“What are you two conspiring about?” Joe asked, looking at the two of us suspiciously.
“I’ve seen a few pictures of him, and I know he’s how you came by that monster you’ve got stuffed in your jeans,” I replied. Comprehension shown in his eyes as a memory fell into place.
“Show me,” he said. “Mike mentioned he’d found dirty pictures dad stashed in our treehouse.” Joe sat up as Mike handed him the box. We flanked him on either side as he tossed the magazines aside and rummaged through the photos. He pulled out the one shot of his father in front of the tree.
“Yep, that’s him,” he said smirking. “I’d only seen him naked a few times and never with a hard-on.” Joe pulled another, examining it closely. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “That’s uncle Billy dads’ fucking!”
“Your mom’s younger brother?” Mike asked.
“Yep, his face isn’t visible but look at his thigh. He got that tattoo of his girlfriend his first year in the navy.”
“I remember he took us camping a few times before you moved away,” Mike said. “I don’t remember the tattoo, although, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without clothes.”
“My mom stopped speaking to him after the divorce. I never made the connection. He must have been with dad when he got caught at the hotel. She’d get pissed whenever I’d ask why they didn’t talk; she refused to tell me.”
“In my twenties uncle Billy and I got back in touch, taking a few camping trips before he moved back east with his third wife. That’s how I knew about the tattoo, he liked to skinny-dip in the lake and lie naked in the sun. He never came onto me, even on our last trip, when I caught him masturbating after a swim. He didn’t even react, just continued stroking until he shot an impressive load onto his chest. He just casually got up, gave me a smile and jumped back into the lake to clean up. That memory has fueled many of my jack-off sessions over the years. As for mom, he never talked about her and diverted any conversation that strayed too close. I guess some secrets are meant to stay buried.”
Joe put the photos and magazines back into the box. He replaced the lid and set it down.
“I haven’t been up here since that day,” Joe said, taking a good look around. “So many memories.”
Joe stood, ducking his head to keep from hitting the ceiling and walked over to a door, swinging it open. There was a small deck, without railing, jutting out high above the pasture below. He sat down, legs dangling over the edge. Mike and I, still naked, flanked him on either side. Joe turned to Mike and kissed him.
“Finding you up here, and alive, is by far the best of them.”
We sat in silence, holding each other and looking out over the lush green pasture. A warm September breeze played in the branches of the old Oak as a woodpecker rapped on a tree nearby.