The Year of the Rat
by Nico Grey
Chapter 1
He stepped out from the sanctuary of the church and I followed — with my eyes at first, tracking his movement as he sauntered toward the street. His longish brown hair was trailing behind him, beckoning to me. He paused briefly in front of the dilapidated rectory, glancing around furtively and almost making eye contact with me before, with a quick shrug, he continued across the yard and through the wrought iron gate.
Once his feet hit the pavement he picked up speed, turning up the collar of his thin grey jacket and hunching narrow shoulders against the chill evening breeze. He moved confidently, almost eagerly, toward the broad streets ahead. His flowing hair became my beacon as I stepped out of the shadows and slipped into his wake.
I scurried after him as he turned onto Grand Avenue. His speed surprised me, his slender legs covering ground rapidly for someone who was scant inches taller than me. I picked up my pace and considered running, but I needed to be careful to avoid his notice. I couldn't risk him turning around on the quiet street and seeing me.
As I strove doggedly to keep him in sight, I couldn't help but wonder why he was in such a hurry. Here I was, behind him, and he was moving rapidly in the opposite direction. Fate can be cruel when you're scared and hungry. I felt a rumbling in my chest and a familiar empty feeling.
He moved confidently, striding along the avenue between the tall sentinels that silently guarded the heart of Chicago at night. I kept to the shadows and tried to avoid their gaze.
After three blocks, my target turned south onto Columbus Drive. As he disappeared from view, I took advantage of the opportunity and ran. But when I turned onto Columbus Drive, it seemed that he was even farther ahead of me.
The streets were quiet, almost empty. The hour was far too late for much activity in this part of the city. There was little to distract me or my quarry from our objectives. He strode purposefully. I thought that perhaps he was moving so quickly because his destination was close and I would catch up with him soon. I said a prayer of sorts and kept moving.
We walked for almost twenty minutes, he striding hurriedly, my eyes fixed on him as I flitted from concealment to concealment. A faint glow increased in the distance. As we drew closer to Grant Park, the horizon was limned against the lights of Buckingham Fountain.
We crossed East Randolph Street, the Pritzker Pavilion to our right and Maggie Daley Park to the left. The light from Buckingham Fountain continued to beckon us closer.
After crossing East Monroe Street, he ducked through a hedge and entered the park. There was a cluster of small structures ahead of us. It seemed strange that this would be his destination. But I hoped that it was. I hadn't the strength to continue much farther.
Drawing closer, I noticed that the small buildings appeared to be restrooms. But instead of entering the men's room, he joined a group of five boys, about his age or slightly older, that were lounging against the side of the building. They appeared to know each other.
I couldn't get close enough to overhear conversations without being noticed, so I just observed from a cluster of bushes and small trees near the edge of the park. The boys were amiable enough toward each other, but it didn't seem to me that they were close friends. It felt more like people on a job together. They were cordial, but with a professional demeanor.
From time to time, a man approaching the restroom would slip off course and join the boys. A minute or two of conversation would follow, then the man and one of the boys departed for the bushes and trees growing behind the building.
Perhaps ten or fifteen minutes later, the boy would reappear and join the group. The boys shared a bit of idle chatter and teasing, but there seemed to be some tension or strain in their conversation; an awkwardness. I couldn't determine where the man might have gone.
My quarry left twice while I was watching. Both times he returned to rejoin the group. I wanted to know what he and the other boys were doing when they left, but the ground between my hiding place and the back of the building was too open. I couldn't figure out how to get a closer look without being noticed.
I watched for more than two hours. But nothing changed. The pattern kept repeating and I was none the wiser. And there were too many people around for me to approach my quarry.
The night was growing cooler. It was only late April and sometimes the night temperatures were barely above freezing. I was exhausted and growing sleepy. Frustrated, I slipped away quietly and scurried back toward the heart of the city.
The great canyons of concrete and steel rose about me again. I turned back onto Grand Avenue. I could see the outline of the buildings along Navy Pier ahead of me. Home wasn't far away now.
I pushed open the wrought iron gate, passed the brick rectory, and entered the stone structure that had once been a church. There was a faint outline in the stone near that door that read: "Church of St. Francis Xavier". But the building was empty now. The altar no longer sanctified, else I wouldn't have been there.
I don't know why, but I was trembling as I transited the nave and approached the chancel, where the altar had once stood. Above me on the far wall, I could still see the faint outline of the great cross that had hung there. It had faded with the passage of years, but was still visible against the wall that had been exposed to years of incense and candle soot.
I had failed in my mission that night. I was tired, discouraged, and hungry. All the pain and heartbreak of my twelve years overflowed my heart. I knew that I didn't deserve it, but I needed His solace.
Through my worn shirt, I clutched the icon dangling from my neck. As always, the gesture triggered memories of Father Thomas. In my heart, I could see him prostrate before the altar at St. Margaret's. And like him, I prostrated myself in the dust on the floor of the chancel, before the form of the great cross.
Many years ago, Father Thomas had taught me to pray. He seemed to sense my need for some connection beyond family and community. That was enough for many people. But in my case, family and community provided very little support.
I was never sure how, but he had noticed me skulking about the neighborhood, friendless, occasionally bullied, and usually neglected by my family. The Father introduced himself to me with a friendly smile and a few kind words. Over time, he got to know about me and my life. I guess he found me worthy. He gave me occasional jobs around St. Margaret's, provided me with an occasional small gift and some income in exchange for my labor. Perhaps it wasn't much, but for me it provided a sense of personal value and of belonging somewhere.
When Father was transferred to another parish in the middle of the state, I was devastated. Before he left, he gifted me with a few hundred dollars and with the crucifix that I still wear. He also left me knowing that no matter how dark the storm around me, there was always someone out there who cared and would listen to me, if I would but open my heart to Him.
Prostate in the chancel of an abandoned church, I opened my heart. I didn't find any answers, but I did find some peace. The answers would come in time. Until then, at least I was loved and provided for. It wasn't all I wanted. But it was all I needed.
I made my way carefully into the basement of the abandoned church. I washed briefly in a basin that we kept filled with runoff whenever it rained. Then I organized our nest, made myself snug amongst the blankets, and prepared for sleep. As I drifted off, I prayed that God would keep Mike safe.
I woke to the dim light of the sun filtering down into the church basement. Mike's arms were wrapped around me.
We shared the nest every night. But I always woke with his arms around me after he had disappeared at night.
When he thought I was asleep, Mike would plant a tender kiss on the back of my neck. Then he would disappear. But he was always back, his arms securely around me, when I awoke on those mornings.
The first time I woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed it had terrified me. Now I understood that he would come back. But I still worried that something might happen while he was out there in the night.
I studied him for a few moments, trying to read his news. Had he enjoyed his adventure in the night? Had he been safe?
I couldn't help worrying. Mike was capable. He took care of us... in many ways, at least as well as my parents had cared for me. He was older than me. Fourteen. But he was hardly any bigger than I was. There were so many unknown things out in the world. Big things. Dangerous things.
I couldn't help myself. I pushed the longish brown hair off his forehead and pressed my crucifix against his flesh. I prayed that God would always recognize His own and watch over us.
It took a moment for Mike's eyes open, and then to focus. "Rat!" he smiled.
He meant me.
When I was born, my parents named me Conrad. But for as long as I can remember, almost everyone has called me Rat. Teachers rarely paid enough attention to me to use any name. My parents didn't pay me much attention, either. Father Thomas, he had insisted that I give him my name and he called me Conrad. But to everyone else I was just a small, sneaky, furtive Rat.
When Mike first met me, he had heard me called that name. So that's what he called me, too. I hadn't bothered to correct him. After years of being "Rat", I was used to it.
At least when Mike calls me "Rat", it sounds as if he likes rats.
As Mike reconnected with the world, he slowly extricated himself from our nest. He slipped on jeans and sneakers. Then he smiled at me again.
"I have some money now, Rat. I'm sorry I couldn't buy anything last night. I know you've been hungry. But I'll go get breakfast. I'll be back in about ten minutes."
I thought about going with him. But I knew if we went together, he would probably stop to buy us breakfast at McDonald's or even at a restaurant. If he went alone, he would get us something like cereal and milk. That would help make his money last longer.
Fifteen minutes later, he was back with Cheerios, milk and some Sunny D.
"I know you really like Lucky Charms, Rat," he explained, "But these are a lot healthier for you."
When he thought of it and we had the money, Mike tried to include more nutrition in our basic diet. Milk was healthy. And Sunny D might not have been dietician approved, but at least in gave us vitamins and minerals that we didn't always get otherwise.
As we ate, I wanted to ask Mike about where he had gone during the night. I wanted to ask what he and those boys did with the men they met outside the Grant Park restrooms. But I knew that he would have told me about it if he wanted me to know.
It hurt that he kept this secret from me. But I worried that it might hurt him to find out that I was sneaking around and checking up on him. He already gave me everything I needed. I couldn't burden him with my selfish wants.
When we finished eating, we rinsed the mismatched bowls and spoons.
Mike yawned. "I must not have slept very well last night," he said. "We'll go somewhere later today, but I need to go back to bed right now."
I helped him arrange our nest. I slid in after Mike, squirmed around a bit to get comfortable, and wrapped my arms around him. He drifted into sleep with a soft smile on his face.
Judging from the light outside, I didn't sleep very long. From the angle of the light, the sun still appeared to be fairly low in the sky. The city was starting to come alive around us.
St. Francis Xavier stood abandoned, surrounded by empty buildings. But we were only a few blocks away from the busiest parts of the city. I could hear traffic congesting the streets nearby and the steady hum and bustle of city life.
I considered going out to see what was happening in our world. But I didn't want to worry Mike if he woke up and found me gone.
When we had first met a few months earlier, I was barely eleven-and-a-half years old and was still fairly new to life on the street. I had been surviving on petty theft. Sometimes it was risky. I suppose I had a few close calls.
As we got to know each other, when we decided to find a place to live together, Mike pleaded with me to stop stealing. He worried about what might happen if I were caught. He promised that he would earn money for both of us. He would buy everything that we needed. I wouldn't have to steal.
I had never liked stealing. The risk of getting caught scared me and I didn't like the idea of taking things that belonged to other people. So even though I'm a sneaky rat, I didn't mind accepting Mike's condition.
Rather than risk worrying Mike if I was gone when he woke, I just curled up next to him and enjoyed the comfort of our closeness. I breathed in his odor. He still carried some of the exotic scent of the street on him. It was almost intoxicating.
Later, I woke again to find Mike seated in a pool of faint light that was coming from a basement window. He was intent on a large book of some sort. It looked like he was writing in it.
His eyes came up from their focus on the book and glanced in my direction. When he noticed me watching him, he stopped writing and grinned uncomfortably. It felt like I had caught him doing something intensely private.
Mike closed the book and tucked it into a backpack where most of his clothes and personal items were stored. I pretended that I hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. But I was curious.
I understood that the book was something that Mike wanted to keep private. But I am a rat. I stored the information away for future consideration.
We spent the day in sunlight. Mike brought me down to the Navy Pier, one of our favorite destinations, to take in the sights. I knew better than to even look like something had caught my interest, if it cost money. I understood that Mike would want to make me happy, but that money was always tight. There were still many things to see there that fueled dreams and wouldn't cost us anything.
Mike didn't disappear at night for four days. On the fifth day, I sensed him probing me cautiously to see if I was awake. Then I felt his gentle kiss on the back of my neck.
I wanted to open my eyes and ask him where he was going. Instead I did what rats do. I pretended to be asleep. When he left the room and I heard him on the stairs, I crawled carefully out of the nest and prepared myself for the night.
I didn't need to follow Mike as carefully this time. Once he was clear of the churchyard, had turned west onto Grand Avenue, and then started travelling south on Columbus Drive, I was fairly certain that I knew where he was going. I wasn't as careful to stay close to him. I kept my distance. It was easier to stroll casually instead of scurrying to find cover just in case he glanced back.
I didn't understand why Mike would spend hours hanging around outside restrooms in Grant Park. I hadn't seen any evidence of drugs or money changing hands on his previous visit. But something was happening there that he considered important enough to sneak out without telling me about it.
When I arrived at the park, I noticed that Mike was standing with a group of teens outside the men's room again. I wasn't sure, but a couple of them looked familiar. And it didn't take more than a few minutes for the scene from our last visit to repeat itself. An adult guy, he looked like he was maybe forty, walked over to the group. He and one of the teens disappeared behind the building for a while. Then the teen returned.
I needed to find out what was going on behind that building. I was pretty sure that Mike and his friends wouldn't go anywhere if I lost sight of them for a few minutes. So I faded back into the bushes and took a long route through the trees. It brought me eventually to the back side of the rest rooms.
I couldn't see anything happening there. But I figured that if I waited, sooner or later someone would come around the building and I would find out where they went.
I only took five minutes. One of the teens strolled cautiously around the building with some really old guy behind him. The guy had to be close to fifty. They pushed their way into a clump of bushes twenty or thirty yards from the restrooms. Then the teen disappeared.
The old guy stood there in the bushes. He didn't do anything at first. Then he started trembling a bit, even shaking. He called out something that didn't make any sense to me. And maybe thirty seconds later the teen stood up again. The old guy handed him something, they pushed their way back out of the bushes, and they went their separate ways. The teen went back toward the front of the restrooms. The old guy shambled away toward the street, casting furtive glances over his shoulder every few feet.
That was weird. I made sure that no one was coming from the restrooms. Then I carefully sneaked over toward the clump of bushes. I was trying to figure out how to get inside when I heard voices coming around the building.
I barely had time to burrow into some shrubs behind those bushes before people emerged from the side of the building. First came some man. He seemed youngish; probably in his thirties, I guessed. The next person to emerge from around the building was Mike!
I almost panicked and ran! I was sure that Mike would sense me hiding behind those bushes. And if he knew I was there, I was sure that it would really upset him.
I didn't know if he would get angry. I had never seen Mike really angry, and he never got angry with me. But I was sure that he would be disappointed, hurt, and feel betrayed. Whatever it was, I knew that I would hate making Mike feel that way.
Mike and his friend — I guess — pushed into the shrubbery. I was closer than I had been before, so I could see more of what was happening inside those bushes. I don't know what I expected to see, but I certainly hadn't expected to see Mike kneel down in front of the guy.
The guy waited expectantly. Mike didn't hesitate. He reached out toward the guy's fly, pulled down the zipper, and pulled out his penis!? It looked enormous from where I was watching. And hard! That thing looked like it was ready to burst!
Then Mike leaned forward. I almost passed out when I saw him take that penis into his mouth! Something was happening. Mike's head was moving around a lot, like maybe that penis was trying to shove its way through the back of his throat. The guy seemed pretty excited.
I couldn't figure out what they were doing. Was the guy peeing in Mike's mouth? Was his penis so big because he had to go really bad? And why was Mike letting him do it? He hadn't tried to stop the guy. He had actually been helping. Nothing made sense!
Finally, after several minutes, the guy and Mike got quieter. They remained joined for close to a minute, then the guy pulled his penis out of Mike's mouth. It looked a lot smaller now. He must have peed a river! The guy slid his penis back into his pants and zipped up.
As they were leaving the clump of bushes, the guy handed something to Mike. It looked like money.
"Fifty?" he asked.
Mike counted the money and nodded. "Fifty," he agreed.
"Thanks, dude. I hope we see each other again," the guy said. "I like you." Then he pushed his way through the bushes and toward the street.
Mike smiled until the guy turned away. Then his expression turned sour. He seemed reluctant as he walked back toward the restrooms.
I was confused. And appalled. Why had that guy paid Mike fifty dollars to pee in his mouth? He could have used the restroom for free!
And why would Mike let the guy do that to him? That made absolutely no sense to me. Sure, we needed money. But swallowing someone's pee was disgusting! There had to be better ways to get money.
I was amazed. Were all Mike's friends here for the same thing? I hadn't really seen what happened with the first guys, but they had ended up in the bushes together.
I had come to find out where Mike went at night and what he was doing. I had watched him. I still couldn't figure out what was going on. I thought I should stick around and observe some more if I really wanted to understand. But I had seen enough for one night. I had to leave.
As I stumbled home through the night, I wondered what I would feel the next time Mike kissed the back of my neck with lips that had swallowed some guy's pee.
I suppose that being young means there are a lot of things that don't make sense about the world. It takes time to build up experience, and then to understand your experiences. And the more you understand, I think, the easier it gets to put things, even really disgusting things, into a perspective that's tolerable.
It was so gross to think that Mike was drinking pee, even if he did it to get money for us. But the next time he cautiously checked to see if I was asleep, then gently kissed the back of my neck, it still felt nice.
I guess that somehow I recognized that there were more important things about the gesture than where those lips had been. I wasn't even tempted to wipe off the back of my neck before I crawled out of bed and prepared to follow Mike into the night.
Yes, I had already followed Mike, knew where he went, and had seen what he was doing. But the entire picture still didn't make sense yet. I needed to know more. Maybe, at some level, I wanted to make sure that Mike was safe. So I slipped a dark hoodie over my t-shirt, waited five minutes, and then went out into the night. I was pretty sure I knew where I would find Mike. I could take my time getting there.
I didn't even bother to check in front of the Grant Park restrooms. I just skittered from cover to cover until I could see that clump of bushes where Mike and his friends worked.
I waited until I was sure they were on duty. Then, as one of Mike's friends disappeared around the side of the restrooms, and his... patient?... client?... What exactly do you call someone who pays for... that? Anyway, once the guy had pushed his way through the bushes and was headed toward the street, I wriggled my way into the clump of bushes and found a place to hide.
I crawled into that clump of bushes for a better view. I saw a lot more than I bargained for that night. It was mostly variations on peeing. But a couple times one of the older guys let one of Mike's friends pee in his mouth. Once they took turns peeing. I even heard one of the guys ask how much it would cost... I don't know how to describe it, but the guy asked how much it would cost for "that sweet ass".
Did he want to pee in the kid's butt? Or was he talking about swallowing poop?! Fortunately, I never found out! The kid just told the guy that it wasn't for sale. I was so relieved! I'm sure I would have vomited immediately if anyone ate poop. Then Mike would have certainly discovered that I was there.
Mike took his turn in the bushes like all of his friends. I wondered how they figured that out. It wasn't like they always followed a certain order. But it did seem that everyone was doing their fair share.
I was thinking about how I could sneak out of those bushes and go home when Mike came around the building again with a fairly young guy following right behind him. I could tell right away that the guy really had to go. He was so eager! So I wasn't surprised at all when Mike knelt down right in front of him immediately and pulled the guy's penis out.
The guy didn't even give Mike time to get ready. He just pushed his penis into Mike's mouth and started thrashing around. He reminded me of a little kid who couldn't hold it. He kept shoving his hips forward, into Mike's face. Mike's head was getting knocked all over the place!
The guy was quivering and shaking. "Damn, kid! You're pretty good at this," he gasped.
Finally, Mike reached behind the guy like he was going to grab onto his butt to keep him still. But before Mike could hold him, the guy screamed, "I'm coming!" He started jerking around like crazy!
Mike was being tossed back and forth so much that the guy's penis popped out of his mouth. It was weird. He wasn't peeing. But suddenly something white came shooting out of his penis and sprayed all over Mike's nose and mouth.
I almost retched! Was that guy sick or something? Was he making Mike drink his diseased pee?!
Mike reached up and stuck the penis back in his mouth!?! Then he grabbed the guy's butt real quick and held on until the guy finally stopped thrashing around.
At least the guy apologized to Mike. He tried to tell Mike that it only happened because he was "so good", whatever that meant. Then he put himself away, handed over a fistful of money, and pushed his way out through the bushes. For a minute, I thought he was going to walk right through my hiding place! And that really would have made me sick.
I guess Mike must have already seen a lot of nasty things on his job. He just used his hand to clean up around his mouth and wiped the mess on some leaves. Then he went back to work.
Once Mike was gone, I crawled out of those bushes. I had to get home.
I had a hard time falling asleep that night. I was still trying to calm my mind and go to sleep when Mike crept down the stairs. I pretended that I was sleeping.
Mike stripped down for bed, then crawled into our nest. He settled himself behind me, wrapped an arm over me, and kissed me tenderly on the back of my neck!
It took all of my willpower, but I didn't react. I desperately wanted to wipe that diseased pee off the back of my neck. But I really didn't want to upset Mike.
I waited until I was sure that he was asleep. Then I wiped the back of my neck furiously. I didn't find anything there, but just the thought of that white pee really creeped me out! I crawled out of our nest and washed my neck in the basin of rain water. I was very careful not to put my hands back in the water. There was no way I wanted any of that diseased pee to get in the water we used to clean ourselves!
Mike wasn't there when I woke up the following morning. But I didn't have to wait long to find out where he had gone. Before I could even pull myself together enough to leave our nest, I heard him bounding down the stairs.
He pulled up short when he saw me sitting in bed. "I'm sorry, Rat. I just assumed that you were already up. I hope I didn't wake you," he smiled sheepishly.
"It's okay," I assured him. "I was awake. Just hadn't started moving yet."
"In that case," Mike brought a bag out from behind his back. He excitedly pulled out Sunny D and a pint of milk. Then he grinned at me, "Ta da!" It was a large box of Lucky Charms!
"I know you love 'em, Rat. And I guess you don't have to eat healthy all the time."
It was the best breakfast I had all week! Mike heaped Lucky Charms in our bowls, then added milk. We drank that Sunny D straight from the bottle. The Lucky Charms and the cool milk were delicious!
The only cloud in the sky that morning was when Mike finished his cereal and tipped his bowl back to drink what was left of the milk. That milk moustache triggered some disturbing memories.
We didn't leave the church basement until mid-afternoon. It was a lazy day. I was still tired, so I rested a bit. My stomach was comfortably full.
Mike spent some time writing in one of those big books that he kept in his backpack. Every now and then he would look over at me and grin.
I suppose most people would say we didn't have much of a life. But I had everything that I needed. That grin was icing on the cake. Knowing that it was intended just for me, made me feel better than spending the entire day at an amusement park. But I could see a shadow around that grin. A white shadow. I wished so hard that Mike would be spared having to do that again.
When we did finally leave the church, it was just starting to get dark outside. We strolled casually in the direction of Navy Pier. Most of the people that worked in the heart of the city and kept it running had gone home for the day. A younger crowd was starting to gear up for the evening. As usual, the Pier was the center of the action.
I knew I shouldn't have let him, but Mike insisted that we get a foot-long and iced tea from a street vendor outside Gateway Park. Mike made sure that I got tea instead of soda. I really should have insisted that he save his money. But the hot dog still tasted great! It just troubled me to think about what Mike had to do so we could afford it.
We couldn't really take part in many of the amusements on the Pier, but it was still fun to stroll around and watch all the action. Sometimes I think it's just as much fun to see other people having fun as it is to be at the center of the action.
Mike and I weren't the only people that felt that way. Lots of younger guys were milling around and people watching.
One group of three boys about our age caught my attention. Everywhere we went, they seemed to keep showing up within a few minutes. And there was something different about them. They were definitely people watching, but maybe a little more intently than most around us. And for some reason that I couldn't explain, they just looked and acted a little cooler than everyone else.
I don't think their cool came from the way they dressed. Really, they looked a lot like typical street kids. But they carried themselves like they were more confident, and that confidence wasn't just for show.
Mike and I circulated around the Pier Park. The ferris wheel always seemed to keep drawing us back toward the center of the park. I tried real hard to keep Mike's attention away from the amusement.
I would have loved to ride that thing. But I didn't want Mike to know that. He would have spent the money and been right back out in the night, doing whatever he had to do to earn more. Swallowing diseased pee! Just the idea freaked me out!
From behind me, I thought I could hear a snicker. But when I turned around, I couldn't see anyone that close to us. I shivered.
We continued our circuit of the park, heading toward the pier shops. The carousel caught Mike's attention and he wandered a few feet away from me. A young girl was looking around anxiously and he tried to comfort her. I heard him ask where her parents were. That just seemed to upset her more.
Mike knelt down in front of the girl and spoke soothingly. It almost sounded like the way he talked to me when he thought I was upset. It seemed to help her. Mike was someone older who was calmly looking out for her, but she didn't have to look up at him. He just had a way with people.
I glanced away for a second. When I looked back, a man was standing next to the little girl, holding her hand. I guessed that it was her father. She seemed happy to see him.
The image wasn't as calming for me. Mike kneeling there in front of that man, triggered a memory. White spraying all over Mike's mouth. I hoped the man didn't have diseased pee.
Behind me, I heard that snicker again. It echoed strangely in the open air.
There were people behind me, but several yards away. I noticed those three young guys we kept bumping into among the crowd. But I couldn't figure out where the snicker had come from.
When I turned back toward Mike, I felt something strange. It was almost like the way I feel when something surprises me, but I knew that the feeling didn't come from me. The snickers hadn't surprised me. I was just curious about where they came from.
I nudged Mike and directed him around the shops. I needed a place to sit down. We found a bench when we could look out over the lake.
Mike could sense that I was feeling somewhat distracted. But he didn't push me for an explanation. He just leaned into my shoulder as we enjoyed the view.
After a few minutes, I noticed those three guys again, leaning against a railing along the edge of the pier. This time I paid them closer attention.
Two of the guys were older than me, probably Mike's age or a little more than that. One had auburn hair that hung down to the cheekbones on both sides of his face. He had a pale complexion, with very red lips and a little mole up near his right eye. He looked like he was a bit taller than Mike and he had a very trim build. He just had a sleek look about him.
The next kid was about the same height as the first. I assumed they were probably the same age. He had short, black hair and a very smooth and spotless medium brown complexion.
The third kid was younger. Maybe my age or just a little older. He had sandy blond hair and was pretty skinny, almost fragile in appearance. I got the sense that he was really shy. His eyes spent most of the time looking at the ground, although I noticed him look up at the black kid occasionally — almost adoringly, I thought. It was hard to tell. All three kids were wearing sunglasses.
That seemed rather strange. It was several hours after dark had fallen, but they were still wearing sunglasses. It was probably just a trend — the thought came unbidden to me. After all, it's what kids do. Set trends. And usually the weirder, the better.
I tried not to stare. It's best not to do anything that might cause trouble, especially when you're small like me. Or homeless, like Mike and me. It's always a good idea to avoid trouble. And it's something that rats are good at.
Mike continued to lean against my shoulder as we watched the lights gliding across Lake Michigan. It felt like he sensed my uneasiness and was trying to soothe me. But I was having trouble settling into that comfortable nest I usually shared with Mike.
The atmosphere around me was alive with unsettled emotions; like a low voltage current crackling through the night air. I felt my thoughts and feeling being pulled erratically in many directions.
I was conflicted. Physical contact with Mike usually comforted me. But I couldn't get that picture out of my head; the one of him with white pee all over his face.
It didn't help that I also had a sixth sense that was trying to get my attention. There was something about those three guys leaning against the railing. Whenever I glanced in their direction, they seemed to be engaged in their own business. But we had been moving all night. They had been moving all night. And when we stopped moving, they stopped moving, too.
I cleared my mind. I focused on the lights moving on the water. And then, without thinking and giving my body time to give my intention away, I glanced quickly in the direction of those guys. The one with the auburn hair had been looking right at me, before his gaze snapped quickly away.
It was weird. I felt that sense of surprise again. It was a bit sharper this time. After a few seconds, I felt a smile. But I knew that my expression hadn't changed.
Between the unexplained feelings going on inside my head, and the visual imagery of Mike the previous night, I was having a hard time keeping my thoughts straight. It felt like I had lost control of the parts of my brain that made sense of the world around me. I wanted to run; to just scurry under the boardwalk and find a hiding place down near the water. I usually loved nights on the Navy Pier. But this night was having a strange effect on me.
Another feeling came, again unbidden. But it felt more... even. It felt more relaxed... and relaxing. I leaned into Mike, but I don't think he was the source of the feeling. I was still wondering about that pee on his face. I wasn't sure that I would ever be able to enjoy a breakfast of cereal and milk with him again.
I felt the mood in the air shift again. It felt like the night was amused.
I noticed voices coming from my left. A quick glance confirmed that the auburn-haired boy was saying something to his companions.
"I should probably be getting back soon."
It looked like the other two were surprised by the announcement.
"Justin will be back within the hour. And you know how he is after those training sessions. He'll need my attention."
"But what sort of attention?" I could see the black kid's lips move, then turn up into a knowing smile.
"Oh, I'll start with a massage. But you know it won't be long before he'll want his penis," the word seemed unfamiliar to the auburn-haired guy, "in my mouth. He's almost insatiable after a training session."
The other two appeared confused, like they were having trouble following the conversation.
"You know how it can be, Dion," the same kid added.
His companions were watching him quizzically.
"It probably isn't easy being gentle with Dylan all the time."
The black guy shifted his feet uneasily and looked away. The blond kid was gazing fixedly at his feet. For a minute, I thought he might just disappear.
It was an odd thought. But the kid really did look extremely uncomfortable... and almost like he wasn't entirely there anymore. The auburn-haired kid kept talking, but his voice sounded muffled inside my head.
"When you stick your penis," I heard that odd unfamiliarity in his voice again, "in Dylan's mouth so you guys can have sex."
That... that, rang a bell! I had heard people talking about sex before. But putting a penis in a mouth? That was sex? I once heard somebody say that sex was for making babies. I had no idea that's how it worked!
"It's probably hard to stay in control when you're pushing your... penis in and out of his mouth until you come."
I couldn't take my eyes off the three of them as they stood there, gazing calmly out over the water.
"You know, when that white stuff comes out of your penis. The white stuff that makes babies."
That white stuff makes babies?!? Oh my god!!! Was Mike going to have a baby?!
I heard silent laughter again. And then what felt like a mischievous impulse.
"I love it when Justin comes in my mouth and I swallow it. It tastes fantastic!"
That white stuff actually tastes good?! Oh, there is no way! No... freaking... way!!!
I barely noticed when the auburn-haired guy and his companions strolled quietly away. I had a lot to think about.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
