Since 0:600 Shayler had been working a double harvester that insisted on breaking down every half hectare, but the more its hardware kept jamming, the more he was determined to finish gleaning his quarter of the beans today. He did, but he was one of the last workers done and he was exhausted.
Walking back to the ranch house, a maudlin thought skittered through his brain, but he tossed it out before it could take root. The thought was about how the most satisfying days of work always ended the same way: the temporary ache in his body overpowering the permanent ache in his chest. He reminded himself that heartache was a gift, a souvenir of being lucky enough to love deeply and permanently. Onyx was not here anymore. The more he accepted that fact, the deeper the ache of missing him. The daily pain of being unable to touch him, to feel his warm weight next to him in bed, to hear him laugh, to smell the soapy scent of his beard after bathing, to see his green eyes go from smoldering to ecstatic during sex; that pain was a minor price for this astounding love.
A man named Turo caught up with him and broke his train of thought with a clap on the back. "After supper Anna and I are gonna go into Austinton for drinks. Why don't you come? It's the live music capital of the new world, and all." They were walking side by side, from the field where the last of the soy beans had been reaped. He'd just met Turo and Anna two weeks ago.
"Aw, thanks brother," Shayler said. "But the big feast is going to be enough revelry for me. Plus, there is a pile of correspondence waiting for me in cyberspace, and blueprints for the new silo system to tinker with and... "
"C'mon on, ermitaño. Celebrate your last day with us. You know you're just gonna end up in front of the TV watching tear jerkers on the Classics Channel," he said. He had a strong East Newbridge accent.
He knew Turo was probably right so he forced a two syllable laugh. "Ha, ha. Appreciate the offer greatly, but I'm looking forward to a quiet night to get some stuff done before I get back home."
"Yeah, right. You're hopeless. See you at 08:00." Turo patted his shoulder again and waved good bye.
The sun was edging its way behind the horizon. He walked to his cabin, his residence these past 2 weeks. Luna, the artificial moon was a blank white disk and sat low in a gauzy, red and gold sky. From the rice fields, the smell of still slightly green hay and chaff reached into his nose, and he thought of his fields at home that he and Onyx had worked together. A sunset blaze of deep orange hung over his friends' farmhouse that sprawled in an 'L' shape among sparse live oak and scrub cedar. The northeast breeze began to cool the evening.
His cabin smelled like musty lemons. Its mustiness was from months without air circulation and the lemons were from Cookie's homemade citrus cleaner which she used obsessively, daily. Dory and Cookie Oliver owned this farm on the outskirts of Austinton Colony. Five years ago, Old Earth interlopers (lopers) had chosen this district to maraud -- a congresswoman lived here who fought for tougher punishment for illegals. Back then, when lopers were caught sneaking in under the radar, they got a stern but polite finger-wagging and deportation back to Old Earth, all on the taxpayer's dime. The congresswoman's bill was made into law eventually, but not before some wells around Austin Colony were poisoned. Some were just to the north and west of Cookie and Dory's property. Computers on the automated equipment got hacked and shut down farms throughout the district. Crops were burned just days before harvest time. Dory and Cookie had wanted to get their crops in fast, before the lopers could damage it, so they called friends all over the 3 province area to help them and their farm hands, if they could. Onyx and Shayler were there immediately. The next year, there was no loper interference, but they were short on workers, so Onyx and he drove 400 miles from their farm in Acadia, to help again. Then it became an annual event. For five years, Shayler had come at the end of summer to bring in their crops, these past two years without Onyx. For Shayler, it was as much a vacation with his two best friends, as it was work.
He stripped and took a long, cool shower. Tonight was the big, happy, feast to celebrate the end of the harvest, and he was dreading it. The hardest thing in the world for him was leaving people he cared about, even if he planned on seeing them the next week, the next month, the next year. All goodbyes felt permanent and tragic.
After catching up with some business online, he slipped into shorts, tee shirt, and flip flops, took a deep breath, and made his way to the farmhouse. Laughter and chatter filled it. His smiles were sincere, but he calculated how long he needed to stay until his presence wouldn't be recognized for what it was, perfunctory. He didn't want to look like an incurable introvert trying to sneak away from people he genuinely liked.
He sat next to Turo and Anna. The roast emu was juicy and fell apart on the plate. The vegans assured Cookie that the tofu was delicious, and Dory made his annual joke about the tofu coming from Shayler's own bean fields: "Chow down, everybody. We're helping him pay the mortgage." After everybody had eaten, he tried to help Dory clean up, but she shooed Shayler away, saying "Go mingle."
He tried. Most of the crowd had migrated out to the pool. He forced himself to stand next to three people who were talking politics: whether or not Taaman should send financial help to Old Earth, whose centralized government was falling fast from graft, greed, and corruption. He remembered to smile and look directly at whoever was speaking, to shake his head in agreement, and to wrinkle his forehead thoughtfully when somebody made a point. They hardly knew he was there, though, so he slipped away and found a chair.
About then, Cookie came out and told everybody it was toast time. When everybody had packed themselves into the big, open rec room, she and Dory made an eloquent toast about being thankful for having such good friends, etc. Everybody clinked his or her drink with the person next to them.
"Shayler! Yo, Shayler!" he heard in the crowd. A youngish, stylish man named Den was pushing his way through the throng toward him. Shayler suspected that he was was a fine, good man, but his flirting was annoying. He was a fine, good man who couldn't take "no thanks" for an answer.
He clinked his glass of wine with Shayler's tonic. "So you're leaving in the morning," he said. "I wish I could've spent more time with you this past week, but here." Den gave him a business card with his emails and phone numbers on it. The card read Gallons of Quartz / Semi-precious and decorative stone / Dennis Ludendorff, owner. The back of the card read "Nuevo Frisco Greenery / Native Taaman and Old Earth Flora / Dennis Ludendorff, owner.
"I knew you had a nursery," Shayler said. "But I didn't know you dealt in natural stone too."
He flashed a movie star smile. "If you ever find yourself up north in Kalef District, contact me."
"Of course," Shayler said. Den probably knew he was lying.
He leaned in for a kiss, but Shayler backed away and stuck out his hand to shake.
Den sighed with a small, crooked smile. "Shut down again," he said. "Well, if I don't get a kiss, can I at least have a hug?"
Shayler opened his arms. "Sure."
"Okay, then. I'll see you next year, here, at chez Oliver," Shayler said.
"Till then, I'll pretend, that loneliness isn't my only friend," Den sang, lyrics from a popular song a few years ago. Shayler laughed; considering all the other men Den had hit on all week, there was no doubt in Shayler's mind that loneliness was not going to be one of Den's problem.
The bulk of the crowd meandered back out to the pool and cranked up the music. Others sat in small groups talking. He sought out Dory, Cookie, Turo, Anna, and a few other people he had worked with closely all week and said goodbye. They all tried to convince him to stay the weekend, but he made excuses. He was going to be on the road back home by 06:00.
Back in his cabin he never was so grateful for the smell of dusty citrus and solitude. He packed everything but his toothbrush and set his bags by the door. Reading or watching TV was useless. His small earbuds were impotent against the music blasting from across the pool, so he slid his feet into his old boots, put a cold bottle of water in his side pocket, and went outside to walk.
Cookie and Dory had a beautiful spread here in Austin Colony. It was mostly flat, but a line of hills made a wide 'U' around the house and cabins. It was cozy. Inside the 'U' and just beyond the house, they had worked very hard to turn rocky, relatively barren land into a large meadow, full of gold tufted maiden grass. purple millet, and giant Taaman teazel, whose oval flowers swayed over the shorter grasses as if they were listening to a waltz. Past that were their ag fields, about 80 hectares of land Cookie had inherited from her father. They employed anywhere from 50 to 75 hands during harvest season and sold mulch, hay, and composting in the winter. Money, love, friendship, a way to give back to the community: Shayler sometimes looked at their life together and felt envy, but not for long. Cookie had been Onyx's friend since primary school and she and Dory were two of the best people he knew.
Luna was full and its light flowed and swirled through the meadow like water in a bowl. About a hundred meters out past their solar panels' control shed, he found an almost invisible foot path leading out toward a copse on the edge of the meadow. A memory blazed in his mind: his own property road of crushed rock and dirt, the long driveway to his house from the highway. He and Onyx had put it in just 10 short years ago and the day they finished it, their faces and arms red with dust, Onyx had dunked his head in the big stone trough. When he came up, he shook his thick, black hair like a dog, spraying everything (especially Shayler) and howling "Aaaoooo!" as loud as he could. The shock of cold water splattered on him and the look of playful love on Onyx's face that day a decade ago was so clear in his mind, felt so real, right here, right now. Love for him rushed into Shayler and filled him to overflowing. He shouted into the hills “Aaoooo!" to hear the echo. It came, but it was overpowered out by a shrill bleat that made his stomach freeze and his skin crawl.
His cabin smelled like musty lemons. Its mustiness was from months without air circulation and the lemons were from Cookie's homemade citrus cleaner which she used obsessively, daily. Dory and Cookie Oliver owned this farm on the outskirts of Austinton Colony. Five years ago, Old Earth interlopers (lopers) had chosen this district to maraud -- a congresswoman lived here who fought for tougher punishment for illegals. Back then, when lopers were caught sneaking in under the radar, they got a stern but polite finger-wagging and deportation back to Old Earth, all on the taxpayer's dime. The congresswoman's bill was made into law eventually, but not before some wells around Austin Colony were poisoned. Some were just to the north and west of Cookie and Dory's property. Computers on the automated equipment got hacked and shut down farms throughout the district. Crops were burned just days before harvest time. Dory and Cookie had wanted to get their crops in fast, before the lopers could damage it, so they called friends all over the 3 province area to help them and their farm hands, if they could. Onyx and Shayler were there immediately. The next year, there was no loper interference, but they were short on workers, so Onyx and he drove 400 miles from their farm in Acadia, to help again. Then it became an annual event. For five years, Shayler had come at the end of summer to bring in their crops, these past two years without Onyx. For Shayler, it was as much a vacation with his two best friends, as it was work.
He stripped and took a long, cool shower. Tonight was the big, happy, feast to celebrate the end of the harvest, and he was dreading it. The hardest thing in the world for him was leaving people he cared about, even if he planned on seeing them the next week, the next month, the next year. All goodbyes felt permanent and tragic.
After catching up with some business online, he slipped into shorts, tee shirt, and flip flops, took a deep breath, and made his way to the farmhouse. Laughter and chatter filled it. His smiles were sincere, but he calculated how long he needed to stay until his presence wouldn't be recognized for what it was, perfunctory. He didn't want to look like an incurable introvert trying to sneak away from people he genuinely liked.
He sat next to Turo and Anna. The roast emu was juicy and fell apart on the plate. The vegans assured Cookie that the tofu was delicious, and Dory made his annual joke about the tofu coming from Shayler's own bean fields: "Chow down, everybody. We're helping him pay the mortgage." After everybody had eaten, he tried to help Dory clean up, but she shooed Shayler away, saying "Go mingle."
He tried. Most of the crowd had migrated out to the pool. He forced himself to stand next to three people who were talking politics: whether or not Taaman should send financial help to Old Earth, whose centralized government was falling fast from graft, greed, and corruption. He remembered to smile and look directly at whoever was speaking, to shake his head in agreement, and to wrinkle his forehead thoughtfully when somebody made a point. They hardly knew he was there, though, so he slipped away and found a chair.
About then, Cookie came out and told everybody it was toast time. When everybody had packed themselves into the big, open rec room, she and Dory made an eloquent toast about being thankful for having such good friends, etc. Everybody clinked his or her drink with the person next to them.
"Shayler! Yo, Shayler!" he heard in the crowd. A youngish, stylish man named Den was pushing his way through the throng toward him. Shayler suspected that he was was a fine, good man, but his flirting was annoying. He was a fine, good man who couldn't take "no thanks" for an answer.
He clinked his glass of wine with Shayler's tonic. "So you're leaving in the morning," he said. "I wish I could've spent more time with you this past week, but here." Den gave him a business card with his emails and phone numbers on it. The card read Gallons of Quartz / Semi-precious and decorative stone / Dennis Ludendorff, owner. The back of the card read "Nuevo Frisco Greenery / Native Taaman and Old Earth Flora / Dennis Ludendorff, owner.
"I knew you had a nursery," Shayler said. "But I didn't know you dealt in natural stone too."
He flashed a movie star smile. "If you ever find yourself up north in Kalef District, contact me."
"Of course," Shayler said. Den probably knew he was lying.
He leaned in for a kiss, but Shayler backed away and stuck out his hand to shake.
Den sighed with a small, crooked smile. "Shut down again," he said. "Well, if I don't get a kiss, can I at least have a hug?"
Shayler opened his arms. "Sure."
"Okay, then. I'll see you next year, here, at chez Oliver," Shayler said.
"Till then, I'll pretend, that loneliness isn't my only friend," Den sang, lyrics from a popular song a few years ago. Shayler laughed; considering all the other men Den had hit on all week, there was no doubt in Shayler's mind that loneliness was not going to be one of Den's problem.
The bulk of the crowd meandered back out to the pool and cranked up the music. Others sat in small groups talking. He sought out Dory, Cookie, Turo, Anna, and a few other people he had worked with closely all week and said goodbye. They all tried to convince him to stay the weekend, but he made excuses. He was going to be on the road back home by 06:00.
Back in his cabin he never was so grateful for the smell of dusty citrus and solitude. He packed everything but his toothbrush and set his bags by the door. Reading or watching TV was useless. His small earbuds were impotent against the music blasting from across the pool, so he slid his feet into his old boots, put a cold bottle of water in his side pocket, and went outside to walk.
Cookie and Dory had a beautiful spread here in Austin Colony. It was mostly flat, but a line of hills made a wide 'U' around the house and cabins. It was cozy. Inside the 'U' and just beyond the house, they had worked very hard to turn rocky, relatively barren land into a large meadow, full of gold tufted maiden grass. purple millet, and giant Taaman teazel, whose oval flowers swayed over the shorter grasses as if they were listening to a waltz. Past that were their ag fields, about 80 hectares of land Cookie had inherited from her father. They employed anywhere from 50 to 75 hands during harvest season and sold mulch, hay, and composting in the winter. Money, love, friendship, a way to give back to the community: Shayler sometimes looked at their life together and felt envy, but not for long. Cookie had been Onyx's friend since primary school and she and Dory were two of the best people he knew.
Luna was full and its light flowed and swirled through the meadow like water in a bowl. About a hundred meters out past their solar panels' control shed, he found an almost invisible foot path leading out toward a copse on the edge of the meadow. A memory blazed in his mind: his own property road of crushed rock and dirt, the long driveway to his house from the highway. He and Onyx had put it in just 10 short years ago and the day they finished it, their faces and arms red with dust, Onyx had dunked his head in the big stone trough. When he came up, he shook his thick, black hair like a dog, spraying everything (especially Shayler) and howling "Aaaoooo!" as loud as he could. The shock of cold water splattered on him and the look of playful love on Onyx's face that day a decade ago was so clear in his mind, felt so real, right here, right now. Love for him rushed into Shayler and filled him to overflowing. He shouted into the hills “Aaoooo!" to hear the echo. It came, but it was overpowered out by a shrill bleat that made his stomach freeze and his skin crawl.
“Aahhh… Aaaaaaaaagh!” That was followed by words of a language Shayler didn’t recognize. He ran into the copse.
It was a small group of wild nandina and cypresses with a clump of ligustrum running through it. He stopped and listened. Silence. After a few heartbeats he heard a whimper to his right, where a red cypress had fallen years ago, by the look of it. Behind the log he saw movement. Something black was moving just over the top of the fallen tree. No, he realized: Two somethings.
It was a small group of wild nandina and cypresses with a clump of ligustrum running through it. He stopped and listened. Silence. After a few heartbeats he heard a whimper to his right, where a red cypress had fallen years ago, by the look of it. Behind the log he saw movement. Something black was moving just over the top of the fallen tree. No, he realized: Two somethings.
“Hello?” he called. He listened with all his might.
“Please … ” The reply was barely audible, but Shayler could hear that it was a man’s voice.
He picked up a heavy branch. As he closed in on the log, his heart pounded and he wished he had a weapon more intimidating than an old cypress limb. If this was a trick to rob or kill him, he was defenseless. He patted his front pocket of his shorts to make sure he had his folding knife and took two more careful steps. The two ebony black somethings became clearer and he saw there was symmetry to them, like spirals that broke off in jagged ends.
“Who are you?” he called in a voice full of false bravery.
Violent coughing came from behind the tree. It was wet, raspy and full of pain. If this was a trap, its perpetrators were very good actors. The hurt man suddenly thrashed and tried to kick something off his legs. Shayler saw black boots. The thrashing stopped and a weak voice said “Quit … quit… please.”
He neared the tree and peered over it. The two black broken-off spirals grew between two large, furry ears. The furry ears, he saw, were connected to a head of black hair matted with blood. He jumped over the log and gasped. It was a giant goat. He blinked and squinted to see through the forest’s dimness. It was a man, not a goat. Or, rather, it was a man who was a goat. It was a faun, the first he'd ever seen. He was frozen in place until the man whispered again, with a face full of pain: “Please.”
Two heavy posts lashed together with thick rope sandwiched his ankles. The black boots Shayler had seen were hooves. The faun’s hands behind his back were obviously tied together too, making his right shoulder bulge in an unnatural way. There was such terror in the faun’s face that Shayler knew he was seriously hurt and frightened, so the first thing to do was calm him. He walked to the faun and slowly crouched down near him. The faun’s eyes went from wide with fear, to glazing over and rolling up as he struggled to remain conscious. Instinctively, he told him his name.
“I’m Shayler.”
The faun blinked, trying to focus on his face. Shayler could see the fear in his eyes.
“Shale? ... what?"
He wasn't sure if the faun was asking for his surname or was only expressing confusion.
"I'm Shayler Logonos. What's your name?"
“Shale? ... what?"
He wasn't sure if the faun was asking for his surname or was only expressing confusion.
"I'm Shayler Logonos. What's your name?"
"Help me ...."
"What's your name?"
Shayler's plan was working. While the faun focused on answering his questions, he stopped struggling against his ropes. "I'm … [more violent coughing] Iacomos … ” the faun said.
"What's your name?"
Shayler's plan was working. While the faun focused on answering his questions, he stopped struggling against his ropes. "I'm … [more violent coughing] Iacomos … ” the faun said.
Keep him talking, he thought. “Ee-ah-ko?”
The faun’s big rectangular pupils dilated and his eyelids fluttered. “Jim ...” he said, woozily. “Jim … I’m … [coughing] … Jim.” He grimaced in pain every time he coughed.
“So Jim, tell me about this situation we’re in....”
Jim’s face was blank. “The situation ...” he mumbled. He looked dazed, as if he thought he was dreaming Shayler's presence.
“Um … yes. Our situation." Shayler focused on keeing his voice soft and his speech slow and calming. "I'm going to help you out, but it might take a minute or two. All I have a small knife and this rope is pretty heavy. But if anything I do hurts, let me know.”
When Shayler took his folding knife from his front pocket, the faun screamed again, terror in his face, and struggled against his bonds, pulling at his bulging shoulder in a way that looked agonizing.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh. It’s all right. I’m only here to help.” He moved as calmly as he could to the two poles and the ropes that clamped them to his hooves. "Who did this to you?"
“They're still here,” the faun said, terrified confusion in his eyes.
“Nobody's here but us. Be still. I’ll be as quick as I can without hurting you.”
The goat-man’s eyes followed his knife in terror as Shayler brought it in toward the ropes on the log. He could see the faun fight to keep from panicking, but it overwhelmed him. His long ears went back and he thrashed wildly, straining against the ropes and poles, clearly causing himself more pain. Calm and slow wasn't working so Shayler made his voice stern and loud: “Quit! Be still or I can’t help you.”
It worked. Jim stopped wiggling but he watched Shayler’s hands as he cut at the thick ropes.
Keep him talking. “You’re a faun, right?” Shayler asked. Jim nodded slightly and winced.
"I've never met a faun before," Shayler said, saying anything he could think of to keep Jim's mind off his knife sawing so close to his hooves. "Not that I know of anyway, with the glamoring and all that. Maybe some of my friends back home are fauns and I don't even know it. Back home for me is Acadia, one province over, about a 4 hour drive from here. I'm just here in Big Thicket to help my friends bring in their crops."
He finally cut through one rope. When one leg was freed, he kicked so violently that his hoof almost hit Shayler in the face. “Sorry. I’m sorry. So ... sorry,” Jim said. Shayler pulled the two heavy posts from around his other hoof. Jim struggled to stand up, his hands still tied behind him.
"I've never met a faun before," Shayler said, saying anything he could think of to keep Jim's mind off his knife sawing so close to his hooves. "Not that I know of anyway, with the glamoring and all that. Maybe some of my friends back home are fauns and I don't even know it. Back home for me is Acadia, one province over, about a 4 hour drive from here. I'm just here in Big Thicket to help my friends bring in their crops."
He finally cut through one rope. When one leg was freed, he kicked so violently that his hoof almost hit Shayler in the face. “Sorry. I’m sorry. So ... sorry,” Jim said. Shayler pulled the two heavy posts from around his other hoof. Jim struggled to stand up, his hands still tied behind him.
“No. Wait,” Shayler said. “Let me cut the rope off your wrists.” He half expected Jim to have hooves for hands too.
“No … hooves. Just … regular hands,” Jim said.
“Uh, did you just read my mind?” Shayler asked.
“Sorry ... [coughing] I'll try to quit.”
“No, go right ahead. There is nothing in here I’m ashamed of,” Shayler said and tapped the side of his head.
He sawed through one curve of the knot binding Jim’s hands. As soon as he felt the rope relax, Jim tried to pull free, but screamed in pain, that same shrill, heart-wrenching cross between a bleat and a man’s cry.
“Your shoulder’s dislocated. Quit moving.” Shayler said. He undid the rest of the knot and helped Jim to his ... hooves. Jim wobbled and clutched his shoulder. Another violent fit of coughing hit him and in the middle of it, he gave Shayler a desperate look. His eyes rolled up and he crumpled unconscious onto a soft pile of rust colored leaves and soft needles. Shayler took the bottle from his pocket and dabbed water on his lips and forehead.
“Jim? Brother? Are you with me?” he asked. The faun was breathing. Shayler put his ear to his chest: his heartbeat was regular and strong. He took off his shirt and wadded it up under Jim’s head. He ran to the edge of the trees and shouted for Dory, Cookie, anybody, but the music at the party obliterated his voice completely
The brilliant moonlight poured through the trees and splashed everything with light that glowed so white, it was almost blue. He sat there with faun in silence, looking in awe at this beautiful creature as moonlight through the trees speckled him with white and gray. Old Earth books said that fauns, satyrs, and nymphs were only legends, but they were discovered living hidden among humans during the Great Colonization here, to Taaman. At large, they were able to disguise themselves with an ability called glamoring, which science didn’t understand. It was rumored that satyrs became extinct along with horses here on Taaman; an equine specific microbe wiped them out within twenty years after the Great Colonization. Fauns and nymphs were thought still to exist, although being so secretive and antisocial, it was impossible to know how many or where. Since they were harmless, wanting only to be left alone, the Department of the Census didn’t bother much with keeping track of them. The lopers who wanted to take over Taaman, kept the government too busy to worry about quiet, hardworking, law abiding citizens.
Jim's face was absolutely Grecian-urn cliche in its perfection: equine nose, short beard, black hair out of which grew two ebony, glossy, but broken horns. He had a beautiful torso, with well defined pectorals. It was hard to tell how much chest hair he had, though, because it was splotchy. In some places it was long and thick, but in others it was cut unevenly. There were three bloody scrape marks too, as if he had tried to shave his chest with a wide, dull blade. But the goat-furry part started just below his waist in front and just above his butt in back. From the small of his back down, Jim was definitely a goat, with knees that worked the opposite way from humans and hooves that Shayler could tell, even though they were muddy, were black and shiny as his horns. He noticed Jim’s tail, which was barely peeking out from under his hip. It was short, wispy and jet black like the rest of his fur, except for a tuft of pure white at the end. The two horns on his head, Shayler noticed, had not been broken. There were no jagged edges but each had tiny needles of horn material all around like tiny stalactites. The surface of the breaks were smooth but uneven. The faun's horns hadn't been broken or cut off.
“Melted” Jim said in a groggy voice..
“What? I’m here.”
“My horns … [cough] … melted off...”
“You said you weren’t going to listen to my thoughts anymore,” Shayler said, trying to mask his horror at the idea of something destructively hot enough to melt his horns completely off. He repositioned his wadded up shirt under Jim’s head.
“Sorry,” said Jim, his eyes till closed. “Happens automatic ….I’m hurt. I'm ... not functional.” A strong fit of coughing racked his body. He grabbed Shayler’s hand and held it tight until it subsided.
“Can you stand? Need to get you to an emergency care. My truck is …”
“No,” Jim said in a thin voice. “Fauns … we heal ourselves. If … if it’s bad, medicos won’t be able to do anything, anyway.” Coughing from deep in his chest, he took Shayler’s other hand and stood up. He was shaking. Shayler pulled Jim's left arm around his shoulders so that he could take on some of Jim's weight. “But … got to go,” Jim said through heavy, breaths, "We're not safe here. They …. might come back.”
"Where are they now?"
"Don't know. They [coughing] ...scattered [shallow, fast breathing] soon as you came."
"Where are they now?"
"Don't know. They [coughing] ...scattered [shallow, fast breathing] soon as you came."
“What did they do to you?”
Jim winced. “Terrible things. So much … hate and fear … so much low ….” More coughing cut him off. When Jim seemed ready to go, they walked to the faint road slowly and turned to the house. Every time the Luna hid behind a cloud everything looked like a normal night. When it emerged again, it was so bright, Shayler could see their shadows on the tops of the meadow grasses.
With Shayler’s help, Jim began walking fairly well, as long he didn’t go too fast. “Are you still hurting?” Shayler asked.
“Yeah,” Jim said. “I need to stop. There." He pointed to the solar panels' control center. Shayler eased him down into a sitting position with his back against the polymer siding of the shed.
"Let me call for help," he said, and stood up.
"NO!" shouted Jim, followed by an agonized sounding fit of coughing. "No. Nobody can see me... right now."
Shayler knelt in front of him. "But my friends can help you. They ..."
"No, no, NO!" Jim coughed so hard Shayler could see tears forming. "I can't ... glamor right now. I'm ... too banged up. Please ... please... nobody else can see me." He coughed violently once more and a wad of bloody mucus landed by his hoof. "Sorry ... that's disgusting," he said.
Shayler gave him more water. He drained the bottle.
"Want more?" Shayler asked. Jim nodded. "Let's get you to my cabin. I have food and water there. And a bed to rest in, if you want it."
"Yeah, okay," Jim said. "But nobody .... can see me."
"Of course. If that's what you want."
Shayler picked him up again, readjusted his tee shirt around his shoulders, and helped him to his cabin. As they neared the front door, he sniffed the air, his nose moving back and forth. “I shouldn’t go in there, into your house. [coughing] Thank you for your help, but … I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
"Let me call for help," he said, and stood up.
"NO!" shouted Jim, followed by an agonized sounding fit of coughing. "No. Nobody can see me... right now."
Shayler knelt in front of him. "But my friends can help you. They ..."
"No, no, NO!" Jim coughed so hard Shayler could see tears forming. "I can't ... glamor right now. I'm ... too banged up. Please ... please... nobody else can see me." He coughed violently once more and a wad of bloody mucus landed by his hoof. "Sorry ... that's disgusting," he said.
Shayler gave him more water. He drained the bottle.
"Want more?" Shayler asked. Jim nodded. "Let's get you to my cabin. I have food and water there. And a bed to rest in, if you want it."
"Yeah, okay," Jim said. "But nobody .... can see me."
"Of course. If that's what you want."
Shayler picked him up again, readjusted his tee shirt around his shoulders, and helped him to his cabin. As they neared the front door, he sniffed the air, his nose moving back and forth. “I shouldn’t go in there, into your house. [coughing] Thank you for your help, but … I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Shayler was confused.
“Because you have …. spirits in there,” Jim said in a weak voice.
“Spirits?” Shayler asked. “Ghosts? Ghosts are real?”
“No, not ghosts,” he said. “Spirits. …. libation … drink … alcohol. [coughing] I can smell it.”
"No. I don't drink," Shayler said. "There is alcohol in the main house, but none in my cabin." Jim reached up and held Shayler's chin, turning his head so that they were looking directly into each other's eyes. Luna pulled away from behind a cloud and Jim's yellow irises seemed to glow in the light and his vertical pupils dilated. Shayler almost gasped out loud at their beautiful strangeness.
Jim let his chin go. "All right." His voice was raspy with pain. "Let's go." Shayler walked him into the cabin.
Keep him talking. Keep him awake. “Are fauns allergic to alcohol? I mean, wine and beer and stuff?” he asked.
Shayler could tell it was a struggle for him to talk, but he slowly formed the words: “No, not all fauns. But I am. I’m … [coughing] the term is ‘recovering ... raging ... alcoholic’.”
“Well, I don’t drink, smoke, or take anything stronger than hybrid coffee, so you’re safe with me.” Shayler said.
“Yes, I know,” Jim answered.
Shayler walked him to the bottom bunk in his cabin and began to position him to lie down.
Jim resisted. “No. I’m sorry. [cough] I can’t sit there. [cough cough cough] My … my, um, bum … my ass. It is really dirty … you know … shitty. When they beat me ….unconscious … I lost continence down there.”
“I'll wash the sheets later. Lie down."
Jim was adamant. "No. Take .... off the sheets. Beneath is .... waterproof plastic."
Shayler pulled off both sheets on the bed. Sure enough, the small mattress was encased in a kind of rubberized plastic. "How did you know?" Shayler asked.
"Smelled it," Jim said.
Shayler helped him slide into place. As Jim stretched out on the bunk, Shayler could see the extent of his injuries. It was horrible. “Why would anybody do this to another person?” he thought.
Jim was adamant. "No. Take .... off the sheets. Beneath is .... waterproof plastic."
Shayler pulled off both sheets on the bed. Sure enough, the small mattress was encased in a kind of rubberized plastic. "How did you know?" Shayler asked.
"Smelled it," Jim said.
Shayler helped him slide into place. As Jim stretched out on the bunk, Shayler could see the extent of his injuries. It was horrible. “Why would anybody do this to another person?” he thought.
“For fuck’s sake, please don’t pity me. .... I’m already ashamed ... enough,” Jim said. He tried to cough with as little motion as possible, holding his rib cage with his arm.
“Pity isn’t what you’re reading,” said Shayler. “It’s anger. Peek inside my head if you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you,” he said. Cringing, he held out his right arm. “Please pull on it … once, hard.”
Shayler took Jim’s wrist in both hands. “Okay, now. Deep breath, and when you exhale I’ll pop it back.” Jim repositioned his other arm around his midsection and took a deep breath. As soon as he exhaled, Shayler pulled and his shoulder moved back into its socket. There was a beat of silence, then: “FUCK!” Jim yelled. .
“Let me get you something for the pain. Can fauns have …”
“Yeah. Aspirin, acetaminophen … [coughing] or any kind of wort derivative … would be helpful,” Jim said. “And, do you have … cold press?”
“My hosts do,” Shayler said. “Lie still and I’ll got get them.” He stood to leave but Jim grabbed and held his arm. “I’m sorry … for this, this … [coughing] my problems, you jumped into. You … you’re obviously a … [coughing] decent bloke and I feel like I, um …” Jim sighed and closed his eyes. "... grateful.”
“You're welcome,” Shayler said. “Nobody’s going to hurt you here.”
“For now,” Jim said.
He sneaked into Dory's med emergency box, got a cold press and squeezed a corner. Instantly it became so frigid that it hurt to hold. He pressed the corner twice more and the cold moderated to a bearable temperature. He found aspirin and peroxide and slipped back to his cabin.
“Here,” Shayler said. He put the cold press onto Jim’s shoulder and helped him into a sitting position. He gave him a bottle of water for the aspirin.
Standing, Shayler could see how much blood was in the hair on Jim’s head and matted on his long ears. His beard was short and uneven, bald in patches like his chest. A smear of blood on the left side of his face caused leaves and detritus to cling to him. His shoulders and arms were full of purple bruises and brownish-red scratches. One long bloody cut went from his left elbow down the length of his forearm: defensive wound. He offered to clean them with peroxide, but Jim shook his head no.
“We need to get you clean.”
“Bath, yes,” Jim said, followed by another loud spell of coughing. “Sorry. Damn it, that hurts,” he said.
In the bathroom, Shayler started the pump and turned the heating element to ‘warm’. When the tub was full, he heard Jim slowly making his way toward him from the other room. The sound of his hooves on the floor – a slow thump, thump, thump -- was strange. He appeared in the doorway, coughing. He pushed Shayler out of the way and spat into the sink another clump of bloody mucus.
“You’re coughing up blood,” Shayler said. “You need medical care.”
“It’s just … my nose. They hit it with a club or something. No emergency care. I ... I will heal myself.”
Shayler made a frustrated face. “You’re obstinate.”
Jim nodded in agreement.
"Get into the tub before the water starts cooling,” Shayler said. He held his arm while Jim stepped one hoof, then the other into the tub, and sat slowly.
"Get into the tub before the water starts cooling,” Shayler said. He held his arm while Jim stepped one hoof, then the other into the tub, and sat slowly.
"Ah, oh! Eeeeaaaaah!” he groaned three times, the last one more like a bleat than a human groan.
“Are you hurting?” Shayler asked.
Jim panted a little. He shook his head. “It’s …[cough] good ... What I need.”
“Good” said Shayler. “Here is a wash cloth, a scrub brush, and a pot to rinse yourself with.”
Jim filled the pot with water and doused himself, then picked up the scrub brush by its long handle.
“Can you manage that by yourself?” Shayler asked.
Jim nodded his head. He dipped the brush in the water then put it over his shoulder against his back. He gave two short scrubs and it snapped like a twig.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward Shayler. "Sorry," he said almost inaudibly.
He sighed and handed Shayler the broken brush. He looked down at the detritus and blood in Jim’s hair and the mud on his back. “Would you like me to … um ….”
Jim nodded. "Just .. gently,” he said.
“Sure.” Shayler took the topet end of the brush and held it under the water until it was saturated. Topet was a native plant that grew everywhere warm. Its texture was like a loofah, but the longer you let it soak up water, the softer it became. Shayler softly swiped at the debris stuck to Jim’s back. Unlike his chest, his back was almost hairless. On his head, the bloody mud was stubborn, and the topet was too soft. He used the wash cloth and he wiped Jim's long, furry ears in slow strokes along the direction of the fur. Jim gasped and shivered.
“Too hard?” Shayler asked.
He shook his head. "Fauns ... have sensitive ear flaps.”
“That’s good to know,” Shayler said. He used the pot to pour water down Jim’s back, and squeezed some liquid soap on him. Most of the mud there wiped away easily and he was careful to use the cloth around, but not on, his cuts and scratches. Still, on one ear, he had to scrub more aggressively at some bloody mats. Suddenly Jim doubled over and crossed his forearms over his thighs and said "Aw, shit.”
“Oh my God, did that hurt? Tell me what to do,” Shayler said.
Jim shook his head. He mumbled something in an embarrassed voice. As Shayler reached forward to help him he noticed that Jim seemed to be hiding something under the water. Shayler looked away quickly.
Jim blushed from pink to red. "Sorry,"
“It’s fine,” Shayler said. “I have seen hard penises before. I sometimes even have one myself,” Even though mine isn’t that beautiful, he thought.
Jim's look told Shayler that he had read his thought. With his face screwed up into a grimace of pain, he leaned back in the tub, with his hard penis lying in the blood and fur under his navel. Shayler immediately guarded himself against a rush of lust, which came and went just long enough to make him feel ashamed.
“You must be hungry. What do fauns eat, excuse my ignorance?”
“Eat anything. Omnivores,” he said. “But ... too tired."
Shayler went outside to take a deep breath of cool night air. Onyx, he thought. What is wrong with me? This was insane. Why did he feel guilty? It was a quick moment of lust, something that was as simple as stimulus / response. He hadn't seen the intimate parts of another man in two and a half years. And he knew that lust was a harmless emotion that, as long as he didn’t act on it.
It's just a faun's penis, he told himself .
First time you ever put those 5 words together in your life, I bet, the Onyx in his mind said. Shayler smiled.
It's just a faun's penis, he told himself .
First time you ever put those 5 words together in your life, I bet, the Onyx in his mind said. Shayler smiled.
Whenever he felt overwhelmed with the farm, finances, the loneliness, anxiety, he conjured up a picture in his mind of Onyx. He did that now, imagined standing next to him with his hand on his shoulder muttering with fake grumpiness. Don’t be a dumb, Shay. I love you and I always will. That won’t ever change. It's all right to experience new things. He could almost feel him squeeze his shoulder. The guilt drained out of him.
He went back in and put the sheets on the top bunk, then used a wet cloth to clean up the dirt and excrement on the lower. When he went to check on Jim, he was reclining in the long tub with his head on the edge and his hooves propped up. His eyes were closed. Shayler said his name softly.
He lifted one hand slightly: I'm not asleep. He opened his eyes and, bracing himself on the side of the tub, slowly pulled himself up to stand. Shayler saw that his penis and softened, but hadn’t yet fully retracted into its … pocket looking thing.
“Sheath,” Jim said.
Shayler went to him. "Here, let me ..." Jim held up his hand and shook his head: Let me do it.
“Sheath,” Jim said.
Shayler went to him. "Here, let me ..." Jim held up his hand and shook his head: Let me do it.
Now that he was clean, Shayler could see deep blue bruises on his sides and his abdomen. The three scrapes on his torso looked as though they removed a layer of skin along with the hair. one deep looking gash came just millimeters from his right eye. When he turned around, Shayler cringed. The men who beat him must have used whips and planks; his back was covered with lashes and long, thick bruises, but none of the wide, scrape-like wounds on his chest and thighs. He wondered if he should apply medication to Jim’s cuts.
Jim shook his head. "Heal myself," he croaked.
Shayler gave him a large towel but he could tell Jim was having trouble using his recently dislocated right arm. Starting at his shoulders and upper back, down to his butt, and then to his furry legs, Shayler dabbed him dry. When that was done, Jim pointed to the toilet: Can I have some privacy?
Jim shook his head. "Heal myself," he croaked.
Shayler gave him a large towel but he could tell Jim was having trouble using his recently dislocated right arm. Starting at his shoulders and upper back, down to his butt, and then to his furry legs, Shayler dabbed him dry. When that was done, Jim pointed to the toilet: Can I have some privacy?
"Yeah, of course. Take your time," Shayler said.
He sat the cabin's only chair, next to the bed. It was an comfortable old recliner whose footrest didn't work any more. He closed his eyes and imagined Onyx’s heavy, furry arms around him. He listened for the sound of Jim’s hooves, and he jumped, startled, when suddenly he was there, standing silently in the doorway of the bathroom.
"I didn't hear you walk up," Shayler said. Jim limped toward the bed and sat on it slowly.
He sat the cabin's only chair, next to the bed. It was an comfortable old recliner whose footrest didn't work any more. He closed his eyes and imagined Onyx’s heavy, furry arms around him. He listened for the sound of Jim’s hooves, and he jumped, startled, when suddenly he was there, standing silently in the doorway of the bathroom.
"I didn't hear you walk up," Shayler said. Jim limped toward the bed and sat on it slowly.
“Not coughing as much.” Shayler said.
Jim nodded, then curled up into a ball on his side.
"You want a sheet, or something to cover with?" Shayler asked.
Jim shook his head and curled in on himself a little tighter.
"Okay, then. If you need anything, you know where I am," Shayler said. He climbed into the top bunk. "Lights out," he said loudly and the cabin went dark except for that dazzling blue white moonlight through gaps between the curtains. With a faun sleeping under him and the music at the pool showing no signs of stopping, he doubted he would sleep at all. He thought of Onyx there with him, sleeping next to him, and before he knew it all the lights were on in the cabin and it was 06:00.
Shayler showered, brushed, and dressed in the small bathroom. Walking out, he noticed Jim's yellow eyes were open, watching him from the lower bunk.
"Sleep all right?" Shayler asked.
Jim shook his head. He looked exhausted.
"Look, I'll leave for home later. You stay and rest and I'll keep Dory at bay, even though...."
"No." It clearly took great effort for Jim to speak. "Those things that attacked me. They know I'm here. They'll be back ... Gotta leave or ... I'll put your friends in serious danger. Must go somewhere else. Thank you for your help."
"Wait, brother," Shayler said. "You can barely walk. You say you'll heal yourself, but you don't look much better today. How long will this self healing take?"
Jim shrugged. "A few weeks ... or more. Dunno."
"You 'dunno'. Great," Shayler said. "Okay, listen to me. I'm going to tell my friends that I'll stay for one more night so you can rest without ..."
Jim slammed his hand on the table producing a whomp that made the windows rattle. He shook his head slowly but emphatically, with a combination of pleading and anger in his eyes. "You ..." he pointed at Shayler. "Go," he pointed at the door. "Too dangerous. They'll be back ... looking for me."
"So stay put in here, why not?" Shayler asked. "We'll keep the doors and windows locked and if anybody does show up, they won't be able to get in."
Jim laughed what, under less painful circumstances, might have been a fairly sardonic laugh. "They are able to get in. Easily." He pointed to the cooler. "Water ... please?"
Shayler got him a bottle and he downed almost half of it when he choked and started coughing again. It got so violent that after one loud cough, Jim threw up his water along with some of the strongest bile Shayler had ever smelled. When Jim got through retching, he looked up at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and wiped vomit from his mouth with the back of his hand. Tears were coming from his tightly closed eyes and he dropped back down onto the bunk. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't worry." Shayler got the damp towel from his shower and sopped up most of the mess.
"So," Shayler said as he wiped. "Tell me if I understand. Your attackers might be coming back..."
"Not 'might'. Will..." Jim said.
"Okay, so your attackers will be coming back so you need to be as far from here as soon as possible, but you can barely stand, much less walk away. That about right?"
Jim nodded.
"Solution: I'm leaving to drive 400 miles east of here. I can drop you off anywhere you want from here to there. When they come to look for you, you'll be long gone. Sound good?" Shayler asked. Jim nodded and stood up. He clomped over to him. Without warning he threw his arms around Shayler and leaned at least half of his body weight against him. He could feel Jim's belly muscles contract as he cried. Shayler let him stand against him until he was ready to go.
Shayler knew that Dory and Cookie would be waiting for him in front of the house to say goodbye. They finally stopped trying to give him money for his work, which he refused to accept. This year instead, they made a present of an old book he'd always admired, a collection of writings by Thomas Aquinas. In the dark of pre dawn, Jim crouched down onto the floorboard of his truck while they hugged and said goodbye. When Shayler's truck cleared their property Jim got up and sat next to him. He picked up the book.
"This is what they gave you ... for your work? Generous," he said.
"Every year it's tricky to convince Cookie and Dory that I don't want payment for my time here," Shayler said. He waited for a response but it never came. "That would be like a therapist paying you for services, instead of the other way around. A gift of a book, though..."
Jim held up the book. He opened it, flipped it open, and there were ten one hundred dollar bills wedged in there.
"Damn," Shayler said.
Jim tried to stretch out on the seat of the truck, his hooves hitting up under the dashboard while he tried finding a comfortable position. He dozed for a while that that -- Shayler could hear faint snoring -- but woke up and tried to find a different position. He did this over and over. When the sun rose behind them and the dim cab got brighter, Shayler could see how pale and drained he looked.
"Sorry. I wish my truck was a little roomier," he said, but it was clear Jim had no desire to speak.
Finally Jim lay on his side, the truncated end of his horns a few centimeters from Shayler's leg, his hooves on the floorboard and seemed to drop off. It was a fitful sleep, though. Jim adjusted his position and his left horn poked Shayler's thigh, while his right one came too close to the steering wheel for Shayler's comfort. He pushed the seat back to make more space between his stomach and the steering wheel, and immediately Jim rested his head in Shayler's lap. After that Jim apparently slept well, remaining relatively still. Shayler had to put his right arm up across the back of the seat to keep from bumping Jim's horns, but that made his arm tingle and go to sleep. Still snoring, Jim reached up and pulled Shayler's arm around to his chest. Shayler forced himself not to flinch and pull away. When Jim began to pull at his fingers, he realized his hand was balled into a tight fist. Gently, as slowly as he could, he unclenched it. Jim pressed Shayler's palm into the middle of his chest in his sleep. That seemed to calm him even more, and he held onto Shayler's arm with both hands.
He slept for about 3 hours. When he did awaken it was with a startled jump. He looked at Shayler's arm in his hands as if he didn't know what it was. Like he was giving back something he had stolen, he slowly pushed Shayler's arm back to him and sat up.
"Where?" he asked.
"We're about an hour away from my home," Shayler said.
Jim coughed and held his side. "Drop me off anywhere," he said.
"Just come home with me until you feel ... if not healed, at least ambulatory."
Jim shook his head and gestured to the fields they were zooming through. "Here ... here is good. To leave me."
"No," Shayler said.
"But ..."
"This is what's happening," Shayler said. "I'm driving to my home. If you want out before then, you'll have to jump, so good luck. Otherwise when I get home you can stay until you get better or take off, your choice. You obviously know I won't hurt you, that I want to help you, so I'll hope you'll stay to convalesce."
Jim frowned and gazed out the window and the fields of freshly cut rice and rows of silver solar panels beyond them. He nodded.
They drove the rest of the way without talking. It was more than a little disconcerting to be in the company of an awake man who could know your thoughts, unfiltered. Out of nowhere the memory of eating cabrito barbecue exploded into his mind and he mentally scrambled to quash it.
Still staring out the window, Jim made a dismissive, waving motion with his hand: what you eat isn't a concern of mine.
To stave off more unwanted thoughts he kept his mind busy with math:
2 + 3 =5;
2 x 3 = 6;
2 + 4 = 6:
2 x 4 = 8;
2 + 5 = 7,
2 x 5 = 10, etc.
He thought he noticed Jim laugh, but it might have been a cough.
They got to his farm and he helped Jim in. He eased him onto the sofa, then went back to his truck to get his bags. When he got back, Jim was gone.
"Hey," he called. He sighed. He was probably right now hobbling off to the woods to hide somewhere and wait for death. Shayler's disappointment made him realize that just under his conscious mind, he was hoping for friendship with Jim, like what he had with Dory and Cookie, except here instead of the Big Thicket province.
A sound like something heavy sliding across the floor came from the hallway.
"Hey? You here?" He walked to the hall and noticed that the door to his office was open. Inside, Jim was sitting on the floor looking up at the shelf on the wall, at the titanium urn of Onyx's ashes, staring at it as if he were listening for something.
"That's the urn..."
Jim held up his hand: Shhh.
Shayler stood just as still as Jim. In a few seconds, he put one hoof under him and using the side of Shayler's desk, lifted himself up. The second the instinct to help arose in Shayler, Jim again put up his hand and shook his head: Let me do it alone.
"Please. A sunny area."
"You want to rest in a sunny area?" Shayler asked. Jim nodded. Shayler took him to his guest bedroom, which had a large southeast facing window. He pulled back the curtains and the sun made a beach-blanket sized rectangle of light on the floor. Jim walked toward it.
"Let me get you a chair," Shayler said.
Jim shook his head and lay down on the floor in the sunlight.
"That's a cypress wood floor," Shayler said. "It's pretty hard."
Jim raised his eyebrows in a question and pointed at the bed.
"The blanket?"
Jim nodded. Shayler pulled it off the bed, doubled it over, and put it on the floor in the sun. Jim moved onto it and gave Shayler a slow blink: Thank you.
"You're welcome. Are you hungry?"
Jim looked thoughtful for a minute, then nodded his head. He cleared his throat and coughed.
"Kale and red cabbage ... from garden ... please. And soup?"
"Wow, you can smell my kale and cabbage in my garden from inside a closed house," Shayler said. "That must be an interesting talent."
Jim curled up with his thighs almost to his chest. His head looked uncomfortable. The idea of a pillow had barely formed in his mind before Jim looked up and nodded. Shayler got one from the bed and gave it to him. When he left the room Jim looked comfortable and at peace balled up in his patch of white sun.
He texted his neighbors that he was home and would pick up his dog, Skylos. His reply from timandsissycanning@googlesouth dot newearth said "have a good trip? shell b Xcited 2 c u."
And of course she was. She danced what Onyx called "the Sky jig," where she tried to wag her head and her tail at the same time while jumping up and down. She leapt into the cab of the truck, excited to go home, but as soon as she got in, her tail stopped wagging, her ears picked up and she sniffed at the seat, the floorboard, then back on the seat.
"It's okay, girl," he said. "It's just a new friend."
As soon as he pulled onto his long driveway at home, Skylos couldn't contain herself. She bounded out of the truck and ran off to check on her food bowl under the verandah. About noon, Shayler picked some kale and cabbage and made white bean soup. Sitting on the floor where he had been sleeping, Jim ate slowly and sipped only a small bit of soup. He thanked Shayler with a nod and a slow blink. He got up grimacing with his quilt and walked to the front door with his hooves making a sound of dok, dok, dok . Shalyer followed him to the west side of the house. There, Jim put the quilt down on the verandah in the sunlight, and curled up again to sleep. Skylos ran up barking.
"Hush, Sky," Shayler said. "Sit."
She sat a meter away from Jim, but growled under her breath and wouldn't take her eyes off him. Jim reached out toward her.
"Um ... she's skittish with strangers. Not that she'd bite, but ...."
"Sky," Jim said. "C'mere girl." She inched toward him until her head was next to his hand. They stayed that way, perfectly still, for a few seconds, then Spot put her head up into Jim's hand. She wagged her tail slowly.
"That is ... amazing," Shayler said.
"She's good ... dog," Jim said, curling up again into his blanket. "She wants to protecting you..."
Mid afternoon, Shayler heard splashing and looked out at Jim. The reality of this scene suddenly hit him hard. There was a man who was part goat, with a very human looking penis emerging from a very hircine looking "sheath", urinating through the railing of his verandah, onto the grass below, with his shy, stranger-fearing dog sleeping peacefully nearby. When he came to check on Jim at sunset, the breeze was picking up, so he got a sheet and draped it over him. Around ten, just as he was ready to go to bed, Jim appeared with the blanket and sheet balled up in his arms.
"You were asleep all day," Shayler said. "You want to sleep some more, or ...."
Jim nodded. "More rest, yes."
"I changed the sheets on your bed and put out a clean blanket for you."
[end chapter 1?]
"You want a sheet, or something to cover with?" Shayler asked.
Jim shook his head and curled in on himself a little tighter.
"Okay, then. If you need anything, you know where I am," Shayler said. He climbed into the top bunk. "Lights out," he said loudly and the cabin went dark except for that dazzling blue white moonlight through gaps between the curtains. With a faun sleeping under him and the music at the pool showing no signs of stopping, he doubted he would sleep at all. He thought of Onyx there with him, sleeping next to him, and before he knew it all the lights were on in the cabin and it was 06:00.
Shayler showered, brushed, and dressed in the small bathroom. Walking out, he noticed Jim's yellow eyes were open, watching him from the lower bunk.
"Sleep all right?" Shayler asked.
Jim shook his head. He looked exhausted.
"Look, I'll leave for home later. You stay and rest and I'll keep Dory at bay, even though...."
"No." It clearly took great effort for Jim to speak. "Those things that attacked me. They know I'm here. They'll be back ... Gotta leave or ... I'll put your friends in serious danger. Must go somewhere else. Thank you for your help."
"Wait, brother," Shayler said. "You can barely walk. You say you'll heal yourself, but you don't look much better today. How long will this self healing take?"
Jim shrugged. "A few weeks ... or more. Dunno."
"You 'dunno'. Great," Shayler said. "Okay, listen to me. I'm going to tell my friends that I'll stay for one more night so you can rest without ..."
Jim slammed his hand on the table producing a whomp that made the windows rattle. He shook his head slowly but emphatically, with a combination of pleading and anger in his eyes. "You ..." he pointed at Shayler. "Go," he pointed at the door. "Too dangerous. They'll be back ... looking for me."
"So stay put in here, why not?" Shayler asked. "We'll keep the doors and windows locked and if anybody does show up, they won't be able to get in."
Jim laughed what, under less painful circumstances, might have been a fairly sardonic laugh. "They are able to get in. Easily." He pointed to the cooler. "Water ... please?"
Shayler got him a bottle and he downed almost half of it when he choked and started coughing again. It got so violent that after one loud cough, Jim threw up his water along with some of the strongest bile Shayler had ever smelled. When Jim got through retching, he looked up at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and wiped vomit from his mouth with the back of his hand. Tears were coming from his tightly closed eyes and he dropped back down onto the bunk. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't worry." Shayler got the damp towel from his shower and sopped up most of the mess.
"So," Shayler said as he wiped. "Tell me if I understand. Your attackers might be coming back..."
"Not 'might'. Will..." Jim said.
"Okay, so your attackers will be coming back so you need to be as far from here as soon as possible, but you can barely stand, much less walk away. That about right?"
Jim nodded.
"Solution: I'm leaving to drive 400 miles east of here. I can drop you off anywhere you want from here to there. When they come to look for you, you'll be long gone. Sound good?" Shayler asked. Jim nodded and stood up. He clomped over to him. Without warning he threw his arms around Shayler and leaned at least half of his body weight against him. He could feel Jim's belly muscles contract as he cried. Shayler let him stand against him until he was ready to go.
Shayler knew that Dory and Cookie would be waiting for him in front of the house to say goodbye. They finally stopped trying to give him money for his work, which he refused to accept. This year instead, they made a present of an old book he'd always admired, a collection of writings by Thomas Aquinas. In the dark of pre dawn, Jim crouched down onto the floorboard of his truck while they hugged and said goodbye. When Shayler's truck cleared their property Jim got up and sat next to him. He picked up the book.
"This is what they gave you ... for your work? Generous," he said.
"Every year it's tricky to convince Cookie and Dory that I don't want payment for my time here," Shayler said. He waited for a response but it never came. "That would be like a therapist paying you for services, instead of the other way around. A gift of a book, though..."
Jim held up the book. He opened it, flipped it open, and there were ten one hundred dollar bills wedged in there.
"Damn," Shayler said.
Jim tried to stretch out on the seat of the truck, his hooves hitting up under the dashboard while he tried finding a comfortable position. He dozed for a while that that -- Shayler could hear faint snoring -- but woke up and tried to find a different position. He did this over and over. When the sun rose behind them and the dim cab got brighter, Shayler could see how pale and drained he looked.
"Sorry. I wish my truck was a little roomier," he said, but it was clear Jim had no desire to speak.
Finally Jim lay on his side, the truncated end of his horns a few centimeters from Shayler's leg, his hooves on the floorboard and seemed to drop off. It was a fitful sleep, though. Jim adjusted his position and his left horn poked Shayler's thigh, while his right one came too close to the steering wheel for Shayler's comfort. He pushed the seat back to make more space between his stomach and the steering wheel, and immediately Jim rested his head in Shayler's lap. After that Jim apparently slept well, remaining relatively still. Shayler had to put his right arm up across the back of the seat to keep from bumping Jim's horns, but that made his arm tingle and go to sleep. Still snoring, Jim reached up and pulled Shayler's arm around to his chest. Shayler forced himself not to flinch and pull away. When Jim began to pull at his fingers, he realized his hand was balled into a tight fist. Gently, as slowly as he could, he unclenched it. Jim pressed Shayler's palm into the middle of his chest in his sleep. That seemed to calm him even more, and he held onto Shayler's arm with both hands.
He slept for about 3 hours. When he did awaken it was with a startled jump. He looked at Shayler's arm in his hands as if he didn't know what it was. Like he was giving back something he had stolen, he slowly pushed Shayler's arm back to him and sat up.
"Where?" he asked.
"We're about an hour away from my home," Shayler said.
Jim coughed and held his side. "Drop me off anywhere," he said.
"Just come home with me until you feel ... if not healed, at least ambulatory."
Jim shook his head and gestured to the fields they were zooming through. "Here ... here is good. To leave me."
"No," Shayler said.
"But ..."
"This is what's happening," Shayler said. "I'm driving to my home. If you want out before then, you'll have to jump, so good luck. Otherwise when I get home you can stay until you get better or take off, your choice. You obviously know I won't hurt you, that I want to help you, so I'll hope you'll stay to convalesce."
Jim frowned and gazed out the window and the fields of freshly cut rice and rows of silver solar panels beyond them. He nodded.
They drove the rest of the way without talking. It was more than a little disconcerting to be in the company of an awake man who could know your thoughts, unfiltered. Out of nowhere the memory of eating cabrito barbecue exploded into his mind and he mentally scrambled to quash it.
Still staring out the window, Jim made a dismissive, waving motion with his hand: what you eat isn't a concern of mine.
To stave off more unwanted thoughts he kept his mind busy with math:
2 + 3 =5;
2 x 3 = 6;
2 + 4 = 6:
2 x 4 = 8;
2 + 5 = 7,
2 x 5 = 10, etc.
He thought he noticed Jim laugh, but it might have been a cough.
They got to his farm and he helped Jim in. He eased him onto the sofa, then went back to his truck to get his bags. When he got back, Jim was gone.
"Hey," he called. He sighed. He was probably right now hobbling off to the woods to hide somewhere and wait for death. Shayler's disappointment made him realize that just under his conscious mind, he was hoping for friendship with Jim, like what he had with Dory and Cookie, except here instead of the Big Thicket province.
A sound like something heavy sliding across the floor came from the hallway.
"Hey? You here?" He walked to the hall and noticed that the door to his office was open. Inside, Jim was sitting on the floor looking up at the shelf on the wall, at the titanium urn of Onyx's ashes, staring at it as if he were listening for something.
"That's the urn..."
Jim held up his hand: Shhh.
Shayler stood just as still as Jim. In a few seconds, he put one hoof under him and using the side of Shayler's desk, lifted himself up. The second the instinct to help arose in Shayler, Jim again put up his hand and shook his head: Let me do it alone.
"Please. A sunny area."
"You want to rest in a sunny area?" Shayler asked. Jim nodded. Shayler took him to his guest bedroom, which had a large southeast facing window. He pulled back the curtains and the sun made a beach-blanket sized rectangle of light on the floor. Jim walked toward it.
"Let me get you a chair," Shayler said.
Jim shook his head and lay down on the floor in the sunlight.
"That's a cypress wood floor," Shayler said. "It's pretty hard."
Jim raised his eyebrows in a question and pointed at the bed.
"The blanket?"
Jim nodded. Shayler pulled it off the bed, doubled it over, and put it on the floor in the sun. Jim moved onto it and gave Shayler a slow blink: Thank you.
"You're welcome. Are you hungry?"
Jim looked thoughtful for a minute, then nodded his head. He cleared his throat and coughed.
"Kale and red cabbage ... from garden ... please. And soup?"
"Wow, you can smell my kale and cabbage in my garden from inside a closed house," Shayler said. "That must be an interesting talent."
Jim curled up with his thighs almost to his chest. His head looked uncomfortable. The idea of a pillow had barely formed in his mind before Jim looked up and nodded. Shayler got one from the bed and gave it to him. When he left the room Jim looked comfortable and at peace balled up in his patch of white sun.
He texted his neighbors that he was home and would pick up his dog, Skylos. His reply from timandsissycanning@googlesouth dot newearth said "have a good trip? shell b Xcited 2 c u."
And of course she was. She danced what Onyx called "the Sky jig," where she tried to wag her head and her tail at the same time while jumping up and down. She leapt into the cab of the truck, excited to go home, but as soon as she got in, her tail stopped wagging, her ears picked up and she sniffed at the seat, the floorboard, then back on the seat.
"It's okay, girl," he said. "It's just a new friend."
As soon as he pulled onto his long driveway at home, Skylos couldn't contain herself. She bounded out of the truck and ran off to check on her food bowl under the verandah. About noon, Shayler picked some kale and cabbage and made white bean soup. Sitting on the floor where he had been sleeping, Jim ate slowly and sipped only a small bit of soup. He thanked Shayler with a nod and a slow blink. He got up grimacing with his quilt and walked to the front door with his hooves making a sound of dok, dok, dok . Shalyer followed him to the west side of the house. There, Jim put the quilt down on the verandah in the sunlight, and curled up again to sleep. Skylos ran up barking.
"Hush, Sky," Shayler said. "Sit."
She sat a meter away from Jim, but growled under her breath and wouldn't take her eyes off him. Jim reached out toward her.
"Um ... she's skittish with strangers. Not that she'd bite, but ...."
"Sky," Jim said. "C'mere girl." She inched toward him until her head was next to his hand. They stayed that way, perfectly still, for a few seconds, then Spot put her head up into Jim's hand. She wagged her tail slowly.
"That is ... amazing," Shayler said.
"She's good ... dog," Jim said, curling up again into his blanket. "She wants to protecting you..."
Mid afternoon, Shayler heard splashing and looked out at Jim. The reality of this scene suddenly hit him hard. There was a man who was part goat, with a very human looking penis emerging from a very hircine looking "sheath", urinating through the railing of his verandah, onto the grass below, with his shy, stranger-fearing dog sleeping peacefully nearby. When he came to check on Jim at sunset, the breeze was picking up, so he got a sheet and draped it over him. Around ten, just as he was ready to go to bed, Jim appeared with the blanket and sheet balled up in his arms.
"You were asleep all day," Shayler said. "You want to sleep some more, or ...."
Jim nodded. "More rest, yes."
"I changed the sheets on your bed and put out a clean blanket for you."
Shayler turned on the light in the guest bedroom and started turning down the bed. Jim had not moved from the doorway, and tears were running down his face.
He was staring into the wall mirror with his hands on his broken horns. He was feeling the weird spiky edges and crying. Shayler turned the mirror to face the wall. Jim reached for it as though to turn it back around but Shayler gently and slowly pulled his hand back. Jim sat on the floor and wept.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Shayler said. “I thought you knew about your horns." He tried to pull Jim up and toward the bed.
“Of course I did” Jim said, between sobs and coughs. "It's just the first time actually seeing ... " He lowered his head and spoke so quietly Shayler could barely make out the words: “Don’t wanna sleep alone tonight." He touched his horns. “ ... I need...." Whether he was coughing or crying or a mix of both, Shayler didn’t know. He cried for a few minutes more while Shayler sat next to him, wanting to put his arm across his shoulder but not knowing if this would hurt or frighten him. Without speaking, Jim took Shayler’s arm, pulled it across his own shoulders, and leaned into him, crying on Shayler’s chest. Jim’s broken left horn was inches away from Shayler’s face.
Jim pulled away and turned to face him. He took a couple of deep breaths as though what he was about to do took enormous effort. “I wanna tell you," he said. "Fauns sleep in … in piles, kinda ... everybody next to everybody else,” He took another deep breath. “Non sexual. No fucking or playing ... around. Just sleep That's when ... chi between us rejuvenates. And I ... I need that .... contact. Could I? Sleep with you, not ... alone?”
“Um ….”
“Please? I'm very tired,” Jim said.
“Would it work with me, a non-faun? The chi thing?” Shayler asked.
Jim nodded.
“Yes. Sure you could, but there is … uh … in the spirit of full disclosure, something I have to tell you.”
Jim held up his hand and wrinkled his forehead. “Yeah ... yeah, I know,” he said, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. "You're gay and Onyx is your husband."
"He was ..."
Jim cut him off. "No. He still is."
"He was ..."
Jim cut him off. "No. He still is."
Shayler's throat closed up with the emotion of the moment, so he changed the subject. “Wow. Um ... Yes, of course you know. So, then you are, ummm, welcome to sleep here, with me. It just feels a little funny, since …”
“Onyx,” Jim said. Shayler nodded. He could see that talking was exhausting to him, so he led Jim into his bedroom and turned down the bed. Jim eased himself onto the mattress. In the bathroom, Shayler changed into his cotton pajama bottoms then got into bed slowly, not to jostle Jim. Relax, relax, relax he told himself and pulled the sheet over both himself and Jim.
“Good night,” Jim said.
“Night,” Shayler said and turned off the light.
Then after a few seconds: “Shayler?”
He was surprised to hear Jim say his name. "Yes?”
“You wouldn't mind if I touched you,” Jim said. He phrased it as a statement of fact, not a question.
“Touched me? What do you mean?” Shayler asked, alarmed.
“Not sex,” he said. “Just, you know. An arm around you while I drift off. Just …the chi. It would help me heal.”
Shayler turned around so that his back was to him. “Thanks for asking first, but you already know the answer.” He reached back and took Jim’s hand and pulled it around him until he was holding it palm open against his chest, the way Jim did in the truck.
He moved closer while at the same time pulling Shayler’s back into his chest. In the dark, he could feel Jim’s scratches and welts from his wrist to his elbow. Shayler could hear him yawn. “I thank you. You are exceptionally …. decent …..” Coughing wracked his body.
"No more talking," Shayler said. "Time to sleep.”
The last thing he would have suspected two weeks ago, when he got up out of this bed was that he’d be back in it tonight with a man who had goat legs, a tail, horns, and hooves. Oddest of all was, it didn't feel that odd. Lying next to a man who wasn't Onyx, in their own bed and the feel of having an arm around him after being alone for so long; he expected it to be overly intense, guilt ridden, so new that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. But what was strangest of all in this moment wasn’t the goat legs or hooves under the sheets next to him. It was how completely safe and calm he felt. Jim seemed to be drawing Shayler into sleep along with him. The more regular and measured Jim’s breathing became, the more sleep washed over Shayler in slow, long waves.
The last thing he would have suspected two weeks ago, when he got up out of this bed was that he’d be back in it tonight with a man who had goat legs, a tail, horns, and hooves. Oddest of all was, it didn't feel that odd. Lying next to a man who wasn't Onyx, in their own bed and the feel of having an arm around him after being alone for so long; he expected it to be overly intense, guilt ridden, so new that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. But what was strangest of all in this moment wasn’t the goat legs or hooves under the sheets next to him. It was how completely safe and calm he felt. Jim seemed to be drawing Shayler into sleep along with him. The more regular and measured Jim’s breathing became, the more sleep washed over Shayler in slow, long waves.
[end chapter 1?]
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