River Boys (Part 2)

“Are you gonna talk to me today?” Cal waited anxiously for Joseph’s reply. Joseph still couldn’t meet Cal’s eyes; instead he watched his clumsy feet trail along the dusty path that went from the village down to the riverbed. He didn’t really feel like talking to Cal but he hadn’t had the heart to turn him away again.
“Sure, I’ll talk to you.” The two of them sat down by the edge of the river. Neither of them actually had anything to say. Cal had stretched out into his usual reclined position. It was still too early in the day for Cal to want to do anything too strenuous. They had both got up at first light. Cal liked to start early and Joseph enjoyed the morning birdsong and the absence of the other boys with their loud carrying voices and disruptive nature. Joseph was also jealous; he liked having Cal to himself. Joseph watched Cal with his pale, envious eyes and wondered again how he could look so good even this early in the morning and how he could come out without a jacket or sweater and not feel cold. The summers were always hot but it was far too early for the sun to have started to warm up the earth or water yet. Joseph sat hunched up and began to run his fingers through the long, wild grass. Cal watched him curiously and wondered what it was he had done to upset Joseph so much. Joseph got out his sketch book again and began to draw, trying to capture the running water on paper. Seeing this as a good sign, Cal relaxed and closed his eyes, smiling contentedly. The two of them were finally both at peace. Joseph knew it wouldn’t last long.

A bird swooped overhead; that was all it took to destroy Joseph’s tranquil environment. Cal’s eyes flickered and opened. He sat up, running his fingers through his naturally untidy hair. He glanced over at Joseph who was still drawing before turning his attention to the river. Having decided that it was now warm enough to swim, Cal stood up, stretched again, and began to undress. Joseph watched transfixed out of the corner of his eye. He always loved watching Cal – no matter what he was doing. He took each item off with such grace. He started with his shirt; undoing all the buttons top to bottom and then slipping it off with no more than a shrug of his beautifully carved shoulders. Cal turned to drop his shirt down next to Joseph who quickly averted his gaze and guiltily pretended to be drawing. But Joseph was still able to admire Cal’s perfectly sculpted chest and wonderfully toned stomach muscles. He loved the elegance Cal seemed to possess. He had beauty that Joseph could only dream of.  Cal stripped down to his shorts which he was wearing under his jeans. Cal stood for a moment, gazing out over the surface of the river, stretching out his perfect body. God wasn’t fair Joseph decided. When he’d made Cal he’d used an entirely different material. Cal was beyond human beauty.

“I won’t be too long OK?” Cal said to Joseph who once again was pretending to draw.
“Sure.” Joseph didn’t allow himself to look up again until Cal had already climbed down the steep river bank, out onto the rocks jutting out over the water and dived head first into the cold, crystal clear river. Joseph watched Cal resurface and begin making clear confident strokes towards the opposite bank. Joseph found himself compelled to watch as Cal hauled himself up onto the rocky edge and began to climb the cliff face. The climb itself wasn’t too dangerous; over the years the generations of boys and some of the girls had worn away a narrow path by which you could climb up to the ledge from which they each hurled themselves from so triumphantly, oblivious it seemed to the danger in what they were doing. The path was steep, but Cal didn’t have any problem. He was used to it. He climbed upwards fearlessly, determined to reach the ridge. Once there he paused for a moment; he knew he had to judge the angle of his jump, if he jumped too close to the cliff the he’d plunge straight down onto the sharp rocks at the base of the cliff just appearing out of where the water became darker, and if he jumped too far out, then he’d land where it was too shallow and probably break his neck. He knew all this, he calculated it all each time, but it never occurred to him that he might get it wrong. Cal took a step back. Paused for a fraction of a second. And jumped. Joseph held his breath as he watched Cal’s young athletic body plummet downwards. He hit the surface. Only Joseph closed his eyes.

The bright sunlight shone through the leafy branches of the overhead trees. Last night’s rain had made the sandy soil beneath him soft and crumbly but the sun was already starting to dry it out. Joseph sat in a dream like stupor, leaning against a large tree heavily covered in ivy, the lids gently closing on his restful eyes. He inhaled softly the scent of damp earth and pollinating flowers. Someone screamed and Joseph looked up. But it was just another one of the village boys making a scene out of jumping off for the first time. (He was probably about five or six years younger than Joseph.)

“Hey Joseph!” Cal came running towards him grinning jubilantly and tossing his wet hair out of his eyes. “Do you have the time?” Joseph looked at his watch, it was half six, the boys wouldn’t get tired for a while yet. To Joseph’s surprise however, Cal didn’t immediately run off at hearing these words.  Instead he fell down beside him in a sort of resigned yet somehow elegant flop. Joseph said nothing for a while and continued with his drawing but after a considerable amount of time had passed he felt he should say something.
“Are you alright?” Joseph enquired a little anxiously. Cal was normally the last to stop, continuing well into dusk when the river water turned black and you couldn’t see the rocks for the looming shadows.
“Mmm...” Cal was lying flat on his back and had his eyes closed and his head tilted towards Joseph. His arms were at his sides, his fingers gently curled. Joseph sat quietly, biting his lip. Cal even smelt wonderful. He was all fresh and natural. Joseph could smell his hair; it had the scent of everything outdoors and just a little like honey. Joseph slid down so that he was lying beside him, propping himself up on one elbow, his body twisted in Cal’s direction. Their faces were so close Joseph could feel Cal’s soft breathing against his face. The overwhelming desire to pull himself that tiny bit closer so that their lips might gently brush against each other was what was making him nervous.

“Cal! Cal where the hell are you?!” Joseph sat up very quickly and Cal’s eyes snapped open. He sat up yawning and tossing back his hair which had dried while he had been resting.
“What time is it?” said Cal stretching out his arms.
“About seven.” Cal looked startled.
“Since when?”
“Since you were asleep.” Joseph was pleased to see that even Cal was human enough to feel tired.
“But why didn’t you wake me?” Cal asked a little reproachfully, his large blue eyes stared at Joseph, unable to see any possible reason why Joseph wouldn’t have every interest in waking him and sending back to mess around with the others in their suicidal game.
The other boys raced up to collect Cal and drag him back to the river which seemed to captivate them so entirely in the summer months of the year.

Joseph had gotten bored of drawing, frustrated by his inabilities and strolled down to the river’s edge. He wandered aimlessly along the riverbank; watching each of the tiny dark fish skitter about beneath the surface, darting from each glistening patch of sunlight to the next, trying to keep their tiny bodies warm as the water cooled, allowed to do so by the weakening sun.

Further down, the river spread out and the left bank fell away to give a large, flat, pebbled beach which flooded in the winter. As a young child Joseph had enjoyed spending time there. There had been far less for him to be afraid of. His ever vigilant mother had been able to watch him from the edge of the beach, reclining on some of the flatter stones under a tree, reading a book. Joseph could recall these carefree childhood memories with such beautiful clarity and a sort of golden aura which he took to be his own wistful longing for the past. A craving for a time when his days had been spent playfully chasing small skittish fish with a net through the shallow water, which was warm but still clean and clear. The fish, well trained of the danger, would zip about desperately trying to escape him. There were larger fish in the river too but they were sensible and knew enough to stay away from the shallow water and instead allowed themselves to be swept away in the fast moving current towards what Joseph had supposed must be the sea. Cal had always been quite good at catching fish but Joseph lacked something of the stealth which Cal possessed and so caught nothing. He could remember his frustration and not being able to understand why the fish always swam away from him. That had been before his mother went down to the water with him, the soft soles of their bare feet burning on the baking stones, or perhaps they kept their sandals on... She showed him how to lie still in the water for a long time and after a while the fish would simply accept your body as a new part of their environment, swimming calmly around you and sometimes even nibbling your toes – which Joseph’s mother assured him can’t hurt because fish don’t have any teeth.

Perhaps that was the first sign, the first indication that Joseph wasn’t going to be like any of the other boys - racing around, chasing each other though the water, sending ripples cascading out in every direction. Perhaps... but then maybe he hadn’t had signs. Not warning signs at least – symptoms as if what he had was a disease. Maybe he was just how he was meant to be – how God had made him. Joseph sighed. He put his sketch book beside him as he sat and watched the currents of the water swirl and race past each other. He didn’t pay that much attention to the boy’s games. He was trying not to think of Cal.

“Wow, these are amazing...” It was the tone not the words which caught Joseph’s attention. It was of the deliberately false sarcastic variety which Joseph found distressing. The pointed way in which the words were said told him that it was him they were speaking to. Joseph froze, not wanting to turn around and face another one of his fears. To his mind, there were few worse things than being mocked openly; it was humiliation he minded the most. Joseph turned around. It was David Harris. Joseph knew David like all of the other boys, but he’d never been entirely certain of his intentions. David was the sort of boy who thought it was funny to trip people up and throw water over them. All in the name of good humour of course but Joseph doubted very much whether he and David shared any interest in each of their very different styles of humour. Joseph stared at him openly terrified, trying to beg him with his eyes, please, please don’t, I never did anything to hurt you, just leave me be... But David didn’t appear to use that subtle form of communication.
“I never knew you were such an artist.” He snickered in a way that made Joseph feel sick. Holding Joseph’s sketch book out so that the whole crowd of boys who had gathered around them could see it.

Joseph was reminded suddenly of a time when they had both been very small; he had been sitting by the edge of a field where Cal and some of the other boys were playing ball games. He hadn’t had his sketch book with him then but he had amused himself watching the small colony of ants which had built their nest near to where he was sitting. Joseph didn’t really like ants, but he found himself fascinated by them as they worked in a steady line, gathering food and building materials in an orderly yet frantic manner. It had been David, who, when the game was over and they came to go home, seeing the anthill, started stamping on it and chasing the ants, trying to crush them. Joseph remembered the other boys seeing him do this and joining in too. (Joseph couldn’t remember whether Cal joined in or not.) Joseph on the other hand had just stared at him, unable to understand.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were drawing Cal! Hey Cal, get over here!” Cal looked up from further up the bank and started to jog towards them.
“Give it back!” Joseph said, desperate for Cal not to see it. How could he live with the embarrassment? The other boys were one thing; he’d never had their respect, but Cal... Joseph reached out frantically for the sketch book he’d spent the past few years filling with every one of his visions, his inspirations, his pathetic yet cherished emotions. “Just give it back!” David was faster than Joseph and pulled the sketch book away in time laughing openly now and leapt over to Cal to show him. Cal laughed with them. (Of course he would.) Joseph couldn’t take it - not from Cal. “Just let me have it back you stupid bastard!” They stopped laughing then. They were still grinning but they were uncertain. Cal cocked his head to one side as if there was something he didn’t quite understand. Joseph was on the verge of tears but he was angry enough to hold them back. David frowned.
“For Christ’s sake, you never can take a joke... Or are you just upset because Cal wasn’t next to you for more than one second. You know if you want to propose to him now that’s OK with us, really we don’t mind.” He got an applause for that one as they all roared with laughter. (Except Cal who was still smiling but looking confused.) David had moved towards him mockingly pulling a simpering face and pretending to declare his love for Cal in the form of a serenade. Joseph tried again to snatch the sketch book off him and failed.
“Oh I’m sorry do you want this back?” David was almost choking with laughter, “Here, catch.” Joseph was never intended to catch it; it sailed way over his head. David must have intended it to go in the river, but whether he really thought about it or not was debatable.
“Oops sorry, my bad.” David fell to the floor laughing. Joseph just stood there while his world came crashing down around him. His sketch book that he had poured his life into was drowned and washed away by the merciless river. Joseph met Cal’s eyes. The look he gave him was beyond words. It was everything Joseph had kept welled up inside him, despair, hate, shame; everything bitter and resentful was allowed to show itself just for a moment. The smile on Cal’s face disappeared instantly. But it was too late. Joseph staggered backwards for a moment before breaking eye contact and running past them all back up the path he’d come down.

“Joseph!” Cal called after him but Joseph wouldn’t look back. It would be pointless to chase after him in such a state. Cal felt sick. He knew Joseph better than anyone; he should have known it would hurt him. There were so many things which hurt Joseph; he was so fragile. (His mother would kill him when he got home – if she found out what had happened – she had always told him to look after Joseph. He was far too delicate; he needed looking after.) Behind him the other boys were continuing to laugh and David was still doing impressions.
“Will you just shut-up David?!” Cal turned around furiously. That stopped them all at once. When Cal said something they took it seriously, they respected Cal. David stood up properly.
“Hey, I... I didn’t mean it. I was only messing around Cal.” Cal turned away. How could he have let this happen?
“Come on Cal we didn’t mean anything by it.” The other boys watched him nervously, if Cal didn’t like it, then it was important. Cal sighed and looked back up towards the path to the village.
“That doesn’t make it right does it.”

Joseph’s feet thudded against the dusty soil. His eyes stung with tears but he wouldn’t stop yet. The world around him was a blur. Brightly coloured flowers and plants whizzed past. The sounds Joseph usually cherished were lost to him. The flutter of wings and the chorus of birdsong were inaudible against the sound of his feet pounding the earth or the panicked beating of his heart. He thought he could run forever. Past anything that had ever been of any importance to him. People, places... all the useless things Joseph had taken to accumulating deep in his heart, he let them all rush past. Without holding on, without their weight, he was lighter than air, he didn’t have to run; he could glide. But Joseph did stop. He stopped when he reached the inside of his room – door slammed shut.

He stood still and let all the things he cared about catch up with him. What was left of his fragile, fluttering heart broke and Joseph plummeted into despair. It took a moment for the grief to wash over him but it did, leaving something else in its place. White hot anger flooded Joseph’s mind. Of all the ways they could have hurt him. Of all the people. He couldn’t get the image of Cal grinning out of his head. Stupid, ignorant, self-centred, confused and bewildered Cal. His Cal. His glorious saviour. His protector. His white light and pure intentions. How could he come back from that? How could anyone or anything make up for that? And his sketch book... His pride and joy, his outlet to the world, the collection of all his desperate outpourings and misjudged attempts at perfection. It read like a diary, holding a part of his soul which he refused to give up yet couldn’t manage to keep inside him.

There was a thunderstorm inside his head. It raged viciously against all voices of reason or salvation. Its dark black clouds spread out, blinding his rationality and understanding. Joseph’s mind lacked gravity; there was no up or down. Rain, lightning, thunder – everything flew everywhere in all directions.

Outside Joseph’s bedroom window, everything was calm. On the distant horizon a beautiful sunset cast out an orangey glow. The sky was an amazing array of colour – reds and oranges, yellows and golds and pinks and purples decorated the sky as if it were a canvas. Joseph would once have dreamed of being able to capture it, recreating its beauty for himself. Now he glared at it accusingly. Its beauty made him sick. He hated it, despised it for being able to exist to such a degree of perfection. He resented all living things for daring to breath and wished them all dead with childish rage. It would be a good backdrop for Cal. Both were beautiful beyond comparison, both had delighted Joseph with their seemingly modest yet breathtaking displays and stunned him senseless with their amazing quality of design. Their design – a totally different design from Joseph’s. They had both been designed for some higher purpose. They both were oblivious to their obvious, undeserved gifts and those unimportant individuals who lacked them. Joseph was of no importance to them or their superior designs. Joseph had been so sure of Cal’s designer quality that it had been that which had driven him to his faith. With such well designed and thought out creatures and objects in the world, surely there had to be some divinity involved? God must exist in Joseph’s mind, if only to create these elite beings and occurrences. When Joseph had looked up this reasoning of his at school in text books, they told him it was so called teleological proof of God’s existence, first discovered by a man called William Paley. Joseph had wondered vaguely if William Paley had come across the same problem as he had – how to explain these things, these people, how to reason that they were simply beyond anything any normal person could ever hope to achieve.

Joseph had never been any good at taking a mature viewpoint. He hated those who told you that things didn’t really matter it’s not the end of the world – not for them at least. But it felt like the end of Joseph’s world. In his head an apocalypse raged. No-one was saved, there was no glorious judgement passed to save the good and punish the wicked, there was no voice of reason. The innocent burnt along with sinners. Joseph swore he no longer believed in a loving God.

Joseph clambered clumsily as ever out of the rushing water and onto the rocks. But he wouldn’t stop to whinge about the cuts on his hands and feet or whimper miserably to Cal about the numbing cold of the water or the sickening vertigo of the cliff he was about to climb. If he did it wouldn’t be the calm and reassuring voice of Cal he would get as his answer but a bleak drawn out silence.

It was still very early in the morning; everything had a cold and damp feel to it. The sun hadn’t yet broken through the morning mist which spread eerily along the valley. Joseph shivered. No-one would know he was missing yet. Water dripped from his unkempt hair and his clothes which he hadn’t bothered to remove. Joseph began to climb. He knew the route. He had seen Cal and the others climb the cliff face so many times. He’d even climbed part the way up himself once – but that had only been to stay close to Cal. There were times when he’d do anything just to stay with Cal. Even climb halfway up a sheer cliff face of white, chalk like rock, when he was terrified of heights and repeatedly cut open his fragile body on the sharp rocks it wasn’t designed to climb. And the sight of his own blood seeping from his delicate artist’s hands made him nauseous. And if he stopped, if he stopped climbing then he had to look down. Down, down, down all the way to the bottom. The bottom of the river where he saw each of them lying spread out with their skulls smashed open like hard, unripe fruits dropped onto stone tiled kitchen floors. Their precious and vulnerable insides splattered out in every direction. Blood oozing from their lifeless corpses. That was as far as Joseph had gone up the cliff. Even with Cal holding his hand like a child and telling him he’d be OK. He hadn’t understood. How could he? He was fearless and determined. He scaled the cliff in seconds each time. He never looked down. He didn’t have to see their corpses with their broken limbs and battered skulls. It never even occurred to him that it could happen. Why should it? Joseph cried. He cried then with all the village boys sneering at him, and he cried now where only the occasional bird flying overhead could see, with their cunning eyes, the desperate tears of a terrified boy.

Cal ran. He’d run this way many times before; the boys often raced down to the river. But this time he ran alone. There was no-one to beat, yet he ran with all of his ferocity. But what would happen if that wasn’t enough? What if he doesn’t make it? Cal’s never had that happen before. Cal always wins everything – every race and every game. He’s never had to accept a defeat; he’s never had to cry. But what if he doesn’t make it this time? Cal ran beautifully; he always did. It wasn’t something he tried to do, he just did. His pulse and breathing, his balance and co-ordination; he’d gotten everything down to an art form. His grace was breathtaking, every move had such precision, and such was Cal’s astounding ability that all the world around him moved to help him and nothing stood in his way. Mother Nature smiled on her child. But this time it was different. This time tangled branches of gnarled trees lunged out at him, tendrils of ivy trail down, trying to pull him back, and dark ravenous roots stretch up and coil themselves, attempting to trip him up as they continue their desperate quest to steal nutrients and suck all moisture from the surrounding soil. Cal can’t understand it. He’s Mother Nature’s son. Normally everything parts to let him through but not today. Today the world is bitter. Why should ‘Golden Boy’ have it all so easy? Why, when it’s all his fault?

Joseph had reached the ledge. He stood there staring out over the landscape. The cliff gave him a beautiful view of the valley. And, when the sun grew strong enough to break through the morning mist, the entire valley would be filled with golden sunlight. Farmers would smile at their crops, women like Joseph’s mother would hum softly to themselves whilst hanging out the washing, and children would rush into the street to play (at least until school started again). But Joseph was oblivious to such things. His eyes followed the water. The surface of the river appeared smooth from here – like glass. But Joseph wasn’t fooled; he knew all too well of the evasive undercurrents just beneath the deceptive surface. Joseph stepped forward to the very edge and closed his eyes. The cool breeze ruffled his wet hair, he shivered with the cold. He balanced on the brink of the abyss for a moment– it felt like an eternity. He opened his eyes again and looked for one last time at the world around him.
“Joseph!” Joseph had never heard Cal scream like that. But he was distant, far off, like a dream or memory replayed. He had seen it far too late. Joseph closed his eyes once more and stepped into nothing. He felt the air rush past him. The water was racing up to meet him, but he was oblivious; he had already let go. He hit the water with a splash that echoed around the valley but Joseph barely felt it. He had shut out reality for good.

“Joseph... Joseph... Joseph please, for God’s sake wake up.” Joseph could hear Cal’s beautiful clear resonating voice. Still in the distance, still very far off, but it was there. Joseph felt pleased; he could listen to Cal’s voice all day. It always sounded so wonderful, serene and controlled, playful yet relaxed. However, this wasn’t Cal’s usual voice Joseph could hear, he sounded panicked and nervous, his words were pleading and desperate.
“Joseph please...” Joseph stirred a little and began to regain some of the feeling in his body. Someone was pressing down on his chest with cold wet hands. The pressure was causing the stones beneath him to cut into his back; he needed to tell them to stop. Joseph’s eyelids flickered and he found himself face to face with Cal. Not the calm, laid back Cal that he knew so well, but a distraught, desperate Cal with tears streaming down his already wet face.
“Cal?” Joseph’s own voice sounded strange and distorted but this didn’t seem to bother Cal who, on hearing Joseph speak his name, gave a small strangled cry and promptly flung himself around Joseph’s neck. He stayed there sobbing for a moment or two before pulling back, allowing Joseph to breath.

Joseph was shocked to see him like that. Cal was usually so handsome and composed, now he looked panic-stricken and ill. His soft hair was wet and tangled; his clothes that usually gave him his effortlessly attractive appearance were soaked and dirty where he’d jumped into the river fully clothed. Appearance normally meant so much to him but now he looked like a bedraggled shivering wreak.
“You’re all messed up.” Joseph said thickly, reaching out to try and brush Cal’s dripping hair back off his face but Cal had flung himself at Joseph once more and had returned to crying.

“You’re so stupid... so stupid... why? ...why are you so stupid? Cal sobbed into Joseph’s neck. Joseph could feel Cal’s strong body shuddering as he lay over him, their wet clothes sticking together. Joseph wasn’t sure what to respond to such a question.
“I... I just wanted to be like everyone else... like you... like you’d want me to be... I just wanted you to like me like you like them.” Joseph turned his head away; how could he explain to Cal how important he was to him? Cal lifted his head just above Joseph’s, so that a mixture of river water and tears dripped down off his nose into Joseph’s ear.
“I could never like you like I like the other boys Joseph.” Cal brought his hand gently around Joseph’s cheek so there eyes met again. “You’re not like the other boys to me Joseph. You do know that, don’t you? You do know that, I... I love you... don’t you? The world froze. The trees became motionless, birds stopped mid flight, the wind dropped to nothing and the river didn’t flow, the fish suspended in water like ice. Then, slowly, Cal brought his head down and they kissed. The birds in the nearby trees took off, wings beating against the air, heading out confidently into the rising sun. The river rushed on.