Message of Love by Jim Provenzano

Author:Jim Provenzano [Provenzano, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Gay
ISBN: 9780615669243
Google: _i4RoAEACAAJ
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2014-03-13T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

December 1981

“Are we supposed to give the cleaning lady a tip?”

Everett looked up from his book, a confused look on his face as we sat across from each other at our bedroom desk.

“We don’t pay her,” Everett said.

“So…”

“Have you even seen her?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking.”

Once a week, usually on Wednesdays, the kitchen and living room were cleaned, which I didn’t exactly notice, except to find a few items moved around. Mrs. Kukka had mentioned the mysterious maid, and we opted out of having our room cleaned. But every now and then, a few stray cereal boxes would be neatly arranged or put away on a counter, and each of us, for a while, had thought the other had done the cleaning.

“I’ll stick a twenty in a Christmas card,” he said, dismissing it, and me.

“But what’s her name again?”

“Rosita,” he blurted without looking up.

I had thought about asking Mrs. Kukka about her maid when a few newspapers I’d wanted to save went missing. The Daily Pennsylvanian had published an article about Everett’s debate team having won another tournament, but I couldn’t find the paper.

I’d even gone to Penn’s journalism department to get another copy. Proud to have retrieved it, Everett shrugged it off with a smile, and dropped the article into a box in the closet. We had finals for the end of the semester coming up, and he was more intent on studying than I was.

My copy of his little bit of print fame was above the wall near my side of the desk. It helped when we studied, because too often I would simply gaze at him as he did pushups atop his chair’s seat. He pored over a textbook, reciting Latin in a soft voice.

“What?” he barked, forcing me to blush and turn away.

So I gazed at the picture of him instead, as a gift to myself between pages of note-taking on “Comparing the Values of Urban Forests in New Community Development.” We had to do studies of trees in heavily populated areas, compared to parks and forests. For a few field trips, we went to the Ambler campus, forty-five minutes north by bus. Even after the blooms withered in the gardens, the mini-forests and a beautiful greenhouse were almost enchanting under an early winter snow.

I’d asked Everett if he’d like to go with me, but he kept postponing it. He was busy, and we liked studying. But that became difficult while knowing that I could just lean over at any moment, merely lick him once, and he’d shiver, and then we would kiss, and our academic routine would be tossed off with one touch.

The newest article included a photo of the entire debate team, all six of them, among them Everett, our friend Jacob, two Asian guys and two young women who, Everett had said, were “really smart, but they could do with a little makeover.”

What struck me about the photo was that while the photographer had arranged Everett in the front row, no mention was made of his being in a wheelchair.

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