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s showing off； but Trevor knew Zach loved the pretty little globes of fire。 Trevor himself had already put away gallons of Blue Mountain coffee。 But not as much as he used to drink。 He didn't have to keep himself awake anymore。
More often they lounged on the small cove of white sand beach a few hundred yards from their shack。 Zach lathered himself with the strongest sunscreen he could buy； then lay for hours in the brilliant blue water； his head cushioned in the soft sand。 He stayed as pale as ever； but his cheeks took on a faint tinge of color； and some of the dark smudges around his eyes began to fade。 He wanted to learn to sing reggae。
The sun had bleached Trevor's hair pale blond。 He had to tuck it up under a hat when they went into town； else Jamaican women would descend on him stroking it； praising its beauty； wanting to braid it。 The first time this happened； Trevor had endured the reaching； grasping fingers for about ten seconds； then flailed out from under them with an enraged snarl that sent the ladies scattering and left Zach sprawled on the ground； helpless with laughter。
His right hand ached all the time； but it was a healing ache； the feel of bones knitting back together and muscles remembering how to move。 He drew every day for as long as he could stand it。 Then Zach massaged the stiffness from his hand； gently tugging the knots out of his fingers； rubbing the cramps out of his palm。 The muscle at the base of his thumb sometimes throbbed until Trevor wanted to drive his fist through the wall again。 But he was through hitting things forever。
He sent a postcard to Steve Bissette asking him to donate payment for 〃Incident in Birdland〃 to the production of Taboo or other ics。
They talked intimately and obsessively； fucked as often as their bodies could stand it； sometimes bined the two。 It was difficult to remember how short a time they had known each other。 But at the same time； they were starting to realize how much they had yet to learn。 They began to unlock each other like puzzles of astonishing intricacy； to open each other like marvelous gifts discovered under the Christmas tree。
Sometimes Trevor thought about the house。 Sometimes he dreamed about it； but remembered only frozen images from these dreams： the shape suspended from the shower curtain rod； slowly turning； the terrible dawning recognition in Bobby's eyes as he looked up from the bed of the sleeping son he had meant to kill after all； but could not。
Had Bobby meant to die already； or had the sight of his elder son grown； in Birdland； driven him to his death？ Trevor would never know。 He no longer worried much about it。
Sometimes sensations came back to him as well： the impact shuddering up his arm as the hammer crashed into the wall inches from Zach's head； the thousand tiny pains of the mirror fragments sliding into his flesh。 He never wanted to forget those。
He remembered what Birdland had meant to him when he was small。 It had been the place where he had discovered his talent； the place where he could work magic； where no one else could touch him。 Trevor believed in magic more than ever。 But he had learned that living in a place where no one could touch him was sometimes dangerous； and always lonely。
Birdland was a mirror。 You could shatter it and cut yourself to ribbons on it； you could obscure it with blood。 Or you could be brave enough to look into it with eyes wide open and see whatever there was to see。
He realized Zach was awake； had been watching him for some time。 The moonlight turned his green eyes a strange underwater color。 He did not speak； but smiled sleepily at Trevor and reached for his hand。 The night was silent but for the distant shush of the sea on the sand and the sound of their breathing。 The air smelled of flowers and salt； of their bodies' unique chemistry。
Yes； Trevor thought； he could have ripped himself apart on the jagged edges of Birdland just to learn how Bobby had felt doing it。 He probably could have dragged Zach down with him。 And he could have deluded himself into believing he did this without choice； that it was his destiny。
But it was all choice。 And there were so many other choices to make。 There were so many other things to learn。 He wouldn't mind living for a thousand years； just for the chance to see a fraction of everything in the world。
Trevor could not be grateful to Bobby for leaving him alive。 But he could be glad he had not died in that house； with all those possibilities untapped； sights unseen； ideas unexplored。 He could make that choice。 He had made that choice。 It was all up to him。 The boy whose hand he held was living proof。 Zach had shown him that anything was possible。 Zach was the one who deserved his gratitude。
Trevor found ways to show it straight on through till morning。
End
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