Read Flesh and Bone for Free Online

toast, hash browns and bacon. We eat together and outside the sun rises slowly over the mountains.
    â€œWhat’re you doing today?” she asks.
    I want to talk about kisses and tits, but shame and fear make my voice too heavy to share.
    â€œStay out of trouble,” she says.
    I nod and she goes to bed. I shower and jerk off in the hot water. I wash away the evidence and dress. I walk to the bus stop and stand, waiting, hoping, wondering if today I will fall in love.

Me and Zephyr
    T HE PARK IS perfect. Grass grows green and thick and soft. Oaks and elms, chestnuts and maples lean into each other like lovers, their leaves caressing the sky like hands rubbing knots out of sore shoulders. Hummingbirds fight over the sweet daffodils growing in the corner. Zephyr and I sit on the swings smoking cigarettes, drinking a couple of beers, waiting for something to do, for something to happen.
    â€œAm I the only queer in town?” Zephyr asks.
    â€œNot the only one.”
    â€œIt seems like I’m the only one.”
    â€œThere are others.”
    Mexican boys kick a soccer ball around. A woman in blue sweats practices her serve in the tennis courts, the ball smashing into the fence over and over.
    â€œIt’s not safe,” I say.
    â€œWhat’re they going to do?” he asks. “Kick my ass.”
    â€œIt could happen.”
    â€œI’ve been in fights before.”
    Zephyr carries a knife clipped to his belt. Right now it’s folded and safe, the handle black plastic, the clip shining aluminum. I imagine the blade flipping open, weaving like a snake’s fang in the air. I imagine it punching through flesh, blood rolling out over Zephyr’s hand.
    â€œAre you hungry?” he asks.
    â€œI could eat.”
    â€œI’ll buy lunch.”
    We walk to Scottie’s. Someone somewhere is burning something. Smoke rises and the smell of wood turning to ash carries through town. A semi-truck belches and roars on the street hauling logs from the mountains to the mill. The mill is out by the lake. Scottie’s is busy. Too many people fill the booths and tables. Zephyr gets a couple of burgers and some fries and we sit on the curb. No one seems to see us. No one cares that I want to kiss him. No one knows that I am in love.
    â€œGod I hate small towns,” Zephyr says.
    â€œWe could go to Portland.”
    â€œWhat’s in Portland?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I say. “It’s somewhere to go.” “Bored here.
    Bored there,” he says. “What’s the point?”
    I stare down at my feet. I watch the cars on the street, the birds flapping through the sky.
    â€œDo you miss your boyfriend?” I ask.
    â€œWe broke up.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œLong distance relationships don’t work,” he says.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œHe found someone else.”
    A thrill of something rushes through my middle. I eat my burger and try not to look excited. I want to kiss him right here, right now. I can’t though. I don’t know how to do it. There are too many people around. I’m not as brave as Zephyr or anyone else. I’m a coward. I die a thousand deaths.
    â€œAre there clubs in Portland?” he asks.
    â€œI’ve been to a few.”
    â€œMaybe we’ll go dancing.”
    â€œI have to call my mom,” I say.
    â€œTell her you’re staying the night with me.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œWe’re going to have fun,” he says and grabs the back of my neck. “I’m going to teach you how to dance like a real faggot.”
    I don’t know if this is a good idea, but it’s a date of sorts, or the next best thing.

Come Evening
    S UPPER IS POT roast and potatoes, collard greens seasoned with salt and vinegar, corn bread and molasses cooked beans. Harold finishes his cigarette, dropping ashes into his plate, on the table and floor. John John eats with a simple ferocity and