A Jar of Mayonnaise © July 2020,
a short story by David Lee
Gage Hunt hadn't been paying attention to the sidewalk because his eyes were fixed on the boy across the street. He hadn't noticed the slab that stuck up three inches above the rest, heaved up over the years by the roots of an old oak tree, until it was too late. Then like a stuntman in a slo-mo movie scene, he found himself flying through the air. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground regaining consciousness and there was a black kid in a mask, with BLM printed on it, leaning over him.
"What are you going to do to me?" Gage asked with trepidation.
"I thought I'd try to help you. Did you think I was going to eat you or something?"
"Um, no, um this isn't exactly, um, my neighborhood."
"Okay, I'm not a cannibal and I'm not a gang-banger. You're safe even if your skin is white!"
"I'm sorry. I don't think I'm a racist. I was dazed and it's just a knee-jerk reaction."
"YOUR knee looks bunged up and I think you hit your head when you went down. We can figure that out later. I think I should take you to the emergency room to be checked out. Which hospital do you go to?"
"Mercy, my records are there."
"Momma used to work at St. Luke's, but I guess I can take you to Mercy and not be a traitor," the kid joked. "Let's see if you can stand up without passing out again."
Gage accepted the hand of the other teen and appreciating the assistance. He felt slightly dizzy but his head cleared up pretty fast. His next thought was whether he should accept a ride from someone he didn't recognize or if he should try to walk back home. Since he'd worn only his nylon running trunks and a matching tank, he hadn't had a place for his phone and didn't have any ID. The only thing on him was the house-key suspended from a chain around his neck. He was totally vulnerable.
"My name's Marty Thompson; who might you be?"
"Gage Hunt. Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude and not introduce myself. I almost feel like I should know you from somewhere."
"No problem. I'm sure you're hurting. Pain kinda blocks other things out."
"Oh, I DO know you, don't I? Reginald Thompson from calculus."
"Miss Brubacher insists on formality, doesn't she, Gregory?"
"So, you don't like your first name either." Gage smiled for the first time in their conversation.
"Yeah. We have at least one thing in common, despite our obvious differences.
"C'mon, let's get you patched up."
Gregory, or Gage as he preferred, wouldn't have been in this predicament if the homeowners' association hadn't banned him from running in his brief attire on the streets of their gated community. His track shorts were considered in bad taste because, in their eyes, it was too close to being naked! It was constructed of two thin layers of nylon to make it lightweight and nonrestrictive. While the liner kept his junk from hanging out, it didn't exactly hide the fact that he was a well-endowed young male.
His grandparents weren't thrilled with having him out on the public streets. However, they knew he was trying to keep in shape despite having to basically shelter in place week after week.
"Mom's got a mask you can use, Gage. They're gonna want you to have one before letting us in and they'll take our temperatures."
"Thanks!" Gage said, as he got settled into the passenger seat of Marty's car and accepted the covering for his face.
"It's really nice of you to do this for me."
"Hey, us Warriors have to stick together. You think school's gonna open up in August?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. I don't s'pose we'll know until right before it happens."
"Yeah. I was thinking about going out for cross country this fall. I'm sure you'll be."
"I will if I haven't messed up my knee! I don't think it's too bad."
The Covid pandemic meant there were new protocols to follow. Both teens had had their temperatures taken and were asked several questions before being allowed into the emergency room. Gage wondered if any of this would have been dispensed with had he been bleeding badly.
After clearing that hurdle, Gage was hoping he wouldn't have any hassle over his lack of an ID.
"Okay, Gregory, what's your date of birth so I can look up your file," the receptionist asked.
"It's 10-21-2002."
"Ah, you'll be of age soon. Are you looking forward to that?"
"Yup, I guess most guys want to be adults for voting and stuff. We can't buy cigarettes until we're 21 now, but that's not something I do anyway."
"You're smart!"
"Okay, your insurance card it up to date, so just sign on the electronic pad and I'll give you this sheet to fill out. Please list any medications or supplements you're on even if it's herbal stuff. It's not real busy in this part of the hospital currently. You should be seen soon."
"You wanna use my phone so you can call your folks?" Marty offered.
"I suppose I should. I'm not sure they'd answer since they wouldn't recognize your number. I really hate to upset them before I'm checked out and know everything' okay. Um, but I don't want to hold you up either."
"I can wait and take you home. I'm not exactly snowed under at the moment with this Covid-19 crap and all."
Marty had planned to entertain himself with his cell phone in the main waiting area, but he was allowed to be with Gage while he was being examined. He did have to sit it out for some of the tests.
The X-ray indicated that Gage's wrist was sprained and not broken. The doctor fitted him with a brace to keep him from putting undue stress on it until it felt better. An MRI didn't find any bleeding on his brain, and the abrasion on his knee didn't look serious either. Gage was relieved.
"Normally, we'd probably keep you overnight for observation. However, we think you might be safer from the virus at home, so I'm going to release you," the doctor said. "I think your initial light-headedness was more from dehydration than from hitting your head.
"Here are a few pain pills in case it gets bad. Often the adrenalin in one's system from the shock of injury masks the hurt until later. If you have Tylenol or Motrin at home, I'd start with those. Pain pills can become addictive!"
"I'll get out and hit the button," Gage offered when they pulled up to the gated community his grandparents lived in. It's a bit of a walk to our house and I know they'll want to thank you for doing this for me."
"Okay.... Are you sure the rest of the residents won't call the police about a suspicious person in the neighborhood? I can't forget Trayvon Martin."
"No, I don't think so. I see your point, though. I'll have grandma call Mrs. Fenton to let her know you're a friend. She's the resident `Karen' in the association."
"You might lose your reputation if you refer to me as your friend. White people are scared of us these days."
"I've already lost cred in her eyes because of my running clothes. Besides, I don't give a rat's ass about what a bunch of old snobs think!"
"What about your grandparents?"
"They're not like that."
Claire and George Abernathy, indeed, were not snobbish. They thanked Marty repeatedly for coming to Gage's rescue and going the extra mile in not only taking him to the emergency room but bringing him home as well.
"You've saved us from risking exposure," Claire said. "George is in better health than I am, but he doesn't go anywhere except Aldi occasionally. We even have most of our groceries delivered."
"I wish we could reward you for your kindness in a meaningful way," George agreed. "You remind me of the Good Samaritan in the bible."
"Your thanks is all the reward I need," Marty insisted. "I only did what I've been brought up to do."
"You have been raised well. Can we at least talk you into staying and having supper with us?"
"That's very kind of you, Sir, but Momma expects me home. She's making pizza. That's our Sunday night tradition."
"So, what's it like to be in one of those expensive homes?" Shawna Thompson asked.
"It was good. The house was nicely decorated and the furniture was comfortable. It wasn't like some mansion though.
"Gage's grandparents were cool. George said he wished we didn't have to social-distance because he could just hug me for what I did."
"So, you didn't feel like an outsider?"
"Nope. It was all good."
"Great! I got a real warm feeling from an older white man earlier this week when I was shopping at Aldi. I was up at the register and the cashier asked if I'd found everything -- you know how they always do that. Anyway, I had missed the mayonnaise because they'd moved stuff around again. The man behind me in line hurried down two aisles to get me a jar after he was told it was on the endcap across from the milk. He said, `I'll go get it and be right back.' If he hadn't come to my rescue you wouldn't have had your potato salad last night.
"He was a little out of breath when he came back, but he thanked me for unloading his cart while he was gone. Isn't that cool? Of course, it wasn't as big a deal as you did by taking someone to the hospital. But still, I got the feeling he was a caring person trying to treat everyone the same. The whole world could use more random acts of kindness instead of acts of violence!"
"I'm glad you told me, Momma. It warms my heart too!"
"I'll bet what you did today warmed several hearts, including your own."
"What do you mean?"
"I've seen you sitting on the front porch watching that boy run by."
"I do need to get fresh air sometimes," Marty replied.
"Everyday at just the time he's likely to come by? I saw you with your phone up. I'll bet you make videos of him all the time."
"Not all the time," Martin looked at his plate.
"Do you have a crush on him?"
"Momma!"
"I'm not scolding you; just asking. You live in two different worlds, you know. You could get hurt."
"We have a lot in common. We're in the same grade at Wash, and we even had an advanced math class together before school shut down for the year. He runs track, and I'm thinking about doing some in the fall if school opens up and we can."
"So that you can get to know him better?"
"Maybe."
"Son, you don't even know if he's like you."
"I think he is."
"How come?"
"He's pretty much a loner at school. He doesn't hang with any of the in-crowd."
"Neither do you."
"That's my point. I have this feeling about him. He's good enough in track that he could act like a big jock, but he doesn't. He's nice to everyone."
"So, you think you have this sixth sense -- gaydar or whatever?"
"Yup! You've got it too. You figured out Maurice when his own mother didn't."
"LaKeisha was in denial. Who could miss it?"
"Yeah, Maurice is kind of a flamer."
"Flamer, my butt!" Shawna snorted. "That boy is a five-alarm fire!"
"You have a way with words," Momma. "But I'm not like that and you still knew."
"That's because you're my son and I just know you."
"I'm glad you love me anyway."
"What's this `anyway' stuff? You know your orientation doesn't matter to me. I'm all for you getting a boyfriend, but you'll probably not see this Gage kid again anytime soon."
"We're gonna walk on the track at Wash tomorrow and maybe jog a little if his knee is up to it. His grandparents want me to come to dinner on Saturday night if I have your permission."
"My, my, you do move fast."
"Momma!"
"I'm teasing you. You're nearly 18 and you don't really need my permission, but I'll give you my blessing, anyway. Just be careful with your heart."
The high school track was a much better option than running on sidewalks that weren't in the best of repair, despite the city's continuing efforts to upgrade them.
Marty arrived at 8:30 on the dot to meet Gage at the pedestrian gate in the back of the gated compound. It was the shortest route to the school and would prevent most of the neighborhood from being "scandalized" by their athletic attire.
It seemed best to run earlier in the day as summer warmed up into the upper 80' to lower 90's in July. Along with increased humidity, it was often insufferable by afternoon. Gage realized he should have been doing that all along. But if he had, he wouldn't have gotten acquainted with Marty.
They started around the track at a rapid walk but increased to a jog as Gage tested his knee and found it to be reasonably good. Both had strapped on canteens which were annoying for running but necessary for keeping hydrated. The water fountain had been disabled to cut down the spread of the virus.
After a couple of times around the track, they took refuge from the sun under a huge ash tree that had been planted after the scourge of Dutch elm disease had wiped out the original campus trees some fifty years before. Sadly, the emerald ash borer was threatening these.
Propped against the trunk, their shoulders touched. Neither moved to break the contact.
"I guess we're not social-distancing," Marty remarked.
"I don't think we need to. We've both been pretty isolated and, after yesterday, we probably share the same germs."
"Does this virus scare you?"
"Yeah, it does. That kid from Kennedy is our age and he really suffered from it. Unlike some of our peers, I don't think I'm invincible! Even if I don't get it bad, I worry about my grandparents. They're all I have."
"I worry about Mom more than me," Marty agreed. "There's just her and me. Dad died in Afghanistan."
"I can empathize. My parents were killed in an auto crash when I was in eighth grade. It was hard."
"Losing both of them must have been the worst! At least I have my mother."
Marty took Gage's left hand in his right and gave it a squeeze. He did it automatically without a trace of self-consciousness. Gage pressed back in appreciation. Even after they broke the grip, their hands remained touching slightly.
"So, what are you gonna do after we graduate, assuming we get to next spring?" Gage asked, trying to lighten the directing of their conversation.
"I'm applying at Iowa State in engineering. They've got the best reputation for state schools. Mr. Jackson says my grades are high enough."
"Cool! That's what I'm planning to do too. It would be great to have someone to hang with when we're a hundred miles from home. Maybe we could even room together, um, that is if you don't have someone else in mind."
"I'd really like that!"
Gage and Marty ran together for the rest of the week. Each day seemed to be easier than the last. Shawna was please that her son had someone to motivate him. The experience of being in virtual lock-down for about 15 weeks seemed to be making him blue. This new friendship perked him up.
The boys had found a spot under the tier of bleachers to stash their water bottles out of the sun and out of sight. It was much easier to run without them.
In the middle of the week, they were joined by two other high schoolers who were also trying to stay in shape. It was nice to have comraderie, but they missed their private conversations.
By Friday, they were alone again and could discuss things they didn't necessarily want to share with anyone else.
"I wish this crap would get over!" Gage exclaimed. "I'd love to have you for an overnight."
"It would be cool if we could do it without endangering anyone else. I should be completely safe because Mom's been on private duty for a wealthy old man whose children are afraid to have him in a care facility. He's isolated and so are the people who look after him. So, Momma's not likely to be in danger of getting it."
"Hmm... If you're coming for dinner anyway, it wouldn't be any worse if you stayed over. I'll talk to Grandma."
Saturday afternoon, Marty arrived in his car with a change of clothes in his gym bag and his sleeping bag stowed in the trunk. Gage waited by the gate to let him in. During normal times, the gate was only closed at night, but since there had been protest marches in town, it was kept closed. Anyone who knew where the button was hidden could have opened it. However, it was basically the residents and the grounds keepers who possessed that knowledge.
They went through the garage to take the stairs down to where Gage slept. Marty commented on the cool convertible in the second stall.
"Wow, is that black beauty yours?"
"Nope, it's Grandpa's midlife-crisis-mobile. He says he's willing it to me, and he lets me drive it a lot. He mostly uses Grandma's Buick. She doesn't drive much anymore. I don't think she's been behind the wheel since this lock-down thing started."
The teens walked through the family room with its kitchenette and bar at one end and Gage showed Marty to the large bedroom which was his private space.
They checked in with Claire by intercom to keep social-distancing as much as possible. Because they shared the same air while running, they saw no need to wear masks when the two of them were alone.
Gage had a PlayStation and a number of games for it. Having someone to share it with was a lot more fun than solo action. The time before dinner passed rapidly.
When the teens came to the table, they were wearing face shields which allowed them to eat but would prevent their breath from directly reaching others across the table. Marty's mother had special-ordered them for the occasion. George and Claire were impressed.
Grandpa had cooked burgers on the grill and Grandma had made several salads. It was a pleasant summertime meal, which they ate in the screened porch. Conversation flowed easily among them. Claire and George
were pleased that their grandson had this polite, amiable young man for companionship since he'd been basically confined for months with only them and his electronic toys.
After supper, the boys took care of clearing the table and putting away the leftovers. Then, they bade the adults goodnight and retreated to the basement.
Gage locked the door at the foot of the stairs, saying they might as well strip down to their underwear and be comfortable. Marty was pleased with the prospect of seeing even more of his friend's body. It wasn't that his track shorts were much larger, but his bikini briefs had a "natural" pouch which concealed his bulge even less! Marty was glad that he'd also worn briefs.
They played an intense video game in which Marty won by a slim margin.
"Hey, the poor little ghetto boy finally beat you!"
"How come you're always like that?"
"Like what?"
"Self-deprecating."
"You might have ta `splain that to a boy like me, so I don't think you mean cutting off my own head," Marty grinned.
"See, you're still doin' it! I know "boy" is a term used to belittle black men. The color of your skin doesn't determine the level of your intelligence, and you know that!"
"Tell it to the rest of the world. No one lets me forget it for very long."
"Did you learn about Jane Elliot in eighth grade social studies at McKinley like we did at Franklin?"
"You mean the experiment she did in some little town in Iowa with kids in her classroom the day after Dr. King was shot?"
"Precisely! Then you know that she chose eye color as a way of making some kids feel superior to others because the Nazi's had used it to determine who would live and who would die. With my blond hair and green eyes, I'd have a 99% chance of surviving if they didn't find out something else about me, and you'd have had next to zero."
"I know. She taught a lot of people about discrimination that's based on physical characteristics that people have no control over. She wants to dismantle racism completely and she says things are even worse than they were then. I have a great deal of respect for her."
"You probably saw a video of the interview where she says its up to us white people to make the changes happen. I'd like to be a part of that if I knew what to do."
"You're already doing it by having me for an overnight. No white boy ever did that for me before. How come you're nice to me?"
"You were nice to me first. You took me to the hospital when I didn't know what I was gonna do."
"But maybe what I did wasn't all that altruistic!"
"'Splain that word please," Gage giggled.
"Shut up, Boy."
"Okay, Master."
"Jeez! I'm trying to be serious and I was gonna confess something you might not want to hear. But, here goes. I'd been watching you running by my house every day. I even took some videos of you."
"So, you only pretended you didn't know me when you introduced yourself?"
"Guilty, as charged! It wasn't that I just happened to see you trip; I have the whole thing on my camera - exactly how you landed. How did you miss seeing that heaved up piece of concrete anyway?"
"Since it's confession time, I have to admit being distracted by the stunning guy sprawled sensuously on the porch swing showing off his long bronze legs and washboard abs in those short shorts."
"You'd been noticing me like I hoped? Then why did you appear frightened when I was bending over you?"
"It was the shock of coming to and seeing you so close in that black mask. I felt guilty about checking you out, and I suppose I thought you knew what I'd been doing and were upset. But soon, I saw the kindness in the brown eyes above the mask."
"So, you were admiring my bronze legs while I was appreciating your tan ones. Hmm..."
"I think we have one more thing in common," Gage smiled as he searched those eyes and put an arm around Marty's shoulder to draw him closer.
Gage may have initiated their first kiss, but it would be difficult to prove who caused it to escalate into tongue-wrestling. Tumbling back on the big bed, they ground their bodies together. They rolled back and forth as if each were being careful not to make the other feel dominated.
They were on their sides when their fantastic orgasms hit almost simultaneously. Gage rolled on his back, pulling Marty on top of him in the afterglow.
"I don't want you to think I'm a bottom; I'm trying to keep the bedspread clean, and I don't want to break contact," Gage whispered.
"Let's flip and I can enjoy your weight on me for a while," Marty responded. "I don't want you to feel intimidated."
As their heartrates came back to normal and their kisses became more tender, they grinned and rubbed noses.
"This was every bit as awesome as I'd dreamed it would be," Gage sighed.
"We seem to have shared the same dream."
"We should probably share a shower before we share my bed," Gage grinned, echoing the verb. "There's no reason to unroll that sleeping bag now."
"Won't your grandparents hear the shower running?"
"It's doubtful, but if they do that's okay too. I'm gonna let them know we're boyfriends. Um, I guess I should ask you before I announce it! I don't mean to assume things. It's just that I felt..."
"The answer is `yes!'"
After breakfast, the boys went back downstairs to watch the YouTube broadcast of the worship service from Gage's church. Marty recognize the pastor as someone who had marched in the peaceful demonstration supporting the Black Lives Matter movement a few weeks before. This lady seemed to put her beliefs into practice.
It seemed almost providential that the sermon was about performing acts of kindness to help make the world a better place in which to live. She used the text of The Good Samaritan as the basis of her talk.
He also noticed that she mentioned several minorities in her pastoral prayer -- not only black, brown, and Asian, but also the LGBT community. He felt he might have found a new church home.
When Gage told him that the pastor was open to performing same-sex marriages, he was convinced!
Shawna Thompson came for supper the following Saturday evening at the Abernathy's home. It was a casual affair, consisting of grilled meat and cold salads. She had asked if she might contribute a potato salad to the mix and was told it would be appreciated. She brought along a chilled bottle of white wine and two face shields for her hosts as house gifts.
Claire and George accepted both with pleasure, pouring the wine in anticipation of a toast before they ate. Gage had alerted Grandpa about what he intended to do, and George had a bottle in the fridge but thought it would be more meaningful to use what their guest had supplied.
Shawna had a vague feeling that she'd met George somewhere before. Perhaps she'd run into him at St. Luke's. She was pondering it when Gage's voice broke into her reverie.
"I want to make a formal declaration before we sit down. You've all approved of our friendship, and I hope you'll be as receptive to the new plateau we've reached. I've asked this awesome guy to be my boyfriend, and he's agreed to it," Gage announced.
"To companionship and happiness," George raised his glass.
"To young love; may it endure," Shawna said.
"Amen to both!" Claire chimed in.
The teens' smiles lit up the room.
"I'll go get the brats and be right back," George announced.
It was in that sentence that Shawna recognized the voice of the man who'd brought her the jar of mayonnaise.
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Author's notes: To readers hoping for the beginning of a sequel to Havel House, I'm still working on it so I'll know where it's going before I start posting. I don't want it to peter out without a decent finish! Responses to Havel House keep coming in! There are nearly 100 who have liked it.
The link below will take you to a young man that reminds me of Marty in this story.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?list=RDk-trUQ49kcg&v=k-trUQ49kcg&feature=emb_rel_e nd
Thanks to David (Boxerdude) for editing this chapter.
Thanks to Nifty for providing this free venue.
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
If you enjoyed this tale, I'd love to hear from you. Please write to me at: dlee169@hotmail.com
Stay well and wear your freaking mask! This is a health issue, not a political one.
David