The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Tadpole

"It's warmer than I remember!"

Able sighed again and removed his boots. He also removed then tucked his shirt and belt into his boots before he waded in and swam out. They could speak more freely out here anyway.

Lark grinned as Able joined him over a cresting swell. "You're so half-assed."

"Maybe I am still traumatized from the stories I was told about groupers snapping up free-floating flesh when I was five."

"The things they say to make kids keep their pants on!" Lark laughed.

"Sure. What do I say to you to get yours back on?"

"Lemme think." Lark rolled his eyes in a show of thinking before breaking into a devious smile and biting his lower lip. "You know...I have always wanted to make love on the beach in the surf? Like they do in those trashy operas?" Fortunately, he did not burst out in one of those songs.

Able's first thought went to places he did not want sand, oddly enough, before he turned to regard the two men standing just beyond the reach of the waves. "Some other beach, perhaps?"

"It was a joke!"

Able frowned and turned back to him. "You meant it."

"So?" Lark was looking out to sea instead of at Able. "Sometimes I say things I mean as jokes."

"Both, fine," Able said and sighed. "Are you aware the general is here?"

"I was until I successfully let my mind go blank!" He then broke into the oncoming wave.

Able floated over it. "Okay." He waited for Lark to resurface and shake his hair out. "They're getting anxious and suspicious in there. Hard to convince them you exist without you. And...I am not comfortable with drafting your claim without your input."

"I just got here. I'll come in when I'm ready."

"Look—" Able stopped and rubbed his face. "If you don't want to do this—"

"Why would I get on that godforsaken ship and drag you all over here for something I'm not going to do?" Still he looked out to sea instead of at Able.

"Your behavior is looking a little self-sabotaging right now."

"Fuck god in the eye," Lark hissed, not easing Able's impression in the slightest. "I'm gonna do it, okay? I'm gonna get over it. I just gotta whine like a little bitch for a while before I can get over it, and if you can't get that, just leave me to it, alright?" He turned over and floated up the face of a wave only to dive when it crested.

Able stayed floating himself, tried to ease into weightlessness and clear away his agitation. The small piece of all this that had ever been in his hands had already slipped away. All he'd ever wanted was to make an impact, and now that he had, the reverberations were beyond his control. Everything from here could be his fault, but never again his responsibility. Only Lark's.

But Lark still needed him. And while he'd say he needed Able to be Able, he clearly needed Able to be something specific right now.

"Hey, speaking of operas," he tried when Lark surfaced near him again. "I believe I saw at least four playhouses on the way here."

"Yeah?" Lark wiped the water from his eyes and was finally looking at him.

"Just wondering if I could bribe you. You go in there, make nice, write a letter to your mother, and then you and I can sneak off to a show tonight."

"To a Gilded Carpenter?" Lark's eyes lit up. "His plays were my favorites! God, does he even still compose?"

"I think so." Able had attended precious few performances in his life, and yet this was a name he knew. The opera-junkies at the university must have mentioned him only several thousand times.