Ten Stories to Manhood: Short Stories

By Jonathan Maniscalco

Achingly raw and beautifully written, coming-of-age tales, set in the picturesque Cape Cod and Boston area. The insights into a boy growing up, looking for positive, masculine, role models, chronicled through ten sequential short stories. The author delves into the personalities of his characters, bringing them to life through dialogues, internal monologues, and emotional responses, rather than actions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adelaide Books Publishers
• Release date: Aug 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949180237

Jonathan Maniscalco

Jonathan Maniscalco has taught English to ESL learners in Japan, Spain, Chile, and New York City. A Massachusetts native, he is a graduate of Boston University and is currently completing a master’s degree at Clark University. Fifteen Stories to Home is his second published short story collection. His first novel, The Dog Star Burned will be published in 2021.

Book preview

TEN STORIES TO MANHOOD

TEN STORIES TO MANHOOD

A Collection of Short Stories by

JONATHAN MANISCALCO

Adelaide Books

New York / Lisbon

2018

Ten Stories to Manhood

a collection of short stories

by Jonathan Maniscalco

Copyright © 2018 By Jonathan Maniscalco

Cover image and illustrations © 2018 A.F. Nikolic

Published by Adelaide Books, New York / Lisbon

An imprint of the Istina Group DBA

adelaidebooks.org

Editor-in-Chief

Stevan V. Nikolic

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For any information, please contact Adelaide Books

at [e-mail]

ISBN13: 978-1-949180-23-7

ISBN10: 1-949180-23-9

Printed in the United States of America

For my parents, thank you.

Contents

Prologue: ATOP THE DUNE

SNOW

A RESOLUTION

WASH ASHORE

LIGHT FROM THE FIRE

A JUST RIGHT

LASHING OUT

TOMORROW

THE GYM

Epilogue: NEW WATERS

About the Author

Prologue: Atop the Dune

Ryan Clarke was sixteen years old.

Ryan sat alone. From atop the dune he watched the

low-tide waves gracefully push forward, collapse, and regress, exposing more of the nighttime beach. At first it seemed like a quiet atmosphere without the unnatural sounds of a city or the obnoxious ones of people. The need for empty stimuli had to be detoxed before Ryan could listen and hear what was happening around him.

Cold sand crunched between his exposed toes as they took advantage of freedom they weren’t often given out-doors. Ryan had arrived in shoes but had left them where the pavement ended. His lower half was covered with jeans and his top by a dark undershirt beneath an open flannel. A standard style for where he was.

The breeze was light, but still enough to periodically tip the tall grass down into slight elegant bows. Though this made the air chilly, Ryan did not unroll his sleeves or button his shirt. He just sat, watching the water, his arms folded over his knees.

It was times like this that Ryan wished he smoked. Beaches here were protected so smoking wasn’t allowed. Ryan acknowledged this as a good rule. Cigarettes would only blemish this Northeast paradise with their smell and litter. He felt like a hypocrite though, since he saw himself as a blemish here, an ugly imposing mark on otherwise perfect scenery. Unlike the others, who came and saw themselves as the center and focus of this landscape. There was guilt that came with ruining this place, too; exacerbated by his self-awareness.

He didn’t make any move to get up, though. No matter how much he saw himself as defilement. Ryan continued to sit in the sand watching the water. He loved this place too much to leave. He loved the smell and taste of the salt in the air. The soft slap of the waves as they collided with the beach, the occasional belch from a frog in the marsh behind the parking lot, even the buzz of the nighttime insects around him.

Ryan looked down from his elevated seat at the dried sea wrack the previous high tide had stretched across the beach, giving color to the otherwise plain sand. Then noted the giant full moon over him with its millions of companion stars. This city child was sure he’d never be used to that splendor. Most of all though, there was the sea. Every time Ryan saw the ocean pulse in and out the way it was meant to, he felt serenity course through his body before emanating out of his pores, intensifying like the waves speeding up through the surf before launching themselves onto the shore.

Ryan picked up the bottle of cheap whiskey stuck in the sand between his legs and unscrewed the top. He sipped as much of the liquor as he could before inexperience and the horrible taste forced the bottle away from his mouth. Ryan sighed, screwed the top back on, and pushed it back into the sand.

A few more peaceful minutes went by before Ryan turned his head slightly at the sound behind him. She was coming up the backside of the dune.

I grabbed your sweatshirt out of the car anyway, Jane said, dropping it in Ryan’s lap.

Ryan picked up the sweatshirt and put it on without saying anything.

Jane sat down next to him, sliding herself through the gap between his arm and side before nuzzling her head on Ryan’s shoulder. They sat there a moment. Ryan kept his eyes down at the beach. The tide was getting to its lowest. Almost everything that would be exposed tonight had been. Soon the massive immeasurable ocean would stretch only a little and swallow Ryan’s beach back up again.

Do you think I could have some of that? Jane asked.

Ryan handed her the bottle. Jane tried to take a swig, but she coughed roughly when it hit her throat and she spat a good amount onto the sand.

Chuckling as kindly as he could, Ryan took the bottle out of her hands. Then Jane decided to kiss him.

Ryan took the kiss. Jane pushed closer. Ryan closed his eyes and put his hand behind her ear out of duty. Jane took the movement as control and went limp, expecting Ryan to take hold and bring her close. Ryan complied. The two got close enough to feel each other’s bodies through their clothing.

Jane pulled herself on Ryan’s lap, blocking his view of the ocean. She started to kiss all over his face and Ryan clumsily slipped his hands under her sweatshirt. Wincing when Ryan’s cold fingers touched her bare skin, Jane stopped and looked into his eyes. Ryan knew she wanted him to say something, but he didn’t.

Disappointed, Jane put her soft hands on his shoulders and moved them up and down his arms to feel his strong young muscles. Their eyes met and Ryan forced a smile. This placated Jane and she kissed him again.

Before long, Ryan lay his sweatshirt on the sand as a blanket for Jane to lie on while they lost their last bit of childhood together.

When it was over, Ryan sat up and redressed. Jane did too and handed Ryan back his sweatshirt. Ryan held the sweatshirt a moment before tossing it aside. Jane waited a moment, then put her arms around his neck and kissed him long and desperately. When they parted, Jane put her mouth next to Ryan’s ear and whispered what she wanted him to say.

Ryan looked at her and frowned. He told her he couldn’t say it yet even though he knew that word, yet, was a lie.

So, you won’t say it, but you’ll fuck me as if you do? Jane snapped.

Ryan apologized and told her he thought she was beautiful.

Is that supposed to make me feel better? Jane asked. She wasn’t yelling. Ryan could hear a sob under the sharp surface of her question.

Ryan brought his hands up to comfort her, but she pulled away.

Fuck you, Ryan, you’re an asshole. You can fucking walk home. Jane jumped up and ran down the lonely backside of the dune to the parking lot.

Ryan started to get up but sat back down when he saw how far from him she already was. He looked down at the parking lot, and soon heard her car’s engine, then saw its lights. The noise drowned out the sound of the ocean as she drove away. Ryan kept his eyes on where the road would be after he couldn’t see the lights from her car through the woods anymore.