BooksBarbecue
Back The First and The Last Save as PDF
Chapters (25)
  1. The First and The Last
  2. 1. One
  3. 2. Two
  4. 3. Three
  5. 4. Four
  6. 5. Five
  7. 6. Six
  8. 7. Seven
  9. AFTERWARD
  10. 9. Nine
  11. 10. Ten
  12. 11. Eleven
  13. 12. Twelve
  14. 13. Thirteen
  15. 14. Fourteen
  16. 15. Fifteen
  17. 16. Sixteen
  18. 17. Seventeen
  19. 18. Eighteen
  20. 19. Nineteen
  21. 20. Twenty
  22. 21. Twenty One
  23. AFTERWORD
  24. ABOUT THE FIRST AND THE LAST
  25. A LITTLE ABOUT ME

I felt bad after I came. Not extremely bad, because it was far from the first time I’d come thinking of it so the guilt was starting to wear off, but a little bad. I couldn’t imagine how Jules would feel if he knew. He’d probably think I was some kind of pervert. Maybe he’d laugh and tease me about it. Maybe he’d start feeling uncomfortable around me. I pushed the feeling down. I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I masturbated to that night. After all, I’d been thinking about little else for weeks.

Weeks.

Months.

Maybe more.

13. Thirteen

13

It was a hot, sweltering summer that year. Jules and I had both graduated from college and we tried to find work in construction like we’d done for the last couple of years, but work wasn’t easy to come by. I got a week or two here and there, and Jules did too. A lot of the time one of us was working and the other was home all day on his own. It was a fucking boring summer. Not as bad as the summer Jules went to Cedar Key, but it was close. My mood was appalling. Irritation seeped from my pores. Frustration did too.

By the middle of July, it had reached fever pitch. Jules was working and I was home that week. I walked up and down the road between the cottages to kill time. I’d taken to pacing. I paced up and down our living room and kitchen, and for good measure, in the early mornings and evenings, I paced all the way around the pack land. Knowing I’d checked the perimeter and that the whole pack was safe seemed to calm me. It got to the point where I couldn’t sleep if I hadn’t done it. As I headed back up the hill, I saw Mrs. O’Malley on her porch.

“Yoooo, boy,” she called. “What are you up to?”

“Waiting,” I snapped. That’s what it felt like. It felt like the only thing happening in my life was the long, endless nightmare of waiting to shift.

“Me too,” she said brightly.

I took the bait. “What are you waiting for?”

“Oh, you know, death mainly.” I must have looked shocked, because she shrugged and said, “That’s the main thing, but not the only thing.”

“What else are you waiting for?” The conversation was darker than I’d been expecting, but my mood was close to pitch black anyway, so I didn’t mind all that much.