Now Batting for Boston: More Stories by J. G. Hayes by J. G Hayes

Author:J. G Hayes
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2017-09-09T14:00:00+00:00

I GOT MY LICENSE back that week. Monday afternoon when I got home from work my apartment was hot, it was end of spring now, May, right? So I took off all my clothes and flopped on the bed and I dreamed we were staring at each other after the game me and Dark Irish and in my dream I asked him what’s in the notebook and I pointed, and he looked to the right, looked to the left, but everyone was somewhere else. You could hear their voices but they were at the other end of the rink, and he opened his notebook, tightened his lower lip and opened up the notebook, and it was like all these complicated equations like theorems or whatever having to do with floor hockey and the positioning of people, but in the margins of the notebook there were all these quick sketches of me playing floor hockey. He started turning the pages and the notebook got bigger until it turned into this big art easel thing like, and the rustle of it as he turned each page, like the flapping of very very very slow silent huge angel wings, and with every page the theorems got fewer and fewer and the sketches of me got bigger and more elaborate, and then they started turning into sketches of other parts of my life, me Big Digging, me on the subway, me on the edge of my bed on all fours naked with my bare ass in the air looking out the window at the subway and all the people on the subway were him showing me the same sketch that he was holding up now, and then finally the last one, all in color and big like them paintings I used to guard that summer when I worked at the museum before I got the roofin’ job and it was me on the balcony playing my sax with a boner and the light on in the window down the street, but the important thing was that in that last picture there was also clouds in the sky, Spring happening on stars light-years away, and himself sitting opposite me on the balcony sketching me playing my sax. With or without a boner, I dunno.

I woke up and I’d shot a load, like I didn’t even know it til I got up and my dick was sticking to the comforter because it had like half dried. First wet dream I’d had in ten years, like since I was fourteen or whatever.

What the fuck, I said.

The room was so fuckin’ hot.

I took a cold shower, got dressed, took the bus downtown and came home with a brand new air conditioner. That was work, lemme tell you, luggin’ it up four flights.

I went out on the balcony that night and played, but my song was sad. No lights came on and at ten-thirty Mr. McGreevey slammed down his window and scared the shit outta me, cuz I guess I’d lost track of the time like.

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