Dog Days

And it was, they say, a damn hot day. To an inth degree Samuel Rogers was satisfied, a hot and sticky satisfied when he looked around the lake, looking at not one, but two tempting, able bodied females, who lay, skin dripping with tanning lotion and sweat. Then she popped into his vision, that girl who everyone desires to talk to, to be able to touch just once, if only to make sure she was real. A second daughter to the Grays, Eliza had eyes of a blue fire burning in the night. To say the least, they stood out against her tan skin. He swore they were barreling deep into his chest from across the lake. Hot sand, burning hot sand forced him into the shade, but she walked, a strap of a white, terrycloth dress dangling over her left shoulder. Her swimsuit was hot pink; the dark hair on her head was like a bushel, bouncing on her head as she walked, angling through people on the beach. Yes, she moved closer and closer to him, walking with her head bent away from the scorching sun.

Eliza lived beside him, or rather, across the street, and he saw her often, watching as she made her way to and fro. They were in grade seven when she moved into the Tudor house across the street, something he had relished in, especially when fellow classmates commented about her, how pretty she was. Eliza, was, and will remain that pretty little thing, and has been since being elected homecoming representative for their freshman class. Indeed, she could stare, into space or right at you with a smile, mocking and calling at the same time. He loved it, wasn't in love, but something welled in his chest every time he saw her, or imagined that she was looking right at him.

She talked to no one and no one talked to her as she made her way out of the hot sun. He saw beads of sweat drip down her skin as she walked by. He counted the seconds until one drop disappeared into the terrycloth...one...two...three...four...five, rolling down from the nape of her neck to the line of clothe above her chest, disappearing into the crease between her breast.

Then she was gone. He scanned the beach again, forgetting the reason he was even there. A hot day for swimming, a perfect day for a dip in the water, but he felt inclined to go back home, bask in the glow of the sun through his bedroom window.

The town was vast, outlined by homes and the school district, but it was really very small, moreover, it was intimate. The separation of six degrees could have been cut in half, everyone was connected in some way or the other. You might not know it at first, but some how he knew her and she knew about his uncles' cousin's drinking problem, which of course lead to the conception of someone’s little sister. Somehow and in someway, everyone knew nearly everything about everyone else, but for some reason, Samuel was the last to learn anything. It had been the way since he could remember, and no one made a move to change this, not his best friends or his mother or his father, who decided that he was going to leave after a fourteen year marriage.

I thought you knew things weren't going well.

Nope, guess you hid things pretty well.

Sam, I'm sorry, but I have to go, I can't stay here anymore. Your mother and I just...well, we're just not compatible.

Yep, could have fooled him, but apparently not his little sister or his older brother, who stood in his bedroom, telling him all the signs that he missed. Perhaps it was him and not the ability of others to fill in him in the latest news. He was just not very good at perceiving things.

He walked down the none-to-shaded sidewalk to his house a few blocks away from their little watering hole. There she was, coming towards him. There was a glow about her, she was walking again, with her head down. It was like that, she was getting closer and he was breathing heavy, partly from the sun, but mostly from the very sight of her.

"Hello Eliza."

She stopped, looked right at him, looked so deep into his eyes that he felt a chill wash over his body. It seemed as if she wanted to ask, are you talking to me? However, she didn't say anything, not at first. She did smile though, sweetly and calmly, though it seemed to mask something.

"Heading back to the beach?"

"I forgot something," she answered, still looking rather surprised that he would utter anything to her in the first place. "I don't think I care anymore."

Odd, the tone of her voice as she said that last part. She turned her body as to walk beside him; her shoulders were turned out, pronouncing her collar bone. Again she smiled, sweetly and seductively with a hint of ah ha. Whatever that meant, he wasn't so sure.

"Can I walk with you?"

"Sure."

She pushed a fallen hair behind her ear. "Going home?"

"Yeah, to bask in the air conditioning."

She laughed. "Can I come?"

"Ah," he paused first, though he wasn't sure why. "Yeah, you can come. It's just going to be me though."

"Okay, I don't mind."

They walked together, for a second it felt as if he should take her hand, holding her close, so she couldn't get away. He felt such an insatiable need to keep her within his reach, to hold her like he had never held another human being before. There was such electricity floating between them as they were silent, idling words, conversations to be had.

Her house was across the street from his, silent in the summer sun. Hot summer sun that made his face beat, pulsing one...two...three times over and it got worse once he was in the air conditioning. He slipped the house key back into his shorts pocket. His mother was working late that evening, a second summer job that took most of her time, but he didn't really seem to mind. His little sister was away with friends, a camping trip up north. His older brother had gone off to college nearly two years ago and was rarely ever around for anything let alone for his younger siblings. The house was cold, bitter cold almost once his skin began to adjust to the new temperature. She walked close behind him, waiting to be taken to his bedroom, and though it was weird to have her in the house, it felt normal that they should just venture into his house, making their way to his bedroom.

"I like it," she said as she entered his bedroom, a gray blue on the walls, and sports memorabilia on the shelves beside and above his bed. "It's you, very much you."

She complimented him once more, when she spotted the few books on his book shelve. He wasn't much for reading, but did have a few treasured favorites...The Catcher and the Rye seemed to have really caught her attention, striking it odd in his brain that she would find him fascinating at all. She sat down on his bed, her tan legs outstretched before her, and she moved like she knew his eyes were on her skin, looking her over. And if this was her assumption, she was right. He was looking at her, stealing glimpses of her as he kicked a few things from the floor, clothing that he had thrown there the night before.

"I don't care about the clothes," she said.

He took that into full consideration and sat down beside her. This was the first time they were together, really...EVER. They hadn't converse leisurely before in school or even thought to hang out at each others houses, since they only lived but a few good feet from each other. Something clicked in his brain as they began conversing suddenly about everything and then nothing, talking about plans for after high school. They were so close to graduating and yet so far from anything important at all. She kept moving in her way, saying this and that and he touched her and she touched him on the arm with her elbow, in the side as she teased him.

"Have you thought about me very much?"

He didn't understand at first.

"You have, haven't you?"

He felt sick, a thump in his throat, keeping him from nearly vomiting. Had he done this before? He wasn't so sure he had ever done this before, seeing such things, a human full of temptation in front of him. Was he a virgin? Looking at her he wasn't so sure any woman had ever existed before, especially as she moved around him, her skin barely touched his and he felt such sweet air between them. That was the first time they had ever been together...EVER. It was the first time he had kissed her...touched her...made any attempt to care about anything before.

"Show me," she said in the paused between breaths, in the time she should have gone for air. "I want to see it...I want to see everything you've ever dreamed of with me."

He felt such a heavy feeling in his chest as she lay beside him afterward, there was a bead of sweat that rolled down her shoulder again, and this time he took his hand, wiping away from her chest. "Eliza," he said.

"What did you leave at the beach?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice sounding tired, like she was about to doze off.

"Just my book...that's all...nothing important."

Odd, he woke in a cold sweat, feeling sick, so sick. He ran to the bathroom, finding it to be morning. His body ached and he felt chills all over, and he began to cry, falling in front of the toilet, hugging it with both arms. Why was this feeling coming over him, such sickness? He thought of Eliza, feeling sad and sick all over again. He thought of her in his arms like it had happened just a few seconds ago, but it felt like a few seconds ago that it had happened many more times than just once.

There was a sound above him, his brother was there. What the hell was Patrick doing home? He said something, asking about something, though he wasn't so sure what his brother was even talking about. He felt sick again and lunged into the toilet, but nothing came out, it was only a dry heave.

"Jesus Sammy, you should get back to bed."

Why, he couldn't sleep, not with such pains in his stomach, a thumping pain right where his heart was. It was just the other day when he had felt Eliza beside him, sleeping beside him. She was in his arms, and by God, this feeling in his stomach was so far from that feeling, being beside her.

"You should get back to bed Sammy. I mean really, this is affecting you bad. You should get back to bed and sleep it off."

"Sleep...sleep what off?"

He felt his brother's gaze on his back, burning into the middle of his spine. If it had been any stronger, the gaze, he might never have moved again, becoming paralyzed by his brother's intense look of question. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead as he turned just slightly, so he could see his brother. There was a look in those brown eyes of his, those eyes of their father, the look of their mother, sympathetic to a degree and dreadful to another. News, there was something that needed to be said. Patrick looked like his mother before she had told him that she would be working more that their father wouldn't be coming around nearly as much as he should. It was a look or regret. I'm regretful in informing you that... Ah huh, that's the look just before he was told what everyone had known since the beginning.

"I came down when I heard about Eliza. I thought you might need a big brother to lean on. God knows dad won't be coming by. He's in Vegas with Laura, you remember don't you, Laura, dad's latest girlfriend?

He nodded, yeah; he knew who Laura was and where his father was. Eliza, what the hell?

"Mom said you've been like this since Monday when you found out. I didn't see it coming that's for sure. She said you two were "cute and happy" whatever that's supposed to mean. Really, I don't know what mom means half of the time."

His brother was rambling. Just shut up for a second or two, at least a second. He felt his brother's hand on his shoulder and he felt sick again, lunging forward in another dry heave. His face must have been beat red already, most of the blood felt like it had rushed out ages ago.

"What about Eliza?" he asked. "What about her?"

He felt that burn again, that staring in the middle of his back. "She's dead, has been since Monday."

"I was just with her."

"Yeah, mom said you two went to the beach on Saturday and that afternoon she saw you two sleeping in your bed...you've been with her all summer...don't you remember anything? Don't you remember…she committed suicide...her mother found her in the Monday morning."

Ah that was it wasn't it? She was a dead girl, his dead girl. His head hit something hard, and his brother leapt forward, grabbing him by the shoulder's to lift him back. He apologized for something, probably for seeming insensitive, but he had remembered about Eliza. He had remembered learning from Mrs. Gray that she had had found her daughter dead in the bathtub with both her wrist slit, bleeding into the water around her. That memory, that first time they had been together and that last time they were together melted and merged in his brain. He felt like crying or vomiting or maybe screaming. He was angry or maybe that was the insatiable need to hold her that was taking over his body.

It was so hot. He stood; he was sure of that, feeling his brother help him.

"Eliza."

"Yes," she answered, her voice sounding tired, like she was about to doze off.

"What did you leave at the beach?"

"Just my book...that's all...nothing important."

He went to his room to find that book, to hold on to something that belonged to her. It wasn't love, and if it wasn't then why did he hurt so much? The first time with her, that last time with her seemed so distant, and yet so close that he was sure it had only happened once, and not at the beginning of the summer, continuing through the hot, dog days of summer. He gripped the thin stock of paper, a little novel by Steinbeck, a little memory of how she was his. He gripped it tight, feeling the book bend in his hands. A million minutes away Eliza had been there, she had looked at him like it was some surprise that he dare speak to her, a time too long ago to count, or so it seemed. She had poured her sweat onto him, onto his bed, that girl.

"Show me," was more an accurate account of what she had said in his ear that very first day as she paused between breaths, in the time she should have gone for air. "I need to see it...I need to see everything you've ever dreamed of with me."

And so it was done.

In vain?



(please bear with the rough draft)