Short Story / Brothers
Brothers – that’s the theme Scott Redding finally decided upon for the yearbook. He felt that it adequately described the relationships forged over the last twelve years between the eighty-five young men who comprised his senior class. Over those twelve years, some came, and some went, but there was always a sense of family, of closeness that brought the class of 2003 together. Scott knew that his yearbook staff would approve the theme; they were his closest friends, and in a sense, his own brothers. Satisfied with his choice, Scott began to work on the design of the sacred book, choosing the colors and the layout and the other details that would frame the memories of high school.
He had just selected the perfect shade of blue when the office door slammed open.
“You still here, Redding?” a voice drawled from the doorway. Scott didn’t even look up; he knew who it was.
“Yep. Deadline’s coming up, and I’m the only one working on it,” Scott replied.
“Well damn. Ever’ time we try an’ do somethin’, you tell us it ain’t right. No wonder you’re th’ only one workin’.”
Scott looked up at his uninvited visitor still standing in the doorway. Leaning against the door frame was Tom Crawford, easily recognizable in his white t-shirt and yellow gym shorts by the toothpick dangling from his mouth.
“Come in, at least. No use letting the AC out,” Scott said trying to sound irritated. He actually welcomed the interruption since he had been working all afternoon. “Have a seat while I finish up.”
“Can’t. I’m all sweaty an’ dirty an’ shit.”
“Hell you can’t. That couch has seen worse shit than your sweaty ass. Sit down. How was practice?”
Tom plopped down on the already-sagging couch, kicked off his shoes, and put his feet up on the table. “Circuit training. You gonna be done soon?”
“If those things don’t kill me first,” Scott pushed Tom’s feet off the table.
“C’mon man, it’s six o’clock on Friday. Let’s go,” Tom implored, putting his displaced feet on the opposite arm of the couch. “I feel like a swim.”
“Let me just shut these computers down,” said Scott, standing up. Several minutes later, the two climbed into Scott’s Chevy truck, and deep rumble informed the few remaining cars in the parking lot that Scott Redding was leaving the premises.
An hour later, they were on a highway speeding through rural Texas, and an hour after that, they pulled onto the gravel road that led to Scott’s ranch. There wasn’t much talking on the drive out there; Tom had turned on the radio to one of the local country stations and turned up the volume, a sure sign that he wasn’t in the mood to talk. The truck pulled up to a well-lit house, and Scott cut the engine. As he climbed out of the truck, Scott heard the familiar crunch of gravel and dirt beneath his feet and felt suddenly much more relaxed. Tom landed with a thud, and the two walked around to the back of the house. The lights from the house seemed to float on the surface of the swimming pool and then flickered as a breeze disturbed the still water.
“Full moon tonight,” remarked Scott. Tom glanced up at the dusk country sky. As soon as he turned his head upward, he felt a rough shove and fell with a splash into the swimming pool.
“Shit!” he yelled. “You little fucker!”
“You said you felt like a swim,” Scott called over his shoulder as he continued walking toward the house. “You coming inside or staying there?”
Tom climbed out of the pool, his white t-shirt clinging to his body and his shorts dripping. Scott couldn’t help noticing how the wet cotton highlighted Tom’s muscular shoulders and chest, especially in the dim lights from the house. Even his abs were visible and clearly defined through the soaked white fabric. Scott turned back toward the house and was reaching for the doorknob when he felt the wet smack of something hitting him square in the back. He turned toward his assailant and found Tom shirtless and grinning.
“I’m gonna have a swim. Might wanna dry off before ya go in,” he said before diving back in, this time leaving his shoes by the side of the pool and his shirt in a heap at Scott’s feet.
Not to be outdone, Scott stripped off his own now-soggy shirt, quickly removed his shoes and socks, and dove in after him. After some cursing, yelling, and a lot of splashing, the two came up, Tom holding Scott in a headlock.
“You give?” Tom shouted. Not hearing a response quickly enough, he pushed Scott back under.
“Ok! Ok!” Scott sputtered as he resurfaced, spitting water out of his mouth and pushing Tom away. He knew even before diving in that he didn’t have a chance. Tom used to swim competitively, and although he didn’t anymore, he was still in great shape from training for football in the fall and baseball in the spring. In fact, the reason Tom didn’t swim anymore was mostly Scott’s doing. Scott and some of his other friends teased him so much about shaving his legs that he gave up swimming completely. He claimed that he didn’t have the time to focus on three sports and school, but Scott knew that the constant harassment over shaving was the real reason he dropped it.
Still breathing hard, they climbed out of the pool and grabbed two towels that were hanging on the patio chairs.
“Water felt good,” Tom commented as he finished drying himself, leaving his short brown hair in a state of damp disarray.
Scott tossed his towel back on the chair, picked up an old t-shirt, and started toward the door again. “We can get our stuff in the morning. Don’t really want to do anything tonight.”
“Sounds good to me. How ‘bout a movie?” Tom tossed his used towel onto the chair next to Scott’s. “Collins around?”
“Should be.”
“K. Call him up and see if he wants to come over. I’m gonna grab a shower,” Tom said. Still clad in only his yellow gym shorts, he walked barefoot over the cool stone floor. Scott watched his friend depart, the muscles in his back rippling with each stride. As the bathroom door shut, Scott picked up the phone to dial.
“Hello, Mrs. Collins. This is Scott Redding. … I’m fine, thanks. How are you doing? ... Yeah, Tom and I are here. I was wondering if Pete is around … Ok, thanks…”
“Hey Collins. We’re watching a movie tonight. Care to join us? … Yeah, just come around the back. … Nah, I have plenty. … Ok, see you in a few.”
As Scott was hanging up and turning on the large plasma TV, Tom strolled out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist and a few beads of water dripping down his chest. His tan skin glowed in the light from the TV, and as the light flickered through the dark room, it created shadows of each of the contours of his carefully sculpted body. He pulled off the towel, revealing his yellow mesh shorts.
“There are some beers in the fridge,” Scott said, turning to look through the stacks of DVDs in the cabinet beside the TV. “Gone in Sixty Seconds?”
“Nah, get somethin’ funny,” Tom responded into the refrigerator.
“Just Friends?”
“Too sappy.”
“The Waterboy?”
“Seen it too many times.”
“Hey, Goldilocks, why don’t you come over here and pick one out?” Tom strode over to the couch and put six bottles on the coffee table.
“Whatever’s fine with me.”
The flash of headlights illuminated the living room, followed by the low growl of an engine. Seconds later, they heard the driver cut the engine and hop out onto the gravel driveway.
“Maybe Collins will have an opinion,” Scott suggested.
“The Longest Yard,” a deep voice intoned from the doorway. Pete Collins seldom spoke, but when he did, everyone listened. He rarely made a large entrance, preferring instead to enter quietly and let it slowly become known that he was present. Although he stood at a mere 5’6”, he commanded a sort of respect and awe from almost everyone. His deep voice and broad shoulders made up for whatever he lacked in height. His white t-shirt and jeans were as much a part of him as his sandy brown hair or his thick drawl, since few people had seen him wearing anything else. On Sundays he wore a nice collared shirt, but after services, he removed it to reveal the white shirt underneath.
The decision having been made, Scott found the DVD and inserted it into the player, then joined the other two on the large leather couch. As it turned out, Tom was too exhausted to pay much attention to the movie, Scott was mentally worn out from working on the yearbook all day, and Pete always maintained an air of indifference when it came to movies, so none of them paid much attention aside from an occasional chuckle or comment. Pete in his white shirt and jeans, Scott in an old t-shirt and shorts, and Tom shirtless in his yellow mesh shorts, having a few drinks on the couch at Scott’s ranch – everything was as it was supposed to be.
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There are elements to this story that lend it a certain air – most specifically, the very detailed, almost sensual physical descriptions of Tom. My initial feeling is that Scott may have a bit of a crush on Tom – whether he knows it or not. Now – we’re in Texas, we’ve got old friends that are into sports, beer and goofing off. That’s a great start to a very controversial twist in which Scott realizes that he’s got a crush on Tom, which can be very, very difficult between old friends in a small school that is located in a sports-minded, small-town southern culture. It seems like a natural trajectory for this piece and one that could make for an interesting, gritty, heart-rending tale.
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I was torn on what to rate you for this piece. The writing itself is technically good, not outstanding, but good. However, the story itself isnt much of a story. We met the three boys, understand they go to school together, hang out together and will soon graduate. What I didnt get from teh story is why this is important. Where are you going with it and why is there so much blatant sexual tension between Scott and Tom? If this is going the route of homo-erotica, kudos, but a little warning would be nice. If that isn’t you intention, then maybe you should rething Scott’s attraction to Tom. Or you could go the “gay-boy-coming-out-with-the-support-of-his-friends” route but that too requires some depth into the Scott/Tom obsession. Good luck and Happy Writing!
To be completely honest, this piece sort of bored me. I can’t relate very well to the characters and the writing style itself is rather bland, as is the narrative structure itself. You seem to be trying to create an atmosphere of brotherhood with the title of your piece and the first paragraph, but aside from the obvious hints of your explanation, I can’t really feel it. I think perhaps you’ve started the piece in the wrong place, or that you should dwell longer in your introduction before launching into the story itself. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the word for what I’m trying to express here, but the writing seems to concentrate too much on getting from point A to point B to point C, rather than on building character, atmosphere, description… anything.
As for the direction of the piece… it is very incomplete. It reads ot me like a boy’s night out story. Is it meant to be a horror story, or porn? Really, given the current set-up, it could be either. Or a bad romance. Of course, that might just be my cultural conditioning speaking. I’m not sure what I can offer in terms of direction. Maybe play up nostalgia a bit, as this seems to be a coming of age story, what with the year book and the end of school.
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