Hey, welcome to the Westpoint Tales - a series of stories set in a small New Zealand town over a time-span of 150 years.(This one's in 2005.)All the usual disclaimers apply - this is Nifty. If you shouldn't be reading this, then don't and what are you doing here anyway?
Jason and Jordan's tale - 8
Sunday morning, the church bells rang and the good people went off to church. Everyone else tried to go back to sleep.
Jason buried his head in the pillows, but it wasn't working, he was wide-awake now. The dogs were barking too, something was upsetting them.
Feeling like crap, again, he crawled out of his warm bed and, clad only in his boxers, padded, barefoot, through to the chilly kitchen to look out of the back window and see what was wrong.
The dogs were all out there, standing by their kennels and barking their stupid heads off. He couldn't see why, so he just opened the window and yelled at them.
"Shut up already!"
Bloody dogs. He filled and switched on the electric kettle, and the radio, and went back to get dressed, it was cold. Before he got there, the front-door bell rang beside him and he stopped and opened the door without even thinking about his state of undress. ('If this is that bloody Tommy again, he can get lost.')
Jordan was there - Jordan Taylor was standing on his front doorstep with his hands behind his back and a big grin on his face.
"Umm. Jordan? What are you doing here?"
"Nice to see you too, Nature Boy."
Jason realised that he was all-but undressed and he crossed his arms over his skinny chest with a frown.
The smile fell off Jordan's face. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay, you didn't. I was already awake. Did you want something?"
"Yeah, of course I did. I wanted to say sorry to my friend for the way I spoke to him last night."
('Really? Great!') "You - ah - umm," Jason stammered, embarrassed now. "You didn't. . ."
Jordan grinned even wider now and he pulled out from behind his back - a big, meaty bone loosely wrapped in greaseproof paper. "I brought this for him - to apologise. Can I give it to him?"
"Oh. To Prince. Yeah, yes of course you can. Come on through."
He led the way through the house, to the back door off the kitchen. Jordan went out and stood on the deck, looking at the kennels in the backyard.
"Whoa. I didn't know you had three dogs. I only brought one bone. Sorry."
"That's okay, you didn't know. No probs, I'll just get some clothes on and I'll bring out something for Queenie and Sheba. You go give the bone to Prince."
"Okay. Umm, which one's Prince?"
"Jordan, Prince is a boy. Queenie and Sheba are girls and both pregnant. You work it out."
"Right. Shouldn't be too hard then. Don't get dressed on my account."
"Of course I'm bloody getting dressed. You think I run around like this all day? Besides, it's cold out here. Go feed Prince; I'll be out in a minute."
Jason hurried back to his bedroom, threw on the first clothes he found, and then he grabbed a couple of bones from the freezer in the washhouse and took them out to the dogs. They were frozen, but, whatever, they wouldn't care. Might even slow them down a bit. He handed the bones to Queenie and Sheba, then turned to where Jordan was sitting watching Prince.
He sat down next to him. "He's making short work of that."
"He certainly is. I was just imagining what it would be like if that was my arm."
"Oh, he probably would have finished your arm by now, the bone's not as thick. Don't worry, Jordan, Prince is not going to eat you. I told you, he likes you."
"I'm pleased about that then. Umm, Jason, the bone was just a joke. It was really you I came to see."
"Me?"
"Of course you. There's no-one else here is there?"
"No, of course not. What did you want to see me for?"
"To apologise of course. I've been thinking about what you said about leaving my family and everything and you were right. I was wrong."
"Umm, okay. That's good, I guess."
"But mostly I need to say sorry for how I brushed you off. I do need a friend, a best friend and if the offer's still open, I'd like to get to know you. Please."
"You would? Do you think you've got room in your life now?"
"Yeah, I've got room. Or, if I haven't, I'll make room. I don't need to be working every hour of the day. There's no rush."
"Uh - right. What about your plan? Are you still leaving as soon as you can?"
"I dunno. Maybe, it depends on whether there's anything to stay here for. I'm trying to be honest here, Jason and I do want to get to know you. I've wanted to know you ever since the first time I saw you."
"You're gay."
"Yes I am. I'm a - a virgin. I've never done anything, but I am gay."
"I never said that I was gay."
"You're not? Everyone thinks that you are."
"Everyone does think that, but they don't know. I've never said and no-one's ever asked me."
"Ouch. Sorry. I don't care if you're not; I still want to be your friend."
"I didn't say I'm not. You're not listening. No-one's ever asked me."
"Are you gay, Jason?"
"Why? Does it matter now?"
Are you gay, Jason?"
"Would it make any difference?"
"No. But are you?"
"Yes. I think so. Happy now?"
"Yes. I think so. Thanks." Jordan had a huge infectious smile and Jason had to smile back at him.
"Thanks?"
"Thanks for answering me."
"Thanks for asking me. And, yeah, I want to get to know you too. Come inside, it's bloody freezing out here."
They went into the kitchen; Jason insisted that Jordan sit by the heater. He turned the kettle on again and asked, "Cup of tea?"
"Tea? Have you got coffee?"
"No, sorry. There's no coffee drinkers here. There's coke in the fridge if you'd rather have that. I think it's flat, but it's cold."
"No thanks. I don't need to cool off. I'll try tea for a change. Thanks."
"You're welcome," Jason grinned. "Might even convert you."
He went through the ritual of making tea, filled the pot and sat down at the table opposite Jordan. "Now," he grinned. "Who's talking to me across the kitchen table? Thank you, Jordan. I'm really pleased that you're here."
"So am I. Pleased that I'm here too."
"How do you have your tea?"
"Dunno. I don't normally. However you have it I suppose."
"'Kay then, milk and one sugar it is."
He poured two cups, pushed one across the table and picked up the other and sipped it with a sigh of contentment. Jordan took his cup, took a large gulp, then coughed and spluttered as he tried not to spray it out over the table.
"Eww. How can you drink that stuff?"
"What do you mean? It's great, nothing like it."
"Maybe cats' piddle is like it."
"You're just doing it wrong. Don't gulp it, you're supposed to sip it - little drinks."
"Right then." Jordan tried again. He took a small drink, then another, then he screwed his face up as he put the cup down. "No. It's horrible. Sorry, I just don't like it. Got any OJ?"
"OJ? Oh, orange juice. No, sorry. Just coke, flat coke."
"Okay. Can I have some of that then? Don't get up, I'll get it."
"No. I'll get it, you're the guest here. Sit down."
He took the tea away and tipped it out - after tasting it to make sure that there was nothing wrong with it - it was fine. He sat down again and pushed a glass of (flat) coke across to Jordan. "There you go."
He took a drink, rinsed his mouth and swallowed. "That's better. Good old coke. Thank you."
"You're welcome my friend."
They sat quietly listening to the radio. "Local music by local kids - "I'm going out West where I belong. . "" The song finished with its distinctive bang, bang, bang!
Jason, making conversation, said, "Great song."
"You think? It's okay, I guess. I just don't get it. Maybe it's because I don't feel like I belong here."
"Here?"
"In Westpoint. I belong in Riverston. Sorry, Jason. I guess that we don't have much in common really.'
"You think? No, you're wrong. We've got lots in common. We both seem to say "sorry" in every second sentence for a start. Wait there a minute, I've got something to show you."
"What?'
"Wait."
He went to his room, came back again, sat down, and laid a sketch-pad down on the table between them. The same size but a different brand to the one he'd seen Jordan with.
"What's this then?"
"What do you think it is? It's a pad, of course, my drawings."
"You draw? That's cool, so do I."
"I know you do. Sean told me, and I saw the pad you had last night."
"Right. I was trying to draw the sunset. Didn't work though. It's hard to draw a sunset with just a black pencil. Every time I try, it just looks like a storm."
"Why don't you use coloured pencils? There's no law that says you can only use black."
"Yeah, I know. But it's more of a challenge. Besides, I haven't got any coloured pencils. Have you?"
"Why don't you have a look and find out?"
"Can I? Are you sure? I don't let anyone look at my drawings."
"Yes, I'm sure. I don't know if they're any good. I've never shown them to anyone before, but I like them. They're fun to do, building pictures."
"Yeah, they are fun. You've never shown these to anyone?"
"No, never. Dad's not interested and there's no-one else. Maybe they're no good, but I wanted to show you that we have got things in common. Sean says that you're a really good artist."
"He does? That surprises me. So, what have you got here?"
He pulled the pad across and lifted the cover. There was a long, sustained and whistling intake of breath and his eyes popped open wide as he studied the first picture. It was of a flower - a rose in full bloom. One single flower, larger than life-size and, although it was sketched in black pencil only, it was obvious that it was a white rose. Every little detail was there in shades of black and white. The delicate, white, petals looked soft and velvety. The dark gray/green leaves on the stem were glossy.
Jordan sat quietly staring at the picture until Jason lost patience.
"It's a rose," he said. "A white rose."
"Yes it is. I can see that. It's a white rose." Jordan closed the cover and pushed the pad away.
"Well?" said Jason, puzzled. "What did you think? Didn't you like it?"
"No. I didn't like it. I loved it. It's great, Jason, really great. No it's not - it's perfect. Fucking awesome man. How come nobody knows that you're an artist?"
"I don't know if I'm an artist, I just like to draw. No-one's ever looked before. No-one was interested."
"You said that you've never shown them to anyone. How can they look if you won't show them?"
"Well, no-one would have wanted to. There's lots more, don't you want to see the rest?"
"No. I don't think I should."
"You don't? Why not?"
"Because - well, I like to draw. Like you said, it's fun, but I'm not up to your standard. You make me look like an amateur. I don't need to see anymore."
"Sean thinks that you're a good artist. You're just being too modest. Have a look at the rest of them, I want you too. Maybe the rose is the only decent one amongst them."
"I doubt it. I don't need to see the rest. You'll give me an inferiority complex or something. I may never draw again. Oh, whatever! Give it here."
Jordan pulled the pad back and opened it again. He slowly worked his way through the sketch pad in silence, carefully studying the pictures on each page. Some, but not all of them, were as detailed and intricate as the rose. Some were merely a few lines and a bit of shading, but all of them left no doubt about what they were portraying. There were a lot of the dogs, both close-ups and action pictures. Finished, he pushed the pad back across the table.
"Okay. I may go home and shoot myself now. After I've burnt all my scribblings, that is."
"That's not funny, Jordan Taylor. Don't say that and don't you even think about it."
"I didn't know you cared."
"Maybe I don't. Or, maybe I do care, maybe I care a lot. Anyway, you don't joke about something like that - not ever - it's not funny."
"Okay, okay - settle. I wasn't serious. I just meant that you're really, really good Jason. Way better than I'll ever be. You're a fantastic artist. You should be having exhibitions and making pots of money."
"Doubt it! They're not that good. I've seen what real artists can do. You're just being nice because that's who you are. You're a nice guy and you're my friend."
"I'm your friend, Jason, and that's cool. But I'm not really that nice. Sometimes I can be a real prick too."
"What? Do you mean that you're human like the rest of us mortals?"
"Shut up. Yeah, I'm human, just an ordinary person."
"You're not you know. You're not ordinary, you're extraordinary in lots of ways."
"Bollocks," Jordan grinned.
"Bollocks?"
"Yeah, bulls' bollocks."
They sat grinning at each other, each delighting in the other's company, until Jason broke the silence.
"So. Now I've shown you mine, so you have to show me yours."
"Doubt it. Or, okay, maybe I will, but you're not allowed to laugh. Maybe you can show me how I can do better. Can you come and show me how to draw a black and white sunset sometime?"
"I've never drawn a black and white sunset. But, yeah, I'd like to try. Maybe we can work it out together."
"Right. That's a date then. We've got to do that, and soon."
There was a minute's easy silence, both thinking, then Jason looked up.
"What's your favourite colour?"
"Blue," Jordan replied.
"Me too. I love blue. What's your favourite ice-cream?"
"Ice-cream?" Jordan grinned. "Rocky Road, I guess. What's yours?"
"Rocky Road of course."
"Of course it is." Jordan was getting suspicious now. "What's your favourite song?"
"Hey. I'm asking the questions here."
"Well I asked this one. Favourite song?"
"Okay. North'n West Coast Sun, then. What's yours?"
"North'n West Coast Sun," Jordan replied with a grin.
"No it's not. You don't even like it. You said that you don't get it."
"I'm just doing what you're doing, agreeing with everything you say."
"I just want you to see that we've got lots of things in common."
"That'll only work if you're honest. Going along with whatever I say tells me nothing. What's your favourite drink?"
Without thinking, Jason replied, "Vodka."
Jordan's eyes popped. Jason's stomach sank. 'Damn. What did I say that for?' He'd just blown his biggest secret. But, whatever. Jordan wanted to know him didn't he? And this was a huge part of his life - of his secret life.
"Yeah, right!" Jordan grinned. "Get real."
Okay, he could back out now and pretend that it was a joke, but no - dammit anyway.
"I am being real. You wanted honest answers, well I just gave you one. I like vodka, so?"
"Vodka? But that's booze - hardcore stuff."
"Sure it is and I like it. I like a drink sometimes, I need it."
"What the hell are you talking about? You need it? You're a kid, Jason. That stuff will fuck your life up."
"What would you know? You're a kid yourself. My life's already fucked up and if I want a drink sometimes, what's it to you?"
"What would I know? I'd know plenty." Jordan was getting angry now. "I've lived with it all my life and I know the damage that booze can do. My Dad's an alcoholic, he's dry now but it wasn't always that way. My granddad was an alcoholic too. He's dead now. He never found AA, never found a way out and it killed him. It took a long time, it took over his life and it killed him."
"So? I can handle it. I'm no alcie. I just like a drink sometimes, it makes me feel better. I need something, my life sucks, you know that."
"Yeah. Yeah, I do know that, but alcohol is not going to make it better. It will only make it worse."
"Works for me," Jason flared defensively.
"Okay. Fine then. I hope you'll be very happy together - you and the bottle. I don't touch it, I wouldn't dare. It fucked my Granddad's life, it nearly fucked my Dad's and it's not getting me. I don't want anything to do with booze and I don't need a friend who's into it either.'
"Fine yourself. Fuck off then. I don't need this. No-one asked you to come around here."
"I will then. I'm outta here and I'm not coming back. You're not who I thought you were."
"I'm not who anyone thinks I am," Jason retorted, but he was speaking to thin air - Jordan had already stormed out. The front door slammed and he was gone.
"Ah, screw you anyway, Jordan Bloody Taylor. Go home to your perfect life and leave me with mine."
He went to his room. He needed a drink.