You're Always in the Last Place You Look (15 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Changing out of my soiled pajamas, I put on the only other thing in the trailer—my dirty clothes from yesterday. Then I busied myself making coffee. Once Zane had pointed out the need to reduce his frustration level prior to his aunt seeing him, I had graciously given Zane the fifteen gallons of hot water for a shower. He had tried to lure me in, but despite the temptation, I refused, still feeling ashamed and all of fourteen after my less than stellar performance. Heck, there were probably fourteen-year olds more experienced than I was.

However the thought of him naked in my shower doing, well, what I sometimes did in the shower, brought on an instant reaction. Dang hormones. I swear mine were defective. Rather than relaxing, they were becoming more and more manic with each touch, each kiss—even thinking about him set the pesky things off. Not that I was complaining. I was rather awed by it all actually. Now if I could just free myself of all my father’s sermons about chastity, sex, modesty—not to mention my own inhibitions.

There was a gentle rap at the door. Cracking it and seeing my dad, I swung it the rest of the way open in lieu of an invitation.

“Coffee?”

He stepped in dressed in his navy blue suit, the one my mom always swooned over. “No thanks.” He glanced towards the sound of the shower. “He stayed?”

“Yes, but nothing happened.” I wasn’t sure why I was admitting that. Probably because he was my father and I didn’t want him to think of me doing
those
types of things. Even if he did consider me an adult, I still felt like a kid around him most of the time, and suspected I always would to some degree.

He seemed amused by my confession. “I wasn’t going to comment. I’m proud that you’ve waited this long. Not many parents these days can say that.”

“I’m not a virgin, Dad.” It just came out, and by the look on his face he never saw it coming.
So much for my virtuous image
. “When I was sixteen, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.” The whole thing still left me reticent and rather disgusted with myself.

The concern my father aimed my way was unexpected, and I felt the knitting fray of my nerves unravel a bit.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel. I didn’t know.”

I gave him a brave smile. “You can’t know everything about me, regardless of how much you wish you did. As a teenager, I have to maintain some mystery.”

He sighed. “I suppose. As your father I can’t help but want to protect you though.”

“I know,” I said, then crossed my arms over my chest. “Speaking of, how’s Mom?” I may not be happy with her right now, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t worried about her.

“Feeling replaced. But she re-read the pamphlets on homosexuality, then went online last night—”

“She went
online
?” I asked, shocked. She couldn’t even text on her phone, let alone boot up a computer.

He nodded proudly. “I helped her. She wanted more information. I think she wanted to know she wasn’t alone in how she felt.”

“And?”

He frowned and bowed his head. “What she read—the things people said about their own kids shocked her. She’s still struggling, but she wants to understand, Gabriel. It’s just hard for her.”

“I wish I could help her, I really do. But I’m still floundering, and even though I don’t want to lose her, I won’t go back to who I was.”

“You won’t lose her, Son. She just needs some time to find the answers within herself.” He straightened and clapped his hands. “So, are you coming today?”

I looked at him apprehensively. “Of course...You aren’t going to try and slip something into your sermon are you?”

He shook his head swiftly. “No, I promised I wouldn’t.”

I relaxed. “You didn’t actually promise, but you have now, and I’ll keep you to that.”

He huffed good-naturedly. “Pardon? I never go back on my promises.” He smiled, then stepped over and hugged me. “I’ll see you in a bit. And remember, Sunday’s are for forgiveness.”

“I know.” It was a rule in our house. No anger towards family on Sundays. If you were unable to forgive, then Sunday was a day of respite, and you could go back to being mad on Monday.

*

Pulling two camp chairs from the side compartment, I flipped them open, and we sat drinking our coffee outside while Zane smoked. I guiltily listened to the horses munching their hay twenty feet from us, Dad obviously having done my chore this morning. Snuffing out his cigarette, he reached for my hand. I smiled. He was a big one for hand holding. But I didn’t mind. The simple connection kept me grounded to everything that was new within me.

I traced my thumb over
Love
. “Sooo...where did you get all your tattoos?”

He glanced at me with an amused smirk. “Most people ask why.”

Obviously I sucked at diversion. “I figured you got them all after the accident. Well, except maybe the one on your leg.”

He nodded. “That was my first one when I was sixteen, and my dad had to sign a waiver.” At my raised brows he grinned. “Yeah, he really was that cool, but he had a few small ones himself, so he was kind of a pushover. The rest came after the accident. A guy who I’d done some designs for did them for me.” He chuckled. “They were still healing when my aunt and uncle came and got me. You should have seen the looks on their faces. They didn’t say anything, but I could tell they were maybe pissed off, I don’t know. But they were upset, that was for sure.”

I laughed. “I can imagine. I bet steam was coming out of your aunt’s ears!”

“Pretty much.” He took a gulp of coffee, and glanced towards the house, his expression becoming somewhat pensive.

“She’ll come around,” I told him.

He nodded, and settled his eyes on me. “You know, if you ever have any questions—something you don’t know how to answer—we had a pretty big GSA at our school, and Keith was forever dragging me to PFLAG meetings. He volunteered there, and thought it was a good use of my time too.”

“You lost me. What are GSA and PFLAG?”

He gave me a piteous look. “GSA means Gay Straight Alliance. It’s a support group slash club, and there’re hundreds of them nationwide. The one in our high school had over a hundred and thirty members, which is
really
big.”

“How many students were in your high school?”

“I don’t know. A lot. Last years graduating class had over four hundred in it.”

“Holy cow! That’s more than the whole of Claremont has. And I didn’t make a single class on time my first few days there. I’d be totally lost in a school that size.” I shook my head, amazed.

Zane glanced down the driveway towards the blue-green of the state forestland. “I doubt that. You make a turn here, and suddenly you lose sight of everything.”

I saw his wistful expression, and knew he wasn’t talking about getting lost in the woods. I was the turn that had derailed him, and I took a sinful pleasure in knowing that.

“Anyway,” he continued, “PFLAG is a national organization that stands for Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. I can’t even tell you everything they do. Our chapter was big on promoting equality in the community, and they had a huge support group for parents with genderqueer kids.”

“Wait. I thought queer was an offensive word?”

He smiled at my naiveté. “Only when used in a derogatory context.”

“Okay. So what’s a twink?”

He laughed. “Oh man, okay, the general term classifies any boyish looking gay man as a twink. However in my experience, that isn’t really accurate. The ones I have met, that actually called themselves twinks, were on the effeminate side,
really
liked themselves, and totally craved attention. But then I’ve only met a few at some of the clubs I used to go to.”

I took a sip of my coffee, absorbing what Zane had just said. It was rather overwhelming for a farm boy like me. I shook my head. “I’m pretty isolated here. I mean, I always figured I’d stay around here. You know another community, yet close to home. But now...when you leave...there’s so much out there, and if I don’t want to be alone...” I took a breath then another, knowing I had just broken our vow not to think about
later
, but I was feeling lost again.

He turned my hand over, and began tracing the lines across my palm. “You don’t belong in a big city. It would be like trying to keep a big dog in a small apartment. Eventually the dog becomes depressed and lashes out in one way or another.” With a heavy brow he released my hand, and stood, heading into the trailer with his empty mug.

He returned a few moments later, his jacket slung over his shoulder. His hair had dried and lay delicately along his cheeks once again. As he tipped his head the sun hit him, highlighting his hair in gold, and illuminating his lush, blunt eyelashes. The angles of his cheekbones and jaw softened in the morning light breaking over the Sawtooth Mountains. I lived among splendor, but none had ever stolen my breath the way Zane could—and what if no one else ever did?

“What are you looking at?” he asked, glancing behind him.

Standing, I walked to him. “Something glorious.”

He pshawed through a subtle smile. “That’s kinda hokey.”

I gave a laconic nod. “I know. But since you’re my first real relationship, I reserve the right to be sappy.”

He thought about that for a second or two, then snared me around the waist with an arm. “Be as sappy as you want. I can deal.” His eyes paused on mine before lighting on my lips. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me glorious. It’s rather uplifting.” His lips landed on mine as he snubbed me to him, pressing the uplifted part of himself firmly against me.

If this was the reaction I received for complimenting him—oh yes, definitely breathtaking, and dizzying, and uncomfortably arousing. My hands touched down on his body, feeling bone, muscle, sinew, and the worries of earlier became a far off memory.

Through the crescendo of sensations my ears picked up the crunch of gravel, the hum of an engine, and my mind, doing what minds do, identified the unwelcome sounds as a car coming down the driveway. Somewhere during our hormone induced craze Zane had ended up with his back against the trailer, my hands gripping his hips, while his were plastered firmly over my butt. I couldn’t imagine—well, unfortunately I could—what my mom had witnessed. Zane’s hands moved to my lower back as I dropped my forehead against his chest.

“Damn.” I didn’t look over at her as she passed, sure the expression on her face would be nothing short of disgust.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. She already believes I molested you.”

I leaned back. “She didn’t...”

“She did. Told me if I hadn’t coerced you...anyway, you’re right, she will come around, but I seriously doubt she’ll ever like me.” He set me away and retrieved his jacket from the ground. “You better get going, or you’ll be late.”

“Zane?”

He looked up from riffling in his pockets for his smokes.

“Try to remember my dad thinks you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And so do I.”

He nodded once as a smile curled the corners of his lips. “Ditto. I’ll see you later. And don’t forget your phone this time,” he lit the brown cigarette, and inhaled, “you know, in case you need to find me, or so I can find you.”

I watched him walk down the driveway, and wondered how a tattooed, pierced, city boy had become such a monumental mark in my life.

Chapter Eighteen

It was a nice day, the sky so blue it was almost purple, and most of the parishioners milled on the small lawn in front of the church waiting for the service to start. Mom seemed to sense my arrival, and although she refused to acknowledge me, her smile became more forced than natural. I hated that I had done this to her, but I couldn’t figure out how to fix it without renouncing who I was.

With my thoughts elsewhere I missed Mrs. Olsen making her way towards me until it was too late, and she was standing in front of me, insulin pouch in hand.

“Gabriel, would you be a dear and help me with my shot?” The evil old bird gazed at me as if daring me to refuse.

“Mrs. Olsen, I don’t believe I can legally do that.”
Perfect comeback
.
Internal high-five
.

“I just need you to hand me my shot when I’m ready. See, it’s too dark inside, and the bench out here is damp, and I don’t want to get my dress wet.”

Dang
. My proverbial tail went between my legs as I plastered on a smile and held out my hand. She beamed, and I swore I saw Lucifer standing before me rather than a hefty woman in a pink floral dress. Her shot in the palm of my hand, I averted my eyes as she hiked up her dress, exposing her white slip for all to see. Not that it mattered. I swear we’d all seen every color of slip she owned.

“Hey gorgeous!” A wet cool kiss landed against my temple.

I looked up into Gary’s bright face right as he caught sight of Mrs. Olsen and blanched. I made the mistake of glancing over just as she exposed three rolls of blue veined skin. We both shuddered and shielded our traumatized eyes. The shot left my hand, and a minute later the bag was snatched from me too. I heard the haughty huff and found her eyeing Gary, and then me.

I just smiled. “Have a wonderful day, Mrs. Olsen.”

“I plan to,” she said as she toddled quickly away, making a beeline for my father.
And so it begins
.

I turned to Gary. “Gorgeous? Really?”

“What? I say that to Tye all the time.”

“Say what to me?” Tye asked as he came up behind me.

“Call you gorgeous,” Gary supplied.

Tye actually preened. “Well, it’s the truth.”

I rolled my eyes, receiving Tye’s elbow for my effort.

“Don’t give me that. I know you look at me too.” Tye waggled his eyebrows suggestively as he straightened his thin pewter tie.

“Not anymore, I don’t.” Yes, Tye was handsome, with tawny skin and just enough muscle, but for some reason he didn’t do it for me the same way Zane did.

Tye leaned over and said in a low voice, “Speaking of...Your mom is glaring daggers at Mr. Hotness. What’s that about?”

“
What
?” I swung around so quickly my feet tangled causing me to crash into Gary. Thankfully the wall of meat stopped me from tumbling ungracefully to the grass.

Gary groaned as he set me firmly back on my feet. “God, now I’m going to have a boner through the service. So, Gabe, how much of a sin is it to have a hard-on for someone else’s boyfriend while in church?”

I shook my head, not really sure, while I tried to deal with the fact Zane had come to church when he’d never been before—and why hadn’t he told me he was coming?

I located my mom first and followed the furtive glances she kept tossing to her right. The fact her face was more anxious than disgusted, or angry, stabilized me like nothing else could have. My eyes found Zane, my heart quieted, and all I could think about was that I didn’t want to live shadowed by the fear of discovery. That and I really wanted to kiss the panicky look off his face.

I took in the black suit he wore. It looked like something you’d wear to a funeral. I cringed at my idiocy.
Five funerals to be exact
. As I approached, he shifted uncomfortably. There was something different about him. His lips, they appeared fuller, as if he was wearing—or rather not wearing his lip ring. It was the first time I’d seen him without it, and although he looked less the hooligan, he didn’t look like the Zane I knew.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” I stopped and shoved my hands in the pockets of my slacks.

“I don’t know, I just...” he scratched his jaw, “When I got home my aunt asked if I was going to church so I could
repent my sins
, and what you said last night about not doubting who we are came back to me.” He scuffed the toe of a black Converse into the gravel and gave a half-hearted shrug. “So here I am.”

I smiled inside over the
we
part. “Nice shoes.”

He smirked. “I came, but I couldn’t give her
everything
.”

I gave him a very deliberate once over. “So, do I have to worry about you erupting into a fiery ball of sin when you go through the doors?”

“Very funny. For your information Mr. Smarty-pants, I have been here before. Twice actually, right after I moved here. Sandy made me come, and we sat in the back in case I ended up doing something to
embarrass
her. Which, of course, I didn’t. From then on I made myself scarce on Sunday mornings, and that was that. I think she was still afraid of me at the time, so didn’t push it.” He took a step towards me, reaching for my tie, then stopped and let his hand fall back to his side. I wanted to stop him from moving away, but I couldn’t. My hands were glued into doughy balls in my pockets. Despite wanting to be brave and unafraid, I was ashamed to admit I wasn’t.

Suddenly I had all kinds of respect for Gary. He might have hidden who he was for awhile, but when he came out he did so in grand fashion, leaving zero doubt about who he was.

“I saw you even back then,” Zane said quietly. “You were in the front row both times, and I wondered what kind of kid sits in the first pew at church enraptured by the sermon, absorbing every word the pastor says. And then that first day I went to school, there you were, and I found out.”

I tipped my head, and squinted up at him. “And what did you find?”

“A guy who is kind, and gentle, and incredibly sweet, without even trying. One who gives everything without thinking or asking anything in return. A boy who hid who he was, and no one seemed to see, despite those traits. I saw you though...and when I’m around you, all those things that you are soak into me, and I don’t feel so empty or alone.”

I let out the breath I had been holding and stared at the wondrousness that was Zane. Sometimes he succeeded in knocking me completely over. “That was some confession.”

“Yeah, I suppose it was.” He smiled. “Too sappy?”

“Maybe a bit. But now I have a confession to make.” His declaration had bolstered my confidence, and I closed the gap between us, causing Zane’s eyes to widen. “I don’t want to hide. It took me eighteen years and a soft soul hidden beneath a...,” my eyes roamed over his vine tat as I hunted for the right word, “foreboding exterior to find myself. I want to be brave, but I...I think I need you with me to accomplish that. Maybe, you know, we can find peace together.” I was still nervous about what might come, and about how my mother would perceive this, but
this
wasn’t about her. This was about me, about Zane, about us, about not hiding who we were because
different
made some people uncomfortable. As I gazed at him, the fear abated and my hands unfurled.

He smiled faintly, then went for his lip ring before realizing it wasn’t there. “Are you sure? Because”—I found his hand, and he glanced down with a look of uncertainty—“Gabe, despite what you think, that peace, it’s kind of a myth no matter where you are.”

Taking a breath, I nodded a little too hesitantly. “Yeah, I get that. But these are good people, and with time and forgiveness I like to believe it
will
happen. You know, positive thinking?” I hadn’t been paying much attention, but I knew some people avoided Gary as if he were contagious or something. Exactly how my own mother had reacted to me. But I had faith. I wanted to believe most of the people here were different, more accepting, more like my dad. 

His smile appeared, however strained, as he fingered my tie. “Remember the forgiveness part when you talk to your mom. I can tell you, sometimes it can be hard to find.”

“Dudes, you coming or what?” Gary belted from halfway across the commons as he jogged over. “People are kinda gawking you know,” he whispered rather loudly. His eyes narrowed on our twined hands. “Um, are you like, coming out at church? Dude, cause if you are, man that’s gutsy, and I’ll have a whole new respect for you.”

Respect seemed to be the word of the day. My head and shoulders waffled. “Yeah, well, my folks already know—quite by accident unfortunately. So it’s not the upheaval your thinking it might be. The main event happened yesterday.”

“Oh,” Gary’s face scrunched in concern, “I’m guessing by your tone it didn’t go so well.”

“Fifty-fifty. Pretty much like your parents.” I tossed out a
what can you do
shrug.

Gary lifted an eyebrow. “So your dad was cool?”

I nodded, noticing the last of the parishioners were headed inside. Taking a breath I looked to Zane. “I can do this.”

He took a breath for me too. “If you can, then so can I. I think.”

“Sure you can. It’s like getting punched in the gut. Knocks the wind out of you, but eventually you’ll be able to breathe again.” Gary’s reassuring smile didn’t reassure much. However, he took up next to me, and as a threesome we headed for the doors with Tye joining the gay parade as we ascended the four steps.

From the brilliant warmth of the sun to the cool darkness of old wood, not once did I loosen my hold of Zane’s hand. There was strength in him, and I built on that as Mrs. Cormley’s eyes and mouth gaped over the spectacle of her pastor’s son holding hands with her perverted nephew.
Cat’s out of the bag now
. Or out from under the blanket anyway. What I wouldn’t give to hear her thoughts.

Zane leaned in. “How much you want to bet she runs to your dad the second the service is over?”

I grinned and shook my head. “You think I’m stupid? That’s a losing bet if ever I heard one.” There was something comforting in being able to joke about the inadequate dynamics of our relationship, and I felt the quiver of nerves calm. I looked to the pulpit and found my father, ever aware of his congregation, watching us. His head bowed to his bible resting on the podium as a fond smile worked his lips. If any doubt lingered over whether he approved of Zane, or had any reservations about having a gay son, they disappeared with that telling smile.

The four of us shuffled into the far back pew. I figured if anything, by the end of the service I would know who had issue with us by how many times they turned to look. I ended up between Tye and Zane, with Gary somehow managing to wedge himself between Zane and the end of the bench.

Leaning over I whispered loud enough for Gary to overhear, “By the way, Gary has a crush on you, so watch him.”

“I do not! It’s just a—never mind.” He ended with an embarrassed grumble.

“Give him a break, Gabe. Poor guy’s been celibate now for two weeks,” Tye said in Gary’s defense.

I raised my eyebrows at Tye.

“Sorry, point taken,” he conceded with a chuckle.

“Flattered, but your really not my type big guy,” Zane told Gary.

Tye prattled on. “But just because you chose to be celibate for like ever, doesn’t mean you should rag on Gary. At least he
has
a sex life.” He raised his dark eyebrows back at me as a few throats cleared in front of us.

“Pardon?” Zane said, affronted. “He didn’t
choose
anything.”

I opened my mouth to clarify, but Tye leaned around me, eyes narrowing. “And what
exactly
is your type, by the way?”

“I appreciate a strong confident guy. How about you?” Zane shot back.

“Well, you best move on then because Gabe is the sensitive silent type.”

Zane pushed around me until their faces were inches from each other. “Shows how much you know him!” I’d never seen him look so menacing, not even on that first day, and I’d swear blood was about to be shed if I didn’t do something.

“Enough!” I hissed. Zane shot one last sharp glare at Tye before backing off. Even though jealousy was an ugly thing, I couldn’t help feeling a little gratified over them arguing over me. Just, not here.

“Jesus, I thought you were dead!”

We all turned to Lily who stood at the end of our row, hands on hips, in a sleek sapphire blue dress that made her look ten years older, and kind of inappropriate for church. I grimaced over her dour expression. Despite her impeccable timing, I really didn’t want to go through the stilted friend routine with her right now.

She was the type that if you didn’t answer your phone, she kept calling and texting and calling some more, and I would bet my voice mail was full, and there were at least thirty blunt texts from her on my phone—which happened to still be on the file cabinet in my room.

Zane retorted, “He
is
dead. He died for your sins. My word, don’t you read your bible, woman?” I covered my guffaw with an inelegant cough.