He figured out this was a secret all on his own, and he relaxed too, even as he looked tired and sad. “Shit. What's she going to do?”
“I don't know. I figure that's what we're gonna talk about.” Then all of a sudden the nerves came back, and I reached out for his hand. “I'm scared I'm going to say the wrong thing.”
His fingers stroked mine, and he gave me a one-sided smile. “Just listen mostly, I would say, and be kind. She's probably beat herself up plenty on her own.”
I nodded, and because I'd already acted all kinds of fool around him over this, brushed a kiss on his mouth in silent thanks. He caught my chin and kissed me again, a lingering, sweet one.
I carried it with me across the yard all the way to the barn.
Halfway over I backtracked and went over to my car to get a CD. It was one of the artists she'd played for me, and I listen to it while I drive around. I brought it along to play while we talked, because I thought she might like that.
She did. She laughed and smiled and asked if I went and bought this on my own, which of course I had, which just made her all the happier. Like I had given her something by going to buy it, which I hadn't even thought of but was glad for now. I put it in the player and turned it down soft and got her a soda from the minifridge. I got myself a beer. I had the feeling I was going to need it.
I sat her down on my bed, and I sat in the saggy chair by the TV with the dogs at my feet. I settled in to listen.
She stared down at the carpet a lot while she talked, which wasn't like her at all.
“It's Cal's.” She grimaced. “But since he accused me of sleeping around too, he's never going to believe me. Anyway, I don't want him messed up in this. I don't want a thing from him. He doesn't know, and he's not going to.” Her voice broke on the end, and she sighed and wiped at her eyes with her fingers. “Sorry.”
I liked being in the chair because it felt safe, but I could tell for her I was too far away. I rose, stepped over the dogs, and sat hesitantly beside her. She melted against my side, crying softly as she went on.
“Roe, I'm so scared. This is going to ruin my whole life. My whole life. No school now. Aren't I an awful mother already, that this is all I can think about?” She laughed, but it had jagged edges. “Want to know the worst of all? I keep hoping that if I keep being sick and not eating and crying all the time that I'll miscarry and not have to worry about it. That's how awful I am.”
That went right up my nose. “Hey. You aren't awful. Stop saying that.” A gear that had been turning slowly since she'd told me on the steps clicked into place, and the slow thought formed. “Are you—I mean, are you going to...get rid of it?”
This time the laugh was so bitter it made me jump. “Abortion, you mean. I tried. I went yesterday. On Christmas Eve, I went to kill my baby.”
“Don't say it like that,” I shot back, sharper than I meant. But I couldn't seem to gentle either. This was a jagged conversation all around. “And what do you mean, you went yesterday? You mean your mom knows already?”
“I went by myself,” she said.
I was so mad I had to stand up because I was shaking, and my hands were balling into fists. The dogs sat up too, and they started barking. Haley stopped crying and drew back, surprised.
“You went to get an abortion by yourself? What the hell, Haley! You just drove—what, to Rapid City?”
“Scottsbluff. I remember about that law they passed in South Dakota about abortion. They repealed it, but I didn't know if there'd be pickets. I went to a women's center. I'm three months along.” She hung her head. “I couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with it. There weren't even any protesters, but I couldn't do it. I think actually I could have done it if there had been, even though I'd have been afraid of them. I think I'd have been angry at them for telling me what I can and can't do to my body. But there wasn't anybody. Just nice, polite staff who were very understanding. And I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't—” She broke off, choked on a sob, and drew her knees up to her chest. “I wasn't even thinking about little toes or hands. I wasn't even feeling guilty. I just—couldn't.”
I sat back down and put a tentative arm around her. She melted again, and she cried for a while. Ez and Zeke put their heads on my knees and whined.
When she seemed to wind down a bit, I said, “Like you said. It's come up fast on you.”
“It's not like I'm stupid!” she whispered. “We used condoms. I swear we did. I swear to God! And I had my period! The second time was really light, but that happens sometimes! And then I was late, and I just... I don't know. I had this feeling. I thought I was being silly. But I took three tests, three different kinds—fifty dollars, Roe!—and they were all positive.” She gave a ragged sigh against my sleeve. “I'm due June ninth.”
That seemed a long time away, and yet it was not very far at all. “Take a while to think it over, and if you decide you want one, I'll take you, and to a place that doesn't have any damn protesters, because I don't care what you say. You shouldn't have to see shit like that at a time like this.” I tried to remember if Iowa had made any laws like that. I wanted to believe that it hadn't, that my state was better than that, but I really didn't know. It hadn't seemed like something I should care about. Not until just now.
I thought of how passionately Haley defended gay rights without anybody asking her to, and I felt pretty low.
“I will take you all the way to Canada if I have to,” I told her.
She hugged me tight, then sat up wearily. “I don't know that I want to. I mean, there are a lot of nice people who want to adopt, and babies are hard to find. Just look at your brother. Well—I mean, no offense, but I'm not giving my baby to somebody who thinks your orientation needs to be healed. I might not give it to anybody. I don't know. What I do know is that I want to think about it.” Her eyes teared up again. “I just—no matter what I do, everything is ruined. Even if I do get an abortion, it's not like I can just go on and forget about it. Which is what pisses me off. What do they think, that I'm some dipshit bitch who can go get an abortion like it's a manicure? And even if there is somebody that nasty, why do I have to suffer because of them? I bet you my student loan check the same ‘good Christians’ who would call me a baby killer would rather turn and shout at you for being gay before they'd take ten minutes to help me through this. That's the way they are. They don't give a shit about anybody but themselves. If I keep my baby and ask for their help, the next thing they'll do is find something wrong with me. And everybody I love. Fuck them and their ‘pro-life.'” She had stopped crying in the middle of her rant, and now she glared across the room at the wall. “If I keep this baby, I'm going to make damn sure it grows up to kick their bigoted, hateful asses.”
I had gotten lost somewhere in the middle of all that—I mean, I heard her, and in a weird way, I understood her. I got lost because it was like something about what she said echoed in my own head. On the one hand part of me wanted to say that she was being a little harsh, that probably some people really did mean well and would help her, that not everybody could be that nasty all the time, that it wasn't right to burn them all the same way they were burning her, or that she thought they were. But behind that there was a deeper part of me, not dark but kind of like water, and it rose up and drowned that reasonable voice and said, yes. Yes, that's exactly it. That's exactly right. You have to hate them back and shut them off so they don't hurt you. You can't let them hurt you anymore than you already are, because things are already bad, and you can't, whatever you do, let them get any worse. You have to keep them out before they can make it bad.
And then it was like there was a third me, watching both these conversations and getting confused, thinking something wasn't quite right, but the water was rising and Haley was crying again, and I just rode the waves and hoped like hell everything eventually settled back down.
“Whatever you decide, Haley,” I said, quiet but steady, “whatever you decide, I will help you if you want. I don't know
a damn thing about babies, but I'll help you if you keep it. I'll just—” I lost some of my confidence and started to stammer as I said the rest. “You've been a good friend to me. Best—best I ever had. That Cal, he's a fucking dick and an idiot to leave a girl like you. If I were straight, I'd be on my fucking knees for you. I would be there for you and the baby. Even if it wasn't mine.”
She burst into really bad tears then, and I felt like shit because I knew I'd fucked it up. My chest was so tight that I had to work to breathe, and I was putting myself together enough to say sorry when she threw her arms around my neck, squeezed me tight, and said, “I love you, Monroe Davis.”
Something inside me broke open, and when I let the air out of my lungs, it was shaky. For the first time in a while I wanted to run, run like my heels were on fire.
And then I felt the wet of her tears on my neck, and the fire must have been there, because it went out. My stomach still hurt, though, which was why when I wrapped my arms careful around her and let my head rest against the side of her head, when I answered back, my voice was soft as wind.
“Love you too, Haley.”
That there, on Christmas Day up in my apartment holding Haley while she cried with the dogs by us, that was when I had my first glimpse of home.
January 5
Dear Bill,
The first thing I want to tell you is that I'm fine. I'm working as a senior hand at a place called Nowhere Ranch. It's a very nice spread, about three thousand acres. Most of it is grass, and this is western Nebraska, so it's not so much for farming. This is also kind of a hobby ranch. The owner keeps cattle and sheep, but only about five hundred head of each, though those numbers change every day, and Travis Loving does know his numbers. He used to teach math at college in Omaha. He's had some trouble with the sheep, and there I think I'm pulling my weight. Who thought all those years of sheep at the old farm would come to some good, but they sure are for me now. We even have some dogs. They are pieces of work, but you might remember that I kind of have a way with dogs. They are coming around pretty good I think.
Speaking of school. I'm actually working right now to take my GED. I'm going to take it online. A friend is helping me study. She is so smart you wouldn't believe it. She is going to be a great teacher. I'm kind of a test case for her. But she doesn't need practice. She's good already. I wish she had been my teacher. I think I would've done a lot better in school.
The other thing I need to tell you is that I can't come back to the farm. I imagine that will sound hard to you, and I'm sorry. I am upset about Dad and about Mom, and I am real sorry about the babies. I do want to help you, and I'm sorry it's all falling to you just like always.
But the problem is that I could tell from your letter that you actually don't want me to come home. Not the me that I actually am. That kind of sounds like hog shit, I know, but hear me out. I think this has been the problem since I was about ten. I think I knew then that I was a Roe that wasn't what everybody wanted me to be. I tried as hard as I could to be that Roe, but it just didn't work out no matter what I tried. There may be guys who can change who they are, but I'm not one of them. That might make you sad or angry. I know it was hell for me to swallow. But let me tell you angry and sad still don't change it. Believe me. I have tried everything.
I can't come home because I am still gay, and I know from Kayla's letter and yours that this is still a problem for you all. Which means that I am a problem for you all. Which means it would be best that I don't come home.
I understand you will probably read this and figure me for a jerk who doesn't care about his family. From where I stand, if I'm a jerk, it's me being a jerk while knowing it would be a lot easier on everyone if I didn't come back and remind everybody so loudly that I'm not who you want me to be. And to be honest, it isn't a whole lot of picnic to walk around having everyone tell you that what you are is wrong.
The thing is that neither you or Kayla asked me in your letters how I was. You acted like the best I could get was one step above the gutter. This is why I started this letter with a list of what I'm actually doing. Maybe I'm not as great as everybody else, but for me I'm doing okay. I don't know about healed. I suspect there is something wrong with me, maybe, but it ain't that I'm gay. What I do know is that being here at Nowhere has made a lot of things right that used to feel real wrong.
I would like nothing better than to come home and see Mom and Dad and you and to meet your wife. If it turns out I misread your letters and you actually are okay with me as I am, please tell me, and I will come home and apologize right to your face and help out in every way I can. If not, it's probably best nobody write me anymore. It sounds like the last thing you need is to be fighting with me over who I sleep with on top of everything else.
Please tell Mom I love her. I have not been much for religion, but I have been praying for her since your letter, and for Dad too. I would tell Dad I love him too, but I will leave that up to you to relay or not. I don't want him upset.
I love you too, Bill. I miss you. Despite what you may think of me, I have always looked up to you and to Dad, and I've tried to be the kind of man the both of you could be proud of. Well, except for that one part.
I will put my address and such at the end of this letter. Whether you decide to contact me or let sleeping dogs lie is a decision I will leave to you.
Love,
Roe
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* * *
Chapter Ten
I have been through some shitty winters in my day, and some of those were in the Dakotas. Let me tell you, nobody does shit winters like the Dakotas, except maybe Canada. But that winter my first year at Nowhere was the fucking worst I ever knew.
It was so cold we lost some livestock. We had shelters up for them, but it just got too fucking cold, and any that were sick were gone. Some of them were pregnant ewes too, which bit double. If I wasn't out dragging heaters to water troughs—heaters that kept fucking breaking or shorting out—I was trying to rig up better shelters and haul more hay. It snowed all the fucking time, and when it wasn't snowing, it was blowing. Twice the power went out, and then in addition to dragging hay and heaters, we were hauling generators too. Tory's house didn't have a generator, so we bundled them up at our place. Two of the hands stayed with us too, because they didn't have heat either, and their pipes were freezing, so we were one hell of a pile there in Travis's half-empty house. Dogs too. We were all crammed in there.
Which was, actually, when it started to fill up with stuff.
I think Travis was waiting for me to decorate or something, which frankly pissed me off. Just because I like cooking doesn't mean I want to pick out curtains and shit. Besides, he had too much damn house for one man. Even two men. That was why I kept the apartment. I wasn't having any part of it.
Haley, however...
She was just about five months along when we went through the no-power period. And this is where maybe I should explain that just because we had a generator for the house and another for the ranch equipment, we were not cooking roasts and soaking in the hot tub. You only get so much juice from those generators, and you have to rotate things through. Like, you can have the fridge, or you can have the furnace. You can have hot water, or you can run the washing machine. And when shit goes down in the field and the generator out there gets kicked over by a pissed off cow, you unplug the one at the house and use it for the livestock while you fix the broken one and hope for the best, and in the meantime you wear a lot of blankets in the house.
So in all this is Haley. She had just this cute little bump on her belly, but as she made pointedly clear to me, looks could be really fucking deceiving. It turned out her throwing up had been more than just nerves, and she Technicolor vomited her way through month four. She was doing better in month five, but she had to go to the bathroom all the time. Travis made the mistake of saying that seemed odd since she couldn't have that much pushing on her bladder yet. This got him a really angry and long le
cture about hormones.
I had wondered too, but I wasn't so stupid I was going to ask.
Anyway, here we were busting ass to keep the stock alive and all piled in on top of each other, turning into popsicles and getting really fucking tired of cold meat sandwiches or grilling in a blizzard, and tripping over the dogs, and Haley decided that what we really ought to be doing was furnishing Travis's damn house. At first we thought she was joking, and boy did that go down bad. She said no, damn it, we were going to fix his place right now.
We had all been kind of treading on eggshells around Haley, and even though this was fucking nuts, this “let's redecorate in a blizzard,” nobody wanted to be the one to point that out. Her parents were amazingly cool about the pregnancy thing. Well, okay. Tory did try to punch out Cal and almost got arrested. That wasn't so great. And from what I gather, there was a lot of crying and arguing and hugging and more crying between all of them. Then pretty much they just faced it. Haley was still in school, but nobody knew about the summer or fall. She was going back and forth between giving it—her, actually, from the last ultrasound—up for adoption and keeping it. Her mom had said she would help, but the trouble was eventually Haley had to go away to go to school. There was no education program around close enough for her to commute. So her mom would have to watch the kid for a few years, or Haley would have to have daycare down there wherever she went to school, which would cost them something dear. It just didn't look good.
But the adoption thing had hiccups too. Haley was dead-set that it had to be just the right family, and she didn't like any of them she saw in the files. I wondered privately if any of them were my brother and his wife. I mean, what the hell were the odds, but it made me think. Just seemed so weird, that my brother was aching for a baby, that Mom wanted a granddaughter, and here was Haley looking for a good home for her baby girl.
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