Then I scooted over to the driver’s side, set the GPS for the next stop in New York, and put Sally in drive.
***
July 30
Hey guys. Sorry about the last couple of blog posts. I’m not sure why the font was so tiny. Landry was so much better at this stuff than me. You don’t have to rub it in, you know! I’m sure he’s laughing about it right now. Sorry he had to bail, but I know I wouldn’t have gotten this far without him.
Camel’s Hump Mountain in Vermont was gorgeous. I’d never been there. Dad talked about it a couple of times, told me he’d take me.
So I beat him to it, I guess. I took him.
I have one more stop—the Portland Head Light lighthouse in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. It was one of my dad’s favorite places in the country, in his favorite state. I’ve been there once, when I was five. Wonder how much it will look the same now, at twenty-two.
Signing off until then.
11 Down
1 To Go
—J
Comments
Mia: Call me!
Chapter Seventeen
I checked my phone one more time.
Nothing.
After every stop, I texted Landry a picture of the urn in its place. He never texted back. I knew he received it because my text message window said “Read.”
But that’s okay. I kind of deserved it for acting like a shit most of the summer.
I sighed and stood on the passenger seat of Sally, then raised to my tiptoes, digging in the overhead cabinets for the Maine atlas. I knew it was in there, and I wanted to check on my dad’s notes. I pulled down a couple that were shoved at the back and flopped onto my butt in the seat. Pennsylvania? Nope. South Carolina? Nope.
And then there it was on the bottom of the stack. Maine. The atlas was the most worn-out of all of them, because my dad visited Maine all the time.
My next stop was the Portland Head Light—a lighthouse in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. I flipped through the atlas, humming Coheed and Cambria to myself, hearing Landry’s voice like a ghost backup singer.
I turned to the page that detailed the lighthouse’s location and a lined yellow piece of tablet paper slid from its home in the binding and fluttered to the floor.
I recognized my father’s scrawl right away—his heavy, all-caps handwriting. I’d tried to tell him that meant yelling in text-speak but he told me he was yelling when he wrote. I bent and picked up the piece of paper, then caught my breath at the site of my name at the top.
It wasn’t a letter, but a to-do list of sorts, with random notes written scattered all over the paper in random angles. But this note was for me. About me. And my eyes eagerly scanned the page, soaking in this private last declaration of sorts.
JUSTIN
The words blurred as I realized my hand was shaking, the paper rustling. I laid it down on my knee and kept reading.
TELL HIM TO BE HONEST. TELL HIM TO TRUST HIS OWN FOCUS. AND MOST OF ALL, THAT YOU LOVE HIM.
“Focus” was written darker than everything else on the page, like he had traced the letters over and over again with the pencil lead.
And my heart lodged in my throat.
He knew.
I had to believe that my father had known. Because what else would he have been referring to? And it didn’t matter to my dad. He wanted me to be happy. He must have planned to talk to me and written these notes to himself. When? I turned the paper over, like he’d thrown me a bone and placed a date somewhere, but no such luck. I stared at those dark words, imprinting them in my mind.
Fuck, was I really crying again? I never cried and this summer was like one huge water park. I swiped at my face, tasting the salty tears as they ran down my lips and spread into the seam of my mouth. I licked them away and took a deep breath.
He would have accepted me. He would have helped me get out from under my mom’s rule.
My life could have been different.
I stared sightlessly out the windshield. It still could be different. And the gears shifted in my head, like I turned on the all-wheel drive and I knew the steps I needed to take. To get Landry back. To take control of my life.
“I love you, Dad,” I whispered out the windshield.
He didn’t have to answer this time. I knew.
***
I opened up Landry’s laptop to search for tattoo shops in the area. I read a couple of reviews, but ultimately said “Fuck it.” I wanted something really simple, so unless they jabbed me with a dirty needle, I figured I was safe.
While browsing, a notification popped up, announcing a new e-mail in Landry’s inbox. My finger hovered over it. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t look but it was right there and I was curious so . . . I clicked it.
And as I started reading, my body flushed hot.
It was an e-mail to Landry from Lamar Crabtree—a name I recognized as a friend of my father’s. He worked as a freelance sports photographer. I scrolled down to the bottom—to the first e-mail in the chain.
Landry,
Thanks for letting me know about the blog. I’m happy you and Justin are honoring Charlie. He was a great photographer and above that, a great friend and a good guy.
Looking through the photos . . . you said Justin took these? The composition is great. Is that what he wants to do? Photography? Does he have any sort of online portfolio?
Let me know and best of luck to you two.
L.C.
***
Mr. Crabtree,
Hey, thanks so much for the well-wishes. Justin is doing well and we’re having a great time traveling the country. I bet Charlie is watching us and cracking up.
Justin does have an online portfolio, and I included the link at the bottom of this e-mail. He’s really talented, as you can tell.
Thanks, and let us know what you think.
L
***
Landry,
Thanks for that link and WOW. I wanted to see how he did with subjects in action, not just landscapes. Does he have an idea on what he’d like to do in the fall? Because I have to say, I’ve been looking for an assistant. I’ve been reviewing applications and I just don’t see that natural talent I’m looking for. And Justin has it. It’s in his blood anyway, right?
Would you mind passing along my information to him? I’d love to talk to him. I couldn’t pay much, but enough to live on. He’d only have to eat ramen a couple days a week.
Thanks and I hope to hear from him soon,
L.C.
***
My eyes stared at the words on the screen, wondering if I was imagining this whole thing. Wondering if I stared long enough, the words would change into something more believable.
This didn’t happen to me. The only thing in my life that fell into my lap that mattered was Landry. Everything else I had to fight tooth and nail for.
It’s in his blood.
I read the words over and over again. I didn’t know how much of that was true, if I had even an ounce of the talent my father had.
I stared at my camera on the dashboard. The worn dials and frayed strap. I reached out and grasped it with my hand, loving how my fingers fit right into the grooves where my father’s fingers had gripped it. I closed my eyes, and the future came into focus behind my closed eyelids.
A future with a better life. A life for me. And a life that included Landry.
If he took me back.
I snapped my eyes open and held the camera out in front of me, the lens facing my face, and I clicked the shutter in what I hoped was a self-portrait of determination.
I didn’t look at the back of the screen. I knew I captured it.
I needed to trust my focus.
***
My favorite part of Maine was no billboards. For real. The highways were lined with endless stretches
of beautiful greenery and landscape. No massive metal structures with fast food advertisements or insurance agency ads.
The sign on the door of Ames’s Tattoos proclaimed the tattoo shop open, and the O was a colorful sugar skull, flowers for eyes and a heart for a nose above white skeletal teeth.
The guy behind the counter raised his head over the computer, and I didn’t mean to stare, but his eyes were purple, eyelids lined in thick black eyeliner. His hair was dyed black and was slicked straight up about two inches from his head. And he was gorgeous—high cheekbones and full lips, which stretched into a smile as I walked closer.
I swallowed and stopped at the counter.
I could objectively say he was one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen.
But he was no Landry.
“How can I help you?” A flash of silver caught my eye and I focused on the labret piercing—a stud above his chin.
“I’d like to get a tattoo. Are there any appointments available today?”
He turned and yelled behind him. “Hey, Ames, you got time this afternoon?”
A petite woman with straight black hair and Asian features walked into the lobby of the shop from a back room, sipping on the straw of a pink smoothie.
She wore a flowy white top, black leggings, and leopard-print shoes. A red flower tucked behind her ear matched her red lipstick. Her gaze started at my head, traveled down my white T-shirt to my dusty shorts and Chucks, and then back up to my face. She set her smoothie on the counter next to Smiley Hot Receptionist.
Without taking her eyes off of me, she said, “Sure, Jay. I got time for a blank canvas.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Blank canvas?”
Another sweep of my body. “Yep, tattoo virgin.”
I frowned. “How do you know that? I could have a whole fucking eagle on my back or something.”
She laughed. Threw back her head and cackled like I was the funniest person ever. Then she eyed me. “And do you?”
I huffed in the back of my throat. “No. But I could.”
She blew out another laugh and then reached out her hand. “I’m Ames.”
“Justin.”
“So, what would you like to get?”
I held out my arm, palm up, and rubbed the spot on the underside of my forearm where I wanted to get the tattoo. I hesitated but figured that of anyone, a tattoo artist would be one of the least judgmental people. Plus, fuck it. This was all going public soon. “I want an equal sign here.” I glanced up at her, but her eyes were on my index finger where I rubbed my forearm. “Just black.”
Her eyes rose slowly this time and she tilted her head to the side, eyeing me. Finally those red lips parted. “That all, Justin?”
I nodded.
A soft smile, then she jerked her head behind her and turned around. “Follow me.”
When I looked back at Jay, he still smiled. I returned it. He winked. I didn’t return that.
We discussed the size and she printed out an equal sign from her computer so she had the correct distance between the lines and straight, even edges. Then she shaved my arm, even though I didn’t see any hair there, and transferred the image onto my skin. I stared at the blurry purple lines of the transfer as she tinkered beside me, snapping gloves, gathering ink.
She wheeled beside me, and the smell of latex, ink, and metal wafted under my nostrils. “You ready?”
I almost started laughing. Was I ready? What a loaded fucking question. Was I ready to change the course of my life? Throw everything out the fucking window and come clean? Be true to myself? This was permanent. The Internet was permanent.
But this is what I wanted. I wanted a permanent life as myself. Sure, I wanted Landry back, but even if he didn’t take me, the truth had to come out. I couldn’t go back to before. No matter how hard this was. No matter how scared I was.
I licked my lips and raised my head. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows were furrowed and a frown marred her face.
I smiled and watched as her lips tilted up to match mine.
“I’m so fucking ready.”
Her smile beamed. “Then here we go.”
The buzzing filled my ears like a swarm of angry bees. I didn’t tense until the first dip of her needle into my sensitive flesh. I gritted my teeth as she outlined the two rectangles. The ink pooled on my skin and she wiped it away, her hands steady. It was a simple tattoo, which made it all the more important she didn’t fuck it up. Couldn’t cover the mistakes with a flower or something.
She smelled good, like coconuts, but the smell wasn’t Landry’s, and that’s what I craved right now. But this was taking me one step closer to burying my nose in his neck and wrapping him in my arms. So I had to focus.
Before long, the pain faded in the background of my brain and a fuzzy feeling took over, like my body was filled with cotton. She glanced up at me as she dipped the needle in her little vial of ink and smiled. “The endorphins are kicking in.”
“What?” My voice was groggy and slow, like I was drunk.
She bent back to her task and began circling the needle to fill in the rectangles. “The endorphins. Make you feel a little drugged, huh?”
I shook my head. “Yeah, damn, that feels weird, like I could fall asleep.”
She laughed and looked pointedly at her arm—covered in tattoos. “I slept like a baby after every session of this sleeve.”
I stared at the swirls of color on her arm. Flowers and parasols and a geisha beckoning to me with a red-lipped smile.
My phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out and stared at Mia’s name. I’d been avoiding her calls. And texts. And that was rude, but I hadn’t been ready to talk to anyone yet. Now with the endorphins rushing through my system, I felt a little giddy. So I answered her call.
“Miiiiiiiaaaaa,” I sang into the receiver.
There was a growl on the other end. “Don’t you dare ‘Mia’ me, Justin. Don’t you dare! Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I freaked out when I saw Landry wasn’t posting on the blog.”
I stared at the top of Ames’s dark head as she bent over my arm. “Yeah, I sort of fucked up.”
When I finished telling her about my fight with Landry, there was a sigh on the other end. And when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “Oh Justin.”
“But I’m fixing it!” I insisted. “Or, I’m going to try my best.”
There was a pause, then. “What’s that noise?”
I glanced at the ink on my arm. Ames was filling in the second rectangle. “Um.”
“It’s a buzzing sound.”
“Um.”
“Oh my God, are you getting a tattoo?”
“What are you, a ninja? How the hell can you tell that over the phone?”
“I don’t know!” she cried. “It was a guess but now I know, and what the hell?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m getting an equal sign. On my arm.”
Another pause. A long one. “Justin.”
Ames pulled the needle away from my skin and eyed the tattoo. Into the phone, I said, “Hey, I gotta go, Mia.”
“Jus—”
“Watch the blog for a post later.”
And then I hung up.
Ames turned off the machine so the buzzing stopped. My ears rang a little as they adjusted to the quiet. She wiped the tattoo with the stained paper towel in her hand, then squeezed a bottle of liquid on it, wiping it down with a clean towel. She took a small bit of salve and rubbed it over the area. “Okay.” She leaned back casually, as if she hadn’t heard me spill my guts to Mia on the phone. “All done. How is it?”
I looked down at my arm, the black stark against the pale skin. I tilted my wrist back and forth, imagining Landry’s face when he saw it. Imagining wrapping my arm around his hips, so my equal sign lined up with the identical one on his hip. My h
eart ached but I beat it back so I didn’t have a breakdown in front of my tattoo artist.
“It’s perfect,” I said, my voice still fuzzy, deep, and breathless.
When I looked up, she smiled at me, those dark eyes intent on me. “You get that for him?” she asked hesitantly.
I thought about that for a minute. “No, I got it for me.”
***
August 2
[Picture]
So, that’s my new tattoo. Just got it today. I know, you all are probably thinking, “What a nice friend, getting that to support Landry.”
Well, you’d be right and you’d be wrong. Sure, I support Landry for his sexuality and for being who he is, no apologies. I admire him for that.
But this tattoo is for me. This tattoo is the push I needed to finally come out of the self-imposed closet I’d hid inside for years.
I’m gay.
And I’m in love with Landry.
. . . .
Are you all done gasping yet? Can you breathe? Because I have more to say. I lied about why Landry left this trip early. It’s because I was a jerk to him. And I wasn’t ready to be honest with him. Or all of you. But mostly myself.
But I’m twenty-two now, right? I’m supposed to be a man now. I’m supposed to be figuring out what I want to do for the rest of my life.
Well, I don’t know all of it. I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that I need to be honest with myself and everyone else. I found a note my dad had written, with notes on how he wanted me to be honest. Above all else, he loved me and I know he wanted me to be happy.
So this is how I’m finding my happy. And this is how I’m coming out. With a splash, huh? And this is my apology to Landry—I’m sorry. I love you and I miss you.
And as soon as I’m home, I’m coming to say it in person.
11 down
1 To Go
—J
Comments
Mia: I’m so proud of you, Justin! And happy for you! You two make the cutest couple EVA!
Trenton: What the FUCK, dude?! Is this a joke?
Chase: Wow . . . This is the last thing I expected to read. But . . . more power to you, man.
Trust the Focus Page 17