Chapter 7: Peter

I'm still yelling at him. I started once I was reasonably sure that he would live. I'll stop soon, I'm sure - maybe when I stop shaking.

"What was I 'posed ta tell yo' momma?" I think I'm repeating myself 'cause I'm pretty sure I said that already. "Hey Aunt Stacy - guess what Alex done today?"

"Shudda le'me drown." He mutters. His speech has been getting clearer the whole car ride home, which has me almost convinced that he wasn't under long enough for any permanent damage.

The longest eight minutes and fifteen seconds of my life. Thank God I can swim. Thank God that water was so cold and he's still young. Kids live longer in cold water; I don't know why but Thank God they do.

Eight minutes. I know; I started counting in my head when I heard him hit the water.

"Shithead." I mutter again. I struggle a moment to keep the car straight. I'm shaking a lot. I turn the heat up another notch. "Are you warm enough?" I ask him again. I wrapped him in the emergency blanket I keep in the trunk. Thank God Dad bought it. Thank God I remembered it. Thank God I can swim.

"Who cares?"

"I do, you jackass!" my vision blurs for a second and I almost miss my turn. I head to my house this time because no one's home yet and our basement is like its own little apartment. "I care an' yo' momma an' Uncle Marcus an' Coach Dutton an' the whole fuckin' defensive line!" I'm all but screaming. "What was I s'posed to do?"

He doesn't reply. I glance over, terrified that he's going to be unconscious and blue again but he's not. He's looking at me with just the corners of his mouth upturned.

"I get it, dude," he says softly, "chill."

"Chill." I have to laugh and can hear the hysterical edge to it, "Chill? I pull you outta the fuckin' Wicomico an' you want me ta chill?" I shake my head and try to get us home in one piece, "Un-fucking-believable."

I get him home and down to the basement and drop him on the couch. I run a hot bath and turn up the heat. By the time I get back down with dry clothes and clean towels, the tub's full. I half carry Alex into the bathroom and undress him because he seems to have trouble managing it on his own. Carefully, I help him to sit. He winces at the heat but he doesn't swear.

"Don't fuckin' move!" I snap at him then go back out and open the sleeper sofa. Thank God Mom keeps this thing ready. Thank God I can swim. Thank God it was still daylight - at night ... I have got to stop thinking about that.

The kitchen phone rings. I go to the top of the stairs and listen for the machine to pick up. If it's the school, I'm erasing it before my parents get home. It's not the school - it's Dad.

"Boy, you gods be damned well better pick up this phone or..."

I pick it up before the 'or what' part, "Hey Dad." I try to sound casual but I doubt it works.

"What in the hell are you doing home, boy? Is Alex with you?"

"Ah, yeah." I cough and try to keep my teeth from chattering into the phone. "Yeah, we weren't feeling well an' came home early. I guess I forgot ta stop at the nurse's office."

"That an outright lie, boy."

I don't have time for this. I'm freezing and Alex is probably drowning himself in the tub as I speak. "Yeah, Dad, it is. But you gonna have ta trust me this time."

"I don't have ta..."

"Yeah, ya do" I cut him off, "'cause it's the best you gonna get right now. I gotta go."

"Who in the hell you think you are, boy?" he roars.

"I'm your son." He actually falls silent at that. "Dad, please. Just trust me this time. You wanna ground me, fine, you can ground me 'til I'm twenty-one. Just please do it ta'morrah. Look, I'm sorry, but I gotta go now." I hang up. That's probably my ass; he's like as not to kill me when he gets home. But if Alex is still alive when he does it, I'll deal.

When I get back downstairs, everything's too quiet. In the tub, Alex is curled up into a ball, arms around his knees, shoulders shaking. Very quickly, it's all becoming too much for me - I can't watch him cry on top of everything else. I undress, very aware on one hand that I'm about to share a bath with a guy for the first time since I was like ten. On the other hand, I know I'm only marginally warmer than he is and I should be in a hot tub as well. Besides, right now, I'd do almost anything to hear him tell me to 'fuck off' - say anything normal and 'Alex-y'.

I get in the tub - the water is still brutally hot - and pull him close to me. He all but collapses against me. I rock him gently, stroke him back, kiss his forehead, anything - everything - I can think of to get him to stop. At some point I realize that I'm crying myself.

I almost lost him today.

I hold him tighter and sob. It takes me a couple minutes to pull myself together. "Ok, ok." I hiccup between sniffles, "You wanna tell me what that was about?"

"Divine retribution." He whispers, "Hell and damnation."

I look down at him but all I can see is the top of his head against my chest - I hate to admit it, but it feels really good holding him against me right now. "Dude, you don't need ta be punished by God." I run my fingers through his hair, which is a lot softer than Trina's braids, "God gets his own in the end."

"I deserve it now."

"You don't deserve to die. An' anyway suicides go straight to hell, no trial."

"That's the point. That's where I belong."

"You ain't do that ta her." I say again holding him tighter. Maybe if I hold him tight enough, I can keep him from doing it again.

"Bullshit."

"I was there. You didn't break her arm."

"This time." I don't like where he's going with this, "What about the next? Or the next girl?"

"You won't."

"I will." I can feel him shaking still, "I will unless somethin' stops me."

"You'll stop yourself."

"Bullshit."

We're both silent for awhile. I ease my grip on him and he kind of curls up beside me.

"Ima turn myself in." He says finally.

"Ok." I swallow hard. If he serious, then I'm with him. "We'll both go." He looks up at me. "I'm an accessory. I didn't report the assault.

"Bullshit." He mutters.

"Dude, my Dad's an attorney. Trust me, you go down, I go down with you."

He looks away again, "Shit."

My arm's around his shoulder; his is around the small of my back. Suddenly the whole scene feels very, very gay. Two guys snuggled in a bathtub. The minute I have the thought, I feel a twitch. This is going to a completely weird area I don't even want to think about. "Uh, dude," I flex my shoulder to get him to move "we should get dried off an' dressed. Like soon."

He doesn't move. "I need to be punished."

"So get your Dad ta spank you. Come on."

"Lisa should do it."

"Kinky but not her style."

"Yeah but she's the victim an' she knows me. She knows what I deserve. Dad would lecture me for an hour an' take my PS3."

I laugh, "Yeah, I'll take your Dad over mine any day."

He's not laughing and he's still clinging to me. Now uncomfortable, I put my arms around him again.

"Your Dad would punish me. Your Dad believes that people should pay for their crimes."