Roy enters and cautiously sits on the bed. He sets out his books in a way that designates a place for Nathan beside him. The math book falls open. Soon Roy is writing in his firm hand on the notebook beside Nathan's thigh. He denotes equations in letters and numbers, illuminating each in pencil as he describes their arcane meanings and functions. Roy speaks to Nathan as to a peer and not as to a younger boy. Algebra is simple. You learn to work from both sides of the equation, to find the answer implied by circumstance. He sets out problems that become increasingly clear, reading from the math book about the price of yellow and green ribbon in Mr. Sawyer's department store, about the number of nickels in $1.97 if there are four quarters and six dimes. Finding a solution for the problem, as Roy explains it, requires a peculiar and inexorable logic. Enlightenment comes to Nathan at the same time that Roy's presence begins to have its usual effect on him. The principles of algebra break over Nathan like day. What has not before been known—the undiscovered element in any circumstance—may be ferreted out, exposed to light. Nathan watches Roy's hands on the pages, his brows knit together as he reads. There is an unknown here in this room. X and Y hang in the air between them.
Roy lets Nathan solve a word problem himself, leaning close to watch and explain. Again with his nearness comes that field of magnetism that possesses Nathan. Roy watches calmly from his side of the equal sign. He has moved close now, his breath touches Nathan along the soft of the throat. No logic can explain such warmth. Roy sets down his pencil and Nathan touches the veins on the back of Roy's hand. The contact shocks them both. Roy is quiet Shy, like Nathan. But neither hand moves.
Roy leans close till his forehead brushes Nathan's, dark hair tickling, his eyes downcast. The rhythms of their separate breathings merge into one river. No other sound intrudes as they lean against each other, skull to skull. Nathan feels the unknown rising in them both, its message plainer than either can fathom. Roy cups his warm hand against Nathan's neck. Roy's breathing deepens, reaches inside. Now both his hands are trembling.
Roy is starved for closeness. Nathan leans against him, since it seems it is warmth that he craves. But the effect is out of proportion; it is as if he has cracked Roy's shell. Roy makes a sound as if he is taking his first breath.
He pulls Nathan down to the mattress, unmindful of textbook and papers beneath. His weight is delicious and full. Their breathing changes together, and they press against each other, warmth exchanged for warmth, as Roy sighs into Nathan's hair.
In the quiet wake of the moment, the sounds of the house clarify and isolate themselves. Mom washes dishes in the subterranean kitchen. Dad dozes through the weekly Hawaiian detective series in the living room. Out in the world the wind is blowing leaf against leaf, an insistent whispering with a scent of storm. "Does this make you feel funny?" Roy asks.
"No."
"It makes me feel funny"
"Well, maybe it makes me feel a little funny too. But I don't care."
"I don't care either. I just wonder why" He lies on the bed watching the ceiling. "Do you like me?"
"Yes." Nathan can hardly lift his eyes from the soft chenille.
"Do you like me a lot?" There is something frightened in the question. Roy's body has become rigid. It is as if he is denying the words as they emerge.
Nathan speaks suddenly, with violence, against Roy's shoulder. "I like you a whole lot. I really do. And I want you to like me the same way"
"I do," he says. Saying so much has apparently surprised him; he stands from the bed adjusting his pants, asking if Nathan wants to walk outside away from the houses. In the dark. Nathan spares no breath for an answer but falls in beside him down the corridor, descending the back stairway to the kitchen, pausing while the shadow of Mom retreats into the dining room, the unknowable rooms beyond. At the back door Roy's hand hovers over Nathan's. Fresh air from the night spills over Nathan. Roy steps into the inky quiet and Nathan orbits him.
Mom's dim voice calls out, "Where are you going, Nathan? Nathan?"
"Outside." By then the night surrounds him.
