Cherry Stains

It was one of those early December afternoons, Clay noted, that was just cold enough for you to see your own breath and feel a light wind creep in between the buttons on your coat, so you had better be wearing sleeves. On his way into the library he passed a pair of girls who were much younger than him, but were still adults. They were both petite; one of them had short locks of blond hair that sprang out from underneath her blue felt cap. She glanced at Clay Whelps as he passed, and then turned her attention back to her friend, the one with long dark hair and no hat, and who was telling some story while pulling mittens out of her pocket. Clay always found these nubile white girls attractive, especially the studious looking ones, but even more so in the winter. Something about kissing a cold cheek, and getting under the covers with someone who had just come in from the cold and letting them rub up against his unnaturally warm body, something just seemed really sweet about that.



Clay needed to lose weight. He also looked much older than he was, even with his face completely shaven as it was today, and there was nothing he could do about that. His mind drifted back to the girls he had seen on his way in. He thought about the little blond one and suddenly he was back at his apartment opening the door for her as she stood there with her red Northface coat and red rosy cheeks and fogged glasses. He would grab her hand and pull her in, closing the door behind her. When the door rejoined the rest of the wall, he would push her up against it, tonguing her gently and kissing the cold skin on her neck. Soon, he would be on the couch with his jeans around his ankles, her jeans lying on the cushion beside him. She would straddle his statuette while still wearing a gray, no-nonsense pair of Hanes Her Way, but with the crotch pushed aside, and his hands cupped underneath her pale, swerving buttocks…



He snapped out of it as he saw his younger brother standing next to the mystery section, staring at him wordlessly. Reginald Whelps, leaning against the shelf and holding a stack of text books under his arm, was eye level with Clay. Standing together, they didn’t resemble each other as brothers; they looked a bit more like father and son, even though they were only separated by about 10 years. Reginald’s skin was light, while Clay’s was a darker shade. Clay’s hair was curly and abrasive when it got long; Reginald’s was soft and more straight-looking. Clay always lit up when he saw Reggie, but to his dismay, the warmth was not returned this time. Reginald’s face lacked emotion; he had reached that age where he took himself and his surroundings very seriously. He was particularly hard to talk to whenever he wrestled himself out of his generally good mood and into this one.

   

That particular issue Clay wasn't too worried about; after all, Reginald had called the meeting. He chose the library because Reggie loved to read and the feeling that being surrounded by books gave him.  Clay knew it was also because there was a Cold Stone next door and Reggie was an ice-cream fanatic. 



"Hey," said Clay.



Smile wide and hand outstretched.  Although when Reggie went to shake it, the hand moved behind his back and swept him into his older brother’s chest. Clay thought about how it would be soon that he would no longer be able to hug his brother that way, since they were almost the same height. In seemingly happier times, Reggie would often brag that he was getting to be his brother's size. He takes so much pride in that, Clay would think whenever the topic came up, he should really be thanking me for taking up smoking when I was his age.

"What's up, man," said Reggie.  So calm. So sober. Fucking smile kid.



They walked over to a table next to a short bookshelf. Reggie slid his backpack off and set it on the floor and sat down, all in one fluid motion. Clay pulled a chair facing Reggie and away from the bookshelf, and sat. He pulled off his coat and slung it on his chair. He interlocked the fingers on his hand when they reached the table. Reggie only unbuttoned his coat.

Instead of jumping right into whatever it was Reggie wanted to discuss, Clay wanted to ask his little brother how school was going. But he knew what it was like to be in 8th grade, and really did not care to relive it, even by proxy.  School sucks when you are 14. Clay just knew that his brother was a good student and that is what mattered.

"So," Clay finally said after flipping through each book in Reggie’s stack. "What's going down?" Reggie sighed and looked past his older brother. His eyes began to dart around the room.

"Not much."

"Well, must be something," said Clay. Reggie still had not smiled at all. Actually, he looked more heartbroken than anything. This is going to be all about a girl, Clay thought. He smiled to himself in his mind. Here we go. The girl-trouble phase begins.  Buckle-up; this ride she don’t end.

Clay went in. “What's the matter,” he started.  “Did you break up with your little girlfriend or something?" He instantly regretted how condescending he sounded.

He tried to cover for it by smiling at Reggie. Reggie shook his head and look Clay in the eye. “No," said Reggie.

"Well you look awfully stressed. You better cut that out before your hair starts falling out like mine." Clay lowered his head so that Reggie could get a better look at the bald spot forming in his crown. "See? You don't want that, right?" He raised his head and smiled again.



"What are you stressed about, Clay?" Reggie asked, with a bit of condescension in his own voice.

Clay shrugged off his little brother's tone of voice, as well as his question. "Life is stressful as you get older. You'll see."



"Yeah, I already do see.”



"Well, what's going on?" Clay was ready to get to it. He loved Reggie, loved to see him, but his serious attitude was beginning to make Clay uneasy; made Clay want to hurry up and solve baby brother's problem, if he had one. The sooner they did that, the sooner they could go back to laughing and quoting movies and talking video games. Reggie, his eyes not moving from the unspecific spot they were entranced by on the wooden table, said nothing.



"Reggie." Clay cocked his head to the side. "Don't make me play 20 questions here."



Reggie took a deep breath and looked at his older brother. So that was what he would look like in about 10 years. Except more fit and handsome, of course. Clay had really let himself go. How did he ever get any girls?



Finally, Reggie said "Well, me and that girl Sarah. We're still together...” He dropped off.

Clay sat back and crossed his arms. We're still together, ha. You're 14, what do you know about being together with anyone. You and me are together. You and Sarah are classmates. God when did this kid start taking himself so seriously? Maybe that was Clay’s problem. He never took anything seriously. Not class, not sports, not his appearance to his peers. Clay essentially laughed his way through life. That is, when times weren't too tough and he wasn't dealing with relationship issues of his own. Those were the only issues he ever really had. He was fortunate to always have a job and money. His lack of dependency on others was a source of pride for him.

Clay picked up where Reggie had left off.



"And...What?" He said. He formed a huge grin as he put a finger behind his ear. "Do I hear wedding bells? Already?"



"Sarah is pregnant." Reggie seemed liberated from the weight of his declaration. He sat up and put his hands on the table.



"I got her pregnant."

Clay's reaction was delayed. After a couple seconds he arched his neck forward and raised his eyebrows.

"What?" Clay blinked.

Clay noticed the corners of Reggie’s mouth begin to raise and form a smile. His eyebrows also went up as his head bobbled.

"Yeah."

Clay sat back again and shook his head. Man. He always knew Reggie was better with girls than him, and would therefore score at a younger age. He was the most popular kid in his class, according to him, and he had no reason to lie. It wasn't heard to swallow that either. When he wanted to, Reggie oozed with charm, and that was one aspect of his personality that Clay secretly took credit for. He knew for a fact that Reggie took his jokes to school with him.

Reggie was also a star athlete, so some sort of sexual encounter with one of the little groupies that attended his high school home games was inevitable. But Clay thought it would be another couple of years before he even met one of Reggie's girls. He figured it would happen around the time that Reggie would get his license.



Clay had actually been one of the first in his class to lose his virginity. Not to any of the girls there. He used to wonder what it would have been like to see someone everyday at school that you had seen naked and messed around with. This would be answered for him years later after having slept with co-workers at various office jobs he had taken up after quitting school. Not such a big deal after all, really.



No, Clay's cherry got popped at the age of 16, when this older guy he used to know, Maurice, hooked Clay up with his "side freak." And she was a freak, too. A young round and brown thing with a cute face, who had become interested in Clay after learning of his untouched status. Maurice didn't care; after all, he had a wife.



The actual encounter itself was just a painful blur in Clay's mind. It had been quick and terrible, and the girl had actually pushed him off of her so that she could answer her phone. So he sat there and watched her twirl the phone cord in her fingers and carry on a giggly conversation with the deep, accented male voice on the other end. It wasn’t Maurice's voice. When she finally hung up she told him that he had to get dressed and leave. This didn't stop him from bragging to his friends in Monday morning math class about "all the positions" he had done with her.



"So." Clay paused. "When did you, er, how long have you guys been-"



"About two months. Well, a month and a half or so," said Reggie, who noted and was satisfied by Clay's surprise. “Blew your mind, didn't I?” said Reggie, in his head.



'Where?"  Clay’s question sounded more like a demand.



"At her house." Clay decided right then and there he was going to stop that line of questioning. He wasn't about to starting digging for the salacious details of his barely pubescent brother's sex life.



Clay rubbed his chin. "So...let me guess. Neither of you could afford a rubber?"

"Yeah I used one." Reggie said all at once. He then leaned back in his chair and surveyed the rest of the library. He had perked up quite a bit since his little big confession. Clay couldn't tell if Reggie was being confident, or just cocky. "It broke."



"Yeah they tend to do that sometimes." Clay had seen it happen. Besides he didn't really know what else to say. What difference does it make if his condom broke, or if he had even worn one? The damage was done.



"I am going to guess that you didn't tell Mom about this."

Reggie shook his head. "Heck no," he said.  Clay took deep satisfaction in knowing that Reggie had brought this to him first.  Ever since Reggie started to come of age, Clay had kept him close.  It was paying off.

"Well maybe you should. She could probably arrange an …appointment. For your girl. Right after she smacks the brown off you, of course." She probably would. Arrange an abortion for the girl, that is. As far as the punishment she would give him, he wasn't sure. Kids who got themselves in that situation always seemed to get off lightly in that regard. These two were too young to force into a marriage, so what she going to do, lock him in the basement? He knew one thing; she sure wasn't going to let him have that kid. His life had way too much promise, and what Mom wanted more than anything was to see at least one of her children finish college.

"I don't want an abortion" Reggie intoned.

“Oh, really? What are you going to do then, Reggie? You gonna raise a kid? You’re a kid yourself.” Clay really had a stronger argument than that deeper within him, but he felt that was all he needed to say. If Reggie was mature enough to step forward and admit his mistake as well as seek advice, then he had obviously thought this through on his own, as well.

“Well, I was thinking adoption.” Reggie curled his lips back into his mouth and raised his eyebrows and waited for an answer. It was if he needed Clay’s permission.

“Adoption,” nodded Clay. “Let me ask you, what does the girl, Sarah? What does she want to do?”

Reggie shook his head. “She doesn’t know. I just know that we are both against abortion.” He sat upright as he said this raised his head in a proud manner. “We have values.”

These fucking kids.

“Oh do you, now? Values.” Clay rubbed his eyes and looked up and around for the first time since Reggie dropped the bomb on him. He tried to focus on the spine of a large green book, whose title which was in embossed yellow and which he couldn’t quite read since it was sitting on a bookshelf in the far right corner behind Reggie. “What about not having sex until you are an adult? Where did those values go?” Reggie shrugged and looked at Clay and blinked, then looked back down at the table. The look on his face wasn’t of shame, it was more like the face a quarterback makes while waiting for the coach to tell him the next play. Had this girl told her parents? Clay wondered.



“So she wants to go through school with her big pregnant belly and just drop a kid into this world huh? At 14, right?”



“I guess. It’s hard to talk to her about it ‘cause she just keeps crying.” Reggie’s voice lost its sophistication and he now seemed fully invested in the conversation, for the first time.  His hand flew up and down in front of him in frustration as he spoke and felt his own bottom lip begin to quiver.



The promise of a massive headache began to form in Clay’s brain. This started to feel like a bad dream or a sick joke to him.  Little did he or Reggie know, it really was a joke, a cosmic one, which the two of them weren’t in on, yet. The punch line would come on the following wednesday, when Sarah Brooks, age 14, would get up and leave her social studies class without a word, clutching her stomach on the way to the bathroom. It is there that what was once a beast of burden will be reduced to nothing but a messy red clump covered with toilet paper and a bit of urine; a sin to be flushed away for all time.



“I was thinking maybe you could take it.” Reggie said this to Clay.



“Take what?” Clay recoiled. He honestly didn’t know what Reggie meant by ‘take it’. The only ‘It’ that had been mentioned was the baby. And of course he wasn’t suggesting that Clay take his baby.



“The …baby.” Reggie said, as if he were talking to a small child. “That’s why I called you.”

Clay said nothing and once again rubbed his eyes, except this time he ran his palms down each cheek and brought his lower eyelids down along with them.



“We can have the baby, you can take him, and that way I can still be around to help and stuff.” Clay peered into his brothers eyes, as if were trying to read something far away.



“Reggie, are you high? Seriously, are you doing drugs now too?”



“No.” He seemed genuinely offended. A good sign. At least Reggie had certainly done better than Clay had in the avoiding-drugs department. But this would truly break their mother’s heart. This whole love-child thing needed to get cleared up one way or another.



Reggie continued. “You know, I figure instead of buying stuff for me all the time, you could just spend it on the baby.”



“A – that is not going to happen, ever.” Clay’s hand formed a thumbs-up sign. “Do you have any idea how expensive it is to raise someone? If Mom and dad would have put all the money they have spent bringing you up and put it aside, I could have come here on a golden chariot instead of the bus.” He looked down at his thumb and stuck out his index finger, his hand now forming a gun.



“And B, we are bringing this to Mom.” They had a father too, it should be mentioned, but talking to him about this would mean certain death for Reggie. They both knew this, and that Mom was the path of least resistance. You tend to evaluate these things when your parents fail to work as a unit, and The Ma and Pa Whelp Unit broke down on the side of the road long before his parent’s actual divorce when Clay was 18.



Reggie also knew that he wouldn’t even get a lecture from his brother. A lecture would be unnecessary at this point. Anyway, Clay had given up on attempting to be that sort of authority figure. He just wanted to help without handing out judgment. Let the parents be the parents.



“If you guys want to have a baby together at 14, well, as romantic as that is,” Clay placed his hands over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes. “I think it would be a huge mistake. But I will help out where I’m able.” Clay stiffened up his pose, almost as if to mock Reggie’s. 



“Now, either you can tell Mom, or I can.” It was pathetic advice: Go Tell Mom. Ask Mom. She’ll know. I don’t. But apparently it wasn’t advice Reggie was after as much as a nanny for the next addition to the Whelps clan.  The younger boy sulked and curled his lip, as if he had been served a plate of food he didn’t want to eat, and rested his head on the table.



“What a silly notion, that I have nothing better to do than sit there and raise his kid,” Clay imparted to an imaginary audience.  And Reggie replied, “Well, it just seemed like a smart idea.”



“Yeah, keep having those.” Clay stood. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”



“I already had some,” Reggie pointed at a red blotch on his dark blue school uniform shirt. “While I was waiting.”



“What is that?” Clay asked. He hadn’t noticed the stain before now.



“I was trying to catch the cherry in my mouth and missed.” Reggie looked down at the stain again, “this is a new shirt too.” As they walked out of the library, Clay put his hand on his brother’s head and tussled his hair.



“Mom can get that out for you,” he advised.