Comfort and Joy Read Online Free PDF Page B

youtake him." McKenzie laughed. "Come on, Fordie, it's all right. We'll be quiet. Don't spoilmyfun."
     
Ford turned to the stranger, a scared kid. "Wait for me outside. I'lltake youhome."
    "Now you wait just a minute," McKenzie said, struggling to rise.
"Shut up!" He trembled, looming over McKenzie. Who froze in the midst of clumsy attempts to right himself and buckle his belt. "I said I'mtakinghimhome, and I meanit."
"Just because you won't fuck me anymore doesn't mean I can't have anyfun."
"You can have allthe fun you want,"Ford said, "but not in my house."
"Oh, yes," McKenzie said, "your house. That your parents buy for you. But they wouldn't, would they? If they knew what youdo init."
"You're drunk,"Ford said.
"Oh, yes."
"So shut your mouth."
"Oh, no," McKenzie said, "I'm planning to use my mouth. As soonas youget out ofmyway."
"You're too drunk to do much," Ford said. "You probably can't manage sex anyway. Why don't you put yourself to bed, if you think you can manage that. And get plenty of rest. Because tomorrow you're gettingout ofhere once and for all."
"Fordie doesn't like us faggots, does he?"McKenzie turned to
"Fordie doesn't like us faggots, does he?"McKenzie turned to the frightened boy, who fumbled with the doorknob trying to open it. "Fordie doesn't like being a faggot. Fordie doesn't like beinga fuckingcocksucker like the rest ofus, oh, no. But Fordie is a cocksucker, and whenMommie and Daddie find out—"
The sound of the harsh slap echoed. McKenzie fell flat again, the side of his face reddening. Eyes glazed, he lay silent. Ford's palmstung. He looked at the hand, at McKenzie's face. Stunned at himself, he felt the shock of the moment reverberating, and for a moment he longed to saysomethingtender.
But then he heard the door closing, the shadow ofthe terrified boy falling against the glass from outside. Anger returned; Ford whirled to the bedroom, found his car keys and a robe and stormed outside. Through this, McKenzie lay motionless on the rug.
Ford drove the boy home. Few words passed between them, but Ford did learn that the boy's name was Johnny —no last name—and that he claimed to be eighteen. Beyond that, Ford felt no need to know anything, leavingJohnnyto contemplate this sudden end to what must have seemed a wonderful adventure. His home lay beyond Durham, a twenty-minute drive. From the smallsize ofthe house and the old truck parked inthe front yard, Ford wondered ifthis were a standard eveningfor the kid, but all night and no one to care. Ford parked the car momentarily, and Johnny studied the house, suddenly lost and frightened. He turned to Ford and appeared to want to say something. Eyeing Ford up and down. Ford became acutely aware that he was in pajamas, in a strange town in the middle of the night-Johnny opened the door and bolted fromthe car, and Ford watched him fumble for keys. The slim body slid into the house, and Ford drove away.
Till dawn he drove around Chapel Hill, parking for a while near Kenan Stadium, watching the silhouettes of the sentinel pines against the moonless sky. He cruised residential streets, drove around University Mall, even headed the car toward Sanford and opened the windows, letting the cool night air flood the interior. The lump ofanger refused to dissolve.
the interior. The lump ofanger refused to dissolve.
When he finally returned to Wyrick Street, he found the house open, lights on throughout, and McKenzie's car gone from the yard.
Inside, except for the lights, all was in perfect order. McKenzie had cleaned out the bedroom; nothing of his person or his possessions was to be found. Not evena note.
Ford expected never to see the man again, but late the next afternoon the battered Chevrolet returned to the driveway and McKenzie, haggard and unshaven, stepped one foot out of the car, standing in the open door with the motor running, to ask if Ford had seenHammond.
Ford came to the door and waited there. He could see the bruised side of McKenzie's face, the