“No problem.”
Gable moved to Flynn and grabbed him by the hips. “You don’t mind I brought company?”
Flynn looked at him with wide eyes. “I’m just not sure the company would appreciate the public display of affection.”
Gable chuckled. “Joe is his boyfriend. And he thought we were all redneck bigots, so I just wanted to show him we aren’t.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Flynn smiled. “Maybe you should have invited the other guys too.”
“That would be overkill.”
“Probably.” Flynn chuckled.
The kids flooded in, and Gable noticed that Tommy simply went with the flow.
“No cats at the table, guys,” Flynn cautioned when he saw Noah clinging to Skunk.
“Come on,” Noah protested. “He’s leaving after lunch.”
Flynn didn’t say more, but Noah obviously understood the death stare for what it was.
“Is Calley coming for lunch?” Gable asked.
“I brought her sammiches,” Vicky replied.
“Thank you, Vickster.” She beamed at Gable’s words.
“You have quite a family here,” Cray remarked, looking around the table.
“You and Joe are raising Tommy, right? That’s a family too.”
“My family doesn’t think so. They don’t think it’s right that I raise Tommy. Because of Joe.”
Flynn turned to Tommy. “Do you like Joe, Tommy?”
“He’s the coolest!” Tommy replied with his mouth full of cheese sandwich.
“Tommy doesn’t mind, and that’s what matters.”
Gable took Flynn’s hand under the table as he watched the proud look Cray gave Tommy.
SAYING GOOD-BYE to Skunk wasn’t easy, but Gable was impressed that none of the kids cried. He ruffled up Noah’s hair as Cray and Tommy drove away, and they spent the day among the horses, which made everyone feel better.
The next day Gable found the house surprisingly empty, since the only thing missing was… Skunk. Even an uninterrupted night didn’t make him feel any easier.
On Monday after the kids were at school, he made the excuse to Flynn that he had to run into town to give Sadie a play-by-play. He was surprised Flynn bought it.
FLYNN WONDERED why Gable was making excuses to run into town. Occasionally Gable disappeared for an hour or two, and Flynn had never worried. Gable had never before announced he was leaving, though.
When Gable’s truck drove up the driveway, lunchtime had already passed and Flynn had just finished the dishes. He walked outside, drying his hands.
When he saw Gable step out, he got all fuzzy warm inside his belly. On a leash Gable was leading a surprisingly calm sheepdog puppy that reminded Flynn of Bridget, the dog they’d lost some years earlier.
“Shelter?” Flynn asked as Gable got closer.
“Nope. She comes from good stock. Warner over in Rigby had puppies.”
“I hope his dog is the one who had puppies!” Flynn laughed.
Gable kissed him to shut him up.
“You didn’t have to lie to me.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Flynn heard whining, and he looked down at the dog, who didn’t look like he had anything to whine about. Gable was digging into his coat pocket, and when his hand came up, he was holding a tiny black-and-white kitten. “Warner couldn’t vouch for this thing’s stock, though. The puppy found it in the barn, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.”
Flynn rolled his eyes. “This is becoming a habit, is it?”
“What?”
“Lying to me.”
“It’s not a lie. Warner told me the story. He wasn’t going to give the kitten up, but then I thought about Noah and how diligently he looked after Skunk, and I figured at least this one looked like a skunk.”
Flynn laughed. “You’re nuts, but I love you. And so will Noah.”
Water Under the Bridge
MIA KERICK
TJ and Eric—
This is a post I made on TJ’s Facebook page on January 20th, 2014:
A remarkable thing just happened to me. I read TJ Klune’s update on his emotional journey with his fiancé, Eric Arvin, which described the tears he shed upon Eric’s departure. I decided to search online for an exquisite phrase to help me express my feelings about TJ’s intense emotion that brought him to tears today, as well as to offer him comfort. I looked through hundreds of quotations until I found the perfect one. And when I glanced across the page to see who I would credit as the author, I saw this:
“I’ll wait for you,” he said as his hand dropped to his side…. “I think I could wait for you forever.”
―TJ Klune
As I said, I wrote this message in response to your heartfelt post describing how hard you tried not to cry when Eric was leaving the respiratory hospital in Virginia to go to the new hospital in Ohio. I had a grasp on the hardship you had been experiencing to that point, but somehow it seemed so much more daunting when you couldn’t suffer it together.
Now, TJ and Eric, the waiting is over. As you set off on your future, to create your new normal, to push at all the existing limits, to grow in love as a couple, you will do it together.
And together you will make it epic.
June after our freshman year of college
WE’D PLANNED this trip during spring break of our freshman year, when Timmy stayed at my house in Hopkins for vacation week. Well, the truth was we’d planned some, then we’d got busy on my bed, and then we’d planned some more, and yeah, you’ve probably already guessed what we did next. Since neither of us had to work over spring break, we had plenty of opportunity to plan our postfinals trip to the White Mountains, a trip that would replace the one I’d given to Timmy for Christmas our senior year of high school that we’d never taken. But like I said, those twin beds in my little bedroom proved to be a major distraction to our vacation-planning efforts. Not that I was complaining.
And Dad hadn’t had the week off work. Which had been too bad for Dad….
Hee-hee-hee.
So Tim and I had been alone for seven days….
We’d made frigging excellent use of the time.
Over the past six or so months of being together, it was like I’d become addicted to touching Timmy’s skin—but hell, who could blame me? His skin was so soft and supersmooth, from head to toe, and I knew that for a fact. Well, Tim did have a few lingering scars left by his stepfather’s belt, which had cut pretty deep into his back, but I’d seen those stripes all bloody and swollen, and now they were healed up and just another beautiful part of his regular skin to me. So anyway, I got way into hearing the sounds Tim made whenever my hands were on him—all squeaky and high-pitched and adorable. To me, those cute squeals were probably the best part of making love to Timmy, because they showed he was losing control, and to put it bluntly, that turned me on. What he said he liked the most about getting busy with me was the way I tasted. Yeah, it might sound nuts, but Timmy said I tasted like heaven, and I think he was talking about everywhere. Lucky me.
I glanced over at the passenger side of the gray Ford Focus we’d rented that morning for our road trip to Wallace, in upstate NH. My truck was getting old, and I was afraid it would quit for good if we tried to force it up a mountain. Timmy was all slumped over, conked out against the car door. He’d let his loose curls grow a bit longer since we’d gotten back together last Thanksgiving, and right now they were falling, like this shiny drape of wavy light brown silk, over his forehead. And I’ll admit my heart kind of clenched up at the simple sight of him. Even after six months together, every time I looked at the dude, my heart pulled that same little stunt.
“Benny, you okay? Gettin’ too tired to drive?” Timmy yawned and then lifted his head from the half-open window where it had been pressed for the better part of an hour. His forehead had a flat red spot on it that I wanted to kiss.
“I’m sure not overly tired, Nort. This is a pretty short drive.”
I tugged on his arm. “Why don’t you rest your head on my shoulder instead of against the door? You’ll be more comfortable.”
And that way I can play with your pretty hair….
Timmy shifted his weight and flopped across the center console so his head was leaning on my elbow. That was good enough for me.
I was fairly confident that the highway we were driving on was Route 62; it was a real true country road, as in, pine trees everywhere. I hoped we hadn’t missed our turn, as it felt like we’d been on this same road about for a year now, but I kept on driving. I was impatient to get to the hotel for some very predictable reasons (hee-hee-hee) but I couldn’t exactly lift up my butt and reach into my jeans pocket to get my phone to check the route, because I’d wake up Timmy—and seeing as what had been going down in my guy’s life lately, he needed his rest.
A sign…. There was a sign up ahead, which I hoped would give me a clue as to exactly where we were, so I slowed down just enough to read it, but not so slow as to disturb my boyfriend’s nap. When I tapped the brakes, though, Timmy started to lift up his head again, so I sank my fingers into his baby-soft hair and rubbed little circles on his scalp. After he made a couple of those cute squeaky sounds, he dropped right back off to sleep.
Welcome to your vacation! Ashton, NH. Population 1,662. Established 1764. Warning: You may never want to leave!
Yes! The sign said something about vacation, so I figured we were at least heading in the right direction. We were on our way to a few days of hiking and swimming and sightseeing and just getting away from real life for a while, so I relaxed a bit in my seat until I noticed that we had less than an eighth of a tank of gas.
Time for a pit stop. I’d been drinking red Gatorade like it was going outta style, and I had to take a piss, anyhow.
Lucky for us, just up ahead on the right was a turn—one I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been looking so damned hard for signs of civilization—where I could hopefully find a gas station and fill up the tank. It was marked by a small white sign I’d seen a ways back that said 62A, which was almost completely hidden by foliage. I figured it couldn’t be any more remote down that road than it was on this one, so I turned.
After a few miles on another heavily forested road, I was beginning to get a bit worried that the town of “Ashton” existed only in my wildest dreams when I caught a glimpse of a flashing yellow light and an actual street sign up ahead. Crossing my fingers for luck, I said a quick prayer that civilization could be found on Pinecrest Street.
It was a bumpy street, and I thought, This is a New Hampshire road—it should’ve been repaved ages ago. I had to dodge gaping potholes every few hundred feet. But lo and behold, Lady Luck was smiling at me like she did sometimes, and Pinecrest Street slowly started to resemble a real, if kind of old-fashioned, town. Some stores here and there, a few restaurants… sidewalks and everything. And even a few real live people walking on said sidewalks.
And thank Christ, there was a gas station…. Not too much of one, really. A single gas pump out front of a tiny country store with a bunch of candy and cola and beer and We Sell Night Crawlers signs plastered all over the fading red exterior.
I didn’t immediately pull up to the pump, though. Instead, I parked the Focus at the other end of the dirt parking lot and waited for Timmy to wake up.
The Week Before
“YOU HAVEN’T been acting the same lately, Nort. You and me, we haven’t been the same.” Finally, after two long weeks of playing cat and mouse, I’d managed to corner him. We’d ended up here by the baseball field after our last final exam to sign up for Sophomore Fall Ball. And seeing as I hadn’t been able to get him alone even once in the past two weeks, I’d been missing the hell out of him. I’d missed our private talks. I’d missed making love. “Shit with us is not normal.”
When I caught a load of Timmy’s eyes, shifting away from me to stare out over the lonely baseball field, I’d known I was right on the money. Something was surely fucked up.
“You didn’t study the way you did for finals in January, either. Like maybe half as much, if that. And then there are the parties….”
Timmy had kicked at the dirt beneath the bleacher seat he sat on. “Everybody parties, Wellsy. That is, ’cept for you.”
“Not you either, Timmy—you’d stopped. You hadn’t partied once since junior year in high school, right before you left. That is, up until the past few weeks. And lately you’ve been hitting the parties almost every night, even if you’re not getting totally wasted like you used to do.” He’d only been having a couple of beers each night when he’d hit the parties over the past few weeks, but that was a couple more beers than he’d had since high school. I wasn’t gonna lie to him or to myself—I’d been worried about where a few beers would lead him.
“I’ll stop it, ’kay?” He’d stood up and stepped over to my side. Lightly covering my hand where it clasped the chain link fence that surrounded home plate, he’d again assured me, “I won’t go to any more parties, huh?”
Turning to face him, I’d taken a deep breath to help me stay calm. “You only party when you want to escape. And you know already that escaping doesn’t work. What works, T-man, is talking to me about your problems.”
It would’ve been impossible to ignore: Timmy’s gray eyes, which had been gazing into mine as if they were feeding on my strength, were so fucking beautiful in the early-afternoon sunlight. Dark and light at the same time—I’d felt like I could see inside his soul. This man was truly my soul mate, my best friend and my lover, and he was the only person I wanted to share everything in my life with. I wasn’t about to let him slide back into old habits—bad habits—that hurt him and pulled him away from me.
“I’m sorry I did that—my bad, huh? But it’s just so hard, Wellsy….”
“Nope… won’t be so hard if you tell me about it.” On the spur of the moment, I’d wrapped my arms around him and pulled him against my chest. He’d felt bonier than I was used to, as he hadn’t been eating too well lately. “I love you, Timmy. Your problems are my problems, right?”
His head had bobbed up and down on my shoulder.
Knowing he was finally ready to talk, I’d led him back to the bleachers and we’d plunked our asses on the sun-warmed metal bench. Taking his delicate face in both of my hands, I’d said, “Talk to me, Timmy.”
“THAT DUDE has gotta be the biggest human being I ever seen.” Timmy was awake now, and from his spot halfway in the passenger seat and halfway sprawled over the center console, his wide gray eyes were gazing out the driver’s-side window.
“Shit, he’s enormous,” I had to agree. I mean, I was big, but this guy dwarfed me. We both gawked out the open window at the huge and hairy dark-haired man who’d come out of the gas station, his arms laden with gallon containers of windshield-wiper fluid.
“He’s gotta be, say, three hundred pounds.”
“Ever seen thighs that thick, bud?”
“Them things are friggin’ tree trunks….” Timmy giggled, and I wasn’t too sure just why, but it sounded cute as hell.
I dipped my chin and kissed the top of my best friend’s head. Always had loved the smell of him—he still used baby shampoo ’cause he knew it made me crazy. In a good way. “He must be the gas station attendant. Sign over the tank says it’s full service here.”
“Guess so.” Timmy yawned wide, like he was real satisfied with his nap. “It’s kinda weird that we can’t pump our own gas way the fuck out here, huh? I thought they only had self-serves up in North Country.”
I nodded, but I didn’t fire up the car’s ignition yet. Before we got gas, I wanted to clear up a couple of things that had been weighing on my mind since the two of us talked on the baseball field the week before. “So, was that your mom who called at the hotel restaurant this morning?” Timmy had taken a private phone call during breakfast. I’d been cool with letting him slip away to take the call, but I still wanted the full scoop now.
“I didn’t l
eave ’cause I was tryin’ to keep you from hearin’ stuff, Ben. It was just kinda loud in the breakfast room.”
I sort of already knew that, but I was still glad to have him say it. Secrets so didn’t work for us. “Tell me what’s up.”
“Tanya’s definitely pregnant.”
I nodded because I’d kinda figured it out from what Tim had told me before. Let’s just say that all the signs had pointed to his younger sister being “in the family way.”
“She wants to keep it, not make an adoption plan for it…. Shit, Wellsy, Tanya’s fuckin’ fourteen years old! How’s she gonna take care of a baby, huh?” Timmy’s eyes got wet. He knew that this baby was going to complicate his younger sister’s already complicated life.
I nodded again, knowing I was not there to pass judgment. I was just there to listen.
“We both know Ma isn’t gonna be too much help to her, seein’ as Ma has trouble lookin’ out for herself. And my aunt and uncle are sayin’ they aren’t too sure they’re gonna keep Tanya at their house no more if she keeps the baby.”
I thought on this screwed-up situation for a minute or two. There was not a hell of a lot we could do for her. “You and me, Tim, we’ll be there for her… and for her baby too.”
“Like the way I was there for her last year when she fucked some high school senior and got herself knocked up?” I realized right off that Timmy had just admitted the true source of his pain. Tears were coming down his cheeks now, and I recognized the look of guilt on his face. Timmy blamed himself for Tanya getting pregnant, as well as for her subsequent halfhearted attempt to run away from her mother’s brother’s home, where she’d lived since their family had come apart at the seams over a year ago. And I knew for a fact that this self-blame was what he’d been running from when he’d acted so detached at the end of the school year. “Her big bro fuckin’ dumped her on her ass, and so she found some sleazy asshole to hang out with for a replacement.”
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