The Road Home (8 page)
This realization irritated Burke more than he expected it to, not because he wished he had Mars's life, but because he resented that it was a life Mars was afforded because he played by the unwritten rules of small-town life. He hadn't fought for it, hadn't risked anything, hadn't risked alienating anyone by daring to break out.
And now he's the one down there laughing with my father, while I'm up here playing the prodigal son,
he thought. It wasn't the way the story was supposed to end. In his version he would have come home triumphant, having conquered the world, found love, and achieved fame and fortune. Instead, he couldn't even take a piss without someone's help.
he thought. It wasn't the way the story was supposed to end. In his version he would have come home triumphant, having conquered the world, found love, and achieved fame and fortune. Instead, he couldn't even take a piss without someone's help.
Whoever said there's no place like home was never a middle-aged gay man laid up in his childhood bedroom, waiting for coffee, while his high school crush joked about him with his father, he concluded.
Because
that
story doesn't have a happy ending.
Because
that
story doesn't have a happy ending.
CHAPTER 8
“A
re you
trying
to kill me?”
re you
trying
to kill me?”
Burke leaned against the hallway wall. The pain in his leg was excruciating. His head throbbed, and for a moment he thought he might pass out.
“The doctor says you need to start moving around,” Lucy said.
“The
doctor
is a vet,” Burke argued. “And I'm not a calf.”
doctor
is a vet,” Burke argued. “And I'm not a calf.”
“Well, you're certainly acting like one,” said Lucy. “Honestly, you'd think I'd asked you to play hopscotch, the way you're carrying on.”
“It
hurts,
” Burke insisted. “I want to go back to the bed.”
hurts,
” Burke insisted. “I want to go back to the bed.”
Lucy shook her head. “To the end of the hall and back,” she said. “Now.”
Burke gritted his teeth and steadied himself on the crutch. Had both his arms been usable, it would have been difficult enough, but with one in a cast, it was almost impossible. He had to put his weight on the single crutch and hop forward on his left leg, then shift his weight to that leg and bring the crutch even with that foot. On his first attempt the injured leg clanked against the crutch, making him yelp.
“See?” said Lucy. “That wasn't so bad.”
“For you,” Burke snapped. “For me, it was fucking horrible.”
“Language,” said Lucy. “Don't let your father hear you talk like that.”
“Why?” Burke asked. “Is he going to wash my mouth out with soap?”
“I imagine you were a difficult child,” Lucy mused as Burke attempted once more to move forward. “Your mother must have had quite a time with you.”
“My
mother
never would have tortured me like this,” said Burke.
mother
never would have tortured me like this,” said Burke.
“Oh, I'm sure she would have,” Lucy said. “She'd have known it was what you needed.”
After another painful five minutes they reached the end of the hall. Burke, relieved, turned around. “Happy?” he asked Lucy.
“Very,” she said. “Now, I suppose you want to get back to bed.”
“That's the general idea,” Burke answered as he began the long trek back to his room. Although it was fewer than twenty feet, it might as well have been a mile. To his surprise, however, he seemed to be moving more quickly than he had on the outbound journey.
“Like a horse to the barn,” Lucy joked as Burke employed the awkward forward-step-swing maneuver.
“Can we stop with the livestock references?” said Burke. The door to his room was not far off, and he covered the remaining six or so feet with only a few stops.
“While you're up, we should probably change those shorts,” Lucy suggested. “You've worn those for three days now.”
“I asked Gregg to pack some sweatpants,” Burke said. “Those should fit over the cast.”
Lucy went to the dresser and opened one of the drawers. She looked through the clothes and pulled out a pair of sweats. Then she looked at Burke thoughtfully. “Probably time to change the underpants as well,” she said.
“I'm good in that department,” Burke said quickly. “But thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” said Lucy. “Now, let's get those shorts off.”
Ten minutes later Burke was propped up in bed, wearing the sweatpants and a white T-shirt. His leg had stopped aching, and apart from wishing he could wash his hair, he felt almost human.
“I think I may be up for a shower later,” he announced.
“Excellent,” said Lucy. “Another few days and we'll have you downstairs.”
“That would be nice,” Burke said. “I'm starting to feel like one of those princesses locked in a tower by her evil stepmother.”
“So that's how you see me, is it?” said Lucy, feigning offense.
“Exactly like that,” Burke replied. “And you know what happens to evil stepmothers.”
“They get all the money and send the kids to boarding school,” said Lucy. “Not bad work, if you can get it.”
Burke laughed. Then he said, “Are you and Dad going to get married?”
Lucy turned from the dresser, where she was rearranging things, and cocked her head. “Do you want us to?” she asked.
“No,” Burke answered quickly. “I don't mean
no,
” he added. “I mean, I don't care one way or the other. I was just wondering.”
no,
” he added. “I mean, I don't care one way or the other. I was just wondering.”
Lucy shut the dresser drawer. “I don't think so,” she said.
“I'm sorry,” said Burke, afraid he'd embarrassed her. “I just assumed he might have asked by now.”
“Oh, he's asked,” said Lucy. “Several times. But I told him I don't want to be married.”
Burke, surprised by her answer, couldn't help but ask, “Why not?”
Lucy sat at the end of the bed. “This may sound strange,” she began, “but it's because of the gay marriage thing.”
“You're protesting by not getting married?” said Burke. “But gay marriage is legal in Vermont.”
Lucy shook her head. “I'm not protesting,” she said. “Although I do think everyone should be able to marry the person they love, and I don't see why anyone cares.”
“Then I don't understand,” said Burke.
“Part of the reason for wanting gay marriage is so that partners have legal rights,” Lucy said. “And that makes sense. But personally, I think the main reason is that they want their relationships validatedâseen as equal to the marriages the rest of us have been able to have basically forever. I understand that as well. It's important that we all be treated equally.”
“But?” Burke asked when she didn't continue for a moment.
“But marriage isn't about what other people see or think or feel,” Lucy said. “It's about what the people marrying each other feel. I love your father very much, and I don't need a piece of paper or the blessing of the state to prove that. I want to be with him because I don't want to be with anyone else, and I want him to be with me for the same reason. I've been married,” she added. “And it was wonderful. But it was never about what anyone else thought.”
“And you decided this because of gay marriage?”
“I started thinking about it during all the debates,” said Lucy. “Then when your father asked me to marry him the first time, I had to make a decision.”
“What does Dad think about this?”
Lucy laughed. “He's horrified. Says we're living in sin and scandalizing the whole town.”
“That sounds like Dad, all right,” Burke said.
Suddenly the joy on Lucy's face turned into something else. “I know it hurts him,” she said softly. “He doesn't entirely understand why I can't do this one thing for him. I'm sure he fears that it
means
something.” She looked at Burke. “And sometimes I wonder if I'm not being selfish.”
means
something.” She looked at Burke. “And sometimes I wonder if I'm not being selfish.”
“I think you're doing what you feel is right,” Burke said.
“I like to think so,” said Lucy. “Still, it seems ungrateful to not take part in something so many other people wish they had the right to take part in.”
“I don't know why anyone wants to get married,” said Burke. “I think the whole thing was cooked up by lawyers so they can get rich off of divorce.”
“You don't want to get married?” Lucy asked.
“You need a boyfriend for that,” said Burke. “And I'm not so good at keeping those around.”
“Which explains why you're here,” Lucy said.
“Which explains why I'm here,” Burke agreed.
“But this Gregg fellowâ”
“Says that I'm overbearing,” said Burke.
Lucy patted Burke's foot. “I can't imagine why,” she said sweetly.
“Gregg and I gave it a try,” Burke told her. “It just didn't work out.”
“And he's the only man in Boston?” asked Lucy.
“All the other ones think I'm overbearing, too,” said Burke.
“Maybe you should try Chicago,” Lucy joked.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Burke's father entered the room. He was carrying a large cardboard box, which he set down next to Burke on the bed. “I thought you might be interested in these,” he said.
Burke looked at the box, which, judging by the streaks of dust on it, had recently been removed from either the cellar or the barn. “What is it?”
“Just some things that belonged to your grandfather,” his father told him.
Burke lifted one of the flaps holding the box closed and peered inside. The box was filled with half a dozen old cameras and assorted pieces of photographic equipment. He reached in and picked one out. “A Kodak Brownie Hawkeye,” he said, holding up what was essentially a square plastic box. “Very old school.”
He removed the other cameras, setting each one on the bed and identifying it. “Zeiss Nettar,” he said. “Duaflex II, Yashica-Mat, Leica IIIf. These all look like they're in good condition.”
He lifted out a square black box with no identifying marks on it. Removing the cover, he stared at the contents for a long time, hoping that what he was seeing was real. He almost didn't dare to touch it but couldn't resist picking it up. “This is a Hasselblad 1600F,” he said, awed by the find. He turned the camera over, inspecting it. “And it's in perfect condition.” He looked at his father. “This was Grandpa's?”
His father nodded. “I found them in his house after he died. Never even knew he had them.”
“Why didn't you tell me about them?” Burke asked.
His father shrugged. “Guess I didn't think much about them,” he said. “Just a bunch of old cameras. Everything's digital now. I didn't know you'd be interested.”
“I would have been
very
interested,” Burke said sharply. “Do you know how rare this camera is?” He held up the Hasselblad. “You almost never see them, and certainly not in this condition.” He indicated the other cameras. “And these are all great, too. I wish you'd told me about them sooner.”
very
interested,” Burke said sharply. “Do you know how rare this camera is?” He held up the Hasselblad. “You almost never see them, and certainly not in this condition.” He indicated the other cameras. “And these are all great, too. I wish you'd told me about them sooner.”
“Like I said, it never occurred to me anyone would be interested. I was about to put them up on this auction site Lucy told me about.”
“On eBay,” Lucy told Burke.
“Figured we could get a couple dollars for them,” said Burke's father.
“Yeah, well, you would have made some collector
very
happy,” Burke said. He couldn't believe his father had almost practically given away such gorgeous cameras. Any one of them was a prize, even the Hawkeye, which was a common find for under ten bucks but which was still a beautiful little piece.
very
happy,” Burke said. He couldn't believe his father had almost practically given away such gorgeous cameras. Any one of them was a prize, even the Hawkeye, which was a common find for under ten bucks but which was still a beautiful little piece.
“You might as well have them,” his father said. “I can't be bothered to figure out how to sell them on the computer, anyway.”
“Hooray for being a Luddite,” Burke whispered under his breath. “Thanks, Dad,” he said more loudly. Then he thought of something. “How come Grandpa never talked about being a photographer?”
“I don't think he really was one,” his father answered. “He was always getting into one hobby or another, but never long enough to really do anything with it. I imagine this was just one of his fancies. You take after him in that way.”
Burke resisted sharing the response that first came to mind. Instead, he picked up the Zeiss and pressed the delicate little button that opened the case. The bellows extended smoothly. He moved the levers that set the aperture and shutter speeds, and both seemed to function as they should. The unassuming cardboard box really had yielded up a load of unexpected treasures.
“I wonder where I can get film around here?” he thought aloud.
“I'm sure we can find someplace,” Lucy assured him.
“I can always order some online,” said Burke. He'd set down the Zeiss and was looking at the Yashica-Mat. It was a stunning camera, its black metal housing solidly fashioned and its twin lenses nearly perfect in design. He couldn't wait to run a roll of film through it. For the first time since the accident he felt himself excited about something.
His father turned to leave. “Glad to see you like them,” he said. “If I find any more, I'll bring them up.”
Any more?
Burke thought.
Any more and I'll have a heart attack.
The Hassy alone was enough of a find. He could live on the excitement from that for years.
Burke thought.
Any more and I'll have a heart attack.
The Hassy alone was enough of a find. He could live on the excitement from that for years.
“Was he really going to sell these on eBay?” he asked Lucy, who remained seated at the end of the bed.
She nodded. “He didn't think they were worth anything.”
“Why didn't he even tell me about them? I'm a
photographer,
for Pete's sake. Didn't it even cross his mind that I might be interested in vintage cameras?”
photographer,
for Pete's sake. Didn't it even cross his mind that I might be interested in vintage cameras?”
Other books
Fallen by Quiana
Crescent Bound by Rush, Karli
Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy by Evanne Lorraine
Echoes From the Mist by Cooper, Blayne
A Time For Justice by Nick Oldham
Zombie Fallout 9 by Mark Tufo
Betsey Biggalow Is Here! by Malorie Blackman
Typhoon by Charles Cumming
Emmaus by Alessandro Baricco
Brawler by K.S Adkins
