Title: The Boys of Summer.
Author: Bernie
Rating. I don't know
Pairings: Pavel and Valeri Bure
Mike and Paul Comrie
Tomas and Frantisek Kaberle
Thanks Debbie and Kayla and Joolzie for
the look over
For Alex, since I have been so slack about
feedback lately.
A/N's I didn't put a rating on this,
because I am not wholly sure what it is. In the interests of full disclosure,
yes they are brothers, but anything else is in the eye of the beholder. I don't
want to attach any words to this that will colour the way you read it.
In the end I thought of this as being
about devotion, closeness and love rather than anything icky.
Words in :: É :: taken from the website
http://www.conservativebookstore.com/chess/index.htm
Without permissin
* ---- * ----- *
There is a forest of sand in front of
Pavel. An eternity of sand, an ocean of sand. Beyond that is the true ocean,
stretched out and shining covering the future before him.
It is bright and stark and blue and
yellow. Blue so bright it reflects the light like a mirror, yellow so bright it
is almost white.
There is nothing around them, but sand and
sea. They both lie on their backs; letting the sun work its way into their
frozen skin.
They are barely covered, not enough
between them and the violet light of the sun.
It is very quiet. The tide is out and
there are no waves. There are no birds in the humid air and no animals running
along the scorched ground.
It is perfectly still. It is perfect.
Scars, bruises and broken-ness are scoured away by the brightness of the light.
All you can see is pale skin lying on
beach towels.
They are perfect in the calm.
"Rock"
"Hip-hop."
"Rock."
"Pop."
"Rock."
"Pop."
"Soda."
"PopÉ You suck."
"There is no debate, I am the one by
the radio and I decide, and I want to listen to this song."
"This sucksÉ"
"Shut up, I'm missing the
guitar."
"Lucky youÉ"
"Shhhhhh."
"Fine", he scowls.
Paul smiles and leaning over licks the
pout off Mike's face. "Stop sulking or I won't enjoy my song."
"I don't know how you could enjoy
this song anyway." Mike makes a show of rubbing his face against the
sheets, which have already absorbed so much of their sweat. But he rolls on his
side and they lie almost nose-to-nose.
This is the darkest room in the house; two
trees planted too close to the house mostly obscure the window to the outside.
Paul softly sings along with lyrics,
blowing puffs of air on Mike's face.
::"Guard the king closely. His loss
means loss of the game. He is typically not a good piece to use on offense, but
will be a help in a carefully constructed defense." ::
Breathing out softly in triumph and with
his father's words in his head, Tomas moves his King one place over. Blocking
any action of Frantisek's that is not suicide.
"Check."
"That is impossible." Frantisek
stares at the board.
"Concede."
"Never." He smiles across the
board. "I am hot, would you like a drink?"
"Yes. That would be nice. Thank
you."
"What would you like?"
"Anything from you would be
fine."
And Frantisek laughs at this obsessive formality.
It is another game of retreats and advances.
There is a routine to making everything,
even this iced drink to beat the heat.
"You always stir clockwise."
Thomas says standing behind Frantisek.
"Habits die hard, if at all."
Frantisek replies. "Come to the balcony, it will be cooler."
The both place their drinks on the
concrete floor slumping in wrought iron furniture that has absorbed so much
heat it is branding designs on their skin.
"It is no cooler." Tomas places
the chessboard on the table between them. "Do you want to be black or
white?"
Frantisek stares at the board; heat rises
off the patio making it hard to see where the black ends and the white begins.
The horizon shimmers. In a trick of the
light, or a trick of your eyes, it moves. It sulks around the sky sullenly
proclaiming it is before or after noon. Like Loki it occasionally tricks them
by sprinting over their heads and then dips down into the ocean.
Or maybe the horizon to is simply tired of
the stifling heat and seeks relief in the deep ocean. Hiding for seconds from
the blistering heat, closing its eyes and plunging into the coolness of the
sea.
There are no shadows on the endless beach,
but Pavel thinks it is truly after noon. He turns on his side to watch Valeri
breathe, basking on his blue towel.
Pavel watches the motion at hollow of his
throat, the air sliding down his neck. His eyes drop to his chest watching it
filling and levelling out with the hot air. His eyes are closed lightly, his
eyelashes the same sandy tint of the beach.
This is a summer hibernation, using the
warmth of the sun to heal the wounds of the other long season.
"You shouldn't still be favouring
your shoulder."
Mike stretches feeling the familiar tug of
tight muscles as he extends his arm.
"Eh, it's ok, I banged it at the
Worlds, I thought there was no checking in international competition?"
"I wouldn't know. Roll over. I have
to take your shirt off to do this properly."
Mike obliges, laying face down on the bed
he stretches his hands over his head as his shift is tugged off. It is a relief
to not have the soggy neckline against his skin anymore.
"I am so sick of sweating." He
mumbles into his fists, leaning his forehead on his clenched hands. He looks at
the stripes on the sheets. They are old and soft. Green fades into red, trails
into yellow, the sweat in his eyes makes the lines shimmy in waves of overlaid
colour. You can't see where one is distinct from the other.
He moans softly as the hands on his
shoulders clean out the knots from the winter game.
"É And I though she was the ice queen
and the other was the coal queen."
"From the colours?" Frantisek,
resting his chin in his hands and watching Tomas remember.
"Yes."
The game is slowly being abandoned,
another casualty of the heat.
"Everyone else in the world is
sleeping." Thomas says arranging the pawns on the board, black then white
then black again. "We are the only people alive."
"It is to hot to be alive."
Frantisek responds. He drops the white queen in his drink and then holds the
old ivory to his mouth.
"Icy." He says and then holds
the chess piece to Tomas' lips.
The sand twinkles like glitter. Before
Pavel had been restless, resisting the rhythms of the beach, he had run the
sand through his hands collecting shells, which he has put onto his gold
necklace, which he then tied around Valerie's neck.
Valeri had mouthed Ôthank you' briefly
running one finger over the twisted shapes around his throat before his hand
had slumped back, touching the gold chain, then down against the towel again in
slumber.
Pavel had dug a hole in the ground, he is
sure he had, to find the different shells, but the beach has smoothed over his
marks until he can't see where he collected the shells from anymore.
He rolls on his back and feels the little
miracle of a breeze. It blows a grain of sand over his face and he thinks,
given enough time, he could be buried here. They could be buried here,
archaeologists would find them, they would wonder at these barely covered
bodies and why they had been left alone in the blazing sun.
Pavel saved one shell and put it on the
cord on his wrist. The shells are old bleached bones that the beach had offered
up. Sea ivory Pavel thinks. He lies down on his side stretching his hand over
his head he presses his ear to his towel. He hears a low humming heartbeat, his
or the beaches.
"To hot for you on me." Mike
mumbles into his hands, feeling the sticky slide of the sweat between him and
Paul. It is so hot he can feel his pulse, the chug of blood pumping thorough
his veins.
"To hot for anything." Paul
says. "The air conditioner is not working."
The machine has broken, or else mopes in
the window, having given up in the face of such relentless heat. The occasional
sliver of light that threads it's way through the leaves outside shines off the
metal unit spearing into their eyes.
"Too hot and too bright." Paul
carefully climbs off Mike's hips, and then bounces when he flops on the bed.
Mike is jostled a tiny bit closer each time.
"Would it be cooler outside? Would there
be a breeze?"
"I will petition the breeze Gods for
you."
Mike edges closer. "Would you just
ask for a breeze?"
"If you wanted it."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." Frantisek sits
calmly on the chair across from Tomas after giving him another drink.
He pushes the queens over. "No one
will win this game."
"There will be other games."
"Yes." Frantisek finishes his
drink. "Will you stay here for the summer?"
"I have toÉ"
"Mope about losing? I lost to, stay
with me Tomas."
"IÉ IÉ"
"Tomas." The word is soft, not
like a name, more like a sigh. Frantisek leans forward slightly. His hand cold
from the glass he touches Tomas' cheek.
Frantisek's thumb rests near his bottom lip. "I too."
Pavel looks at the glossy curve of
Valeri's lips; slightly parted with breathing, sticky from the gloss he put on
them to prevent cracking. Pavel imagines sand is sticking to them as well.
Abruptly he sits up. The sun is burning
his shoulders. He looks at the scars on his knees; they are stark relief on the
crispy skin that pinkens before his eyes. It is finally too hot to breath. He
puts his hands back and leans on his elbows staring at the sea.
He can only take shallow gasps of the
sizzling air. Just a few more minutes of this. Beside him Valeri turns over and
touches his foot with his own.
"It is to hot." Pavel looks down
at Valeri smiling into his eyes at this pronouncement.
"Take off your sun-glasses. I want to
see where you are looking." Valerie shifts his foot back; it is too
painful to have frying skin against frying skin in this weather.
Pavel smiles; "I am looking at you.
There is nothing else to see."
"There are many things to see."
"I have seen them all before."
"But you have seen me before as
well."
"You are new every time I look at
you." Pavel replies.
"Why have we not cut that tree
down?" Mike rolls onto his back and peers out the window. There is dust in
front of the window; there is a haze of heat outside. "It's like trying to
look through dirty glasses." He tells Paul.
"No one really uses this room."
Paul half responds. "That is why nothing matches in here."
"But every house needs a junk room
right?" Mike points at the pile of boxes holding games and memorabilia
that have not been opened since they moved in.
"Exactly. You need a place to put things
that you are not sure if you need, but can't give up."
Mike lies down on the bed "I'm going
to sleep until it is cooler." He announces and drifts off.
"I'll wait here too, until it is
cooler." Paul responds. He lies on his back with one hand behind his head
and his other resting on his chest. He looks at of the corner of his eye at
Mike. "What will we do when it is cooler?" He asks softly.
"There are things we have not done
together since we were children." Tomas smiles at Frantisek, "yes, I
will stay."
"Yes. What things?"
"Yes," Tomas smiles wider.
"Summer things. Swimming. Football. Exploring."
"Do you think there is anything left
to discover in this old town?"
"Yes." Tomas smiles. "I
want to see everything again, one last time." He walks to the veranda and
looks over the hot city.
"If I went outside, closed my eyes
and spun around, and set off in the direction I was facing," he says
slowly, "where do you think I would end up?"
"I don't know." Frantisek
smiles.
"Would you come with me?" Tomas
asks leaning against the rails as he stretches over the wrought iron to stare
at the city in front of him.
"Valeri touches Pavel's foot again.
"They are back." He whispers in a dry sun damaged voice.
Pavel rolls onto his stomach and looks at
the summerhouse. A blaze of towels
hangs over the white veranda of the summerhouse. Pink, green, purple and red
thrown together.
Pavel blows a kiss to his beautiful niece.
She wriggles out of her mothers grip running down the beach to her adored
uncle. She jumps from the hot sand, to the towel, into his embrace. Her skin is
cool from the air conditioning inside.
And because she adores her father, and her
uncle she lets them put more of the sunscreen on her pale skin, but only
because it is the kind they used, and they have to put on more as well.
They are briefly a family united by smell,
until her mother comes to the towels with her lighter, sweeter sent of perfume.
Pavel obliges his niece a piggyback ride
to the water since the sand is so hot.
When they reach the shallows he takes her
hands and spins her around in a circle so her flying body is parallel to the
ground.
"I will take you to the ocean, only
if you promise to stay close."
She nods at his serious expression.
"You see, you are so beautiful, so
much like your father and your mother, that I am afraid the king of the sea
will try to take you away to make you a mermaid."
"I would like to be a mermaid."
She replies.
"But you would never see us
again." Pavel tells her solemnly.
"Then I do not want to be a
mermaid." She tells him in a determined voice. "And I will fight him
off."
"Stay close to me." He responds.
He squints and stares up the beach. He sees two bodies laying on towels, blonde
with pale skin and he can not make out their features as they lie like
driftwood.
He looks at the younger brother, to the
other, to the body so like his.
"If you stay close to me I will
protect you from everything."
End.
Bernie
