Something Else

            I didn’t mean to hurt you. That time I said he was my favorite. Brother. It’s not that . . .  What I meant was . . . Well, you’re different. You’re something else.

            I will give you this: you never came at me with stealth, a certain anarchy oozing from your pores. And not once did you approach me hands choke hold ready and cheeks stoplight red but forging through anyway. You were different. A low tide. Quiet, steady.

~~~

        
            I like to look at your senior picture and consider how your hair was like the bunny slope at Canaan Valley when I went there in eighth grade with the Beverly Hills Presbyterian Church youth group. Not white, but a smooth, nut brown arc with one perfect dip in the middle. 
            That first morning I hurtled down the hill over and over, winter’s edge both thrilling and terrifying me. Right before lunch, the ski patrol gal advised me that falling down in a six-point star formation at the bottom of the slope was not a safe way to stop. She demonstrated the snow plow a couple times. Recommended lessons. I never skied again. Ever.

            In your portrait your eyes seemed serious even as they smiled. Did you already know you had healing (and therefore much responsibility) in your hands? Your irises matched the widest stripe in your chubby tie—fall-morning blue-gray sky.

~~~

            Remember all the stuff we dabbled in? I do, because I made a list. That’s how I write a story. I jot down everything I can remember then comb away all the stuff that’s not so hot. Here, I’ll show you:

Stuff We Did Together

Yoga (living room): For a whole summer we copied the moves of Lillias as she did Hatha Yoga on public television. We wore Marshall green gym shorts and gray Thundering Herd t-shirts. I was way more flexible than you.

Weight Lifting (basement): You lifted. I watched. Because you’d read somewhere my bones wouldn’t be ready for resistance work until at least fourth grade. I wept, but you insisted.

Archery (back yard): We set up a range behind the house, crammed the target into the tangle of honeysuckle that concealed the chain link fence. We were evenly matched until our flimsy green bow broke and you replaced it with a red, white, and blue compound model. I couldn’t budge the string so I became the designated arrow fetcher.

Church (Ohio): You invited me to come along when you started attending church across the river. We’d hold our breath as we drove over the bridge. Make a wish when we got to the other side. You suggested we start a gospel group since I was taking piano lessons. We practiced a few times but then you went off to college. I was sad to see you go but also relieved that I wouldn't have to inform you that your pitch was less than perfect.

~~~

            Did you know that writers are supposed to show instead of tell? You never told me, “I like spending time with you,” but you didn't have to. The stuff we did together showed it. Proved that you were in fact something else, something better than “favorite.” I might go as far as to say you were the best. Brother.

*The Best Part Is Jumping In*

They say it's gonna be a scorcher today.  Wanna go swimming?  I know the perfect place.  The water is so beautiful, it looks toxic.  Like a cocktail of Midori and Blue Curacao.  Sort of like if you mixed a blue raspberry and a lime Slush Puppy. 

            The water temperature's always just right.  Not so cold your heart stops when you get in, but not warm as a summer puddle either.

            The best part is jumping in, but first you have to climb the rocky, dry path.  Watch out for the pull tabs though.  They'll slice your foot right open.  Make you bleed like nuts.  Take turns watching where you're going and glancing down.  A tetanus shot might be a good idea too.  In case you get cut.  Or bit.

For starters, you gotta know the way.  Keep your eye out for a big ole farmhouse, white with dark green shutters, on the left. The property looks like a farm. Has a split rail fence around the front yard and a barn in the back. 

            My girlfriends and I always stopped to see the guys who hung out there.  They were wild.  Cute too.  In that I'm-bad-and-I-might-just-ask-you-to-be-bad kinda way.  They lived life more outdoors than in.  Up at the swimming hole.  Out in the woods.  Down on the river bank.
            They took us in the barn once and I saw one of the scariest things ever.  Saddest too.  They had a pit bull in there.  Back before it was cool.  Before Michael Vick got caught.  They couldn't let it out 'cause it was crazy vicious.  It'd kill anything with four legs. 
            It was the guys' fault.  They made the dog that way.  Taught it to hate all animals.  They'd take a rag and use it to pick up something dead.  Then they'd beat the tar out of the dog with it.  They started small and worked their way up.  Squirrels to possums to groundhogs.
            The dog got out once.  Took down a goat.  After that, they put one of those super mean collars on him with big spikes that dug into his neck if he made a wrong move.  Chained him inside the barn.  I never understood why the dog hated the animals the boys beat him with.  Why didn't the dog hate them?  Heck, why didn't we?

The wild boys were the ones who showed us the swimming hole.  We'd heard about it but we weren't sure where it was.  All we knew was to cross the bridge from West Virginia to Ohio and turn right.  After that, the gravel road up the mountain would be somewhere near a gas station. 
            We passed the Esso station and that's when we spotted the boys.  Sitting at a picnic table out in the yard, in the shade.  Suzy pulled her car into the driveway.  We sent Laura Jane over to ask for directions.  Boys'll tell her anything.             

            Laura ducked between the top and middle split rail and sashayed over to the boys in her white bikini and blue jean short shorts. 

            The biggest guy whistled.  "Well, well, well," he said. "What have we here?  I seen that same sorta swing on a back porch once."
            From the car, we watched Laura flash her Ultra-Brite smile.  The windows were down so we could hear her too. She flipped her almost black, bra strap-length hair and said, "You boys know where the secret swimming hole is?"
            "You mean the filled-up strip mine?" the youngest one said.  I thought he was good looking.  Kinda reminded me of John Denver, only smaller.
            The other boys seemed to tense up.  Their eyes got all squinty.  Like they were miffed.  Little John Denver ignored them.  He grinned up at Laura Jane, stretched out his arm, and pointed.
            "Go back the way you came but drive real slow," he said.  "In between here and the Esso,  you'll see a rusty oil drum.  When y'all get to it, keep your eyes peeled 'cause the turn's right beyond it."
            The biggest boy shoved Little John.  "Aw, man!  Why'd you do that?  We don't want no girls up there."

            "Says who?" Little John said.  He turned back to Laura.  "I can take y'all up, if you want."

Our new friend's name was actually Danny.
            "Why's it called the strip mine?" I said from the back seat.
            "'Cause that's what it used to be," Danny said.  "When there was no more coal, they flooded it."
            He turned to look at me.  "Wait 'til you see it.  The water's the coolest color ever."
            He led us up the steep, granola-looking trail.  Held back brambly branches so we wouldn't scratch our shaved that morning legs.  All of a sudden, the path ended.  We stood at the edge of a sandstone cliff, twenty or more feet over the opaque and aqua water.  The Mountain Dew in my stomach simmered.
            I peeked over the edge.  "How do you get down to the water?" 
            I can't believe I asked that.  I slapped my hands over my ears 'cause I didn't wanna know the answer. Heard him anyway.
           "You jump, silly."
            I pursed my lips and swallowed the jawbreaker-feeling lump in my throat. Danny took a step toward me.  I blinked.  Before I knew it, I was hurtling through the air.  Beside Danny.  I backstroked, over and over.  Trying to . . . I don't know.  Save myself?  Make it back to the cliff's edge?
            When I hit the water, my eyes and mouth slammed shut.  I felt my hair float over my head as I sank.  I opened my eyes and saw the light through the teal murk above me.  I pushed water down to get up.  To the light.  To the air.
            I broke through the water's surface like a baby being born.  Whipped my head around. Tried to locate Suzy and Laura Jane.  They waved from way up there.  My legs fluttered beneath me like beaters on a mixer.  I cupped my hand and circled it over and over, toward me.
            "Come on!  Jump in!  The water's awesome!"
            I spotted Danny.  He was floating on his back about ten feet away.  Eyes squeezed shut, mouth in a goofy grin.  I stretched out and did the same.  Pulled little puffs of air into my lungs so I could stay on top of the water.
            "I love this place, Danny," I said, even though I wasn't sure he could hear me. "It's perfect."
           

The Best Part Is Jumping In

They say it's gonna be a scorcher today.    Wanna go swimmin'?  I know the perfect place.  The water is so beautiful, it looks toxic.  Like a cocktail of Midori and Blue Curacao.  Sort of like if you mixed a blue raspberry and a lime Slush Puppy.  And the water temperature's just right.  Not so cold that your heart stops when you jump in, but not so hot that it's not refreshing.

The best part is jumping in but first, you have to climb the rocky, dry path that looks like peanut butter fudge.  Be careful though.  Watch out for the pull tabs.  They'll slice your foot right open.  Make you bleed like a stuck pig.  Just take turns--lookin' where you're goin' and lookin' down.  A tetanus shot might be a good idea too.  In case you get cut.  Or bit.


See, there's this place at the bottom of the hill, before you take the secret turn up to the swimmin' hole.  The property looks like a farm 'cause there's a split rail fence and a barn.  My girlfriends and I always stop to see the guys who live there.  They're wild.  Cute too.  In that I'm-bad-and-I-might-just-ask-you-to-be-bad kinda way.  They live life more outdoors than in.  Up at the swimming hole.  Camping out in the woods.  Hunting. 

They took us in that barn once and I saw one of the scariest things ever.  Saddest too.  They had a pit bull in there.  Back before it was cool.  Before Michael Vick got caught.  They couldn't let it out 'cause it was crazy vicious.  It'd kill anything with four legs. 

It was the guys' fault.  They made the dog that way.  Made it hate all animals.  They'd take a rag and use it to pick up something dead.  Then they'd beat the tar outta the dog with it.  They started small and worked their way up.  Squirrels to possums to groundhogs.

The dog got out once.  Killed a goat.  After that, they had to chain the dog inside the barn.  They put one of those super mean collars on him with big spikes that dug into his neck if he made a wrong move. 

I never did understand why the dog hated the animals the boys beat him with.  Why didn't the dog hate them?  Heck, why didn't we?


The wild boys were the ones who showed us the swimming hole.  We'd heard about it but didn't know where exactly it was.  All we knew is you cross the bridge from West Virginia to Ohio.  After that, you go right and the turn up the mountain was somewhere near an Esso station. 

We passed the Esso station and that's when we saw the boys.  Sittin' at a picnic table out in their yard, in the shade.  Suzy pulled her car into their driveway.  We sent Laura Jane out to ask for directions.  Boys'll tell her anything.  She was in a white bikini and blue jean short shorts.  The car windows were down so Suze and I could hear everything.

Laura Jane ducked between the top and middle split rail and then sashayed over to the boys.  The biggest one said, "Well, well, well.  What have we here?  I seen that same sorta swing on a back porch once."

From the car, we could see Laura flash her Ultra-Brite smile.  She flipped her almost black, bra strap-length hair and said, "You boys know where the secret swimming hole is?"

"You mean the filled-up strip mine?" the youngest one said.  I thought he was good lookin.'  Kinda reminded me of John Denver, only smaller.

It seemed to me like the rest of the boys got tense.  Their eyes were all squinty.  Like they were miffed.  Little John Denver ignored them.  He smiled up at Laura Jane, then stretched out his arm and pointed towards the woods.

"See that rusty oil drum over yonder?  When y'all get to it, keep your eyes  peeled 'cause the turn's right beyond that."

The biggest boy shoved Little John.  "Ah man!  Why'd you do that?  We don't want no girls up there."

"Says who?" Little John said.  He turned back to Laura.  "I can take y'all up there, if you want."


John Denver's name was actually Danny.

"Why's it called the strip mine?" I said from the back seat.

"'Cause that's what it used to be,"  Danny said.  "When there was no more coal, they flooded it."

He turned back to look at me.  "Wait 'til you see it.  The water's the coolest color ever."

Danny led us up the peanut butter fudge path.  Held back brambly branches so we wouldn't scratch our shaved that morning legs. 

All of a sudden, the trail ended.  We stood at the edge of a sandstone cliff, twenty or more feet over the opaque and aqua water.  The Mountain Dew in my stomach simmered.

I peeked over the edge.  "How do you get down to the water?" 

I can't believe I asked that.  I slapped my hands over my ears 'cause I didn't wanna know the answer.

Danny snorted.  "You jump, silly."

I pursed my lips and swallowed the jawbreaker-feeling lump in my throat.

Danny took a step towards me.  I blinked.  And then, before I knew it, I was hurtling through the air.  Beside Danny.  I backstroked, over and over.  Trying to . . . I don't know . . . save myself?  Make it back to the cliff's edge?

Then I hit the water.  My eyes and mouth slammed shut.  I felt my hair float above me as I sank.  I opened my eyes and looked up and saw the light through the teal murk.  I pushed water down to get up.  To the light.  To the air.

I broke through the water's surface like a baby being born.  I whipped my head around, trying to locate Suzy and Laura Jane.  They waved from way up there.  My legs fluttered under me like beaters on a handmixer.  I cupped my hand and circled it over and over, towards me.

"Come on!  Jump in!  The water's awesome!"

I looked around for Danny.  He was floatin' on his back.  Grinnin' up at the blue, clean slate of a sky.  I stretched out and did the same.  Filled my lungs with little puffs of air so I could stay on top of the water.

This place is so great!  Everyone should know about it.  Well . . . maybe just the people I like a whole lot. 


So, wanna go swimmin'?  I know the perfect place.