His Best Man

by Elle Keaton

  He stared blearily at the contents of his closet, trying to decide what stupid T-shirt he was going to wear with his jeans, when a memory from one of the first times he’d gotten drunk popped into his head. One summer during high school, he and Rod had “found” a partially empty fifth of Jack Daniel’s. Boy, Travis hadn’t thought about that in a long, long time. They’d driven way out on Cottonwood Road to a semi-abandoned property a few miles from town and sat in the back of Travis’s pickup truck trading the bottle back and forth until suddenly it was empty.

  Even though he’d been very drunk at the time, Travis remembered with absolute clarity looking down to see Rod’s hand on his leg. He’d watched, somewhat disassociated, as Rod gently ran his fingers up and down the exposed skin, tracing a scar left over from something stupid they’d done, the work-roughened skin on Rod’s palm catching the hairs on Travis’s thigh.

  Travis had known that they were both drunk, and maybe Rod more than him because Rod was smaller. But as the heat beat down on them, heating the metal bed of the truck underneath their asses and making him feel loose and languid, all Travis knew was that he really needed Rod to slide his hand closer to Travis’s groin: he needed Rod to touch him. His body was aware and onboard with the idea of those slim fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking him until he came. He’d let his own hand slip on top of Rod’s, guiding him gently to where Travis wanted to feel it.

  With his other hand, he’d unbuttoned his shorts and pulled them open as much as he could, pushing his underwear down, sitting awkwardly back against the cab of the truck and allowing his knees to fall to the sides. Rod’s eyes widened when Travis’s fully erect cock made its appearance, and Travis had thought he might stop, but instead Rod wrapped his hand around him and began to pump. Uncertainly at first, watching Travis to see if he was doing it right, and then with more confidence as Travis hardened further in his hand. Regardless of the whiskey, it probably only took about two minutes before Travis’s balls clenched and he watched, fascinated, as come began pulsing from his cock and he rutted into Rod’s hand wanting more, another wave of desire surging through him.

  They’d passed out about then and woken up hours later sunburned and hella thirsty, the sky overhead lit by a million stars instead of the blazing sun. Neither ever mentioned what’d happened between them; when they woke up they both acted like nothing happened. Travis wondered if Rod remembered. Had it meant something more than that they were two horny teenagers? Travis was officially too stupid to live, because it meant something to him, even if he had pushed it to the back of his mind for far too long.

  Now what was he going to do? When you’re hungover and dealing with the realization that you love someone, always loved that someone but called it something else—are you allowed a do-over? After all these years, Travis knew, he already loved Rod. The other guys, the women, Lisa, they were him being blind to what he already had. He deserved it if Rod had given up on him.

  He grabbed the first shirt he saw and a reasonably clean pair of jeans before sitting back down on his bed. What a fucking loser he was.

  The night before, John Briggs had shown up at the tavern and the two of them ended up drinking bourbon with beer backs, comparing how their lives in town sucked. Travis had been spending most of his free time at the bar, ignoring his dad’s raised eyebrows in the mornings and his mother’s “tsk”ing and judgmental sniffs. Travis wished Abs was home, even if she always fought with Lenore when she was around.

  “So what’s Rod up to these days? Haven’t seen him in a while.” John had shaken the ice down in his glass before taking another sip.

  Travis was sick of answering that question. Everyone wondered where Rod was. When he told them Rod had moved away, he got a variety of responses, but they all boiled down to “What? You two are always together!”

  John leaned closer in, and Travis instinctively mimicked the movement. “I always thought you guys had a thing.”

  “A thing?” Was Travis the only person who had no idea that Rod… He let the thought go unfinished.

  “Yeah.” John dropped his voice lower, his eyes darting around the half-empty tavern. “I’ve always been jealous you guys were able to pull it off without getting caught. A small town like ours… it’s hard being gay.”

  Travis stiffened, letting that last sentence roll around in his head. Had John just outed himself to Trav? God, he was such shit at this. This was exactly why—well, one of the reasons why—he needed Rod. Rod would know what to do and say in this situation. Travis was bound to stick his foot in his mouth, maybe his entire leg. Instead of responding, he took a huge swig of bourbon. The remaining ice slid from the bottom of the glass, hitting him in the face as he was breathing in, and he spewed the liquid over the table and partially onto John’s shirt.

  When he stopped coughing up bourbon and the sting in his throat died down, he signaled the bartender for another drink. She quickly plopped a fresh pour in front of him. Travis eyed John. His shoulders were hunched, and he kept his gaze on the table, or at least somewhere to the left of Travis. Jeez, he was more freaked out about the topic than Travis was.

  “To answer the first question about Rod, he’s still in Skagit. I haven’t seen him in a while, not since Thanksgiving.” He’d been trying not to do the math, but nearly three months was a long time.

  “That’s gotta be some sort of record.” Now John was watching Travis intently. Travis wanted to groan. Even he knew that somehow his answer here was vital, more than just his feeling of loyalty to his family, to the onus of the farm and inheritance his mother always talked about.

  “Yeah. To answer your second question, Rod and I don’t have a thing.” Right now. As soon as Travis had everything squared away, there was going to be a “thing.” Hopefully.

  “Because you got engaged,” John said flatly. “That’s a sucky thing to do. Anyone with eyes could see the guy was totally into you. Or, well,” he shrugged and looked back down into his own drink, “I could see it. Maybe other folks bought the whole ‘best friend’ thing.”

  Travis took another healthy swig of his drink, managing to get it down this time.

  John was staring at him. “Are you just figuring this out?”

  On the way home he’d tried calling Rod, but the phone went to voicemail.

  His phone was lying on the nightstand. He picked it up. No messages. He called his sister.

  “Hey, Abs.”

  “Big brother,” Abigail greeted him. “How’s it going?”

  “Could be better.”

  “Dad said you’ve been,” she paused, “a bit tense.”

  Travis lay back down on the bed and watched the ceiling fan rotate.

  “What else did he say?” He wondered if Michael had told Abigail that Travis didn’t want to stay in Walla Walla.

  “Not much. You know Dad’s not one for a lot of conversation, especially over the phone.”

  “You and Dad are close.” Travis stated it as fact. Even though he had never really thought about it before, he realized it was true. Abigail and Michael had a close relationship.

  “Yeah, I guess. It’s not like Mom and I get along.”

  “Why?” For some reason it was suddenly important to Travis that he understand. He’d never questioned the way his family worked before; he’d coasted along doing his thing. Apparently oblivious to dangerous undercurrents.

  “Really, Trav? You are—were,”—she snickered—“the golden child. I mean, you could do no wrong in Mom’s eyes.” Travis could practically hear her grinding her teeth at his obtuseness. “I’ve always known she loves you best. The best I could ever do was follow behind and hope for some scraps to pick up. Once I figured that out, I started doing whatever I wanted, because it didn’t matter anyway. Dad’s always been pretty cool. We don’t always agree, but at least he listens.”

  That was true. Michael was a great listener. Not that Travis had ever needed to share a lot with his dad, but he knew he could. His dad always had an open door.
>
  “So, why’d you call?” she asked. “Not to ask why Mom and I don’t get along.”

  “About what you said at Thanksgiving…” He let his voice trail off.

  “Have you talked to Rod?”

  “No. Texted a bit.”

  “Has Rod reached out to you? Has he called, or texted you first?”

  Travis thought for a minute. “No, he hasn’t done either.”

  Abigail’s sigh was audible across the line. “Trav, I know you graduated magna cum laude—I mean, I was at your graduation—but sometimes I think there’s a lot of stuff you’re kind of stupid about.”

  “Numbers are easy,” Travis muttered. They were easy. They stayed the same. He knew what they were going to do and how they fit in equations. In some ways numbers were easier than the alphabet, or were an extension of the alphabet.

  “Yeah, and practically since you crawled out of the womb you’ve had Rod at your back. Plus you’re lucky enough to be hot too, so you don’t even have to work at having whoever you want in your bed. Most girls, or boys, don’t care that you have the emotional depth of a jellyfish.”

  “You and I look a lot alike. And there’s some pretty jellyfish.” Travis thought comparing him to a jellyfish was kind of mean.

  “You’re beginning to give them a bad name.” Abigail kind of laughed. “Trav, Rod’s in love with you! He has been, I dunno how long, but probably since he figured out boys were his jam.”

  Travis ignored all the ridiculous metaphors Abigail rolled out, focusing on the one thing that was important. “Are you sure Rod’s in love with me?”

  “Yes, slowpoke brother, Rod Beton is in love with you. Or at least he was. I mean, the guy probably has a limit, and it could be that announcing that you and Lisa Harris were a thing was it.”

  “I am a jellyfish.”

  “You are,” she agreed. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Travis had some ideas. He had been thinking about how to make this whole thing work. “Well, for one thing he wasn’t, isn’t, talking to me, and I needed to sort some stuff out.” He couldn’t believe he was talking to his sister about this.

  “Look, Trav, maybe you need to approach this a little differently. You’re used to things just happening in your life, and they always work out. But. What is the constant in your life?”

  “Like a number? A factor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, aside from family, the farm…” A circuit sprang to life, practically humming in his head. “Rod.”

  “Good, good, Rod is a constant. Now, what happens when a constant changes?”

  Things fall apart, that’s what. Travis groaned. Abigail made agreeing noises. But… “Okay, say you’re right about, uh, Rod—why hasn’t he said anything?”

  “I don’t know, Travis, maybe it’s because you’ve been busy taking every girl and other boy to bed ever since you got hormones?”

  And never once had Travis looked at the man who’d been at his side through it all. “I need to think about this.”

  Like he hadn’t been already. But somehow talking to his sister made it real. More real. Travis still didn’t know how to do what he wanted to do. What the right thing to do was. He wasn’t cut out for all this emotional stuff. Like she’d said, usually things happened and he went along with it.

  Which, as he thought about it now, maybe wasn’t the best approach.

  “You really don’t,” she said. “Something tells me, brother of mine, that you have thought this to death, and now you need to get off your ass and do something about it.”

  7

  TheoG1988 seemed like a super-nice guy. The kiss of death, right? Nobody wanted to be the “super-nice guy.” After exchanging texts, they decided to meet up at the Skagit citizens’ favorite for coffee and lunch. Rod spotted the self-described skinny-as-fuck hyperactive eurotrash right away. They got off to a good start when Theo confessed to Rod that he was terrified of meeting a stranger online.

  “I promised myself I would give it the old schoolboy try, but I’m not sure if I’m cut out to meet people online. Ugh, meeting up with someone with the expectation of like…” he waved a hand between them, “you know.”

  Rod laughed. He did know. He’d definitely hooked up with guys for the sole purpose of sex, but it had always been awkward, and as soon as the edge was off he couldn’t get away fast enough. One time he’d left without tying his shoes. “Me too.”

  Theo was the exact opposite, physically, of Travis, and he made no attempt to hide that he was gay. Rod rolled his eyes at himself. He didn’t hide that he was gay, either, but it couldn’t be denied that most straight people never caught on to his sexuality. As a teen he’d been glad to fit in, but now he wondered if “fitting in” meant denying a part of himself.

  Theo was a freelance photographer and blogger. He was working on a personal piece about migrant workers, immigration, and identity. He’d only moved to Skagit from Denver a few months earlier than Rod.

  “My great-grandparents came to the US from Portugal. I want to understand why people are still coming, what is still better about here, the US. I want to explore work and employment and pride. My greats were never ashamed of their journey, not for one second. I’m following their immigration trail, I guess, and trying to compare it to today’s.”

  “And here I drive a school bus and can’t decide what I want to do with my life.” Rod’s English degree was gathering dust somewhere in the bottom of a box. At least he’d paid off the last of his student loans after the last season of firefighting. Travis had done what his parents wanted, gotten an ag degree, and excelled in it like he had everything.

  “What did you do before you moved to Skagit?”

  “My buddy Travis and I worked for the Forest Service as firefighters for the past four summers. After college I worked as a veterinarian’s assistant for a while.” Rod had really liked working for Dr. Mortimer and had harbored a tiny crush on him. It would be difficult for anyone not to find the ginger doctor with his soft West Virginia accent attractive. More than once, Rod had watched women swoon when he came into the exam room to examine their pets.

  “Oh my god, you fight fires and you save the animals?” Theo pretend-swooned.

  “Well, now that you put it that way…” Rod chuckled. “But I couldn’t get into actual vet school, so I got an English degree. And then when I graduated I wanted to pay off my loans, so really not all that altruistic.”

  Theo shook his head. “I don’t know, I can totally imagine you on one of those sexy firefighter calendars, holding a puppy in one hand and a romance novel in the other. Oh, and in front of a shiny clean red-hot fire engine. That is a calendar I would keep way after the year ended.”

  He fanned himself, and Rod couldn’t help but laugh again.

  While they chatted, the coffee shop hummed, buzzed, and whistled around them. Police officers from the station across the street came in, ordering coffees and pastries before heading back out to their desks or patrol cars. A handsome but grim-looking man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase entered and stood for a second looking around before coming and sitting at the table next to them. A few minutes later he was joined by a taller man casually dressed in worn jeans and a cozy sweater, with a coffee drink from the counter in either hand. His hair was a mass of wild curls that he blew out of his face with a puff of air. He set the coffees down before leaning over and whispering something in the suit’s ear that Rod couldn’t catch.

  Suit smiled then, his face changing from grim to something approaching soft, and it became abundantly clear to Rod that the two men were a couple. An ache that had nothing to do with the current flu virus going around town throbbed in his chest.

  Theo was cute and funny, Rod couldn’t deny it. He was slender, his complexion darker than Rod’s own. His black hair was cut short, with longer bangs that he kept having to sweep away from his face, and he talked wildly with his hands, twice nearly sending their coffees flying off the small table. And he seemed ge
nuinely interested in Rod.

  “So, uh,” Theo glanced up from fiddling with his coffee spoon, “would you want to get dinner sometime?” They’d been talking for long enough that Rod’s coffee had gotten cold and the lunch rush had died away.

  There was no reason for him not to say yes. Travis’s image flashed across his mind, but Rod brushed it away. “Sounds great.”

  They made a date for that Friday, and Rod was amazed that he found himself looking forward to seeing Theo again.

  The next morning Jasper missed the bus. Rod waited as long as he could, but the other kids couldn’t be late to school because Rod had waited for one child. After the kids trooped off, Rod making sure that everyone remembered their backpacks and lunches, coats and sweaters, he pulled the bus around to the parking lot and made his way to the principal’s office.

  Why was it that all schools smelled the same? Yew Elementary was an older three-story brick building, the administrative offices located just past the front doors. Rod quickly found the principal’s office inside another room, with an assistant or secretary’s desk guarding entrance. A middle-aged woman was answering the phone while looking at her computer screen. A few parents were already waiting patiently.

  When it was finally his turn, Rod introduced himself and explained that he was one of the bus drivers.

  “Ah, you must be Bus Driver Rod,” the assistant said cheerfully, her smile bright, bouncing dreadlocks barely restrained by a fuchsia headband. “We’ve heard a ton about you. What can I help you with?”

  “Well, I’m not really sure.” Rod launched into how he and the lunch lady were worried about Jasper—about his seeming lack of hygiene and how he didn’t have lunch money, and today he hadn’t been at the bus stop.

  “Some of our kids have it pretty hard. I’m sure you understand I can’t give out any personal information, but I can take down what you’ve shared and let Principal Snow know.”