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titusnowl"It's hot," said Jim.
"Mm-hmm," said Dan.
"It's hotter'n... hotter'n..." Jim paused and wiped his forehead.
"Hell's furnace?" suggested Dan. Then, remembering a comparison Jim had made earlier, "Two rats screwing in a wool sock?"
"Nuh," said Jim. "Hotter'n that." Another pause. "Too goddamn hot for similes."
"Mm-hmm," said Dan.
They were sprawled out on opposite sides of Dan's dorm, stripped down to their underwear, soaked with sweat and from running their heads under the faucet. It was Day Five of the heat wave, Day Three of Jim's camping out in the room (he couldn't go home, for Undisclosed Reasons); the thermometer in the window read 115. They'd spent the first day in the movie theater, the only building in town with real air conditioning, taking in every single showing of every single film they had; the second day they'd just sat in the bathroom with the shower on cold, until Dan's RA told him off for wasting the water. Today they were out of ideas. Every attempt to bootleg their own refrigerated air fell flat: Dan hung a wet sheet up in the window as a curtain, but that just stifled the fresh air; Jim snuck up to the next floor and stole the ice out of the common room icebox, but that just led to the creation of a bucket of water in the middle of the floor. They were reduced to lying, sloth-like, on the wooden floor, moving only when necessary, living on tapwater and room-temperature jelly sandwiches out of which the jelly dripped in a sticky, melty mess. It was the longest they'd spent - probably they longest they would ever spend - in such close company, chastely.
"Movies again?" Jim suggested.
"Nuh," said Dan.
Jim groaned and rolled over to bake his other side evenly.
Dan closed his eyes and thought about Alaska.
The air was still and thick and heavy. The ice-bucket began to overflow, dripping slowly onto the floorboards. Outside, a grackle made a noise like rusty iron as it spontaneously combusted.
Eventually Jim sat up. "Swimming!"
"Huh?" said Dan.
"I got a line on a swimming hole," said Jim.
"Oh," said Dan.
Then his heat-addled brain made sense of the words, and he sat up too. "I haven't been swimming in years!"
They threw on the bare minimum of clothing necessary to be seen in public and rushed down to Jim's old red-painted flivver. The metal was burning hot; Jim whipped his shirt back off as soon as he got in and wrapped it around the steering wheel as insulation, and Dan kicked at the crank to roll the window down because doing it by hand hurt too much. Then they were tearing through the countryside at Jim's usual breakneck pace, and even though the breeze through the windows was still oven-hot, it was a lot more bearable.
It was about half an hour on the road, then another quarter creeping down a rutted dirt path through the woods, and the hour was finished up with a hike. The place was certainly secluded, but it was worth the trouble: a wide spot in a slow-moving creek, shady trees along both banks, a large flat rock in the middle where you could sit for a nice bit of fishing... a little piece of private heaven.
Jim was already out of the car and mostly naked. "We're about two, three miles from my house if you swim across and cut straight through the woods," he explained. "Don't jump in yet." He broke a branch off a tree and poked around in the water a little, then nodded and waded in, waving for Dan to follow. "Goddamn, that feels good. There was a snake once when I was a kid so I try to fix it so they know I'm coming anymore, see."
"Oh, great, snakes," said Dan drily. But the water was so cool, and felt so good, and quite frankly he'd rather get bitten by a snake than sit out in the heat anymore, so he just waded out until it was deep enough to float and relaxed.
Jim swam out and propped his arms and chin up on the rock. Dan paddled slowly over next to him.
"You see that tree?" Jim pointed at a large oak across the way, which still had a bit of rope strung around one low-hanging branch. "Back 'fore that rope busted, I used to swing off it all the time. Once the creek was running high and this here rock got covered up and I guess I just forgot about it, 'cause I swung out and jumped and cracked myself on this damn boulder but good." He examined it minutely, as if looking for the dent he'd left in it. "Think I blacked out for a second, and I reckon I'd've drowned, except I float real good." He let go of the rock then, and crossed his arms behind his head to demonstrate.
"It's all the air in your skull," said Dan, rapping on the damp blond head. "It's like a buoy."
"Your mom's like a buoy," said Jim irrelevantly, unfolding to splash at Dan before darting around to the far side of the rock.
They circled for a while, chasing around the rock, splashing whenever the other was visible and calling each other names; then Jim scrambled up and over the rock and launched himself bodily at Dan, who evaded and held Jim under on his landing until he felt a lesson had been learned.
Jim popped up indignantly, red-faced and spluttering. "You coulda drowned me!"
"I'd never," said Dan. "I don't know how to get home from here."
"I see how it is. I'm just the guy with the car to you, huh?"
"So? I'm just the guy with the room he lets you crash in."
"Never," said Jim, grinning and pressing Dan back against the rock. "You're the guy with the bed he lets me crash in. Though it bein' so hot, we might could sort of loosen the definition of bed right now, you think?"
Yep, three days was basically as long as they'd ever make it chastely.
"Mm-hmm," said Dan.
"It's hotter'n... hotter'n..." Jim paused and wiped his forehead.
"Hell's furnace?" suggested Dan. Then, remembering a comparison Jim had made earlier, "Two rats screwing in a wool sock?"
"Nuh," said Jim. "Hotter'n that." Another pause. "Too goddamn hot for similes."
"Mm-hmm," said Dan.
They were sprawled out on opposite sides of Dan's dorm, stripped down to their underwear, soaked with sweat and from running their heads under the faucet. It was Day Five of the heat wave, Day Three of Jim's camping out in the room (he couldn't go home, for Undisclosed Reasons); the thermometer in the window read 115. They'd spent the first day in the movie theater, the only building in town with real air conditioning, taking in every single showing of every single film they had; the second day they'd just sat in the bathroom with the shower on cold, until Dan's RA told him off for wasting the water. Today they were out of ideas. Every attempt to bootleg their own refrigerated air fell flat: Dan hung a wet sheet up in the window as a curtain, but that just stifled the fresh air; Jim snuck up to the next floor and stole the ice out of the common room icebox, but that just led to the creation of a bucket of water in the middle of the floor. They were reduced to lying, sloth-like, on the wooden floor, moving only when necessary, living on tapwater and room-temperature jelly sandwiches out of which the jelly dripped in a sticky, melty mess. It was the longest they'd spent - probably they longest they would ever spend - in such close company, chastely.
"Movies again?" Jim suggested.
"Nuh," said Dan.
Jim groaned and rolled over to bake his other side evenly.
Dan closed his eyes and thought about Alaska.
The air was still and thick and heavy. The ice-bucket began to overflow, dripping slowly onto the floorboards. Outside, a grackle made a noise like rusty iron as it spontaneously combusted.
Eventually Jim sat up. "Swimming!"
"Huh?" said Dan.
"I got a line on a swimming hole," said Jim.
"Oh," said Dan.
Then his heat-addled brain made sense of the words, and he sat up too. "I haven't been swimming in years!"
They threw on the bare minimum of clothing necessary to be seen in public and rushed down to Jim's old red-painted flivver. The metal was burning hot; Jim whipped his shirt back off as soon as he got in and wrapped it around the steering wheel as insulation, and Dan kicked at the crank to roll the window down because doing it by hand hurt too much. Then they were tearing through the countryside at Jim's usual breakneck pace, and even though the breeze through the windows was still oven-hot, it was a lot more bearable.
It was about half an hour on the road, then another quarter creeping down a rutted dirt path through the woods, and the hour was finished up with a hike. The place was certainly secluded, but it was worth the trouble: a wide spot in a slow-moving creek, shady trees along both banks, a large flat rock in the middle where you could sit for a nice bit of fishing... a little piece of private heaven.
Jim was already out of the car and mostly naked. "We're about two, three miles from my house if you swim across and cut straight through the woods," he explained. "Don't jump in yet." He broke a branch off a tree and poked around in the water a little, then nodded and waded in, waving for Dan to follow. "Goddamn, that feels good. There was a snake once when I was a kid so I try to fix it so they know I'm coming anymore, see."
"Oh, great, snakes," said Dan drily. But the water was so cool, and felt so good, and quite frankly he'd rather get bitten by a snake than sit out in the heat anymore, so he just waded out until it was deep enough to float and relaxed.
Jim swam out and propped his arms and chin up on the rock. Dan paddled slowly over next to him.
"You see that tree?" Jim pointed at a large oak across the way, which still had a bit of rope strung around one low-hanging branch. "Back 'fore that rope busted, I used to swing off it all the time. Once the creek was running high and this here rock got covered up and I guess I just forgot about it, 'cause I swung out and jumped and cracked myself on this damn boulder but good." He examined it minutely, as if looking for the dent he'd left in it. "Think I blacked out for a second, and I reckon I'd've drowned, except I float real good." He let go of the rock then, and crossed his arms behind his head to demonstrate.
"It's all the air in your skull," said Dan, rapping on the damp blond head. "It's like a buoy."
"Your mom's like a buoy," said Jim irrelevantly, unfolding to splash at Dan before darting around to the far side of the rock.
They circled for a while, chasing around the rock, splashing whenever the other was visible and calling each other names; then Jim scrambled up and over the rock and launched himself bodily at Dan, who evaded and held Jim under on his landing until he felt a lesson had been learned.
Jim popped up indignantly, red-faced and spluttering. "You coulda drowned me!"
"I'd never," said Dan. "I don't know how to get home from here."
"I see how it is. I'm just the guy with the car to you, huh?"
"So? I'm just the guy with the room he lets you crash in."
"Never," said Jim, grinning and pressing Dan back against the rock. "You're the guy with the bed he lets me crash in. Though it bein' so hot, we might could sort of loosen the definition of bed right now, you think?"
Yep, three days was basically as long as they'd ever make it chastely.
