The Cranberry Hush: A Novel by Ben Monopoli Page A

battle,” the grandfather
said, putting his down on the counter. The boy looked up at him and laughed,
laughed without really opening his mouth. A spit bubble formed on his lip,
popped.

 
    “All these heroes and villains, and the kid picks Peter Parker ,” Zane whispered to me as
they were leaving the store. He stretched his arms across the counter. “In his
street clothes. I don’t get it. He doesn’t even come with weapons .”
    “Characters can be cool even when they’re not wearing
tights, you know.”
    “Whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes. “Actually, speaking
of—” He straightened up suddenly and I turned to look out the window.
“Jesus,” he said, “the old guy almost just fell.”
    “Did he?”
    “So much for my sand sprinkling.”
    “It looked fine to me. Um. Man the counter, I’ll go put some
more down.”
    I got a container of salt from the back and brought it
outside, sowing it across the slick sidewalk down to the Copy Cop, then I ran
back inside shivering. Zane was checking out a customer.
    When the customer left we stood at the counter looking out.
    “Cold out there huh?” he said.
    “Really.”
    He was quiet a minute and then he said, “At least you’ve got
someone to keep you warm at night.” Then he sighed.
    “Zane, I don’t need you picking at this. Griff and I aren’t
together. Come on.”
    “Tell me about him.”
    “No.”
    “Tell me and I’ll stop harassing you.”
    “He’s just a friend.”
    “Where’d you find him? Probably online, right?”
    “Not online,” I said, ruminating on Zane’s use of the word find as opposed to meet , and how in this case it was actually kind of appropriate. “I
don’t even own a computer. In college. I met him in college. Freshman year. We
roomed together our sophomore year.”
    “So he’s rooming with you again?”
    “For a week.”
    “You just being casual?”
    “I keep telling you. He is straight.”
    “That’s what they all say.” He sighed. “That guy Jeremy from
last night? He’s straight, too.” He placed air quotes around straight .
    I felt a flare of anger at his insinuation that Griff was a
closet case. There were days when I wondered about that myself (extreme
tolerance, like extreme intolerance, always made a person seem a little
suspect), but I didn’t like anyone else thinking it. It was like how I could
make fun of Superman for wearing his underwear on the outside, but when someone
else who didn’t love him like I loved him said the same thing, watch out. They
had no right. Zane had no right.
    “I don’t know about Jeremy,” I said, “but Griff really is
straight.”
    “Straight and he sleeps in your bed with you?”
    “I don’t have a couch,” I countered. “You’ve been to my
house. What would be your suggestion? Should he have slept on the floor?”
    He shrugged. “I’ve just never heard of a straightboy sharing
a bed with a bi dude.”
    “If Griff was gay he’d be out. He’s just that way. Sometimes
I think he wishes he was.”
    It made me remember Griff sitting on his bed one night in
our dorm room, telling me he’d seen an attractive guy in the dining hall while
he was eating lunch.
    “How attractive?” I said, trying to keep in check a rising
thrill.
    “I don’t know,” Griff said. “Attractive. Nice to look at. Do
you think that means I might be bi?” He seemed almost excited, as though he
were on the verge of discovering a new part of himself, one that would allow
him to tap into unlimited potential for romance.
    “Did you want to kiss him? Touch him and stuff?”
    His smile faded a little. “Kiss him? Not really, no. But his
skin was really clear and he had a cool haircut.”
    “Did he make you nervous?”
    “Nervous how?”
    “Like did he make you feel like you wanted to go talk to him
but were afraid?”
    “No...”
    “Did you get a boner?”
    “... No, no boner.” Now he looked disappointed and I felt
the same way.
    Zane was eyeballing me. “Do you wish