Was it a falling out? Maybe I rushed it? Maybe I tried too hard, maybe Ivan was too reluctant to try? Clay’s mind races as he bounces on his toes, skipping rope in his backyard. Despite the gruelling physical demand of his construction job, he completed his workout in the late evenings as a matter of habit. He’d normally do 2 sets with the jump rope, and his rope would be a blur in an oblong circle around his body as he made quick, tight jumps and never catching the rope on his feet. Today, Clay is hardly himself and can barely turn the rope ten times before he is stumbling and resetting. It’s been like this for a while, since Ivan left, and he throws the rope in frustration. He finds that hitting the punching bag is his greatest relief and he tears into it, knocking sand lose that is starting to collect in a small pile underneath.
Maybe I’m not good enough for him, Ivan is so gentle and smart and I’m a brute. I can’t express myself like he does and I don’t give enough, who would want that?
As the questions intensify in his mind, Clay hits harder and the flimsy fabric of the bag that has seen years of wear finally gives. It rips and a wave of sand pours out at his feet. Clay kicks the sagging sack out of frustration. It’s just one more thing in a long list of things that haven’t been going his way lately. Since Ivan left, Clay and his sister had fallen behind on payments for their father’s house and late fees were piling up. Clay had been able to work full time since he finished high school, but his sister’s hours were cut at her job and most of the financial responsibility had fallen on him. They noticed leaks in the roof that had caused rot to the ceiling and Clay had to find weekend work to afford the repair. Clay’s car was making noises that worried him and he prayed that it held on until he had the money to afford the fix. They are all manageable problems but they come at him in rapid succession and Clay is reaching a breaking point. Losing Ivan seemed to typify the troubles in his life.
He’s been asking himself the same questions for months and they occupy his mind to distract him and make him disinterested in everything around him; when something cuts into that inner monologue of questions, Clay is aggressive and short. People who know him hardly recognize him. He has no patience for anything but thoughts of Ivan. He has gained a lot of respect from people in his neighborhood since his most recent confrontation with the drug dealer/purveyor of the brothel just a couple houses down from his house. The man had it out for Clay since their first encounter that ended with the man’s nose broken. More recently, when Clay was out for his morning jog, the man came at him with a gun turned sideways like a gangster in an early ‘90s movie. It was early enough that kids watched on from their bus stops as Clay stood calmly with his hands up and the man slowly approached him.
“Get a cheap shot now, nigga!” The man screamed with a smile on his face.
“Ain’t no need for this, man,” Clay said calmly, no emotion on his face, waiting for the man to get closer. He seemed to enjoy the audience and he wanted to make the moment last. Clay mostly felt empty inside; Ivan had recently left and there was a part of Clay that didn’t care if he lived or died.
The man approached close enough to press the gun into Clay’s chest. “You think you fast? You ain’t faster than my gun, bitch.” The man sneered as he loudly gathered spit in his mouth and he launched it into Clay’s face. It dripped slowly down his cheek. “Say something.”
The man pulled the gun away from Clay’s chest, intent on pistol whipping him and Clay’s instincts kicked in. He was much faster than the man; he punched his wrist hard enough to fracture the bones and the man whimpered as the gun fell to the ground. Clay jabbed the man’s face repeatedly until he fell and then Clay kicked him in the ribs hard enough to feel them shatter. Clay was about to finish his morning jog when he heard police sirens and if not for all of the witnesses, Clay would have been arrested; he was in no mood to explain the ordeal to police. Despite the respect he’d earned for dealing with the man that was a nuisance to the civil elements of his neighborhood, Clay was unable to revel in it. The world had lost its color and nothing seemed to excite him anymore.
Things had seemed to be going well in the beginning. He and Ivan had spent a lot of time getting to know one another after the shooting that put Ivan in the hospital, but Ivan had been distant because of the mysterious circumstances that brought Clay to his hospital room; to this day Clay can’t explain how he even knew Ivan’s name before they met. But they both enjoyed one another’s company and their attraction was strong. Clay had dealt with questions about his sexuality all of his life because he didn’t date like his brothers and never showed any interest in girls, but it was a part of himself that he was content to leave unexplored. And when his sexual urges did manifest, he rejected them because he knew that it would only elicit disgust from his brothers whose opinions meant more to him than he was willing to admit. His father had been in prison since Clay was 11, and when Clay would visit him or talk to him on the phone, he would ask him if he had a girlfriend, but Clay would change the subject and even though Clay couldn’t imagine being honest with his father, the man had his suspicions and loved Clay anyway. His relationship with Ivan was the best thing to ever happen to Clay though it had only lasted for a few months before Ivan left very unexpectedly and with no explanation. Clay was left wondering how he had pushed Ivan away.
Clay sits with his knees gathered under his muscular arms on the porch and looks out at the trees in his backyard. The night is full of sounds and he remembers that brief happiness that he had with Ivan. He didn’t care how inexplicable it was and for the first time in his life, Clay wasn’t embarrassed to be a gay man. Ivan was the love of his life and he knew it, and he thought that Ivan felt it too, but he is gone now and he wouldn’t answer his calls, his text messages, or his emails.
The sky is mostly empty. Clay stares up at the few stars visible there and the moon just over the high horizon of trees in the northern section of the sky. He wonders if Ivan is staring at the same moon but then feels dumb for the sentiment. Why would he think about me? If he cared he’d be here now, Clay thinks.
And just as the thought leaves his mind, there is a gunshot that rips the silence in half. A bolt of surpise and adrenaline streaks through Clay’s body and he turns to see a woman he does not know aiming a gun at him. She smiles.
“You should be feeling that now,” she says and nods in Clays direction.
Clay does feel it now, a bullet had passed clean through his abdomen and he looks down at the blood that is spreading his shirt.
“This is what happens when you fuck with people. It don’t matter how much boxing you do. It don’t matter how fast you is. No man can beat a bullet to the back.”
Clay falls to ground as the woman walks away. He looks up at the sky and suddenly there are clouds there. He feels the pain from the gunshot but it takes a backseat to the vision of Ivan that forms in the clouds and he reaches for it. The love that he would never know.
Eventually Clay’s arm drops like lead. And for a second, the nature of his backyard is silent and still. Then, as if called to action, a fury of spiders stir from their webs, their underground hideouts, and they swarm Clay at the wound in his abdomen. As they approach him, they begin to glow green and they all crowd inside the hole in Clay’s body that is like a lantern glowing green. It does not last long and soon the spiders retreat leaving Clay’s body intact, as it had been before the assault. And before long, his eyes open and he sits up in a panic, unaware that the nature of his backyard had saved his life.
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