by V. L. Locey
My feet tangled when that thought sunk into my head. If I did that to her I’d be no better than Garrison “The Vow Slayer” Rook. No one wanted to be that guy.
“Well dammit.” I exhaled as I shuffled along to my cabin and my single bed. It looked like my knightly nature was getting me into a sticky situation yet again.
Four
My alarm failed to go off the next day. That’s what happens when you forget to set it. The sounds of shouts and loud cracks were what pulled me from my sleep. I jumped into a pair of shorts and ran out onto my front porch, the sun so bright I couldn’t see for a moment. As soon as my eyes adjusted, I wished they had stayed sunblind. Across the gravel path that snaked through the camp stood Garrison.
He was wearing shorts, sneakers, and a white tank top. The round tribal tattoo on his right bicep stood out starkly against his skin. A baseball bat rested on his wide left shoulder. He looked like he was taking part in a photoshoot for the cover of a Wheaties box. The All-American athlete, skilled at several different sports, the wind ruffling his dark hair as young fans clambered around him. He was the epitome of masculine beauty. He made my dick hard.
Fuck you very much, Garrison Rook.
“Thank you, voice of reason.” I grunted then stomped back inside to shower and throw on a pair of cargo shorts, a clean G.R.A.M.S. t-shirt, and a pair of sandals. I also tugged on a ball cap and draped a whistle around my neck.
Eyes locked on the mess hall, I tried my best to ignore the shouts from the strapping man with the baseball bat.
“Hey, Mal, you think maybe you’d be up to play catcher?” Garrison asked as he jogged along at my side.
“Thank you but no. I’m not really into baseball.” The log cabin we ate in drew closer and closer.
“It’s softball.” Garrison corrected as he kept the pace neatly. I willed my eyes to remain pinned to the dining lodge. The sun was quite warm already.
“What’s the difference?” I snapped as gravel spit and crunched under my feet.
“Bigger and softer balls,” Garrison replied without breaking stride. That comment drew my attention. He gave me that off-kilter smile of his. The one that used to get him whatever he wanted. It probably still did just not from me.
“I have to help Alex set up for his Avoid the Alligator game.”
“Oh, okay, that’s cool.”
He stopped trying to keep up. I left him staring at my ass. I hoped he liked the view and wondered about just what he had lost by being a dick.
The cooks inside the mess hall were not happy with me rolling in so late. I managed to wheedle a broken cranberry muffin and a bottle of water out of them. As I nibbled my muffin top, I peeked out the window that faced where the softball game was taking place. Garrison seemed to have the oldest group with him. I could just imagine the sighs every time he spoke. Did he ever think about me? Did he wonder what could have been? Did he ever come to know himself as a man who liked other men? Was I just a drunken experiment on a highly emotional night?
Garrison tossed a fast glance at the mess hall after getting the teams divvied up. I ducked back to avoid his gaze.
“What are you hiding from in here?”
I jumped and dropped my half a muffin top. Alex chuckled then bent down to pick up my food. He even went so far as to blow off the dust before handing the muffin back to me. Why couldn’t Garrison be polite and blow things? Wait…strike that comment.
“I’m trying to avoid being sucked into playing softball. I’m really not the sporty type.” I explained yet again as I checked him out. He looked good, nice, friendly, cute, and not given to huge explosions of desire or angst.
“I noticed that when we tried to play badminton the other day,” he replied with a wink. I had to smile at that one. “You ready to work on Avoid the Alligator?”
“Readier then you’ll ever know.” I threw the rest of my muffin into the trash, got some serious glares from the cooks, and hightailed it out of there before someone chucked a ladle at me. I stopped in to check on my group at the arts & crafts cabin. Diane had them and her group working on learning how to cut bagels into two congruent linked halves. Alex and I made a quick walk-through and then slipped out the back to his small cabin by the woods. It was nice and cool inside. He had yet to personalize it in any way.
“Thanks for doing this,” he said as we pulled out construction paper, tape, and colored markers.
“It’s no problem. I know how overwhelming being a new counselor is.” We sat on his single bed and began making signs with different multiplication and division problems. The game was played by lining up the campers in two rows. When a camper answered correctly, they got a small prize, such as a pencil or an eraser. If they got it wrong, they had to take a step closer to the alligator, which would be me when we played this evening in the mess hall. It was a huge hit with the younger campers. Probably due in large part to the foam gator head that was plunked down on a counselor’s head.
“I had planned to do this last night, but Daisy lost her retainer and then Lanisha realized she didn’t bring her cell phone. She started crying and then so did Daisy.” Alex laughed lightly as the tale unfolded. “By the time everyone in the cabin was calmed down it was midnight, and I just crashed.”
“The first few nights are always the worst.” I assured him as I wrote 4 x 8 =? with a big bold marker. “You’ll get it all together within the week.”
He leaned in to steal a quick kiss. It startled me, and I blinked at him through my glasses.
“You’re a good guy, O’Malley,” he said then gave my glasses a soft push up my nose.
“Thanks. You’re a good guy too.” We both smiled at each other and continued setting up the game, our conversation light. I liked that as well. Alex never dug into anything that would upset the apple cart. Just easy talk and a tender smooch now and again. What more could a man ask for?
Alex and I spent the following couple of nights together, sharing hotter and hotter kisses as well as a couple of clumsy gropes in the woods. Things were heating up nicely. He even whispered that he was feeling quite close to me during one late night rendezvous in the forest. That kind of set me back a bit, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings so I just kissed him instead of speaking. In hindsight, I should have told him that I wasn’t quite having the same kind of feelings that he was, but I didn’t because I was hoping he’d be a distraction. That was wrong of me. I began questioning how I could sit in judgment of Garrison as I did. The answer I got to that question wasn’t a pleasant one at all.
***
Two days later, during one of my walks, Garrison appeared out of nowhere and ran past me after shouting “On your left!” before overtaking me. The first time it happened, I rolled my eyes. The second, third, and fourth times it happened, I got increasingly aggravated. It took me eight days of fly-bys to detonate. Truthfully, I’m surprised the explosion didn’t come sooner. I’m not sure that freaking out on the man was what Emily had in mind when she asked me to talk to him, but I had hit my limit with Garrison Rook.
It happened about midway through a good four-mile speed walk. I had a great pace going. The woods were still cool at six am but a fine sheen of sweat covered me and made my running shorts and t-shirt cling to me. The birds had been awake for some time. I caught the sound of a cardinal as well as a pileated woodpecker as I chugged up a steep incline. I don’t listen to music when I walk, I prefer to hear the sounds of nature. I heard heavy footsteps coming up behind me and something inside me snapped like an overtaxed rubber band. I spun to face Garrison jogging up behind me. His brown eyes widened and he hit the brakes, his bare upper chest soaking wet with sweat. His chest and abs were the stuff of wet dreams. Those college trainers sure had known what they were doing.
“Why the hell are you here?!” I shouted. The pileated woodpecker took flight after my outburst. Garrison stood in the middle of the path breathing heavily. “Why are you always running by tossing out stupid Captain America lines? What are you doing out
here all the time?”
“I’m running,” he answered then dashed some sweat away from his eyes with his hand. “Why don’t you run with me? Maybe we could talk.”
“You had your chance to talk to me.” A mosquito whined beside my ear as I threw my most hateful look at Garrison. I never even tried to swat it. “You had lots of chances to talk to me but you didn’t. You ignored me. You ignored me and you broke my heart so fuck you, Garrison Rook.”
I gave him a two-handed shove that sent him back on his heels. Man, did it feel good to let that out. It felt so good that I did it again. Garrison let me. He let me push him around that path in the woods until I had shoved him against a huge old pine tree. Not once, in any way, did he try to stop me. He could have. He was taller than I was and outweighed me by probably fifty pounds, all of which was pure muscle.
“Why are you here?” I yelled in his face.
“I came here to try to talk to you,” he calmly said. Since his back was already against a tree, I really couldn’t shove him in reverse any further. A good right to his firm jaw held great appeal though. “I want to apologize, to try to make the wrongs right, to maybe someday be able to have you back in my life again.”
“To right the wrongs.” I scoffed as he rested his sweaty back on the tree. “You really have been watching too many superhero movies. But I have news for you, Mr. Rook.” I snarled and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You’re no hero. You’re as a far from a hero as a man can get. You’re a miserable evil villain.”
“I know.” That was his reply. Two words that I was in no way expecting to hear. I thought he would protest, cry out about how he deserved a second chance or wail about his sexual confusion or the amount of beer he had ingested that night. “That night…it preys on me constantly. I’ve spent four years hiding from the reality of what I am because I’ve been afraid to come out.”
I stared at him willing myself to do something to show my disdain accordingly. I wasn’t sure what that would be exactly. The punch to his handsome face still carried some real merit.
“I don’t care about your excuses, Garrison,” I finally said, my words as tired as I suddenly was. “If you’re still trying to come to grips with being gay or bi or fluid or whatever you are, I’m sorry that you’re in a bad place, truly I am. But even so, even if you were so far back in the closet you were surrounded by polyester leisure suits and platform shoes that is no reason to do what you did to me.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that!” My shout echoed around the woods, quieting the soft chatter of the songbirds. “If you know then do something about it. Apologize or explain why you left me behind like a ratty pair of underwear!”
He looked like a dog whose owner had just kicked him in the ribs. Those big brown eyes always had been expressive but now they were mesmerizing. I spun from him and started walking away. I had to before I blew a ventricle or fell for the pained puppy look.
My feet carried me up the incline with speed. I never looked back. It took him a few minutes to catch up.
“I never got in contact with you because I was scared to face who I am.” I threw him a sideways glance and continued chugging up the hill. He walked at my left side and kept talking at me. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, you know? I like men more than I do women, but I’ve slept with tons of women and no men.”
“Hurrah for you and your sexual adventures with the hot chicks.” I panted while wishing I had chosen a path with fewer hills and far less Garrison. “I’ve been getting laid too. With men who haven’t treated me like old gum on the bottom of their shoe.”
He was quiet for a moment. I kept my sight on the path ahead. The steady rhythm of my feet hitting the ground usually calmed me but not so this time.
“I’m glad you’ve moved on.”
That one grabbed me. It was like running into an unexpected clothesline. My feet stopped and I turned to look at him, my oldest friend, the man I had loved since before I even knew what loving a man really meant.
“You big bat wielding asshole.” I breathlessly gasped, sweat stinging my eyes while clouds of hungry bugs hovered around my head. “Do you really think a person who has truly moved on would be this mad yet? I can’t move on because I still love you. I will always love you. And my heart aches every day because I don’t know how to make you love me the way I love you.”
Damn. I had not wanted to let that out. See what I mean about this man’s topsy-turvy effect on me? The woods were alive around us. Chipmunks and squirrels chirped and chattered. Birds sang and fluttered from tree branch to tree branch. Insects flew past, some loud and obnoxious and others barely visible.
“I do love you, O’Malley,” he softly said. I made a rude sound in reply. “If I asked for a chance to make it up to you, would you let me try?”
“Do you really love me, Garrison?” I threw the sarcastic jibe at him knowing it would hit him in the face like a rotten mango. Of course, he didn’t care about me or else he wouldn’t have acted as he had. I crossed my arms over my soggy t-shirt and waited for some lame excuse to tumble out of his face.
“Yeah, I do. I always have. I’m just…it’s hard to…no one knows about me being gay, Mal. How do I tell them? I’m not as strong as you are.”
There were no words. Just. No. Words. My mind was a mixed-up mess and I had no clue how to untangle things. It was probably a callous way to respond but I resumed walking. This time Garrison didn’t jog along at my side. He just stood on the well-worn path and called my name.
“Mal?”
It sucked the wind out of me hearing that nickname float past me. I almost stopped.
“Mal?”
His call was softer now as if he was having trouble speaking. My throat was so clogged with feelings replying was impossible. I waved a hand in the air as I hustled up the hill, my sight locked on a fat, bent oak alongside the path. Once I got there, things would be downhill. Maybe once I crested that huge knoll the turmoil inside of me would ease up as well.
“Mal?”
“Just let me think!” I screamed into the buggy air. I didn’t hear my name called after that demand. When I got to the top of the hill, I was winded and close to tears. Generally, I wouldn’t have stopped. I would have continued downhill and picked up a small kicker trail that would lead me to the lake. This morning, I stopped. I had to. I just could not take another step without getting my thoughts organized.
“Fucking dumb ducks.” I coughed as I ran my fingers under my glasses. Only Garrison Rook could do this to me, the bastard. Why the hell did I confess so much to him? Why? My mental ducks were flying in wild circles inside my head. “Fucking stupid ducks!” I roared at the heavens then turned to look back down the path. Garrison was gone. Did he hear me tell him I needed time to think? Was he in pain now? Why did I care?
“I’ve not seen any ducks, fucking stupid ones or otherwise.”
The voice of Professor Belshaw coming out of the woods unbidden scared me half to death. I shrieked and leaped as she wandered out of the forest, arms filled with an easel and a canvas. A psychedelic tote crammed with tubes of paint, brushes, and jars of what I assumed were turpentine hung off her bare shoulder. Only Professor Belshaw would wear a bright orange tube top dress and green Grecian sandals into the woods to paint. Where did someone even find green Grecian sandals?
“I’m sorry about the profanity,” I whispered as shame heated my already flushed cheeks. “It’s been an upsetting morning.”
“So I heard.” She dropped her easel and her tote filled with paints and brushes to the path. She spun the canvas around and held it in front of my face. “What do you think?”
“You heard all of that?” Mortification set in quickly.
“You bet. Now, tell me what you think.”
I stared at the swirls of black and white paint amid fuzzy green things. “Uh, I think it’s nice?”
“Well of course it’s nice. What do you see when you look at this?” She peeked around the canvas. My
sight darted to her paint-smeared face then back to the mess she had created. I really liked my job here. If I said the wrong thing, would she boot me to the curb? “O’Malley Ramsey, would you stop overthinking things and just reply? Tell me what you see and how you feel about what you see.”
“I think it’s probably something symbolic.” There. That was a good reply and should keep me in camp for another two weeks.
“It’s a chickadee on a pine bough.” She lowered the canvas and stared right at me. A smear of black paint under her nose now distracted me. “Everyone has a different view of things. Maybe you need to try to see things from Garrison’s point of view.”
“Garrison and I aren’t right anymore. We’re like an improper fraction.”
“Of all people, O’Malley, you should know that there are ways to convert an improper fraction to a mixed fraction.” She smiled up at me.
“This isn’t as simple as dividing a numerator by a denominator, Professor. This isn’t math, no matter how badly I wish it was. It’s all about feelings and emotions and betrayals and they just refuse to get into a neat column.”
“Exactly,” she said, gathered up her tote and slipped back into the woods leaving me staring at her skinny back while scratching one of forty or so mosquito bites on my scalp.
Five
Three days later, after a rousing game of Lake Geometry, I returned to my cabin to find a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers resting against my door. I picked them up and gave the area a fast look. Water dripped from my swim trunks to the wood planks under my feet. There was nothing but girls in shorts or swimsuits racing past, giggling or whispering. The gesture was lovely, and I hurried around to find something to use as a vase. After locating an old canning jar in the kitchen area, I sat back in my cabin to admire the bouquet setting on my dresser. There was red columbine mixed in with some yellow flowers I wasn’t familiar with. Botany wasn’t my strong suit. Whatever it was, it was pretty and I had a warm little glow in my chest thinking of how sweet it had been of Alex to give me an unexpected gift.