His Best Man

by Elle Keaton

  Michael waggled his head noncommittally. “Maybe you should see what your options are. Before you sort that out, though, maybe you should sort out what’s going on with Rod. I’ve always liked that boy. If things work out for you, he’s going to have his hands full.” Michael chuckled.

  Travis pretend-glowered at his dad. “Hey, I’m not that bad,” he protested with little weight behind the words.

  “You just keep believing that, son.”

  “You’re really okay with all this?”

  Michael was quiet for a while, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that made Travis squirm. This was his dad thinking.

  “Yes, son. I love you just as I love Abigail. I want you to be happy.”

  An uneasy thought made itself known. He wasn’t sure how to say it, much less to his dad. Yet Travis felt it was now or never, in this truth-saying between him and Michael.

  “I’m, um, worried about telling Mom.” Worried was an understatement. When Rod had come out, freshman year of college, Lenore had responded to the news with a staunch “No child of mine” attitude. She’d even tried to tell Travis Rod wasn’t coming to the house anymore. Michael had put a stop to that with a quiet, “Don’t be ridiculous, Lenore,” and things had continued mostly as they always had.

  “We’ll see, son, we’ll see.” Michael tapped the steering wheel with his thumb.

  Dinner was ready and waiting on the dining room table when they arrived at home. It was quiet with just the three of them, but tonight the quiet felt oppressive to Travis. Anxiety about the upcoming conversation with Lenore kept him from eating much. His dad winked at him, which made him feel about eight years old again and gearing up to confess that he’d put that dead snake in Abigail’s bed.

  “Aren’t you hungry, Travis?” Lenore asked.

  “Ate a late lunch,” Travis lied.

  “I certainly hope you didn’t stop at one of those Mexican trucks. Do you think you ate something bad?”

  “Mom, I’m fine.” These days it seemed everything his mother said had an off cast to it, one he’d not paid attention to before. Like people didn’t get food poisoning at the county fair every year.

  Finally dinner was finished, and his mom started to gather up the dishes. Travis tried to help her, but she swatted him away, telling him it was her job. He rolled his eyes at her. His mom had a lot of ideas about who did what in a household. If she wanted to do the dishes and cook, he wasn’t going to argue, but… it didn’t have to be that way. Travis was perfectly happy doing the dishes.

  “Don’t argue with her, son, it’s not worth it,” his dad said.

  It used to crack Rod up when Michael called the both of them “son.” “I don’t think he knows my real name,” Rod would say.

  “He doesn’t always call us ‘son.’ Sometimes he calls us ‘little bastards,’” Travis had reminded him.

  Travis snagged a beer from the fridge, attempting to stay out of his mom’s way as she organized the dirty dishes to her liking. When she was done, she’d come into the TV room for a little while, like she always did before heading to bed, where she’d watch TV that wasn’t sports. A basketball game was playing on the TV in the family room. Travis plopped onto the big blue corduroy couch with a sigh. His dad sat to the side in a matching easy chair. Travis thought both pieces of furniture were ugly, but no one had asked his opinion.

  It was a good game. His team had a run at getting into the championships, and the guys were playing hard. Travis zoned out watching the players run up and down the court making impossible shots and breaking his heart when the ball went wide or short. He wondered if Rod was watching.

  He hated wondering and not just knowing—because Rod should be with him, he knew that now. They should be watching the games together. It wasn’t normal to be wondering what he was doing and… Travis had been avoiding thinking the name… if Theo was watching the game with Rod in Travis’s stead. Sitting in Travis’s spot next to Rod.

  The clatter coming from the kitchen was tapering off, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Travis figured it was now or never. Telling his mom the wedding was off and he was bi wasn’t going to get any easier. He couldn’t go to Skagit without knowing his future was his own, that he’d cleared the slate. Hopefully not too late.

  He sat up and put his empty beer bottle on the end table, accidentally bumping the land line phone off the hook. His folks would never consider having only cell phones, but this phone gathered dust because no one used it anymore. As he placed the handset back in place, he saw the display showed five missed calls and a message from a number with a 360 area code, all from the day before. It wasn’t Rod’s number; his cell phone was still a 509 area code.

  “Mom,” Travis yelled as he stood back up. “Mom!”

  The clatter of dishes stopped, and his mom appeared in the doorway drying her hands with a dish towel. “Travis, I’ve asked you a million times not to yell. What is it?”

  He pointed at the phone, his hand shaking. “Did someone call for me recently?” The call could have been for his parents, he supposed, but as far as he knew they had no friends or connections in the northwest corner of Washington.

  “Oh,” Lenore gave the phone a withering glance as if the phone was at fault, “right, someone did call. I think his name was Cameron or something.”

  “What did he want? Why didn’t you tell me?” The only Cameron Travis knew lived in Skagit and worked at the Loft.

  His mother wrinkled her nose. “It slipped my mind.”

  “What?” Travis patted himself down looking for the keys to his truck. Cam wouldn’t have called him here if there wasn’t some sort of emergency; they weren’t that close of friends. In fact, Travis didn’t recall ever giving Cam his number. He’d left his keys in his jacket pocket after picking his truck up on the way back from the talk with his dad. Something terrible had happened. It was Rod, he knew it. Goose bumps formed on Travis’s arms; beneath the long sleeves of his T-shirt, he had chills. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

  Lenore actually looked angry. “It slipped my mind,” she repeated. “And see, what are you going to do now? Run off to Skagit to visit with Rod Beton? Leave your fiancée wondering where you’ve gone? I’ve always suspected he had his eye on you, and now you are running right to him. I should have put a stop to this a long time ago. I should have kept him out of the house when he admitted he was a gay.” Her voice was shrill and still managed to drip with venom.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Travis saw his dad stiffen. Shock, maybe? Michael started to push himself out of his chair. Travis put a palm out to forestall him from interfering. It really was now or never.

  “Here’s the thing, Mom. Lisa and I? We aren’t getting married. I broke it off with her before she left. If I’m a lucky man, luckier than I deserve, someday I’ll be marrying Rod. ” Travis’s cell phone caught on a thread as he jerked it from his back pocket, the string snapping as he dragged it out. With a shaking finger, he was able to jab Cam’s number into his cell. It began to ring on the other end, and he watched his mom’s eyes narrow further in anger. She stepped closer—what, was she going to try to grab his phone? Travis moved out of her reach, turning his back on her, while he waited for someone to pick up on the other end.

  “Travis Michael Walker, if you think I am going to let you ruin this family with that… homosexual,” she spat the word out, bitter and spiteful, “think again.”

  His dad intervened with a sharp “Lenore,” as she stomped out of the room. His dad followed her, saying something else, but Travis didn’t hear over the rushing in his ears.

  A voice he hadn’t heard in months came on the other end of the line. “Hello?”

  “Cameron, it’s Travis Walker.” He shoved aside the terrible words his mother had said so he could focus. Rod needed him.

  “Travis, where have you been? You are one hard man to get ahold of.” Cam’s voice, normally cheerful, was laced with worry and stress.

  “What happened? Is Rod okay?
” To his own ears, Travis’s voice was shaky and thin. He could hear his own fear.

  9

  Rod thought maybe after the weird experience at the Loft Theo wouldn’t message him again. Did he want to see Theo again? He wasn’t sure, but in the spirit of creating a new life he figured he’d let whatever happened happen, and Theo was a funny guy. Regardless, Rod was mildly surprised when he got a text from Theo a few days later.

  Theo: u want to go4a hike?

  It was March, not exactly hiking season yet, but the day was pleasant enough—remarkable for March, actually. The sun peeked out occasionally as a southeast wind blew puffy clouds across the sky. He and Theo agreed to meet at a trailhead east of town. The trail ran along the Skagit River before heading up into the foothills of the North Cascades and promised views if they made it all the way up to the lookout.

  It was good to get out of his apartment, Rod thought as he parked his truck off to the side. He’d been depressed; even video games were no fun. Theo wasn’t there yet. Rod stood at the edge of the embankment and watched the river water swirl angrily below with the early spring runoff.

  Gravel popped behind him. Turning, he saw a late-model small SUV pull in and stop next to his truck. The door swung open, and Theo emerged with a wave and a cheerful, “Hey!”

  Rod spent so much time in the woods during the summer fighting fires that being in a non-charred forest was something close to novel. The deciduous maples and birches were just starting to leaf. Wildflowers weren’t out yet, but the hike was still beautiful. As they made their way up the narrow trail, Rod let Theo do the talking while the green quiet of the forest seeped into his skin, smoothing him out.

  About two miles in, they reached the first view point. It was a good thing they’d both dressed warmly; there was plenty of snow still sticking around at this elevation. The view looked westward toward the Skagit Valley, where Rod could see the signs of the coming spring everywhere. Fields were tilled and planted with the local crops. On one field Rod saw a flock of snow geese, white dots from where he and Theo stood, start to take off. He loved watching them lift off en masse and sort themselves into the V formation.

  “So, who is he?” Theo’s voice startled him.

  “Who is who?”

  “Who is the guy you’re all tied up over? Is he worth it?”

  Rod sighed, turning to look at his friend. “That obvious?”

  “Yeah. Maybe it’s because I’ve been there too.” Theo gave him a sheepish smile. “I moved to Skagit to start again. I just couldn’t be in Denver anymore… Anyway, who is he?”

  Rod grinned ruefully at Theo before turning to look back over the valley. “We grew up together. I’ve known Travis since the third grade when I was the new kid in town and he was making sure I got fruit snacks when Mrs. Cathy handed them out. He also gave me one of his Pokémon cards.”

  The Betons had moved to Walla Walla when Rod was eight and a half. He still remembered how scared he’d been that first day at school. Both of his parents had started new jobs. There’d been a quick visit to the playground over the weekend, but when Monday arrived, his mom walked him to the school bus, patted him on the shoulder, and told him to have a good day.

  Luckily, he knew his teacher’s name, and an older student from the bus helped him find the classroom once they arrived at school. Still, he panicked in the doorway while all the other kids rushed inside, parting around him like he was a rock in a human river until everyone was seated and he was left standing alone.

  A kid with bright blond hair and a cowlick in his bangs that made him look a little mischievous saw him waiting there and yelled over, “Sit here!” patting the desk behind him.

  “I’m so stupid.” Rod shook his head. “I hung around waiting for him, waiting for the right time, and bam, out of the blue, he announces he’s engaged to the girl next door.”

  “Ugh, that’s awful. Not gay, then?”

  “He’s bi. He really is; I’ve seen him with both men and women pretty consistently over the years. So it’s not a sexuality thing. It’s a me thing.”

  Theo winced and frowned.

  “Right? I’m just thankful I never said anything. I was trying to get up the courage when he announced the engagement.” He blew out a long breath. “Less about me, more about you.”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it… but, that night at the Loft, those jerks brought back some memories I’d rather forget.”

  Rod hoped he never saw those two guys again, especially if he was driving his truck.

  “Travis…” Rod didn’t want Theo to think Trav was a bad guy. “He didn’t do anything wrong. I should have said something sooner, maybe. I don’t know. I spent years being terrified that if I said anything it would ruin our friendship, and now it seems like our friendship is ruined anyway. I keep telling myself this is the way things are meant to be, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Maybe something will happen and he’ll figure it out.”

  Rod snorted. “Travis is a lot of things: funny, brave, super smart—he graduated at the top of his class in college—did I mention sexy? He’d be a way better model for that calendar you were talking about. But he is not going to wake up and suddenly realize we are the next gay power couple.”

  “Another hike sometime?” Theo asked as they scrambled down the trail toward their cars.

  “Sounds great.” Yeah, he and Theo were never going to be a thing, but if he’d managed to make a new friend, maybe this move to Skagit would turn out to have been a good choice.

  Theo sketched a quick wave before pulling out onto the highway toward town. Rod watched as his taillights disappeared around the curve, and then he followed. The truck’s radio was tuned to an alternative station and the signal wasn’t great, dropping in and out as Rod managed the curves and dips of the road.

  Even though it wasn’t quite spring, there were a few early-bird RVers on the road. Would he ever be that person? Old, happily married, or at least with a partner. He imagined himself and Travis (no matter how hard he tried, Travis’s handsome face always ended up on his imaginary future partner) manhandling one of those behemoths down a long highway, amiably arguing about which one of them had taken the wrong turn and where they were going to stop for the night. It was a nice dream, anyway.

  Maybe Rod was tired, maybe he wasn’t paying attention to the road, maybe it wasn’t his fault at all. Rod would never know; his memory of the accident was never clear. One minute he was driving, thinking about life, enjoying the unusual March sunshine; the next there was a cacophony of sound, screeching, a frantic horn, metal shearing. Then a resolute silence. At one point the silence was broken by sirens, lights, and rhythmic beeping, but soon even that faded from Rod’s consciousness.

  The silence was soothing. He liked the quiet, it made him feel safe. It was good for him to rest; it seemed he’d been working too hard. Maybe he should take time off more often. There was another thought hovering in the background, waiting for him to acknowledge it, but he was too tired to decipher it.

  There was no white light, so Rod didn’t think he was dead, and there seemed to be a lot of chatter, but he didn’t open his eyes to see who was there. It seemed to him if he was in the afterlife it would be quieter. There was no single voice he recognized; they all blurred together, unintelligible low murmurs, a hum. There were other sounds too, but Rod focused on the voices. He liked the sound of them, the way they rose and fell with a predictable soothing cadence.

  Once, as a young child, he’d been sick—the flu, maybe—and his parents took turns reading aloud to him. He didn’t think they were the ones reading now (although someone was reading, Rod knew it). His parents divorced when he left for college, and he hadn’t seen much of either of them since. His mom had moved to Ohio. Why would Rod want to visit Ohio? His dad had remarried and now lived in Boise with his new family. Rod often wondered why they’d bothered staying married so long if they were just going to bugger off as soon as he was out of the house.
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br />   Well, there was the gay thing too. His dad had listened without interrupting when Rod came out to him and then said he hoped Rod understood that while he had no problem with the gay lifestyle… blah blah blah. His mom had said she loved him and then moved to Ohio. That’s why he’d spent so much time with Travis even though Lenore Walker had warned him off. Travis was his only family.

  Except Travis was getting married. To Lisa Harris.

  Rod’s eyes flew open. Well, it seemed like they flew open; in reality his eyes creaked apart at most a quarter of an inch. His eyelids were heavy as lead, and his lashes were stuck together.

  The lights in the room were turned down, or maybe it was nighttime. Through his tangled lashes, Rod recognized Travis’s disheveled form slumped in a chair next to the bed with a book open but facedown in his lap. He was hunched, trying to fit his big body into the chair; his head was at an angle that couldn’t be comfortable.

  Where was he, and what was Travis doing here? Rod let his gaze drift across Travis’s profile, his strong straight nose, his messy blond hair.

  He must have made some sort of sound he was unaware of. Travis’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “You’re awake. I’ll get the nurse.”

  That answered the question of where Rod was. Travis rushed out of the room before Rod could articulate a reply. The nurse summoned, Travis returned to hover next to the bed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other but not saying anything.

  Travis was rarely quiet. Rod wanted to reach out a hand to reassure him, but his left arm was immobilized. In fact, he was covered with all sorts of tubes and wires. And he ached.

  A dark-haired woman about his age wearing light blue scrubs swept into the room.

  “Mr. Beton, nice to see you awake. You gave us a bit of a scare. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was hit by a truck,” Rod rasped. His throat was raw, and it hurt to talk.

  “You were hit by a fucking truck, you asshole,” Travis barked out.