by Alexa Land
“Let’s reward him with a lawn clipping sandwich and a fresh cup of coffee,” I said cheerfully as I got up and began to gather our wrappers. “Although maybe you should take them to him. I’m trying not to be a distraction.”
“Oh no, you need to deliver them in person,” Elijah said. “A little distraction is just what Alastair needs.”
*****
Alastair ended up working three hours longer than the designated drop-in tutoring session, to make sure everyone who needed help got it. After we delivered lunch, Elijah pulled a thick textbook from his backpack, and I picked out a dusty tome from the cluttered shelves of the student advisors’ shared office. Then we tucked ourselves into a corner and tried not to be intrusive. Eventually, Elijah had to leave for his part-time job, but I stuck around.
I kept peeking at Alastair over the top of my book. He was tutoring freshmen in an intro to astronomy class, and he would explain the same thing over and over to an endless string of students, who ranged from overwhelmed, indifferent, and hopelessly confused to borderline hostile. I was beginning to think he was an absolute saint with an ungodly amount of patience. But then he pantomimed stabbing a particularly surly student in the back repeatedly, as if reenacting the shower scene from Psycho. I fought back a laugh and bit my lower lip when the student glared at me on his way out the door.
Finally, when it appeared no more desperate freshman were going to filter in, Alastair got up from the wooden swivel chair and stretched his arms over his head. “You must be bored out of your mind,” he said. “I didn’t expect it to take that long, and I apologize.”
“I couldn’t possibly be bored,” I told him. “I not only had the freshman doofus parade to entertain me, I also got to watch you explain stuff so many times that even I understand it now. Ask me anything about the electromagnetic spectrum. Here’s what I need to know, though. Have those students actually attended any classes all semester? Because I’m pretty sure you taught the entire course beginning to end for at least half of them.”
“Freshmen sometimes assume an introductory astronomy course will be the easiest way to fulfill their science requirement, as if all they’ll have to do is learn to identify the Big Dipper or some such nonsense. When they realize what’s actually involved, it sends a lot of them into a tailspin.”
“Do you have to do the student teaching thing as part of your PhD program? Because it seems like a pain in the ass.”
“It’s not required, but let’s just say it’s highly encouraged. Many people in my program will go on to teach at the university level, so this is a bit of practical experience.”
“That’s not you, though,” I said, “so why go through this?”
“Because every once in a while, it rewards you profoundly.” He pulled a royal blue V-neck sweater over his head, then adjusted the collar of his button-down shirt as he said, “On a handful of occasions, I’ve ignited a passion for astronomy in a student. It’s the most wonderful feeling, knowing you helped shape and influence someone’s future in a positive way.” I thought that explanation was pure Alastair.
*****
We ate dinner at a little café just off-campus, and then we got in his fire engine red Acura, because he had something he was dying to show me. It was the same car he used for street racing, and its engine growled with pent-up power. He drove into the wooded foothills above the campus, while he shuffled his eclectic music collection and sang along badly and enthusiastically. After about twenty minutes, we reached the summit, and as we entered a clearing, I murmured, “Oh, wow.”
The domed observatory before us looked like something from a Jules Verne novel, art deco futuristic, yet timelessly elegant. Alastair turned down the music and said, “This is the reason I chose to attend Saithmore.”
There was one other car in the parking lot, and we parked beside the vintage Range Rover. “Rollie practically lives here,” Alastair said as we walked up to the building. He had his own key, and as he unlocked the door, he said, “I’ll see if I can convince him to give us a bit of privacy.”
His friend was in the main part of the observatory, the huge room under the dome, which housed an enormous telescope. He was blasting Metallica while reading a comic book. When he saw us, he let his feet drop from the edge of the desk and yelled over the music, “Hey, y’all! I didn’t know you were comin’ by tonight!” He jumped up and wiped his hand on the front of his Han Solo T-shirt before sticking it out to me and saying, “Good to see ya again, Sawyer.”
As we shook hands, I yelled, “You, too.”
Alastair headed for the giant boom box on the desk and hit the off button, and Rollie opened his mouth wide, as if he was trying to pop his ears. Then he beamed at us and said, in his thick Louisiana drawl, “I suppose y’all are plannin’ to get romantic up in here. Am I right? Well, the good news is, I just stocked the mini-fridge with wine coolers, you just go ahead and help yourselves. There’s some leftovers in there, too. I don’t know why I always order the macho nachos at Senor Steve’s. Eight pounds of chips and cheese sauce is not an attainable goal! I’m just not macho enough for them, that’s the bottom line. Anyway, y’all can help yourselves to those too, after you work up an appetite. And I know you will. Nudge nudge, wink wink! Hey, that reminds me. Do y’all need condoms? Because I have this big box of ‘em from one of those discount warehouse places, and they’re about to expire. I just gotta remember where I stashed ‘em….”
“Thanks, mate, but we’ve got it covered,” Alastair said with a smile. “Also, your discretion and subtlety are a lost art, truly.”
“Got it covered,” Rollie snorted. “Literally. Because you brought condoms, and they—”
Alastair interrupted with, “Wasn’t there something you were supposed to do in San Jose tonight? A film festival or something?”
Rollie’s eyes went wide behind his thick glasses. “Aw hell, how could I forget about the X-Men marathon? I even left my Wolverine claws at home.”
“But your Beast slippers are right under the desk,” Alastair said, “and they’ll do in a pinch, won’t they?”
“Oh yeah, you’re right.” He looked at his Boba Fett wristwatch, then dove under the desk and pulled out what looked like a pair of huge, hairy, blue feet. “I can just make it if I leave now. Have fun, you two! Don’t do anythin’ I wouldn’t do!”
He ran out the door, and Alastair said, “I adore Rollie, but if he doesn’t lose the cheese-stained nerd shirts, I’m afraid he’s going to die a virgin.”
“He’s cute, under the weed-whacker haircut and ThinkGeek wardrobe. I bet he could find someone if he wanted to.”
“He could, definitely. He just doesn’t know that. When he turned thirty last month, it was a blow to his already shaky ego. I worry, because he’s stopped trying to put himself out there and meet people.” Alastair was tossing food wrappers into a plastic trash can as he said that. When he unearthed a partly eaten burrito on the desk, he murmured, “Crickey, that’s foul.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed he’s thirty,” I said. “Is he close to graduating?”
“No. By that I mean, Rollie has two master’s degrees and is working on a PhD. Once he finishes, he’ll just start another. This is what he does, he hides out in academia. Ten years from now, he’ll probably still be right here. With whatever this is.” Alastair used a tissue to pick up a crushed, half-eaten something or other and sighed as he threw it in the can.
“Expensive habit. Who’s footing the bill for the never-ending private university education?”
“His trust fund covers it. His family owns a restaurant empire in New Orleans.”
“And they don’t care that there’s no end in sight to his studies?”
“I met them when I went back to Louisiana with Rollie for a family function, and I got the impression they don’t particularly care what he does. They’re just glad he’s out from under foot.”
“Now I see why he’s hiding out here.”
Once he got the shared workspace cl
eaned up, Alastair turned to me with a grin. “Alright, let’s pretend we’ve just arrived. Sawyer, welcome to my sanctuary. Please ignore the fact that it smells like nacho cheese, and let me introduce you to Priscilla, queen of the foothills.” He indicated the huge telescope with a sweep of his arm, then said, “Hang on, this needs a soundtrack.” He pulled out his (latest) phone and started playing some dramatic classical music that I couldn’t name.
When he turned a key on a vintage-looking control panel, a low rumbling sound echoed through the building, and the massive dome parted down the middle. The two halves stopped when they were about ten feet apart. Alastair stepped over to a computer terminal that had been retrofitted onto the archaic system with a jumble of cords and wires, and he quickly typed something. Then he raised his arm with a flourish, smiled at me, and jabbed the enter button.
My hands shot out and I crouched slightly when the entire room engaged with a jolt, then began to rotate slowly. A bark of laughter slipped from me, just because it was so unexpected. When the room came to a stop, Alastair typed another command, and the end of the telescope rose upward until it jutted through the gap in the dome. As he peered through the telescope’s eyepiece and made a series of adjustments, he reminded me of a mad scientist, especially with that classical music playing in the background.
When he finished his preparations, he turned to me with a hopeful expression and asked, “Would you like to take a look?”
I joined him beside the brass telescope and peered through the eyepiece. Saturn and its rings looked luminous and dreamlike, and I murmured, “Holy shit.”
He talked animatedly about the gas giant for a few minutes, and then he said, “May I show you more?”
“Yes! God yes. Please!”
For the next forty-five minutes, Alastair gave me a tour of the galaxy. He was passionate and excited as he talked about what I was seeing, and his enthusiasm was infectious. It felt a little like he was introducing me to his oldest friends.
He brought over a stool for me so I wouldn’t have to stoop to look in the eyepiece and swung the computer terminal closer so he could keep realigning the dome and telescope. I put an arm around his waist and pulled him to me, and he sat on my lap as the words tumbled from him. He was so alive, his eyes sparkling with joy.
When the music stopped, Alastair blinked and looked around, as if coming back to earth. Then he colored a little and said, “I just rambled on for the duration of Dvorak’s Symphony Number Nine. I apologize, I hadn’t intended to go on that long.”
He started to get up, but I pulled him back onto my lap and kissed him before saying, “I loved every minute of that. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
His look of surprise gave way to a delighted smile. “You didn’t find it tedious?”
I shook my head. “Your passion is a beautiful thing, and the subject matter was fascinating.”
He draped his arms around my shoulders and kissed me again. Slow and tender soon gave way to hot and heavy. I ran my hands down his body and clutched him to me.
We ended up having sex beside the big telescope, on a pile of our clothes. Afterwards, Alastair curled up in my arms, and I covered him with my leather jacket. It was kind of chilly in the observatory, but we didn’t want to get dressed. Instead, we just snuggled closer and watched the night sky through the open dome.
After a while, I whispered, “Okay.” When he looked up at me, I said, “I’ll be your roommate for the next few months. I want to spend as much time as possible with you before you have to go. I’m not sure about staying in the apartment after you return to the UK, though.”
“I’m so glad you’re moving in! What you do long-term is your call, of course. I just need to know you’re going to be alright, Sawyer, and it breaks my heart to think about you moving back to your father’s house when I’m gone.”
“I won’t. I’ll find my own place, after….”
He looked in my eyes, and I pulled up a smile. I tried to pretend I could keep it casual and say goodbye to him in a few months, and that I’d be okay after he left.
Yeah, right.
Chapter Nine
It didn’t take long to pack. All my clothes, including my secret wardrobe, fit in one suitcase and a duffle bag. I studied my childhood belongings, trying to decide what, if anything, had sentimental value. I’d never been someone who assigned much value to stuff though, so in the end, all I packed were a stack of books I’d loved as a kid.
I had mixed feelings about taking the only photo I had of me and both my parents. Since it depressed me a little every time I looked at it, a case could certainly be made for leaving it behind. But, for reasons I couldn’t explain, that made me feel guilty. As a compromise, I removed the four-by-six snapshot from its frame and slid it between the yellowed pages of one of my books. Even if it seemed like something I should hold on to, I didn’t need to see it all the time.
I slung my backpack over my shoulder and looked around the drab little room. I’d missed it when I was overseas, but since then, I’d realized what I’d been missing was the idea of home, not the actual place. And now, I was putting it behind me. I’d visit my dad of course, maybe spend an occasional awkward afternoon sitting in front of the TV watching a game with him, but this wasn’t home anymore. Maybe it never really had been.
The staircase creaked as I carried my suitcase and duffle bag to the ground floor. My dad was in his usual spot, parked in the recliner in front of the TV. He’d been on the phone with one of his Army buddies when I’d come home that morning, so I hadn’t told him I was moving out.
He glanced at me as I paused in the doorway, and when he saw my luggage, he said, “Tell me you’ve re-enlisted.”
“No, Dad. I’m never going back. I’ve told you that a hundred times.”
“I know what you told me, but I was hoping you’d come to your senses.”
I put down my bags and said, “I was miserable in the Army. I don’t expect you to care or understand, but it was the worst experience of my life.”
“You’re soft, that’s the problem.” There was no malice in his voice. To him, he was simply stating a fact. “All they had you doin’ was fixing cars. What was so hard about that?”
“I just didn’t belong there. Don’t you see? Your experience in the Army and mine were very, very different. For one thing, you actually wanted to be there. I only enlisted out of a sense of obligation.”
“You could’ve fit in if you wanted to,” he said, knitting his thick brows. “You barely gave it a chance.”
“I gave it four years of my life! I put aside everything that mattered to me, including school, and I tried, Dad. I know you don’t see that. To you, it all just comes down to the fact that I walked away after my commitment was up. But there were things that happened while I was there, things you don’t know about, and I had to get away from a bad situation. Although even without that, I wouldn’t have re-enlisted anyway, because it wasn’t where I belonged.”
Why was I bothering? He never heard me, no matter what I said. I picked up my luggage and told him, “Anyway, I’m going to get out of your hair. I’m moving to a place here in the city. I wrote the address on that notepad on the refrigerator. I wrote down my cell number, too. I mean, you already have it, and it’s not changing. But I just wanted to put it there so you can call me if you need anything.”
As I started to head to the door, my father asked, “Did Tracy Garcia hurt you?”
At first, I was sure I’d misunderstood, and I turned back to him and stammered, “What?”
“Did he force himself on you?”
“How…how could you possibly know about Tracy?” The conversation felt surreal all of a sudden.
“You came home with his name tattooed over your heart. What, you think I didn’t notice?”
“But how did you know that was his name, and not some girl’s?”
“Well, for one thing, I know that because you’re gay, Sawyer.”
A cold feeling trickled down
my spine as I waited for the other shoe to drop, but nothing happened. I just stood there dumbly, holding my heavy luggage, and stared at my father. When he didn’t say anything else, I asked him, “Okay, so why’d you think the name was Tracy Garcia’s, and not some other guy’s?”
“When you came home on leave, you mentioned Garcia a couple times. You tried to act like there was nothing between you, but I knew right away something was up. I figured you had a crush on him. Since he was your commanding officer, I assumed nothing would come of it. I knew Tracy’s father, we served together. He was an honorable man, so I assumed Tracy would be, too. I never thought he’d cross that line with you. But then, when you moved back here with that tattoo, I got the picture.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“What was there to say?”
“Anything!”
He shrugged and said, “We would have just ended up fighting if I brought it up, because I was pissed off about the whole thing. It was wrong that Tracy got involved with someone under his command, not to mention a direct violation of Army regulations. You should have known better, too. But it obviously had ended, since you moved back home and never mentioned him again. I didn’t see the point in stirring things up after the fact.”
“So, why are you bringing it up now?”
“Well, when you said you didn’t re-enlist because you had to get away from a bad situation, my first thought was Tracy. It made me wonder if maybe he coerced you, or took advantage of you in some way. If he did, I’m calling his commanding officer, because that’s unacceptable.”
“Please don’t make trouble for him. Tracy never did anything like that,” I said. “By bad situation, I meant that I was in love with him, but it wasn’t mutual. I wasn’t forced into anything. He made a mistake by getting involved with me. We both made a mistake. But he’s still an excellent officer and a good man.” Why was I defending him?