Something Like Winter (28 page)

“
You all right?” Tim
asked.

Travis glared at
him.

“
Sorry.” Tim chuckled. “I
should have warned you before I came.”

Travis nodded, then cast
his eyes downward. “Cold,” he said, slipping back into the
tub.

Tim waded over to him,
wanting to be close. He sat on the bench and slid over, pressing
his leg against Travis’s and putting an arm around him, but Travis
shrugged him off and moved further down the bench. He still
couldn’t look at Tim.

Cold indeed.

Tim
knew
he should have waited. He had
wanted it to be romantic, to have some sense of emotion when they
slept together. Instead it had been feral, only physical. But he
wasn’t giving up. They still had three more nights to get it right.
Tim sank into the tub, water all the way up to his neck, getting
himself warm again before he got out.

“
You hungry?” he
asked.

He didn’t have to wait for
an answer. They hadn’t eaten since that morning when Tim drove into
town for some doughnuts. Time to heat up Eric’s lasagna. Good food,
wine, a little candlelight, and music. This was the ritual needed
to summon up Cupid. The night could still be saved.

* * * * *

Tim lit the candles and
stood back, examining the table and wishing he knew some fancy way
of folding napkins. Still, for his first attempt at laying out a
table, it wasn’t bad. He went to the door, flipping the lights off
and examining his work again from afar. The setting looked pretty
damn romantic to him. He could smell the lasagna from the other
room, the juices sizzling on the baking sheet when they splashed
over the edge. Elsewhere the television blared, brief moments of
silence every other second as Travis flipped through the
channels.

Tim’s chest went tight. All
of this felt familiar. He didn’t have to dig far into his past to
figure out why. A night when his parents were out of town and a
thunderstorm had killed the power. Ben had lit candles so they
could keep eating dinner. He had joked it was romantic, and though
Tim wasn’t ready to admit it then, it had been. A simple meal
together in their private little world. What had it been, frozen
pizza? Or something Ben had cooked? He hated that he couldn’t
remember anymore. Some memories should never fade, should be
forever retained in perfect recall, but he supposed all of it
slipped away eventually. All but the essence.

“
How much longer?” Travis
called from the other room. “It smells done.”

That it did, so Tim hurried
to the kitchen. Good ol’ Eric! The lasagna, when pulled from the
oven, looked heavenly. Wrestling with a knife and spatula, Tim got
two thick pieces on to plates without making too much of a mess. He
hurried with them to the table, noticing that he hadn’t poured the
wine yet. Oh well. He could do it like waiters at the restaurants
Eric took him to, uncorking the bottle in front of Travis and
pouring a tiny bit for him to taste. Of course if Travis rejected
it they were screwed, since Tim had only brought one bottle. He
didn’t want them getting too drunk. Just a little to help loosen
up.

Dinner was ready. A small
boom box in the corner played classical music. Tim wasn’t crazy
about that, but all the other stations were marathoning Christmas
music, so classical would have to do. Food served, candles lit,
wine ready to flow. All he needed was his date.

“
It’s ready!” Tim hollered.
“Get your ass in here!”

He chuckled nervously to
himself, feeling the tension that came with giving someone a
present and being desperate for them to like it. Tim held his
breath when Travis came into the room, watching his face closely.
He looked sort of amused. That was good, right?

Travis laughed. “What the
hell is this?”

“
Dinner for two,
monsieur!
” The amusement
fled from Travis’s face. Was Tim’s French accent that bad? “Take a
seat.”

“
No.” Travis looked
angry.

“
What’s up?” Tim said.
“It’s just dinner.”

“
A
candlelight
dinner, like we’re a
couple or something?”

Tim clenched his jaw.
“Fine, we can blow out the candles if it makes you feel
better.”

“
And the stupid music,”
Travis huffed. “Turn the freaking lights on! We’re not on a
date.”

Tim left the lights off.
The food was getting cold, and Travis wouldn’t even sit down.
“What’s your deal?”

“
You! You’re trying to make
this all so… We’re not a couple!”

“
No, we’re just in a cabin
alone together on Christmas Day after screwing in the hot tub.
Completely platonic. Nothing gay about it, right,
buddy?”

Even in the candlelight, he
could see Travis’s face turn beet red. “You know what I mean! We’re
not a guy and a girl. You can’t pretend it’s the same. This is
stupid!”

Travis tried leaving the
room, but Tim moved to block his way. “Why can’t we, huh? What’s
stopping us from doing whatever we want? It’s just you and me here,
Travis. We can be anything we want for each other.”

“
No, we can’t!” Travis
jabbed a finger in Tim’s face. “You can’t give me kids! I can’t
have a family with you! All you’re good for is a blowjob, which I
can get from any cheap hooker.”

Tim shoved him. It was that
or take a swing. Travis looked like he was about to charge, but
instead he swung around and swiped at the table, sending a wine
glass, cutlery, and a plate of lasagna smashing to the floor. “I
don’t want any of this!” he shouted. “This isn’t going to be my
life!”

“
Right,” Tim shouted back.
“You’re going to find a woman and get her knocked up, and
everything will be picture-fucking perfect—aside from you getting
drunk so you can sneak off to a cruise park to suck dick. I hope
your future family likes living in the goddamn closet with
you!”

“
At least I won’t be
alone!” Travis looked ready to kill. “I want out of here! Now!
Drive me back to Austin.”

“
It’s the middle of the
night!”

“
Then I’m calling a
cab.”

“
To drive you to
Texas?”

Travis crossed the room,
his face inches away from Tim’s, heat coming off him in angry
waves. “I’d rather walk back than stay another minute here with
you.”

“
Fine.” Tim stomped into
the other room for his coat, digging in one of the pockets until he
found his keys. When he turned around, Travis was right behind him.
Tim tossed the key ring at him. “Take my car. Drive yourself back
to Austin.”

“
I will!” Travis shoved his
feet into his shoes and grabbed his coat.

Then the situation got
awkward, because Travis walked around the cabin, collecting his
things. Why couldn’t he just go? But Tim didn’t really want him to,
not like this. His temper cooled enough that by the time Travis
headed for the door, he was sure they could get past this. Tim
would ask him to stay, and they would talk everything
through.

“
Hey,” Tim said softly,
touching his shoulder. “Wait a minute.”

Travis spun around,
knocking away his hand. “Don’t touch me again. Ever! Don’t even
fucking look at me!”

Then Travis was out the
door, slamming it behind him.

“
Don’t fuck up my car!” Tim
shouted after him. The car engine revved into life, headlights
cutting through the front windows before the sound faded into the
distance. Then Tim yelled, primal and harsh, because he felt like
he was going to explode if he didn’t.

For a while he just stood
in the living room, waiting for the engine sound to return. When it
didn’t, he went back to the dining room, turned off the music, and
sat at the end of the trashed table. Then he opened the bottle of
wine, drinking from it directly and still listening for any sign of
Travis returning. Surely he would come back. The dam had burst and
Travis would break down and cry, finally admitting who he was. But
when the bottle was empty and the candles had burned down, Tim knew
hope was gone.

He shoved away from the
table and went to the front room, taking his cell phone from his
jacket and dialing Eric. He would understand. The phone rang and
rang before a recording of Eric’s voice explained the obvious: He
wasn’t there to pick up the phone. Tim left him a message, trying
to tell him what had happened, how everything had fallen apart, and
that Travis had gone. Then his time was up and the voicemail cut
him off with a beep.

Tim tossed aside the phone
and glanced around the cabin. He didn’t want to be here anymore.
The TV was still blabbering from the other room, left on the last
channel Travis had landed on. He needed to get away, maybe head
into town for something more to drink. Tim was turning to retrieve
his phone when he noticed a glint of moonlight on a slick surface
outside. The snowmobiles were parked out front. Colorado Springs
was what, ten miles away? Twenty? Snowmobiles were just as fast as
cars. Tim would be in town in no time, and more important, away
from here.

He put on his coat and snow
boots, made sure he had his wallet, and stumbled outside, slipping
once. The ground was icy tonight, but that’s what snowmobiles were
made for. Tim revved the engine, hating the machine for being a
part of his failed fantasy. Racing up and down the mountains with
Travis seemed a million years ago already, a distant dream too
bright and optimistic to have been true.

The snowmobile kicked
forward. Tim headed toward the highway. He wouldn’t follow the
roads, of course, or he’d probably get run over by some hick drunk
on eggnog. Instead he would cut across to the nearest valley and
travel parallel to the highway until he reached town. When he
reached open space, Tim twisted the accelerator, the snowmobile’s
engine snarling through the night’s silence. The speed felt like an
escape, like he was getting away from his stupid mistakes, the
pain, all Travis’s cruel words that kept bouncing around in Tim’s
mind.

Once he reached the line of
trees, he slowed, but only to adjust to the new environment. The
snow on the ground glowed white in the night, the trees dark
pillars, like that painting Eric was so fond of. Tim steered toward
the white, zooming around dark obstacles. Maybe he deserved this.
After all, isn’t this what he had done to Ben? Left him standing in
the middle of the night just because he couldn’t accept who he
was?

Karma was a
bitch.

Tim twisted the
accelerator, momentarily confused by the way the ground seemed to
become a wall. A snowdrift! He hit the brakes much too late. The
snowmobile slid up the drift like it was a ramp and went airborne.
From this new height, Tim could see he had crested a hill. Even if
he hadn’t hit the drift, he would have caught air. But he might
have had a better chance of regaining control. The snowmobile
twisted in empty space, and Tim could no longer see what was in
front of him.

He was debating whether he
should let go of the handlebars and take his chances with dropping
to the ground when the world smashed into him. The snowmobile took
most of the impact—a crunching noise followed by a terrible
whirring from the engine—but the vehicle was rolling against
whatever it had hit. Tim instinctively pressed himself flat against
the vehicle as it rolled over him, but still the impact hurt.
Something sliced into his right arm, leaving him with white-hot
pain that ripped a scream out of him. Then the mess of vehicle and
rider briefly spun again in free air before hitting the ground with
a crunch.

The wind was knocked out of
Tim as he skidded across the ground, tumbling sidewise like a rag
doll until he landed on his back. Eyes wide in panic, he pulled and
pulled and pulled until air finally sucked back into his lungs. His
entire focus became making sure he could breathe, but his nose
never cleared. Hand shaking, he reached up to touch it, his glove
coming back covered in blood and dirt. That matched the taste in
his mouth. Swallowing and then gagging, he tried taking stock of
himself.

His body hurt all over,
especially his right arm, up by the shoulder, but at least he was
in one piece. As for the snowmobile… Tim lifted his head to check
and found it had rolled further away. No smoke. No fire. At least
it wasn’t going to explode. He hoped.

Cautiously, Tim sat up,
testing each limb to see if anything was broken. Everything seemed
to be working. With a stiff neck, he turned his head to examine his
arm. He saw blood on the outside of his jacket and something red
and wet sticking out from the flesh. Head swooning, he was sure it
was a broken bone, but when his vision cleared he saw a little
offshoot.

Like a twig? He touched it
and the pain increased, but some bloody bark shed from it. Sure
enough, a twig was stuck in him. He looked at the skid mark the
snowmobile left when it hit the ground. Not far away was a tree,
the snow below it covered in wood splinters and shavings. Tim’s arm
must have been punctured by a branch when hitting the tree.
Gruesome, but better than a broken bone sticking out.

Tim touched the twig
experimentally a few times. He didn’t think it was in too deep, so
after a few steady breaths, he yanked it out. Then he screamed,
because motherfucker—it hurt like hell! He let the pain motivate
him, forcing himself to his feet and walking in a circle. He was
okay. Sore, but okay.