiped at his face, smelling copper and tasting it on his lips.

  Caesar’s mouth kept moving, shaping words Jason didn’t hear. He shook
his head, looking away, trying to pull free from the hands gripping his arms. Finally, sound returned to his world.

  “Jason!” Caesar shouted. “Hold still! You’re covered in blood.”

  Jason raised his hands, saw the buck’s blood already beginning to darken and dry where it had smeared across his palms. Caesar stripped off the light jacket he was wearing, then his shirt, using it to wipe Jason’s hands, but getting the blood off completely was hopeless.

  “What’s his problem?” Peter said from behind.

  “Quiet,” Mr. Hubbard scolded. “Caesar, take him back to the cabin. We’ll finish up here.”

  Caesar put an arm around Jason and guided him through the woods. Jason couldn’t understand what had happened, how they hadn’t experienced the same thing he had. Didn’t they see the beauty? How could they want to cut that down? What Peter had said made sense. This was a better way of getting and eating meat, but the way he had laughed… Jason couldn’t comprehend anyone taking joy in this act or how it could ever be called a sport.

  His head was awhirl with confusing thoughts and emotions as they reached the cabin. He let Caesar take him to the bathroom, stared with detachment as Caesar washed his hands for him in the sink and dabbed at his face with a wash rag. Then Jason was led into the bedroom, where Caesar made him lie down. After rubbing his back and whispering soothing words, he turned to leave. Jason sat up on the bed, Caesar hesitating at the door.

  “You need to rest,” he said. “Try to calm down. Maybe get some sleep.”

  Jason couldn’t find the words, could only stare at him in need. Caesar sighed, shut the door and locked it. Then he walked to the bed.

  “Lie down,” he said.

  Jason did so, tensing up when he felt Caesar crawl into bed behind him and relaxing when he felt an arm wrap around him. He didn’t feel better. Jason still saw the dark eyes of the buck in his mind, heard the sound of its final breaths. But as he tried to comprehend the coldness of some actions, he was also reminded of a warmth he had once thought lost.