1969   

Tanny Dunstan sat on the back seat of his parent's Buick and looked down at his lap. He looked at his resting, upturned hands on his thighs and at his slender, pale wrists protruding from his too-short seer-sucker dress coat. Greenish-blue veins were an outline on his white skin. He heard his parents talking in low voices, and their two-year-old Buick was fifth in line in his least-known aunt's funeral procession.

The unaccustomed dress slacks and coat were tight on his slender frame. They had been bought six months previously for Easter, and he had grown.

His mother's voice rose, anxious and angry. She had been offended by a more distant relative who was sanctimoniously insulting at the viewing and reception. His father offered palliatives, soothing, touching his mother's arm.

Tanny looked down at his hands, thinking, Be small, Tanny. Be small, and maybe you'll disappear.

It was his second funeral of the year, and Tanny was too young to appreciate funerals. Especially for this great aunt whom he had never met. She had lived in a retirement village in central Florida, and it had taken a full day's drive to reach it.

Tanny's eyes veered to an empty container of Kentucky Fried Chicken beside his ankle. There were grease spots on the outside of the colorful bucket. His stomach still felt queasy, and he would have to pee soon, too.

"There's the turnoff," said Sarah, Tanny's mother. The Buick's low belly scraped fine-grained, white sand upon entering the cemetery.

Tanny swung the heavy door open and climbed out of the car. The central Florida heat struck him like a sauna, and he knew he would soon be sweating inside his suit.

Two rows of folding metal seats were under the tent. Tanny thought his mom, Sarah, would be glad of the shade. She had complained about what the humidity and heat were doing to her expensive hairdo.

His dad, Toller, led the way, and the Dunstan trio took seats behind Tanny's grandmother and her surviving sisters and brothers.

Tanny sweated, but he looked up as a boy his age slid into a seat beside him. Tanny looked at the boy's parents, but failed to recognize them. Surely, he thought, they had to be equally close relatives to be sitting in the same row with his mom, but had he seen them at the church? He did not remember them. Would they have sat on the same side, or was that only for weddings?

"Hi," said the boy, but then the preacher stepped forward with an open Bible in his hands. He began to speak about ashes to ashes and stuff that Tanny had heard before, and Tanny half-listened while sneaking glances at the strange boy.

His momma and the boy's momma fanned themselves with paper and stick fans from the funeral home.

The preacher eventually looked at his perspiring audience and decided to cut it short. He had earned his fee, he thought.

The mourners stood and turned away from the grave just as the winch was engaged to deposit the coffin into the sandy soil. Tanny's eyes were drawn to an orange tree orchard at the edge of the cemetery.

"Hi, I'm Bock," said the boy, catching up with Tanny.

"Tanny. Tanny Dunstan." He looked the boy over. Bock wore sharply creased dress pants topping scuffed dress shoes and a cheap suit-coat as equally ill-fitted as Tanny's own. "Where you from?" asked Tanny.

"Ocala. You?"

"Macon, Georgia. You know where that is?"

Bock grinned. "In Georgia?"

"Yeah."

"You're coming to my house for supper, ain't you?"

"I dunno," said Tanny. His head swiveled up to his mom.

"Yes, Tan." Sarah pushed an errant strand that had not adhered away from her eyes. "Bock's your second cousin, and we're spending tonight at his parent's house. Bock's mother is my cousin Trace."

"Trace is a girl's name?" asked Tanny.

Bock snorted. "I got a sister named Taylor. That's her there, with the pony-tail."

Tanny saw a raw-boned girl with a reddish pony tail. "They your folks?" asked Tanny, referring to a large man with long hair and a slender woman in a black dress who walked as if unfamiliar with her high heels. She was holding a cigarette in one hand.

"Yeah," said Bock. "Momma's Trace, my dad's Rufus, and my little brother Bonner ain't here."

"Y'all got weird names," observed Tanny.

"And Tanny ain't?" said Bock.

Tanny shrugged.

They had reached the cars. Tanny saw Bock's family go to an ancient Ford station wagon. It had rust on the edges of the fenders and the bottom of the doors.

Tanny's party was delayed by his mother hugging her mother. Tanny uncomfortably shifted from foot to foot, and then his grandmother hugged him. The side of his head was pressed against her ancient bosom, and he took in the wizened soap and lanolin smell of her.

Tanny's mom promised to see her mom in the morning, and then they climbed into their Buick.

It was a twenty-minute ride to the Brewster's house. The stained, white concrete-slab house was build on the edge of a swampy-looking lake that came right up to the back steps, and the patchy yard was more sand than grass. At the edge of the yard was a tired-looking, leaning chicken coop, and Tanny thought that the chickens would be panting inside it. In the shade below, an old hound was definitely panting. His sides heaved and his tongue dangled. A forties Dodge truck sat on concrete blocks with its engine beside it on the ground. Faded flowers drooped listlessly in two kidney-shaped flower beds.

"You got any more clothes with you? You got a swim-suit?" asked Bock.

"No swim-suit, but I got clothes."

"We won't need swim suits anyway," said Bock, "if we can get away from Taylor and go by ourselves. Just stick with me."

"Okay."

A toddler with dirty legs and a baggy diaper came down the concrete-block front steps. He grinned happily and clumsily ran toward Bock, calling, "Bock, Bock!"

Bock grabbed him under his arms and swung him up into the air, and the toddler screamed in delight. Bock swung him down to the ground, and the toddler continued grinning. "This here's Bonner."

"I see the family resemblance."

"You boys don't get them Sunday-dress clothes dirty!" called Trace from the door stoop of the concrete-slab house.

"I'm gonna go put some shorts on," said Bock.

"Me, too, I guess," said Tanny, and he turned back to the Buick. He removed the key from the ignition and opened the trunk. He rummaged around in suitcases until he found an old shirt of his and a pair of school shorts from J.C. Penny's. He also took two eight-ounce cokes out of an igloo cooler and stashed them in his rolled-up clothes for him and his cousin to share.

Tanny pulled off his tie and put it in the trunk. It was a relief to shed the dress shoes and socks, too. He picked up a pair of flip-flops (his dad called them 'Jap-flaps') and pulled them on. Then he replaced the keys in the ignition and flip-flopped over to the concrete house to find a place to change.

Inside the low doorway was a surprisingly warm living room with a framed picture of Jesus and a framed Three Dog Night poster sharing equal billing. Jesus looked stern, but the lead singer grinned showing huge teeth. A piano with a closed Baptist hymnal on the music rack was along the back wall. On the right, a box fan creaked and groaned in a window, to little effect except to stir the stuffy air. Over the fireplace was a glass-fronted display box with Rufus's Viet Nam medals in it, and Tanny knew he'd be examining them before the visit was over.

Tanny's parents were unpacking their suitcase in a bedroom. His aunt Trace saw the bundle of clothing in his hands, and she pointed to the back with her cigarette. "You can change in Bock's room. All the way in the back on the right."

"Thanks." Tanny flip-flopped to the back of the house and pressed on the door. "Bock?"

"Come on in," called Bock, and Tanny did.

He thought that Bock's room looked much like his own. On the bed was a cover with a print of a rearing horse. Plastic models hung from the ceiling by monofilament fishing line. Tanny saw an Apollo moon rocket, a Stuka dive bomber, a UH-1 helicopter, and a P-51 Mustang.

Tanny dropped his clothes on the bed. "Where you?" he called.

A door on the opposite side of the room was kicked open, and Tanny saw his cousin on the toilet. He had never seen anyone on a commode before, and he quickly turned away.

"Hey, ain't you ever seen anybody takin' a dump?" said Bock, laughing.

"I ain't," said Tanny, "and I'll leave you be."

"Ah, hell," said Bock. "You didn't grow up in my family, then. Go ahead and change, and we'll go down to the swimming hole when I get done."

"Close the door," said Tanny.

"You see me takin' a dump, and you're afraid of me seeing you takin' your clothes off? You Macon folks timid about things?"

"No more than other decent folks," said Tanny, wondering if the notion was true.

"I won't look," said Bock. "I promise."

"Okay," said Tanny, but he did not believe his cousin. He unfurled his bundle of clothes and pulled out the cokes. He undressed, and he was in his BVD's when Bock padded up next to him.

"Them for us?" asked Bock, eyeing the cokes. Bock had donned a pair of faded cutoffs, but was barefoot and bare-chested. He was also stringy-lean and very tan.

"Un-huh," said Tanny. His hands were on the waist band of his briefs, but he was not going to pull them down with Bock standing there.

"You got a bottle opener?" asked Bock.

"Un-uh."

"I'll get one from the kitchen. Be right back."

"Okay." When Tanny heard the door swing closed, he quickly shed his briefs and jumped into his shorts. Tanny was at the age when boys are bashful about their underwear, so he checked for skid marks, and seeing none, he neatly folded his briefs and tucked them into his dress pants. Then he folded his dress pants around the briefs inside. He was toeing into his flip-flops when Bock returned.

"How come you built your house so close to the lake?" asked Tanny, as he accepted a coke. "Was it so you could fish out the back door?"

"Nah," said Bock. "That's just a fringe benefit. The lake wasn't this close until the dam broke. Dad says he's gonna bulldoze the outlet one of these days and put the lake back where it belongs."

"If your dad's like mine, all sorts of stuff's gonna get done one of these days," said Tanny.

Bock nodded agreeably, and he swilled his coke.

"Where's this swimming hole?" asked Tanny.

"Quarter-ways 'round the lake," said Bock. He ambled over to his bed and picked up his neck tie. He folded it several times and put in his back pocket.

"What's that for?" asked Tanny.

"You'll see," said Bock. Then he drained his coke.

Tanny mentally shrugged. What use was a tie when going swimming?

"If you're ready, come on," said Bock.

Tanny finished his coke. "Okay."

Bock opened the door. Outside, Toller and Rufus were smoking and drinking beer at the kitchen table. Tanny saw that his dad had stripped to his tee-shirt. Through the kitchen window, Tanny saw his mom, Trace, and Taylor looking at the flower beds.

"We're goin' round the lake," said Bock to his dad.

"You boys hungry?" asked Rufus. "Trace put sandwiches in the icebox."

"Nah," said Bock, "don't wanna ruin my appetite for supper. Me and Tanny'll be okay."

"All right."

Bock led the way through the living room and the front door, and Tanny flip-flopped after him. They crossed diagonally through the yard, around the chicken coop. Tanny saw that the chickens were not panting. The hound dog thumped his tail a few times, but did not rise.

They entered a stand of pines, and Bock turned to Tanny. He pulled the neck tie out of his back pocket and extended it between his hands. "Put your hands behind your back, and I'm gonna tie you up."

Tanny looked at his cousin and frowned. "Say what?"

"It'll be fun! On the way to the lake, I'll tie you up, and on the way back, you can tie me up."

Bock was grinning. Tanny was suspicious. "What if you don't untie me?"

"Then you couldn't go swimmin', could you?" said Bock, reasonably.

"We are goin' swimmin', ain't we?" Tanny wondered if his cousin had brought him into the woods under false pretenses.

"Sure! There's a swingin' rope, too."

"But why do you wanna tie me up?" Tanny was a boy who liked to know the reasons for things.

"'Cause it's fun! Ain't you ever been tied up before?"

"No." Tanny was pretty sure.

"Not never?"

"Not that I remember," admitted Tanny.

"Then it's high time, ain't it?" said Bock.

Tanny imagined that his cousin was thinking of tieing him up and leaving him in the woods. If he thought that would scare him when there was a huge lake that he could follow back to find the concrete house, then his cousin underestimated him. These thoughts went through Tanny's head even as he turned away from Bock and placed his hands behind his back.

Bock wasted no time binding Tanny's wrists together.

Tanny looked down at his feet, at his big toes and second digits separated by the thongs of his flip-flops. His mind whispered that he was doing something stupid. He felt cool silk at his wrists.

"There!" said Bock, satisfied. He had left half of the neck tie dangling as a leash.

"Now what?" asked Tanny.

"Now we go to the swimmin' hole."

Tanny eyed his cousin. "You are gonna let me go, ain't ya?"

Bock grinned, exposing white teeth. "You're gonna have to trust me on that, ain't ya?" He pointed at a trail between the pines. "You lead the way."

"All right." Tanny flip-flopped onto the trail. He was feeling vulnerable, as if he had gotten himself into something that could be difficult to get out of. He did not really worry about getting hurt, however. If that happened, he would tell, and his cousin knew that as well as he did.

Bock reached down and grabbed the end of the neck tie. He held it in his fist, and he watched his cousin walking in front of him. Bock smiled. Tieing folks up made Bock feel good. It gave him a heady feeling of control over folks that he could not obtain or enjoy in any other fashion.

Tanny flip-flopped along. He missed swinging his arms. He had done a lot of walking around his neighborhood before he had gotten a bicycle the previous year, and swinging his arms was a large part of walking, he thought.

Bock was wondering what he could order his captive to do, and then he wondered if this new cousin would play along or tell him to go pick a fig.

Tanny had never been tied up before, but he had been stuck in a confined space. It had happened two years previously. He and his best friend Mark had found an oak tree that had been struck by lightning. The core of the tree was hollow and rotten, and Tanny found that he could enlarge an opening above the roots to expose the core. He enlarged it until he could put his head in, and then his shoulders. The opening in the tree went upwards farther than he could reach with his questing fingertips. He stuck his arms upward into moist, pungent darkness, and he wormed and shimmied his way into the tree core. He kept reaching, stretching upward, and he got his hips into the opening. Still, he had not reached the top. Wood pressed against his armpits. He pushed with his feet against a root, and was rewarded by moving upward a scant few more inches. The opening was irregular, and this forced him to move his head sideways. He felt pressure on his chest and tailbone, and he desisted in his efforts.

Then he found out that he was stuck. He tried to twist away and fall, but the tree enveloped him. His hands and elbows above his head had no purchase; there was nothing against which to push. His spine was ramrod straight, and the air in the hole was musty and organic. He was stuck.

"Take the path to the right," said Bock, and Tanny veered.

Tanny had been stuck in the tree for almost an hour. Mark had tried pulling on his legs, but it was too painful for Tanny, and they were not making progress. Finally Mark ran home and informed Tanny's father that Tanny was "stuck in a tree." It had taken his father just ten minutes to tear the rotten tree apart with his bare hands enough to get Tanny out. Tanny, with wood fibers and insects matting his hair and clothes, had clutched his father and cried in relief. By the time they returned to the house, he had put his debilitating, newly-discovered claustrophobia into a back pocket of his mind. Two years later, however, it was still there, lurking just out of sight.

Bock alternated between watching Tanny's hairline, his bound wrists, and Tanny's feet. Tanny's dark hair against his pale shoulders was intriguing. The boy's bound wrists were wonderful. Bock's own feet were bare, but Tanny's flip-flops made a snick, snick sound when he strode that Bock thought interesting. He held onto the extreme end of the neck tie to get a better view of his cousin, and he grinned to himself. Bock was marching his helpless captive though the woods, and it felt great!

The trail came out on the lake shore. Tanny glanced across the brownish water and saw an old, weathered swim platform. It was twenty or thirty feet out. A clump of cypress trees, caught in the unexpected rise of the lake, were nudging their cypress knees above the water.

"That's where we're goin'," said Bock, pointing toward an ancient, gnarled oak.

Tanny saw a rope hanging from a limb of the tree. A big knot at its end dangled several inches above the water. Tanny marched up to the oak tree and stopped. He looked at the dive platform, thinking that it must have been closer to the shore before the lake rose.

Bock tugged the neck tie, and Tanny turned his head questioningly.

"I'm gonna show you how to swing out on the rope, and then I'll untie you. Okay? Meanwhile, you stay right here." Bock looped the end of the neck tie around a pine seedling that had poor prospects in the shade of the oak tree.

Tanny liked this development even less. He wanted to get loose and get in the water. He tugged at his restraints, and the seedling bent behind him.

Bock shed his cutoffs, and Tanny thought that the paleness of his cousin's middle regions was a startling contrast to the rest of Bock's tan skin. Tanny knew that the skin hidden under his J.C. Penny's school shorts was not very different in tone than that of his chest and belly. Tanny had been in summer school, and all of his swimming had been indoors at the YMCA. He had not gotten very tan that year.

Bock padded to the edge of the bank, and he stretched out to retrieve the rope. He grasped it at the level of his shoulders, and he climbed onto the rope with his bare feet encircling the knot.

"See," said Bock. "You stand on the rope, and then ya get it swingin'." He kicked his feet away, and the rope began to move. He pumped, and the rope swung. The limb groaned above his head with each reversal. His body bent and straightened, and he was soon making giant swings.

Tanny saw that the rope was twisting. Bock would swing by facing the lake, then him, then the tree, then the lake again.

"I'm gonna let go!" cried Bock, at the end of a particularly good swing, and he did. His brown body tumbled in midair, and he hit the surface with a splash of brownish water. He had landed on his heels.

Tanny watched the water close about his cousin. Seconds passed, and then Bock came up, sputtering and grinning. He waved at Tanny. "How'uz that?"

"Groovy," called Tanny. He watched his cousin swim to the shore and come out dripping.

"Untie me?" asked Tanny.

"Lemme do one more, and then I'll untie you," said Bock. He was reaching for the rope.

Tanny impatiently tugged on the sapling. He was feeling frustrated. Bock was having all the fun!

Bock climbed onto the rope and his body bent in the middle. Soon he was pumping and swaying. He watched his stationary, captive cousin flash past, and Bock grinned. He took several extra large swings, hyperventilating himself.

He swung, he held his breath, and he let go of the rope. He was in muddy water, below the surface. He released a bit of the extra pressure in his lungs, and his arms extended. He kicked, gliding through the muddy water toward the diving platform. He hoped that he would not have to surface to get his bearings, but then he swam through a warm current, and he knew where he was. He altered his course slightly, and his hands soon bumped into the submerged portion of the wooden platform. He had been holding his breath for what seemed like forever, but he sought under the rim of the platform, and he twisted upward, breaking the surface under the platform. Wind whistled out of him, and he claimed a half dozen rapid gulps of air. Then he pressed his eye between two planks and looked back toward the shore and his cousin. He was grinning.

Tanny waited for Bock to come back up. His eyes were fastened on the spot where the boy had gone in, but seconds passed, and no Bock. Tanny wished he had held his breath, so he'd have something with which to judge how long Bock was under. Seconds passed, and no Bock.

"Bock?"

Tanny started worrying. If Bock was out there drowning, there was nothing that Tanny could do about it. He was a strong swimmer, and he'd finished half of his Red Cross life-saving course work, but he was tied to a tree and helpless.

"Bock!" Tanny tried yelling louder. "You better come up! This ain't funny!"

Go to the second part.