Walter Mosley - Fortunate Son

They started kissing as soon as Christie parked at the lookout point in Topanga Canyon. Eric knew that he had never really kissed before that night. Christie told him that she loved Drew and so all they could do was kiss, but a moment later she was unzipping his pants. Eric thought of reminding her about just kissing, but instead, when he felt her cool fingers on his erection, all that came out was a deep, very masculine sigh. Christie echoed him in a higher register, and their kissing became more urgent.

She leaned back at one point and said, “Drew asked me to marry him and I said yes.”

Eric nodded to show that he understood, but at the same time he thrust his pelvis forward, putting the straining erection near to her lips. She took it in her mouth and they both hummed.

When the boy came he roared out her name. She stared into his eyes, seeing both pain and gratitude. Her grip tightened until she worried that she might be hurting him, but she didn’t ease up or slow down.

After the tremors subsided, Christie lay down on top of Eric in the front seat.

“I’ve never met a guy like you, Eric Nolan,” she said, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Was that okay?” he asked.

“What?”

“I mean about Drew. You said we should just kiss.”

“That was like kissing,” she said. “I mean, we didn’t do it or anything.”

Eric noticed their breath misting chilly air.

“I think you should be a poet,” he said then. “I mean, people need poetry just as much as they need chemicals.”

Christie kissed him and reached down.

“You’re still hard,” she said, only slightly in awe.

“Let’s get in the backseat.”

She took her time rolling the condom down on his erection. He kissed the side of her neck and the cleft between her breasts while she did so. Eric felt awkward at first, but Christie didn’t seem to mind. She told him to be careful because she hadn’t had a lover so well endowed as he. When they came for the fourth time, they still shuddered as violently as the first.

“We shouldn’t do that again,” Christie told Eric the next night on the phone.

“Okay,” he said, still feeling spent from the night before.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Isn’t that what you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you thinking I’m a slut who would do something like that with just anybody.”

“That was my first time,” Eric confessed. “I never even knew how wonderful it could be.”

“Oh. I didn’t know... you seemed like... I don’t know... experienced.”

“But we could see each other, right?” Eric asked. “I mean, we don’t have to do that. You know, I could ride my bike over.”

“Um... I think it would be better if we didn’t. You know, guys get kinda possessive after their first time.”

“Okay,” Eric said.

Christie didn’t reproach him this time.

“Well... I guess we should go,” she said.

“All right. Bye.”

For the next four nights Eric lay on his back in the bed for hours with his heart pounding and his mind on Christie. He’d seen her in school three times. She always turned away when their eyes met. He didn’t know what he wanted more than to hold her again and to feel the release she gave him. He didn’t think he was in love. It was something else. Love for Eric had always been about smiling and swooning, about people who couldn’t live without each other. He lived without his mother and Branwyn too. He survived even when they took his brother away without a word of warning. He didn’t need anybody, but he sure wanted Christie.

That Friday, on the lunch court, Drew Peters confronted Eric.

“I’m not apologizing to that little faggot because you didn’t really win,” the brooding boy said. Drew was a head taller than Eric and twenty pounds heavier, but the sophomore didn’t draw back.

“That’s your decision,” he said.

“It’s true,” Drew yowled. “The sun shined in my eyes.”

Eric noticed Christie on the other side of the court looking at him with a worried expression on her face. It was in that moment that his sleepless nights crystallized into knowledge. He could see that she was worried about him, not Drew. His heart began to race, and Eric took a deep breath to slow it down.

“The dog ate my homework,” Eric said, mimicking Drew’s whining. “My hand slipped. I didn’t do anything.”

The quiver of the senior’s lower lip warned Eric. He was already ducking down when Drew threw the first punch. Missing completely, the senior stumbled. Eric’s blow connected with Drew’s chest. Then Drew hit Eric on top of the head. Eric heard the finger snap and the cry of pain from the upperclassman. Then they fell into each other’s arms, wrestling and punching.

A sudden fear entered Eric’s mind. He didn’t want to be fighting. It wasn’t that he was afraid of being hurt but of the harm that might come from their fight. A moment later, Mr. Lo, the gym teacher, was pulling them apart. Drew clutched his broken finger. Christie was looking directly at Eric.

She called his house at four.

“Do you want to get together?” she asked.

“What about your boyfriend?”

“I’m still going to marry him.”

They made love in Branwyn’s old room, which had been left untouched since her death. Ahn was always away on Friday evenings, and Minas got home later every year. So they were alone from five that afternoon until late. Eric kissed Christie everywhere. She complimented his physique and his loving nature.

“No man has ever made me feel like this,” she said.

She confessed that she’d flirted with Mr. Mantel, the fired English teacher. Eric told her that Mantel was a grown man and should have known better than to proposition a student.

“How do you know so much?” she asked him.

“I don’t know a thing compared to you,” the fourteen-year-old said.

Christie put her hands over her breasts and said, “I’m still marrying Drew.”

“Can I still see you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and he kissed her covering hands.

She uncovered one nipple.

“You can’t tell anybody about us,” she said.

“That’s easy. I don’t know anybody.”

“You’re crazy. The whole class carried you off on their shoulders.”

Eric took the free hand and placed it on his erection. They both shuddered.

“Every time you call me I’m here,” he said. “I don’t talk to anybody but Limon, and nobody talks to him either.”

“But why don’t you have friends?” she asked. “You’re really handsome and friendly and smart.”

“I don’t know why,” he lied. “But I’m happy now because I never knew I could feel like this.”

At nine they went to dinner down in Santa Monica.

Over roasted chicken and lasagna, Christie told Eric that Drew had broken his finger and that the school suspended him for picking a fight with a sophomore.

“They said that he’d be expelled unless he apologized to you.”

“Really? What did he say?”

“That he wouldn’t.”

“That’s stupid. He’ll lose his place in all those schools if he doesn’t.”

“His father won’t let him leave the house until he does.”

“That’s why you can be here with me?”

For some reason this embarrassed Christie. She ducked her head.

“You should call Drew and tell him that you talked to me and I said that he could tell the school that he apologized. If they ask me I’ll tell them he did.”

“You’d do that?”

“I don’t want your future husband to be a dishwasher.”

Christie and Eric saw each other at least twice a week until the end of the semester. All that time she warned him that she was going to marry Drew and live with him in the East. Eric didn’t mind. Now that he had experienced sex, he was aware of all the girls at school who wanted to be with him. When Christie left, he knew he would find somebody else.