The blades of his back flexed.

His body twisted.

Thick hair beneath his armpits and navel ebbed inside the lake’s dark waters and Peter stood. He heaved the paddle out of the water, propping it up against the thwart of the canoe and stripped down to his undershorts. Cooper swam on and Peter plunged into the depths after him.

Currents of surging water fizzed across the soles of Peter’s feet, travelling up between his legs to his groin and buttocks. He thrust his legs downward, breaking through the surface of the lake and his body crested.

Cooper rose up out of the water, his birch-white skin luminous in the glow of the sun, and made strides towards the middle of a tiny island where a log cabin stood. He briefly turned back, making sure he was being followed, then slipped inside the island’s wooded chamber. Peter smiled, taking giant stokes out across the water and swam on towards land.

19

The next day at the movie theatre passed pretty much like the one before. Marge’s shadow hovered at the door to her office while Peter waited for the kettle to boil. He could practically feel her praying for him to go away, so he rinsed the one spoon with a soggy teabag and thought about seeing Dad that evening after work. But not yet. Not until everything was OK with Cooper. Not until he could be sure everything was perfect.

The kettle boiled and Peter took his mug back to the ticket booth. But nobody came for the matinee and his reflection kept staring at him like it had higher hopes for the pair of them, so he took an early lunch and paid a visit to the Old Western Outfitters store across town where bronze stirrups and cowboy boots with intricately decorated flowers scored into the leather stood proud in the window. He bought a neckerchief for Cooper ticketed at $90 from the nice old man with a gap in his teeth that whistled every time he said ‘Stetson’, and made his way up to the supermarket. But he didn’t enter.

Peter crossed the parking lot, picking his way past the dead birds that’d turned into clumps of frozen carrion overnight, and stood some distance from the large front window. Rows of brown-paper packing bags half-filled with groceries stood deserted at the foot of the cash tills. The clerks had abandoned their stations. Some of the customers had already run for safety and gathered outside by the dumpsters. Others, trapped on the other side of aisle five from the door, huddled in small groups down the adjacent aisles, peering round occasionally on the off-chance that help was on its way.