Summer Of ’85
-Chris Penn BearFic-
It was a scorching July summer day of ’85 when I found him lying unconscious near Old Hapgoody’s farm. Beside him was a tattered orange jumpsuit and I don’t need to tell you that he did not just leave from a Halloween party in a drunken stupor. Unless gunshots were involved, that was one heck of a monster bash.
I removed the dang textbooks I was carrying in my backpack (fuck you, Introduction to Biology!) as I stuffed in the big man’s orange uniform. I then wrapped my P.E. shirt on the man’s bleeding left leg. My batshit loony of a dad had actually taught me some useful things after all.
“Hey, mister.” I felt the man’s sweaty and thick back. “Mister, wake up.”
The man woke up, dizzy from the blood loss, while I helped him to his feet. He was heavy and I felt his heavy breathing. His burly arms around me made me feel funny down below.
It was a challenge, but we made it down to Hannigan’s Lake. Nobody ever came down here, so he should be good to go.
* * * * *
After some time, after my mom’s pills took their effect on the man, I returned with soap and my old man’s clothes. I found him sitting on a rock, barely moving at all.
“Hey, kid. Thanks.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to be tough and cool.
“Appreciate it, really, kid. I really do.”
I walked towards him and handed him a soap.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, kid. I’m not a good guy.”
“It’s okay. I’m not good, neither.”
The big man laughs while he shook my hand. “Thank you.”
I nodded then sat behind him. I could not help but stare and admire his wide back.
“Kid. You know what my old man used to tell me? ‘Son, God fucks us all up on all seasons. Especially, summer. He sits on his mighty throne and he burns us all like hapless ants.’ I never used to know what it meant, but I kinda understand it now. That old bastard, may God bless his soul…”
“You mean like with magnifying glass?” I stupidly replied, not knowing what to say.
“Yeah, sure, kid. With magnifying glass.”
The man starts to wash his hair with the soap and I was mesmerized at the moment. I was confused. I kinda forgot about Samantha. I did not know why.
“Kid. Don’t worry about it.”
“What you’re feeling. Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You saved my life, so I’ll be straight with you… Ever heard of an ’empath’?”
I nodded “no.”
“I can read people’s emotions.”
What the fuck? I felt violated. I stood up and yelled, “I’m gonna call the cops. You can’t just do that!”
“Listen, kid. Calm down. Would you rather me not tell you?”
He made some sense. But I still felt violated. “Listen, I don’t like guys. I don’t even remotely find you attractive. I just feel sorry for you. Couldn’t your empath-thing be like broken or something?”
“Yes. It could be.”
There was a quiet moment when I burst out laughing. “Sir. I’m sorry. I think you’re right.”
“No shame in it. I’m like you, you know. Don’t worry though. I’m not into kids.”
I was a bit disappointed, but it appeared to be a summer when God and his magnifying glass appeared to have forgotten about me…