Chapter 6
'Turn around and fix your eye in my direction,
So there is a connection,
I can't speak,
I can't make a sound to somehow capture your attention,
I'm staring at perfection,
Take a look at me so you can see,
How beautiful you are'
The shower was beating hot against Romans back. The rush of water loud and deafening in his ears. He knew Peter was steps away, he could feel his presence. But more than that, he could feel Peter's gaze fall on him upon occasion, the weight of each casual glance seemed to press down on Roman, forcing his breaths to become spare. Roman was sure that his eyes could not pierce through the vinyl curtain, but he felt as if Peter himself could accomplish anything, if willed himself enough to do so.
Roman had never been shy, in fact, he had sometimes been called prideful. He knew his own worth, his own beauty. He was self aware, and if there is pride in not being ignorant to ones own self, then so be it. And yet, he could not bring himself to leave the safety of the hot shower. He was scared.
Fear. Fear was not something Roman was accustomed to. But this fear was not towards Peter, rather himself, his own feelings and inner conflicts. Peter chased him down. Held his hand. Kissed him. And what did Roman do? He dragged him into the shower with him, what message is that sending? But here he was, here they were. And that left Roman with decisions to make, because some part of him wanted to experience Peter's friendship, and perhaps more than friendship.
The heat of the shower was quickly cooling, and Roman knew that soon the unbearable warmth of the shower would become an even more unbearable cold. He made his decision. He would be himself. Not shy. Not scared.
Roman grasped the nozzle of the shower head and slowly turned it to the off position. It groaned against his hand and made defiant sounds to be left alone. But when the water had stopped flowing, and the nozzle had stopped it's groaning, the room was quiet, except for Romans humming. He hadn't even realized that he had been doing it. He stopped abruptly and listened intently, but heard nothing, seemingly no sign of Peter.
Roman had left his towel on the bench outside of the shower, and he felt foolish for doing so. Still, he had made a decision, and no woman or man could make Roman anything other than himself. He pushed back the curtain and walked out, keeping his stare fixed forward, directly at his towel. He felt the cold air cling to his wet skin, he could feel the wet and matted hair of his pubis, but more than that, he felt the crushing weight of Peter's gaze. He felt exposed.
"Well, if it isn't our resident nudist", Roman heard Peter say from behind him.
Roman continued forward until he reached his towel. He picked it up and hurriedly dried off his arms and chest, all the while keeping his back to Peter. He bent to dry his legs and other bits, then he proceeded to dry his hair. He pulled on boxer briefs that had been in the bag next to his towel, and finally he turned around.
"What time is it?", he asked the other boy.
Peter looked at his watch, "It's ten to seven", he announced. His face looked a bit anxious.
"Olivia is going to kill me", Roman said, as he pulled his pants on.
He watched Peter bend to pick up the clothes he had thrown earlier, and he walked towards Roman. He dropped the clothes into the bag after picking out Romans clean shirt. He held the shirt in his hand and looked into Romans eyes.
"Your mother keeps you on a tight leash?", he asked.
"Don't all mothers?", was Romans reply.
Peter gave a short laugh, he looked like he was giving a lot of thought to his next words, "My mother knows I have a natural aversion to leashes".
What did that mean? Regardless, Roman shook it off. He reached for his shirt, but Peter held it behind his back. He was a playful person, and Roman could not help but smile.
"I'm perfectly fine with driving without my shirt, though I worry for the other drivers", Roman said with a face of mock concern.
"Yea, you worry that the sun will reflect off of your pale skin and into their eyes, causing a twenty car pileup?", Peter answered.
Roman made an exasperated sigh. "No. I'm worried that my beauty will cause them all to stare and cause a fifty care pileup!".
"Well you're going to have to work for this shirt, gypsies like me are known for our kleptomania", Peter said with a shrug.
Another dare? Roman reminded himself of his decision. Do not be fearful. He walked up to Peter, until their chests were touching. He brushed his hand up Peter's arm, across his face, and down to his neck. His skin was tender and warm, so warm. Romans hand rested on Peter's jugular, he knew how easy it would be to slice it, to see the red waves flow from Peter. But those thoughts were quickly pushed from Romans mind. He slowly stroked the veins of Peter's neck, continuing down the collarbone, and then slowly dragging one finger down the front of his shirt. Peter's breaths were heavy, but he kept his eyes trained on Roman. Roman lifted Peter's shirt just slightly, and began to touch the bones of his hips, each touch was as light as a feather. He slowly traced the curve of Peter's stomach towards his back, and then moved his hands over the skin, more of a massage then touching. He laid his head on Peter's shoulder, and softly kissed his neck. A sigh escaped Peter and Roman smiled into the crook of his neck. His hands continued to gently caress the muscles of his back. Roman could sense that Peter was quickly forgetting where he was and what he was doing here, so he seized his chance and grabbed the shirt, and yanked with all of his strength. It slipped through Peter's hold easily, and when Peter realized what had transpired he scowled at Roman.
"You win this time, Godfrey", Peter said as Roman slipped the shirt over his head.
"Oh, don't look so sad, Petey. I think you won, in a way", with that, Roman turned to leave. He picked up his bag and felt Peter standing beside him. They walked in silence through the halls of the school, passing by two janitors who paid them no attention.
Outside, the sun was setting. It was late evening and the sky was varying shades of purple and red. The sun itself sat behind trees, their silhouettes still in the calm evening air. Roman led Peter along the sidewalk and to the parking lot where he kept the Jag. Once there, he slid into the drivers seat, he took a glance at Peter, who was still standing next to the car.
"Are you going to get in?", Roman asked.
"It's just so much nicer up close and personal", Peter said as he opened the door and got in.
Roman swelled with pride at that.
Romans usual trip home was a short one. But Peter lived on the other side of the tracks, in Nicolae's old house, the cricket-y shack that kids around town frequently spread rumors about. Nicolae wasn't known around town as a good or a bad man, just an old man that no one took the time to get to know.
Roman had never been to the house, and he had rarely even been to this side of town, but he knew where he was going, thanks to the occasional nod from Peter. The drive there was mostly back roads, dusty and forgotten. Roman and Peter sat in a calm quiet, with Peter taking control of the radio, and skipping past anything that sounded remotely like a pop ballad. When he did find a song he liked he would listen to it for roughly thirty seconds, skip to the next station, and then go back to the previous song. It was endearing and intolerable all at the same time.
The day was slowly fading into night. The purples and reds of the sky had begun to mix into a dull gray. The air was cool as Roman, who had put the top down on the Jag, took slow drags on his cigarette. He offered one to Peter, but instead Peter simply took Romans from his lips and puffed on that one, handing it back afterward.
Roman knew that they were only a few minutes from Peter's place by now, and knowing that filled him with a strange sadness. He had never had the need for people, other than Shelley. So this strange hollowness that he felt at the thought of being away from this boy he had only just met confused him a great deal more than he already was. Roman knew that his friendship with Peter, if continued, would result in something more, something he didn't quite feel he was ready for. But could he stay away? Could he ignore the ravenous hole that seemed to suddenly appear inside of his chest and spread with each of these passing thoughts?
The dusty roads were growing thinner, the night darker, and Peter's house was approaching. Roman pulled in and shut the car off, he looked at Peter and decided to state the obvious, "We're here".
Peter chuckled and turned to look at Roman. "That we are. Listen, Roman, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable today. I'm not always like that".
Roman shifted a little in his seat. This conversation was going to be too serious for him, too quickly, when he was already too confused.
Roman closed his eyes, sighed, and replied saying, "I don't know what to say, or exactly how I'm feeling. All I know is that I want to continue getting to know you. I'm interested in your life, in you".
At that, Peter gave a huge grin, he seemed to have been instantly relieved, though he looked a bit anxious.
"What is it, Peter?", Roman asked.
Peter looked shaken, his calm demeanor falling away into something unknown. His eyes kept shifting to the time on the dash of the Jag, but it was twenty to eight, which seemed pretty early for a guy like Peter.
"I have to go, Roman. Something isn't right", Peter said, and he quickly got out of the car. Roman tried getting out of the car as well, though to what end, he didn't know. He didn't know if he should simply say goodbye, give Peter a hug, or did he expect a kiss? It didn't matter however, because Peter was inside before Roman could say a word.
Roman didn't understand. He didn't feel as though he had said something wrong, but here he was, alone and confused as to what had just transpired.
He started the Jag back up and was about to pull out, when the door of the shack opened. His heart leapt, and then fell when he seen a woman emerging instead of Peter. She was a mousy looking woman, with long brunette hair, and dark green eyes. Roman could only assume that this was Peter's mother. She came to the drivers side of the car and settled her elbows on the edge of the window.
"Hello, Miss Rumancek", Roman said, not knowing why she was here.
"Hi Roman. Please, call me Lynda. Peter sent me out to apologize for him running away. He's got a bit of a stomach bug right now. Could I see your phone?", she stuck her hand out not waiting for an answer. Roman pulled the phone from his pocket and handed it over. She didn't call anyone, but instead typed something in.
"He asked me to get your number. He'll contact you when he's feeling better", she said, and handed the phone back. She stepped away from the car and started walking back towards the house and disappeared inside.
Roman looked down at his phone and seen a new number in the recent texts, he saved it using Peter's name.
Roman then left the house and took to the dusty roads once more to go to his own home. Once there, he attempted a stealthy approach to his room, but he found Olivia sitting up and waiting for him.
"Where were you?", she asked, her tone was malicious.
"I was out running. Lost track of time", Roman answered as he threw his bags into the living room. He started heading toward the kitchen when Olivia caught him by the arm and spun him around.
She wrinkled her nose at him. "What is that god awful smell? Who were you with?!", she seemed panicked, more so than usual for Olivia.
Roman didn't understand what he smelled like, or how his mother could smell that he was with someone else, especially considering he had showered right after his run. But there seemed to be no point in lying.
"I was hanging out with this new kid, Peter", he watched his mothers eyes grow. Was it recognition?
"The Rumancek boy?", her question held no indication of actually being a question, she knew who Peter was, but how?
"How do you know that?", he asked.
"I heard they were in town. Stay away from him, Roman. He's a gypsy, he'll steal from you, or worse", she said all this while walking to the martini bar Romans father had built her one year for her as an anniversary gift.
"He's a nice kid, mom", Roman used the word 'mom' sparingly, only in extreme cases where Olivia demanded him to do something he knew he simply couldn't.
She looked up from the drink and sighed. "You have to stay away. He's.... different". Roman assumed she meant different as in he lacked a trust fund, different as in he had no place to call home, different as in not someone she would approve of, but she continued. "Roman, there are people, things in this world, that are abnormal. The Rumanceks cannot be trusted, not by us".
Olivia was making less sense than usual. Her drunken babble usually didn't start until she was three martinis in. "Olivia, what the hell are you talking about?".
"The Rumanceks. They're monsters. Our family's image is already tarnished, with your sister and now this? Stay away from him or I will-", her voice was growing to a yell when Shelley appeared in the doorway. Roman walked over to his older sister, her expression was one of hurt. Roman attempted to soothe her, touching her cheek and leaving those faint blue lines he loved.
Shelley was a miracle. Pronounced dead upon birth, but somehow the doctors at the Godfrey Institute brought her back. She wasn't left without her imperfections, however, she was tall, taller than Roman. Her skin could glow upon occasion. And she was not granted the gift of speech, forcing her to communicate using grunts and moans, or making use of a computer built to speak for her. Of course, the kids at school thought she was a freak. But Roman loved her, adored her, and he would protect her from them or his mother, who showed very little matriarchal affection for her.
"This conversation is over, Olivia", Roman felt the heat of his voice, the fire in his cheeks, the conviction behind his words. He took Shelly by the arm and led her up the stairs to her room. By now, the stars were beginning to poke through the dark sky. Roman helped Shelley prepare for bed and picked up one of her favorite books, it was poetry by different authors, all of which wrote eloquently. Roman flipped the pages to Shelley's favorite, A Girl by Ezra Pound, he read aloud:
"The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast-
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.
Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world."
He finished reading and kissed Shelley on the head, reminding her that someone cares for her. She began typing into her computer and the automated voice rang out, "Go to sleep, Roman, I'm fine". Roman nodded his head, though he couldn't think of anything other than Peter, of his mothers explanation of him. He needed answers, and he would get them tonight, he intended on sneaking out as soon as Olivia had retired for the night, which would be only a couple of hours.