Night Rides

by Travis Brightfield

  Griffin turned to her. He couldn’t help it or hold it in. Tears were welling up in his eyes. He buried his face in her shoulder.

  “Talk to me, Griffin,” she said. “You can tell me anything.”

  He burst into sobs at that dreaded phrase. She let him cry for a while, stroking his back until the sobs subsided.

  “I like a boy,” he said through sniffles.

  “Does he like you back?” she responded swiftly, softly – unsurprised, as if she’d practiced this moment before.

  Griffin leaned more heavily into her shoulder. It was the only way he could think of to show gratitude in that instant. For her deftness and uncomplicated acceptance. This was so far from how he’d rehearsed this scene in his mind before. But then, so was his moment with Charlie.

  “He doesn’t know yet,” he said after a beat.

  “That’s not no,” she replied.

  The room was silent for a few minutes, save for the calming sound of her hand rubbing circles into Griffin’s back.

  “He’s been teaching me to drive.”

  Her hand paused.

  When she spoke there was a catch in her voice, but she pushed past it. “Are you being safe?”

  Griffin nodded, which had the effect of nuzzling into her shoulder. She laughed, and her hand resumed its circles.

  “He says I’m a natural,” Griffin half-whispered.

  “Well that sounds like something a boy with a crush might say,” she said teasingly. “Give him time.”

  They sat on the edge of Griffin’s bed together for a good, long while. After she retired to her room and Griffin got under the covers, he felt the gentle phantom motion of her hand on his back in slow circles as he drifted off to sleep.

  11

  Griffin took his mother’s advice and gave Charlie time. The day after their night on the back road, she even let Griffin stay home from school. He’s out sick – lovesick, she joked while pantomiming a phone call to the school’s office that morning.

  It was welcome humor to fill the space where he expected to find rage or disappointment. His mother had surprised him. He hoped Charlie would too.

  He turned his phone off for the entirety of his lovesick staycation – he figured Charlie would text him at some point wondering where he was, and he couldn’t handle the mix of anxiety and anticipation he knew he’d feel at the notification popping up.

  He didn’t do much of anything that day. And that felt right.

  He turned his phone back on the next morning. Just one message from Charlie: Hope I’ll see you again soon.

  He didn’t respond. When he got to school, he tried to keep a low profile. He’d have to see Charlie eventually – after all, they were supposed to wrap-up their project together during English class – but he wanted to keep their interactions to a minimum.

  He wasn’t sure he could make it through a howdy, partner more than once.

  He didn’t have to. Not only did he manage to avoid Charlie the entire day, but when he got to English Charlie wasn’t there. And a few minutes into the start of class, he still hadn’t shown. Griffin was alone in the back of the classroom, anxious over Charlie’s whereabouts.

  He wondered if Charlie was just giving him a taste of his own medicine. It was a bitter pill, and he felt some shame at his own behavior the day prior. He supposed a fair punishment would be to have to finish their presentation on his own.

  He opened his laptop, enviously eyeing the other pairs of students hunched over their own computers together. Everyone was having fun, or at least making conversation. Griffin had only silence and guilt to keep him company.

  Just as he opened a window to load their presentation, a notification popped up from his messaging app. It was from Charlie – timed almost perfectly for the exact moment that his absence would sink in for Griffin. It was a bit sinister, Griffin noted to himself with a mischievous grin. He opened the message.

  Hey, I’m not in today – not sure if you are either. If so, sorry to leave you hanging.

  An ellipsis mark popped up in the corner of their messages to indicate that Charlie was typing more.

  Don’t worry about the presentation. I polished it up, I’ll show you later. For now, try some light reading.

  A file came in after the message. Moonsword_adaptation.pdf.

  He clicked it open. The document was 105-pages. The first one read: Moonsword by Charlie Hess (with inspiration from Griffin Gago).

  He couldn’t contain the smile on his face. It was a film script – an adaptation of the first book Griffin had shared with him – and it was like being handed a glass of cold water after a long run.

  Griffin wasn’t sure when he had worked on the script – or what he was saying-without-saying by sharing it now – but he could hardly steady his hand as he scrolled to the second page.

  EXT. DARK SIDE OF THE MOON – NIGHT (IT ALWAYS IS)

  He let out a snicker, and then covered his mouth reflexively. A few kids shot him looks of suspicion. Mrs. Wilcox looked up from her desk at the front of the room, only to give a half-smile and a head nod – like she was offering sympathy for his abandonment. He wondered if Charlie had gotten a similar look from her the day before.

  He read on.

  12

  The rest of the day was a blur for Griffin. He took every opportunity he could manage to continue reading through the rest of Charlie’s script.

  Page after page, it surprised him. For one, Charlie Hess was a good writer. His Moonsword was witty, and heartfelt, and tense, and queer. There was no mere subtext among the Banded Brothers of Night in this adaptation. These men loved, and were in love with, each other.

  Accepting them – or more, accepting being a part of them and them of him – was central to the journey of growth that the protagonist, Kirod the Barbarian, is set upon.

  Griffin was sprawled out prone on his bed at home, still reading through Charlie’s Moonsword, when he got to the page that helped him understand why Charlie had decided to share his script now.

  EXT. OCEAN-SIDE CLIFF – DAWN

  Kirod buries the Moonsword up to its hilt in the dirt at the peak of the cliff where he’d waged his climactic battle the night before. He sits by its side and looks out at the vast ocean. The waters are still, in contrast to their raucous billowing during the great battle only a few hours prior.

  It’s a quiet moment. One of calm reflection. Like the sword, Kirod has much to put to rest.

  He speaks. To the sword, maybe. Or the wind. Or the moon.

  KIROD

  I was grateful to have something to swing, and those to swing it at.

  It was like having a purpose, but better.

  It let me avoid myself.

  We see a wide shot of the area behind the cliff – there is damage and debris everywhere. Trees are fallen, and many of the Banded Brothers of Night are tending to one another’s wounds.

  KIROD

  Now I’m left with the difficult work of questioning and cleaning up.

  I’m left with men that love me. Some as a brother, some as more.

  I have no more battles in which to hide.

  I must face them, and myself.

  Kirod stands again. He touches two fingers to his lips, and then to the hilt of the sword.

  KIROD

  I’m glad to do it.

  He walks back from the cliff’s edge. In the distance, men’s heads turn towards the cliff. They smile merrily. Kirod smiles back.

  He runs to them.

  Griffin closed his laptop and rolled over onto his back. The sun was not yet setting, flowing like amber curtains through his window and casting nimble shadows from the trees outside on the ceiling above him. They seemed to dance, alternately chasing and being chased by the light.

  He got up and stood by the window, looking out at the sun on its slow descent towards eventual twilight. He had to shade his eyes and could only look at it indirectly. Even still, he felt a slight sting and had to step back into the shade of his room to shake of
f the intense after-image of the world outside his window.

  He sat on the edge of his bed with his eyes closed. He could still see the burnt-in silhouettes of trees and telephone wires. The phantom shapes he couldn’t unsee, even after pulling away.

  He imagined that Charlie had experienced something similar that night on the back road. They’d been chasing each other like the shadows on Griffin’s ceiling, and it had been whimsical and fun. It had been meaningless, seemingly, yet was full to the brim with symbolism and half-meant intentions.

  But Griffin couldn’t have left it at that. He was a bad partner. He refused to keep up with the dance.

  He’d made Charlie stare at the sun.

  It was amazing that he hadn’t retreated like Griffin had, stepping back from the window. He didn’t retreat when Griffin came out, or shut his eyes when Griffin pressed him for answers he didn’t have and didn’t owe him.

  He’d only said he didn’t know, which was brave in the face of the sun.

  It was Griffin that had retreated. He’d folded into himself, shutting down and shutting out.

  And leaving Charlie with the after-image – the reality he couldn’t unsee. Griffin had come out and confessed his interest in him. Charlie was the one that had to shake it off or stare at it. Consider it. Commit its colors and lines to memory.

  Griffin regretted pushing Charlie for answers that night. But he also secretly, selfishly hoped that Charlie had found them in himself. That he was refining them in his adaptation of Moonsword. And that, like Kirod, he was glad to do it.

  Griffin laid back again. He watched the shadows on his ceiling and wondered at their shapes and meanings until they faded, washed out by the amber light of a setting sun.

  13

  Griffin’s phone buzzed at the edge of the bed, waking him from a half-sleep nap he hadn’t intended. It was a new message from Charlie.

  Up for a ride? I’m outside.

  His room was dark. It was a stark contrast to the flood of copper illumination he last recalled.

  Griffin pocketed his phone without responding and stepped over to his door. He listened for the sounds of his mother – but quickly pulled back. He’d already told her his two secrets. There was no need to sneak around anymore.

  He opened his door and stepped out into the house with a stride of confidence that he’d always refused himself before. It felt much better not to slink and plan his steps.

  He made his way to the front door, but before he reached it he decided to double back to the kitchen. He grabbed a marker and left a note on the magnetic whiteboard clinging to their refrigerator: Out with Charlie. Will be safe.

  Griffin made his way out the front door and down to Charlie’s black sedan. The passenger window was up and Charlie was staring straight ahead with both hands on the wheel. Griffin approached cautiously.

  He opened the passenger door just enough to stick his head in. “Hey, Charlie. Are you alright?”

  Charlie laughed – a short, nervous cough of a laugh. “Yeah, sorry, hi.”

  He took one hand off the steering wheel and motioned for Griffin to come in. Griffin slid into the passenger seat and buckled the seatbelt.

  “Listen,” Griffin started. “I want to apologize–”

  Charlie shook his free hand. “Uh, sorry, mind holding that thought? I’ve got something I want to show you first. And… I’m a little nervous.”

  Griffin reached for his belt buckle. “Should I drive? You’re making me nervous.”

  Charlie considered that for a moment.

  “No, no, it’s a short ride,” he said. “Good to go?”

  Griffin nodded, and Charlie shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb.

  “It’s good to see you,” Charlie said. “Really… good.”

  A grin inched its way out of the corner of Griffin’s mouth. “You too.”

  It seemed like Charlie needed all the concentration he could muster to calm his nerves. Griffin didn’t want to cause an accident, so he stayed quiet. He intended to make good on his refrigerator-promise to be safe.

  At the end of the street, Charlie made a familiar turn. And not much later they were entering the church parking lot again. The grin in the corner of Griffin’s mouth grew wider.

  Charlie made way for the back of the church, just like he had when they’d watched Paradise Highway. For all his nerves, the ride was smooth. Griffin was lucky to have him as his driving instructor.

  When they turned the corner at the back of the church, Griffin's eyes went immediately to the bare wall Charlie had used as a projection screen last time. The projector was back again, and this time it was displaying the title slide of their English presentation on the wall.

  Romance: Griffin Gago & Charlie Hess

  The scene was otherwise bare. There were no string lights hanging above the wall.

  Charlie pulled the car up until they were inline with the wall and the projector. Charlie didn’t swing into a parking space, he just switched the gear and turned the car off in the middle of the aisle.

  “I changed a few things in the final project,” Charlie said, turning to Griffin. “So I just want to get your thoughts.”

  Griffin furrowed his brow. “You’re nervous about… the presentation?”

  “It’s half our grade.”

  “And we came all the way out here for you to show it to me… because?”

  Charlie flashed a smile at Griffin. A bit more of his usual confidence was reemerging. “I just thought it’d be more fun.”

  Charlie opened his door and stepped out. He waited for Griffin to do the same, then tapped the the front of the car, indicating that Griffin should come lean on the edge and face the screen.

  Charlie walked backwards from the car until he was standing on the narrow sidewalk that laid between the parking spaces and the grass where the projector sat. With a wide, goofy flourish of his arms, he pulled a small clicker from his pocket.

  Griffin took his designated spot on the edge of the car’s hood and crossed his arms. He was bewildered at the entire situation.

  Charlie noticed the look of scepticism on Griffin’s face, and smiled as widely as he could. Griffin only narrowed his eyes. Charlie drew his smile in and cleared his throat.

  “My name is Charlie Hess, and I’ve learned a lot about romance with Griffin this semester.”

  “You know,” Griffin interrupted. “We’re both supposed to give this presentation.”

  Charlie pointed the clicker at him dramatically. “We can work on that next!” He clicked the button.

  The title card slid off screen revealing the next slide. It was an aerial image of the ocean, choppy waters under a mid-day sun. The cover of Dip was overlaid in the center. There was otherwise no text. Griffin hadn’t seen this slide before.

  “I’ve, um–” Charlie cleared his throat again. He looked off into the distance and took a few steps to the left. Then the right. He turned to face Griffin again and took a deep breath.

  “I’ve learned that love is big, like the ocean.” Charlie spread his arms wide again. It was less goofy this time. More anxious.

  “It’s powerful,” he started. There was a tremble to his voice.

  “Like the tides, it draws you in. It’s like rip currents too – if you aren’t careful, it can sweep you away out of your depth”