Defining Us: The Calvin & Eric Story (69 Bottles)

by Derrick, Zoey

  “No matter what,” I tell him. “We are not staying in that house. There’s a small hotel just on the outskirts of town. Lord knows it was a dump ten years ago, I can’t imagine it’s gotten any better, so I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. As long as I have you, I don’t need anything else,” he whispers before kissing my forehead and the wheels touch down.

  I know it’s hard to believe but something in me changed the moment those wheels went skidding across the runway. Everything about me shifted, and I hate to say it, but I feel cold, turned off. Determined to deal with it and get this over with.

  When we land, the pilots pull our luggage from the plane. We only brought small suitcases for each of us, with no intention of staying longer than the funeral. I’m pretty sure we can make that move pretty quick and be out of here and back in California before the week is out.

  “Mr. Caldwell?” I stand up from grabbing my suitcase and spin around to see a sweet, older lady standing there.

  “Yes?” I answer.

  And she walks over, handing me a set of keys, then points to a nice Volvo parked not too far away from us. “What’s this?” I ask, confused.

  “A Mrs. Michaels reserved a car for you. It’s all taken care of.” She turns and walks away.

  Eric and I look at each other and then our phones both chime with a text. I pull mine out.

  Cami to Eric, Calvin: The car is on me. You can return it to Waterloo when you fly home, or drive it to fly out commercial - I had a feeling you’d go that route. Best of luck, we’re all here if you need us. Sending hugs.

  Cami’s text is almost my undoing. Her generosity is unmatched by anyone I’ve ever known.

  “She’s seriously something special,” I hear Eric murmur.

  “You can say that again,” I say softly. “I’m not sure how we hooked up with her, or what magic Kyle has up his sleeve, but I cannot imagine a better person to have our backs.”

  We load up the car and set off on the hour or so drive to Maynard. Eric and I don’t talk much. I think he’s enraptured by the land around us. Literally, this is Midwestern farm country at its finest. It’s late June and the fields are blossoming with their product. “It’s mostly feed corn here.”

  “What is that?” Eric laughs.

  “Cow food,” I tell him with my own little smirk. “Some of it is sweet corn, human food.”

  “I’ve never even been in the country, let alone around corn and cows and…all that junk. It’s weird.” I watch him shudder. “I’ll take my city life any day. And the smell. Ugh!”

  I laugh as we pass through a rather ripe area and the answer of the source comes when we pass the fields surrounding us and there are no less than two hundred cattle grazing.

  “Oh look, cows,” Eric says with a laugh and I suddenly feel lighter, less confined. It just takes one little joke to bring me out of my slump and I’m happy about that. It’s making what I’m about to do that much easier.

  The farm is on the east side of town, but I remember the roads like it was yesterday. “You know, ten years and any other city would change its appearance dramatically. This… this is like walking back in time,” I say as I come to a twenty mile an hour crawl through downtown. Thank god for tinted windows, but there is no shortage of stares glaring at us as we pass by. “This is probably the fanciest car they’ve ever seen,” I tell Eric who’s making a scrunched up face. “I’m sure the whole town knows by now that my father is dead and I am sure there are more than a few of them wondering whether or not the long lost son will return. I can only imagine the bullshit lies my father told when I didn’t return to school.” My voice drops a few octaves and I keep driving, finally clearing the other side of the city (I say finally, but literally that took us less than sixty seconds).

  “Where we headed first?”

  “The farm,” I mutter. The closer we get, the more nervous I start to get. I’m not sure I’m truly ready to step foot inside that house again, but I know I have to.

  Neither one of us says anything for the next ten minutes as we make our way down the gravel road that runs in front of the house and then I see it, off in the distance. “Nothing’s changed,” I mumble as we draw closer to the house.

  Nothing has changed, not really, except for the five or so cars sitting in the driveway, including the sheriff’s squad car. “What are they doing here?” Eric asks.

  I shake my head. “I have no clue other than the sheriff and my father were good buddies back in the day. I’d imagine that’s why he’s here. Along with all these other people.

  I turn into the driveway and pull off to the side, sort of on the front lawn, but out of the way for those here to leave when they want. I put the car in park and I stare blankly at the white farm house. It needs new paint and a couple of the shutters are crooked, but with my father getting up there in age I can imagine there wasn’t much he could do about that kind of stuff without help.

  The wraparound is the same, with the swing on the left, the wicker rockers on the right.

  Eric reaches over, pulling my hand off the keys in the ignition and takes my hand in his, giving me comfort.

  Seeing this house again brings back some of the strangest memories.

  Playing in the yard, running around with my airplane when I was a kid, it’s almost like a vision I can see in my head.

  Then I remember the storming out of the house when my father was on a drinking binge, angry and frustrated that he’d continue to drink like a fish.

  Smoking between the trees, around the side of the house.

  The front door opens and someone in a police uniform comes out, stands on the porch with his hands on his hips. Well, one hand is on his gun.

  “Told you this car stood out,” I mumble.

  I look at the man standing on the porch, obviously he’s the sheriff, but he’s not the old one I remember. What was his name?

  “You ready?” Eric asks.

  “No. But if we don’t get out, we’re gonna have more trouble than either one of us wants,” I tell him.

  “I’ll get our stuff. Take your time.”

  I keep looking at the man, the one standing on the porch. There is something very familiar about him. “Oh hell to the fuck no,” I growl, dislodging myself from the car.

  “Calvin?” Eric asks from inside the car as I go charging up the front yard, right toward the man on the porch.

  “Can I help you, son?” the man says and it all rings crystal clear. He jaunts down the steps toward me. Good, I don’t have to go as far.

  “Yeah, son, I’m sure you can help me just fine.” Without even a second thought, I reach back and cold cock the motherfucker standing in front of me, knocking him down on the ground. “That, Billy fucking Winstrum, is for being a goddamn fucking pussy.”

  “Jesus, Calvin.” I hear Eric as he comes skidding to a stop next to me. “What the hell was that for?”

  “Eric, meet Billy.”

  “Billy?” He looks down at the man on the ground. “Oh…oh.”

  I hear a bunch of people coming out of the house and I look up. Fuck ‘em. I crouch down next to Billy. “Feel better?” he grumbles.

  “Yeah, maybe a little bit.” I offer him my hand and he hesitates, then takes it and I help him up.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” he asks once he rights himself.

  “That depends, where did old Ray say I was?”

  Billy snorts, “That you ran off.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “Really? That’s all he could come up with?”

  “Well, that was how it started, but then it turned into some bullshit about you getting locked up or something like that.”

  “That wasn’t bullshit, though he was the reason I got locked up.”

  “You shittin’ me?” Billy asks.

  I shake my head. “Drop it, it’s not worth it. Who the fuck are all these people?” I say with a gesture toward the porch and Billy turns around looking at the people watching over us.


  “Uh, half the town.”

  I roll my eyes and look at Eric who still looks shell shocked that I cold cocked Billy. I shoulder check him. “Welcome to small town hell,” I whisper and Eric just nods.

  “Billy, Eric, Eric, Billy,” I say introducing them. Billy holds out his hand and Eric takes it, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure he’d like to knock Billy out too. “What crazy son of a bitch gave you the sheriff’s job?” I ask him.

  “Uh, Amos passed away a couple years ago, I was one of his deputies and well, yeah, I guess they just passed the torch to me.”

  Amos, that was his name, but they called him something else.

  “Well, let’s get this over with,” I mutter and I desperately want to take Eric’s hand in mine, to have the strength and comfort, but I’d rather not start the rumors flying just yet.

  I was introduced to everyone in the house, including Billy’s wife. Calvin gave me a sideways glance at that one.

  We were then finally introduced to Mary-Beth Pickens, Ray’s wife. They’d married about eight years ago and she’d moved in with him.

  It became evident very quickly that she knew Calvin was gone, but not where or why he’d never returned home.

  “We should probably head over to the funeral home,” Calvin finally says. I could tell being around all these people was starting to get to him.

  “Sure.”

  “Will you come back, when you’re done?” Mary-Beth asks Calvin.

  “Depends on how long it takes. We’ve been up since early this morning,” he says.

  “Oh sure, I…I’d just like a chance to talk, before things really get out of hand,” she tells Calvin in a whisper.

  “I, uh, sure,” he says hesitantly, but I get the feeling he’ll want to come back when we’re done.

  We say our goodbyes and then get back in the car. “Why in the hell did you punch Billy?” I ask him once we’re finally alone.

  “You mean to tell me you didn’t want to when you found out who he was?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I did, but dang.”

  “I had a few years pent up in that swing. I doubt he fully understands why I knocked him out. He was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, too many hits to the head.”

  “I can see that. So obviously he’s no longer into men.” I cringe, realizing that I may have crossed a line.

  “He’s always been a closet case. It’s no wonder he married her. She was the head cheerleader after all.”

  I cringe. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Small town living for you,” he says. Seems to be his answer for everything. Though I can see the truth behind his words. Everyone knows everyone.

  We head back out on the road.

  “Your father had a directive which Mrs. Pickens sent over to us. All that really needs to be done is for the casket to be picked out and the times scheduled,” the funeral director tells us after some conversation about the facility and whatnot. “We’ve made arrangements with St. Paul for the service. We can do visitation here Monday evening and then viewing and services at St. Paul Wednesday morning, concluding at the cemetery up in Sumner. You’re father has asked to be buried next to his parents there.”

  I watch as Calvin nods, and I’m not sure he’s really hearing everything the director is saying and that’s okay. That’s part of why I came along. To help ground him and remember all the things he’s forgetting. “That sounds good,” Calvin says.

  “Your father is here, they brought him over this morning, would you like to see him before?”

  “No,” Calvin states matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, kay,” the director says pretty quickly, unsure of how to take Calvin’s tone. I know that he’s fighting with himself, that being here in this place is almost too much for him, but I know he’s here because he has to be.

  “Why don’t you give us some time to look around?” I tell the director who nods.

  “I’ll go get all the paperwork for him to sign while you do that.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him and he leaves me with Calvin. I turn to him. “Talk to me, Cal.”

  He shakes his head and stands up. “I just… I don’t know, I’ve never done this before. I don’t even know where to start or how to make decisions.”

  “It seems as though your father has already done all that for you.”

  “Then why can’t Mary-Beth pick out his casket? Why do I have to handle all this? She was his wife for crying out loud. I swear to God that asshole is punishing me.”

  I close my eyes, take a deep breath and shake my head. “I doubt that is the case, Calvin, and you don’t think that’s really true. Maybe Mary-Beth wanted to give you a chance to say goodbye to your father in private. Maybe she wanted you to feel a part of this.”

  “And if I hadn’t come?”

  “Then I imagine she’d have handled it herself. But Calvin, you have to understand that her, along with the rest of this town, that town, whatever, has no idea why you left all those years ago. Billy’s answers to that question make that clear enough. I am pretty sure that unless your father had a really big stroke of conscious before he died, that even Mary-Beth has no clue and maybe, maybe it’s time to tell her and to tell them all.”

  I watch as he runs his hands over his head. Frustration, confusion and more are all being worn on his sleeve, but I really think he needs to do this. “Let’s get this over with,” he huffs as he puts his arms down and walks across the hall into the casket room.

  After about thirty minutes, he’s picked a casket and signed the paperwork to finalize everything and I think we’re about to leave. “I want to see him,” Calvin says to the director.

  I give a sad, small smile and nod at the director. “Follow me. We’ve set him up for you.”

  Calvin doesn’t say anything to me as we follow the director toward a room that is at the back of the funeral home, which is just a remodeled house.

  Calvin turns to me, his eyes meet mine and he rests his hands on my chest before gripping my jacket. “I need to do this alone.” He rests his head against my chest, leaning on me, pulling strength from me. It brings me great comfort to know that I’m here for him.

  “Whatever you need, Cal,” I whisper and he grips my jacket a little tighter before releasing me and turning around before stepping through the portal to the room where the man he’s hated his entire life lays dead.

  I had no idea what to expect when I walked into the room. It’s lined with about ten or so silver doors with long handles on them. I shiver thinking about the bodies that could lie beyond them. But right now, the one laying out on the table in front of me is the one I’m trying to avoid.

  I haven’t bothered to ask how he died, because I really don’t care, but the frail man lying there is nothing like the man I remember.

  His cheeks are sunken in, his eyes look bruised and he’s about a third of the man he was when I last saw him. Whatever it was took him hard.

  A tear streaks down my cheek and I wipe them away. “I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes,” the director says before taking his leave.

  As soon as the door clicks closed I murmur, “You son of a bitch.”

  I was prepared to see a burly, husky man lying on the table and instead I see a frail old one and his suffering is evident. “Good,” I mumble. “You deserved to suffer, you asshole. Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through? No, of course you don’t. You sent me packing.” I lean back against the wall behind me, refusing to get any closer.

  “Well, let me tell you, despite your best efforts, I’m still gay and I am with the most amazing, beautiful, sensitive, loving man a person can ask for. Despite everything you tried to do to me.” I brush away the tears again. I can’t quite figure out why I’m crying but I pray to God it’s from anger and not sadness. “I love Eric more than life itself. Not you, not those doctors, no one, can take that away from me. I just wish you’d been smart enough to realize that a decade ago.”

  I push myself off of the wall. “G
oodbye, old man.”

  I open the door to find Eric leaning against one wall and the director against the other wall. There is a small smile playing on Eric’s lips that I don’t quite understand and the funeral director looks positively green. “Thank you.” I hand him a card with my phone number on it. “Call if you need anything else, otherwise we’ll be here Monday at four.”

  The director clears his throat. “Uh, yes, okay, Monday at four. Thank you, Mr. Caldwell.”

  I shake my head like ‘what the fuck’ and grab Eric’s arm and pull him back through the home and out the door to our car.

  “What in the same hell did you say to him?” I ask as we reach the car.

  He spins me around, pressing me against the car. “Amazing? Beautiful? Loving?” There is a twinkle in his eye. “Love me more than life itself?”

  “You heard me?” He snorts a laugh. “Oh god, that means he heard-” I burst out laughing and Eric takes my head in his hands.

  “I love you too, Calvin Caldwell, more than life itself.” He slants his lips over mine, melting away the anguish, the pain, the frustration and bringing back the love, desire and lust I feel for him when his lips are on me and his body is pressed against mine. I shiver at the thought of what I plan to do to him tonight when we get to our hotel.

  WE get back in the car and head back toward the farm house, though instead of going straight there, we stop in at Sammie’s, a bar and grill, I guess you could call it that, in downtown Maynard and half the town appears to be here tonight.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Eric asks.

  “I’m not sure I can stomach eating a meal in that house. This is our best option unless you want to wait until later. Fast food doesn’t exist around here and most things close at like nine o’clock. So no, I don’t want to do this, but I’m hungry.” I smile at Eric.

  “Well, okay then. Let’s do it.”