The back of Gene's car- part 1 (short story)

Late at night, just off the road beside the church, Gene’s car shifted and swayed. The car was concealed by pine and the headlights dead, and occasionally a car would drive by without noticing. A leg was in the air, then in the back seat, then the car swayed, and then two silhouettes came together.

Every now and then- when Ramsey fell asleep and Abigail was working a night shift- Gene would sneak out with Ace. He would drive them down to the church beside the diner, and he would park the car in their spot. Music would play, they would talk, and then they would kiss. The first time they did this, the headlights from passing cars would light their escapade and frighten them, and they would drive home. But after their fourth time at this spot, they paid less mind. 

Gene was pulled down by the collar of his shirt into a kiss. He was over Ace in the back seat with his forearms holding himself up and one foot on the floor of the car. He couldn't fit both knees on the bench. They stayed stomach to stomach, kissing, and Gene’s radio played quietly in the front seat while their lips pecked and pressed. Gene’s gold cross necklace hung and laid flat against Ace. 

Gene turned his head the other way then pressed his face into Ace’s curled hair to kiss the side of his warm neck. Ace reached up and pulled his own hair aside.

Then, the hum of a car passed on the road and it’s lights went across the ceiling.

“Wait-” Ace said in a whisper.

Gene leaned away and stared down at Ace’s face. Ace began to sit up, and Gene sat back onto one calf to let him. Ace moved his hair to the other shoulder and looked out the back window, then craned his neck to look behind himself.

Gene watched him, and he watched the shape of his profile and how Ace’s nose slid down into a point.

“Okay,” Ace said, “Sorry.”

And they began kissing again.

Ace laid back on the bench, and Gene laid atop him. Ace wrapped his arms around Gene's neck and ran his fingers up his thick hair, which had grown to Gene’s shoulders. They kissed, and smiled, and moved against one another. Then, Gene’s belt began to jingle. He slipped the leather strap from its loop and let both ends hang open. He then raised himself with one arm to get Ace’s belt too.

Then, there were three knocks on the window. 

Gene stared down at Ace, and he had suddenly become very still. Ace stared back at him while the radio played quietly from the front seat. A bright light shined at the back of Gene’s head through the windows, then the light lowered.

Both men did not breathe, and they did not move. Gene could see Ace’s eyes going back and forth between his own.

“Come on out,” said a gruff, older man from outside the car.

“Gene,” Ace whispered.

Gene began to sit up and held a finger to his own lips, still staring at Ace. He then turned back to see a man standing in a tan button up that hugged his rotund stomach and tucked into dark brown pants. He wore a cowboy hat, had a downturned mustache, and stood with a hand on his belt and the flashlight pointing down at his own boots. This was sheriff Milson.

Gene tightened his belt and began to shift, maneuvering himself to turn and pop open the back seat door so he could step out. His sneaker crackled on the gravel beneath, and he shut the door behind him. The flashlight raised, and a star of light hit Gene’s eyes.

“You’re Abigail’s kid.” Milson said, then spit on the ground. He was chewing tobacco. 

Gene raised his hand to cast a shadow over his eyes. His hand was shaking, but his face was stoic. 

 Milson grinned, and then he began to chuckle “Now I just know your momma didn’t raise you to be acting like this. What in the hell do you think you’re doin out here, huh?”

Gene said nothing.

“You don’t have somewhere else to do this?” Milson asked, then spit again. “talk,”

“No sir,” Gene replied.

“Now that can’t be true. You realize you could be put on a list for this?”

“Yes sir.”

“Would you prefer I take you to the station or wake up your parents?” he asked, then walked around Gene to the side door again to knock on the window. “You too missy,” he said, “Get out here.”

Gene stood very still and stared at sheriff Milson’s gun holster. He waited, and he listened, and the car door on the other side popped open. Gravel settled, then the door closed.

Milson raised his light.

Both boys stood silent, and so too did the sheriff. He kept his light on Ace for a very long time, and then he turned the light back on Gene. Gene’s forehead had gone glossy with sweat, and his broad chest visibly raised and lowered. A wind stuck to Gene’s damp skin and made the pine needles encasing them rustle.

“I ought to shoot both of you in the head,” sheriff Milson said, slowly. “Save your mothers the heartache of what you were doin here tonight.”

He shifted, and wiped his nose with his wrist. Then, he sighed heavy and looked back at the dirt road cutting through the trees. Gene looked up too, and past the black outline of the trees was the pointed tip of the church. Stars speckled the sky. Then, Milson looked at Gene again, and Gene looked down.

“Alright. I never wanna see you two together again,” he said. “I don’t care if I see you walking through town, or fishing, or waving across a cliff at each other. You don’t nip this tonight you’ll get shot by someone else that t’aint me.” Then he spit.

Gene could feel Milson eyeing them back and forth. Ace sniffed, and shifted on the gravel.

“Who’s car is this?” asked Milson.

Gene looked at Ace, and Ace did not look back. Then, Gene looked out at the road which was a few feet behind Milson. With one wheel on the road and one in the gravel was the back half of the sheriff’s patrol car.

“His,” Gene said.

“Well, alright then,” said Milson, “Come on.”

He gestured for Gene to follow, then turned and walked from the private spot into the clearing. Gene looked at Ace again, and Ace still looked down at the ground. Then, Gene slid his hands into his pockets and began to walk forward away from Ace, leaving him in the dark pine cove. 

The sheriff popped open the back seat and left it open for Gene, then went to the passengers door. Gene took hold of the door and opened it fully to step inside the car, then close himself inside. He was separated from Milson through a cross hatch barred window, so thin Gene couldn’t stick a finger through. He didn’t lean against the backrest, and instead stared forward at the back of Milson’s seat. The engine came to life and began to hum, and soon, the car was rolling out of the gravel and onto the road.

Milson turned the dial for the radio, and Johnny Cash began to serenade the car while they drove. For a long time, Gene didn’t say anything. He wondered, to himself, if Ace would follow them home and reveal they were neighbors.

“You’re real stupid,” Milson said, and looked at Gene through the rear view mirror.

Gene didn’t reply. 

“I’m not taking you in, y’know,” Milson said. Gene looked up at Milson’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “I could, and you’d get taken to a camp that could fix you up. But I’m not gonna. Ask me why.”

“Why,” Gene said.

“Cause you ain't the type, and I reckon you can figure it out on your own. You like girls?”

“Yes sir,” Gene said.

“Well there ya go. See, it’s something we all get to choose, every day, when we wake up and when we go to bed. You chose wrong tonight, and that’s a lesson. Some types make the wrong choice every day, and theres no helping em.”

Gene looked out the window, and Milson kept talking. He pictured Ace’s face, then his long hair. He pictured how he popped one hip when he stood, and how he crossed his arms so his hands were tucked in at the sides. He felt, truly, content that Ace had taken his car home.

Sheriff Milson turned his car to ride the curb in front of Gene’s house, then he pulled it into park. Gene heard a flick, and the lights above the car began to flash blue and red which lit the front of the cabin, into his parent’s window. Gene and Milson waited, and after some time, Milson made the car siren yelp. It was then that the light came on through the window. Then the next window, then the front porch lights.

The door came open, and there stood a very large and gruff man in a robe, slippers, and boxers. He held his hand up to shield his eyes.

“Alright,” Milson said, “Go on then.”

Gene looked at Milson’s eyes through the mirror again before he popped open the car door and stepped out. Both heels hit the curb, and before he shut the door Milson said;

“Say hi to your ma for me.”

Then, the door closed and Milson turned the car to attempt a three point turn. As he drove in the opposite direction he arrived in, he shut off the lights.

Both Ramsey and Gene watched him go. His car back lights went from two to one, and Gene put his hands in his pockets.

Ramsey whistled for Gene.

Gene turned and walked to the front porch and up the wooden steps. As he came up Ramsey rubbed his eye with his palm and stepped back into the house. Gene followed behind and closed the front door. 

The house was cold, even in mid spring. Ramsey shut off the heater at night to save money. Gene began to kick off his shoes, then rolled his brown jacket off his shoulders to hook on the coat hanger.

“Hey,” Ramsey said. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. He breathed deeply, tired. “What’s that about?”

“Sheriff Milson,” Gene said. He put his hands in his back pockets.

“What about him?”

“Got caught with a girl.”

Ramsey said nothing. Gene could hear him breathing slowly through his nose, and he could feel Ramsey staring at his face. He did not look back.

“You snuck out?” Ramsey asked.

“Yea.”

“Mm,” Ramsey hummed, low, and looked down. 

Gene shifted in his place. His golden cross necklace felt heavy against his collarbones.

“You shouldn’t be doin that,” Ramsey said.

Gene nodded.

“You wanna marry her?” He asked.

Gene didn’t reply, and Ramsey let out a grim hum. Gene stood still, and Ramsey stared at him for a very long time. Then, Ramsey stood from the wall and began walking back down the hall to his bedroom.

“I’ll tell Abigail,” he said. “You do my chores tomorrow.”

“I got work,” Gene replied.

Ramsey said nothing, and he went to bed. Gene stayed standing in the front entrance with his hands in his back pockets, staring at the carpet.

When he went down to the basement- his room- he called Ace’s line. There was no response. He wondered if he would have his car to drive to work.