The back of Genes car (part 2-short story)

Early the next morning- just as the sun had split over the horizon and through the trees- Gene was out wrapped in his brown jacket carrying a weighted bag of feed. He tipped the bag and spread the mix of corn, grains, dried peas, and soybean across the dead grass to coax the chickens out of their coop. Seven hens sprinted from the opened mesh door.

Gene discarded the bag and picked up the worn woven basket set atop the wooden coop. He ducked his head and crouched inside which had a fog of warmth. He went from one nest box to the next, scooping up spotted brown and white eggs from the dried hay and occasionally stopped to pick off a piece of straw. Some eggs were still warm in his palm.

In the last box sat Helga, a fat brown chicken who was turned away from Gene. When Gene neared she puffed her feathers and let out a long churning sound. Gene reached to pry under her and she pecked him, so he let her brood.

Gene emerged from the coop, went inside the house to shelf the eggs in the fridge, then went back out to go around the house and pull in the trash bins. Once that was done he watered the garden, which had been struggling this season due to a groundhog they couldn't find. All the while, a weight sat heavy in Gene’s sternum.

It was while Gene chopped blocks of wood that the back porch door squealed open and his mother stepped out in her navy blue pencil skirt uniform with her hair tied back. She cupped a steaming mug of hot tea that Ramsey made for her.

“Gene,” she said.

Gene stuck the axe into the wood and let it go to look at her.

“Come on in, we’re gonna have a talk.”

The weight in Gene’s chest deepened, and he sighed slow through his nose as he walked to the porch. The wooden steps creaked under the weight of his boots and he stepped inside where Ramsey was sizzling bacon on a frying pan with his back turned to Gene.
Gene pulled his chair out from the kitchen table and sat down with his large hands cupped in his lap. He stared down at the floral pattern on the cotton tablecloth.

“Ramsey said you got in trouble last night?” Abigail said while leaned against the kitchen counter. “What happened?” she asked. “Were you out past curfew?”

Gene nodded.

“What were you doing?” she asked.

Gene did not reply. Eggs cracked on the edge of the frying pan and the sizzling became louder.

“Were you with Aiden?” She asked.

“No,” Gene replied.

“What were you doing?”

When Gene did not reply Abigail looked at Ramsey who kept his back turned from them.

“Ramsey,” She said.

“Hmm?” He hummed. Then he said, “Gene was brought home by a cop.”

“What!”

Gene heard the bottom of her mug sit on the counter.
“What the hell were you doing!”

“Got caught with a girl,” Ramsey replied.

“Gene!”

Gene’s gold cross necklace hung from his neck and rested heavy between his collarbones.

“Is it that girl you were dating?”

Gene shook his head no.

“Gene,” she said in a low tone. Then she said, “Were you being safe?”

Gene nodded. Abigail scoffed through her mouth and crossed her arms.

For a while, no one said anything. Ramsey finished his cooking and began to place the filled plates on the table. He placed Gene’s plate down in front of him. He got two eggs and three slices of bacon.

“I don’t understand,” Abigail muttered, and Ramsey pulled her chair out for her.

After some time, Abigail sat at the table and ate. For the rest of breakfast, no one said a word. Only when Ramsey was washing their plates did Abigail speak again.

“You’re in big trouble Gene, this isn’t okay.” She said, and reached up to rub her eyes. “I can’t think about this right now, we’ll talk about it when you get home from work.”

Gene felt his mother’s cold hand hold his forearm, then squeeze. He placed his own hand overtop hers, then she stood from the kitchen table and went down the hallway. Ramsey and Gene said nothing to one another and Gene went to work after going outfront to see his car parked crooked.

####


Gene clocked in, worked halfway through his first shift, then took his break in the back where there was a single stool, a window that could no longer close, and one dandling light bulb. On the wall was a yellow telephone with chipped paint around the handle.

Gene lit up a cigarette and leaned against the wall where the window was cracked open. While blowing smoke, he held the shell of the telephone to his ear and waited as it rang. After the seventh ring, Ace answered.

“Hello?” Came through the other line.

“Aye,” Gene replied.

Then there was silence.

“You alright?” Gene asked.

There was more silence. Gene raised his cigarette to his lips and he waited.

“Yes,” Ace said.

“Yea?” Gene replied.“Hm.”

The cogs in Gene’s head turned slowly as he listened to the fuzz coming through into his ear. Then, he pictured Ace standing in the living room with the phone to his ear, and his mother sitting on the couch behind him.

“Alright. You wanna talk later?” Gene asked.

“No,” Ace replied.

“Mm.” Gene thought for a moment. “You in trouble?”

“Not really,” he said, shortly. “Are you?”

“Mhm,”

“How much?” Ace asked.

“Lots.”

Ace said nothing after that, and Gene waited for him.

“I don’t think we should talk anymore,” Ace said with a hushed voice.

“Oh,” Gene said. “How come?”

“... Are you serious?” he said, quieter.

Then, Gene heard Mrs. Figgley’s voice from off in the home somewhere. Ace replied to her:

“No, it’s just Gene,”

Then the line cut and Gene pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it.

He looked back at the clock on the kitchen wall, then picked up his folded apron from the stool and slung it around his neck. Gene would call Ace once more before clocking out, but there would be no answer.

###

When Gene came home from work in the evening he hung up his coat by the door and kicked off his boots, then went down the short hall to the living room.

“How was work?” Abigail asked.

“Mm,” Gene hummed.

“It was okay?”

Gene nodded, and raised his head to look at her.

“That’s good,” she said. Then, she looked at Ramsey, and Ramsey ate his food. “We talked today and we wanted to ask more about last night,” she said.
Gene nodded.

Abigail asked Gene a handful of questions pertaining to use of protection, how often he had been sneaking out, and whether or not they knew the woman. When Gene did not answer who she was, Abigail did not press him.

All the while Gene could hear crickets starting up their chirping out back from the opened kitchen window. A car rolled by on the road, and the neighbor’s collie began to bark.

“Okay,” Abigail said through a sigh. “We’re gonna be holding onto your keys when you’re not at work, okay? Ask when you need them, and when you get home give them right back to dad,” she said.

“Okay."

“You’re gonna help dad with his chores for a month.”

“Okay,”

After that, no one had anything to say. Everyone ate the shrimp scampi dish that Ramsey prepared, and the neighbor’s collie began barking again.

“Can Ace still come around?” Gene asked.

“Uhm,” Abigail looked at Ramsey. He looked at her. “Not till next week?"

Ramsey nodded.

###

After dinner, Gene showered then laid on his bed with a damp towel around his waist and his gold cross necklace flat against his left peck. He held his nightstand telephone to his ear, and he waited. The line purred against his ear in short trills, and he followed one of his ceiling fan arms with his eyes. Ace did not answer.

He stretched his arm and placed the handle back on the telephone block, then laid flat on his bed again. He watched his ceiling fan- which his dad installed after he moved to the basement- and he thought about Ace.

If Gene were another man, he would think very deeply about Ace ignoring him, and how Ace had gotten away with no punishments. He would have wondered, perhaps, if Ace was entitled enough to be angry with him. He may even consider that abandoning Ace afterall was the justified option.

But as the fan spun lazily above Gene’s bedroom, and the heater whirred, Gene thought only of Ace’s face.

###

Two weeks later, the weather had begun to turn and morning was grey, and cold. The sky was blanketed in a thick layer of clouds and- according to Ramsey who stood on the back porch with his hands on his hips- it was going to rain.

After Gene fed the chickens and fetched the eggs, he sat on the plaid couch with his breakfast in his lap while Ramsey sat in his big leather armchair. Ramsey left the back door open, so while they watched the news they could hear the wind chimes. Abigail was on a delayed flight to LasVegas due to turbulence and wouldn’t be home until the afternoon.

“This morning police surrounded the Boise campus after a physics professor was found unresponsive in the courtyard.”

“Aye,” Ramsey said, and motioned to Gene. Gene looked at him. “Ketchup.”

Gene set his plate on the couch cushion beside him and stood up to round the armchair and head into the kitchen. He picked up the bottle of ketchup sitting atop the counter.

“While on the way to the hospital he passed away due to internal bleeding. What stunned students and staff the most was not his death, but a rumor that started a month ago suggesting he was a homosexual,"

Gene turned to stare at the television.

“And involved with one or several students. This leads investigators- and staff- to believe his injuries were inflicted by a group on campus. Over to you Michael.”

Gene walked back to the couch slowly with his face turned to the TV. He gave Ramsey the ketchup bottle without looking away from the screen.

“That’s right, now Gale we can’t assume anything just yet about this-”

The screen changed to a commercial about the new compact Coca Cola can. Ramsey had changed the channel. Gene sat back down and picked his plate up.

“Hey,” Gene said.

“Hm?”

“How can you tell? About homosexuals.”

Ramsey tipped the ketchup bottle and didn't say anything for a while. He leaned forward and put it down on the coffee table, then leaned back again.

“What?” he said.

“How do you spot them?” Gene asked.

Ramsey eyed Gene from his chair. Then, he said

“Don’t know.”

After that, both of them ate silently.

###

The day got darker as Gene worked in the diner’s kitchen. Outside the front windows the pine trees swayed and leaves hopped across the sidewalk. The clouds became so thick that at three the manager turned on the overhead table lights that typically came on at five thirty. When Gene clocked out and walked to his car his brown leather jacket became speckled with rain drops, and by the time he was driving out of the parking lot his roof was rattling.

As Gene drove, the rain fell diagonally which hit right against his front window. His windshield wipers began to squeak back and forth which cleared his view in brief pictures. Gene sat back with one hand on the wheel and a cig between his lips with the radio on low, and he listened to the way his car roof drummed.

While driving down Wither street Gene noticed a figure walking down the sidewalk. Each time Gene’s windshield cleared he got a closer look, and he soon recognized the back of Ace’s hair. Gene smiled, just slightly. Ace was holding two grocery bags, and his sweater was soaked through. So too was the turtleneck underneath. He had been sent out for groceries with no umbrella.

Gene cranked his window down and slowed his car next to the curb. While it was still rolling, Ace looked back at him then eyed the rest of the street. He looked forward and kept walking.

“No, go away Gene,” he said, having to raise his voice over the rain. His shivering was hearable.

“Hey,” Gene said. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Ace did not reply and kept shaking his way down the sidewalk. Gene’s car continued to follow him.

“Aye,” he said. Then, Gene pulled his gear into park and opened the car door.

He followed behind Ace- abandoning his open car- and slipped off his jacket which exposed his arms to the sharp weather. When Ace glanced back at him, he held the jacket up with the arm holes facing Ace.

“Stop!” said Ace. “Gene! Go away!”

Gene lowered his arms and stared at Ace’s face. His curly bangs were sticking to his forehead.

“You’re going to get us killed- go away,” Ace said, then kept walking.

Gene’s brows furrowed just slightly and he looked behind himself down the empty street. Then at Ace again.

“What?” he called.

Ace stopped and turned to look at him again. They both stood and watched each other.

“Gene. We got caught, we don’t see each other anymore.”

“Why not?”

Ace scowled at him and turned to face him fully.
“Because we’ll get fucking shot!”

“Aye, Milson doesn’t live around here.” Gene said and shook his head at Ace. Then he said, “People can’t tell. About homosexuals.”

Ace stared at Gene, and Gene could see him breathing heavy from the cold. The pine trees blew loud around them, and his car hummed just a few feet away.

“That night was the first time you’ve ever had to be scared. You have never had to be scared,” Ace said. “Ever. In your entire life! You look exactly how you’re supposed to.” Ace shook his head. “Of course you’re not fucking terrified.”

Then, Ace said something else, but he turned and kept walking so Gene did not hear. Gene stood and watched Ace walk down Wither street holding two clear grocery bags that were dripping. When Ace turned the corner and out of view, Gene went back to the car, now with his shirt sticking to his shoulders.

For the rest of the drive home Gene thought about Sheriff Milson. He thought about how- that night in Milsons car- he felt relieved that Ace was not alone with him.

###

When Gene got home, dinner was simmering on the stove and Abigail and Ramsey were talking on the couch. Ramsey had an arm around her, and they had muted the television so Abigail could vocalize her criticisms of the pilot who flew her designated plane today.

Gene kicked off his damp shoes and hung up his soggy jacket, then wandered into the living room.

“Hey hun,” Abigail said, and turned her head to look at him. “How was work?”

“Good,” Gene replied.

“Goodness Gene, did your car break down?” She asked and turned her body so she could put her arm on the back of the couch.

“No,” Gene said, and absent mindedly walked into the kitchen to eye the gumbo Ramsey was simmering. The roux was creamy and dark with specks of oil floating on the top. Gene took the wooden spatula beside the pot and stirred to see shrimp, mushrooms, tomato, and sausage swirling around.

“How come you’re so wet?”

“Talked to Ace for a bit,” he replied, and walked from the cold tile of the kitchen to the carpet of the living room. He sat down in front of the couch and leaned his head against one of the rough cushions.

“Outside?”

“Mhm,”

Abigail reached out and scratched Gene’s head with her painted almond shaped nails. Gene closed his eyes. Rain tapped the windows, the gumbo simmered, and the house would creak slowly from the pressing wind. Gene became aware of the crackling in the fireplace behind him, and how warm the living room was. He let out a sigh through his nose.

“Have you been feeling okay?” Abigail asked.

Gene raised his head and tilted it against the couch, not looking at his mom. She brushed his bangs to the side.

“We’re not angry at you Gene,” she said, her tone soft. “It’s okay to make mistakes.”

Gene nodded. Yet, while he sat in the warmth of his living room with his head resting on the couch and his mother scratching his scalp, he thought about Ace.

He pictured Ace’s kitchen- which he had only seen on one occasion when he was thirteen years old- and a bag of soggy groceries on the yellow countertop. He pictured a loaf of bread now soaked, meat juices contaminating the fruit, and pastries crumbling. He wondered if Ace’s mother had been angry with him when he got home.

A lighter began to flick, and Gene glanced up through his brows to watch his father light the end of a cigar that suddenly appeared in his hand.

“Oh god Angelo,” Abigail scolded.

For the rest of the evening, Gene’s parents cuddled on the couch and watched the television, and Gene sat in Ramsey’s armchair with “Winesburg, Ohio” open. But he did not read.

###

It would be three days before Gene and Ace met again, during which Gene sat on the front porch stairs with Ramsey and cracked open pea pods into a large bucket. It was during the evening just before the sun began to set, and the bucket was nearly half full. Although the sky was still grey, it stopped raining today.

Gene sat with his elbows on his knees and a cigarette between his lips while he thumbed the pea pods to split, then turned the shell and scooped at the dots inside. For two hours he did this, and he did so absent mindedly. The neighbor walked by with her Collie, a hawk sat on one of the electric poles, and Aiden’s front door opened.

Gene looked up.

Ace stepped out of his house in corduroy bell bottoms, a red turtleneck, and a blazer. He had a lighter going over a cigarette, then snapped it closed and pocketed it. He then raised the cigarette to his lips and began walking out from his porch. Although he looked at Gene briefly, he kept walking.

Gene stood up and put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he made his way across the road to Ace. He did not jog, and he did not call out to Ace.
Ace eventually stopped with his arms crossed and turned to face Gene, waiting for him.

“Aye,” Gene said.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Ace replied, shortly.

Gene shook his head, “Nothing to be for.”

Ramsey waved at Ace from the porch, and Ace raised a hand back.

“I still don’t think we should be going places together, Gene,” Ace said.

“Alright,” Gene replied.

“I’m sorry,”

Gene didn’t reply. He turned his head to look at Ace’s face. He looked bundled in his turtleneck and blazer.

“Hey,” Gene said. “I wanna be with you.”

Ace crossed his arms again and did not look at Gene. To Gene, his face was sad.

“I don’t know,” Ace said.

“I think let’s get a house, somewhere,” Gene said. He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Away.”

“... I don’t know, I don’t know that’s a lot,” Ace said. He looked down at the sidewalk and moved his foot to crunch a deaf leaf. “Where?”

“Mmh… Out of Idaho,” Gene replied.

Ace thought about that for a while. Then he said, “That won’t fix it, this will follow us anywhere we go.”

“Mmh,” Gene hummed. “Roommates.”

Ace said nothing.

“No sneaking.”

Ace turned to glance down the road and he eyed a neighbor who was out raking the leaves. He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, then sighed.

“I don’t know Gene, I’ll think about it.”

“Alright,” Gene replied.

“Okay,” Ace began to step back, “Goodbye.”

Gene nodded, and he too began to step back. He turned and walked back down the road. He glanced back at Ace just once, then sat back down on the porch with Ramsey to continue picking the pea pods. For a long while, neither man said anything.

“What’s that?” Ramsey said, and pointed with a thick finger to where Gene and Ace had been standing.

“Thinking of moving out,” Gene replied.

“Hmm.”

The hawk atop the electric pole took flight, and a breeze made the pine trees rustle.