“They’ll have to change this soon,” Ray said as he shot across the gravel and up onto the dirt path. The railroad stretched to Harrisburg in one direction and Philadelphia in the other, and all along it buildings were being razed and old families were moving out and industrial tenants in.
“Will you stay here,” I asked, “after you’re done with school?”
“No one does,” Ray said. “You know that.”
I was almost blinded by it, this choice; the idea that if I’d remained on Earth I could have left this place to claim another, that I could go anywhere I wanted to. And I wondered then, was it the same in heaven as on Earth? What I’d been missing was a wanderlust that came from letting go?
We drove onto the slim patch of cleared earth that ran along either side of Hal’s bike shop. Ray stopped and braked the car.
“Why here?” Ray asked.
“Remember,” I said, “we’re exploring.”
I led him around to the back of the shop and reached up over the doorjamb until I felt the hidden key.
“How do you know about that?”
“I’ve watched hundreds of people hide keys,” I said. “It doesn’t take a genius to guess.”
Inside it was as I remembered it, the smell of bike grease heavy in the air.
I said, “I think I need to shower. Why not make yourself at home?”
I walked past the bed and turned on the light switch on the cord – all the tiny white lights above Hal’s bed glittered then, the only light save the dusty light coming from the small back window.
“Where are you going?” Ray asked. “How do you know about this place?” His voice had a frantic sound it hadn’t just a moment before.
“Give me just a little time, Ray,” I said. “Then I’ll explain.”
I walked into the small bathroom but kept the door slightly ajar. As I took Ruth’s clothes off and waited for the hot water to heat up, I hoped that Ruth could see me, could see her body as I saw it, its perfect living beauty.
It was damp and musty in the bathroom, and the tub was stained from years of having anything but water poured down its drain. I stepped up into the old claw-foot tub and stood under the water. Even at the hottest I could make it, I still felt cold. I called Ray’s name. I begged him to step inside the room.
“I can see you through the curtain,” he said, averting his eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I like it. Take your clothes off and join me.”
“Susie,” he said, “you know I’m not like that.”
My heart seized up. “What did you say?” I asked. I focused my eyes on his through the white translucent liner Hal kept for a curtain – he was a dark shape with a hundred small pinpoints of light surrounding him.
“I said I’m not that kind.”
“You called me Susie.”
There was silence, and then a moment later he drew back the curtain, being careful to look only at my face.
“Susie?”
“Join me,” I said, my eyes welling up. “Please, join me.”
I closed my eyes and waited. I put my head under the water and felt the heat of it prickling my cheeks and neck, my breasts and stomach and groin. Then I heard him fumbling, heard his belt buckle hit the cold cement floor and his pockets lose their change.
I had the same sense of anticipation then as I sometimes had as a child when I lay down in the back seat and closed my eyes while my parents drove, sure we would be home when the car stopped, that they would lift me up and carry me inside. It was an anticipation born of trust.
Ray drew back the curtain. I turned to face him and opened my eyes. I felt a marvelous draft on the inside of my thighs.
“It’s okay,” I said.
He stepped slowly into the tub. At first he did not touch me, but then, tentatively, he traced a small scar along my side. We watched together as his finger moved down the ribbony wound.
“Ruth’s volleyball incident, nineteen seventy-five,” I said. I shivered again.
“You’re not Ruth,” he said, his face full of wonder.
I took the hand that had reached the end of the cut and placed it under my left breast.
“I’ve watched you both for years,” I said. “I want you to make love to me.”
His lips parted to speak, but what was on his lips now was too strange to say out loud. He brushed my nipple with his thumb, and I pulled his head toward me. We kissed. The water came down between our bodies and wet the sparse hair along his chest and stomach. I kissed him because I wanted to see Ruth and I wanted to see Holly and I wanted to know if they could see me. In the shower I could cry and Ray could kiss my tears, never knowing exactly why I shed them.
