by Van Barrett
“Oh, buddy.” Clay put his hand on Rust's shoulder and squeezed. “I'm sorry.”
The two men went quiet, the crackling of the fire filling the silence between them. A log of hedge wood popped, and a red-hot ember went shooting between them, but neither flinched.
“Let me ask you another question then, Clay.” The tension in Rust's voice had let up some.
“Shoot.”
“How come you kept your hockey career a secret from those guys?”
Clay unfolded his legs and let out a deep sigh. He stared into the fire, as if he could find the answers written in the dancing flames.
“I don't know. I guess I didn't see it as worth bragging about.”
“Why not.”
“I guess, partly because I'm ashamed I fell short of my goal. When I think about it, I hear Pop's voice in my head a lot, always reminding me that I failed.”
“Stop saying you failed. You didn't fail. You made it to the top level. We both know guys who would kill for the right to brag about playing as many games as you did.”
“Sure. That's true. But I didn't stick there, and I certainly didn't make a career out of it like you did. You know you'd be just as disappointed as I was if you only played 22 games.”
Rust's silence all but confirmed that.
“Besides. Hockey was fun, but it's also the past for me. But this, this here,” Clay gestured at his land, “is my true life path. I love what I do here, Rust.”
“And I can see that, Clay. But … ugh!” Rust suddenly threw his fists into the air and let out a yelp of frustration. Suddenly, he was yelling, and all his pent-up anger had finally started to spill out:
“Fuck, I'm tired of dancing around this shit, Clay! We both know what happened between us ten years ago—the night Washington called me up, I sucked your dick! And then you retired from hockey and disappeared! What the hell am I supposed to think of all that now? What am I supposed to think, now that you finally showed up in my life again, and 'want to get to know each other again'? You're fuckin' with my head and I can't take it! You fucked me up ten years ago and you're still doing it today!”
The two men fell silent again. Rust's lamentations echoed through the land in waves. Local packs of coyotes, scattered all over, were stirred and let loose their upset howls into the night sky,
aawooooooah!
Clay and Rust both let out a deep exhale and quietly listened to the wild dogs' reply.
Slowly, Clay rose out of his chair, scooted over a foot, and sat on the granite rock next to Rust. He rubbed his hand on his old friend's wide, muscular back. The strong back of a professional athlete. Rust leaned in, relaxing under the weight of Clay's palm.
“Damn,” Clay whispered. “Sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to fuck you up like that. I swear it.”
“No, I'm sorry. I just lost my shit. I'm embarrassed as hell.”
Clay cracked a smile. “But I'm glad you did. I was struggling on how to bring all that history up myself. I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear it or not.”
“I do. I definitely do. You owe me an explanation, Clay.”
Clay nodded. “Alright, then. I'll tell you.”
24
Fate
– Rust –
Damn it all to hell if Clay's hand didn't feel so perfect on Rust's back. That touch, so warm, so gentle, but so manly and strong, all at once. Just like he remembered it.
Rust hated himself for it, but now he knew for sure he couldn't be 'just friends' with Clay. Ever. So if that was the story that Clay was about to lay on him—forget it—they should both hop in that F-350 and start heading back to Dallas right that very second. Because there was no way could Rust simply be friends with this guy and not feel that insistent pull in his heart.
“I was scared,” Clay said at last, with great effort.
Rust waited for more.
And waited.
But more didn't seem to be coming.
“That's—that's it?” Rust choked back a bitter laugh.
“There's a lot more. I'm not sure how to bring it all up. I'm trying here, Rust.”
“Just start talking. Let it come out.”
“What we had,” Clay started, his voice shaky. “I've never had with anybody else.”
Rust wasn't sure how to feel about that. “What do you mean? Use your words, Clay. I want to hear you say it.”
“Fuck, man. You know. We did everything together. Calling us best friends doesn't even come close to what we were. We spent almost every hour of every day together, Rusty—fuck, sorry, Rust. I keep doing that.”
Rust rolled his eyes—maybe at himself, for being so adamant that Clay not use that nickname. He was starting not to care so much. “Don't worry about it.”
“The point is, normally, when you spend that much time with somebody, you start to go crazy. Even if you love them. Like my employees? I love them, man, even Max! But good God am I ready to send him home sometimes …” Clay gave a shake of his head and a chuckle.
“But I never felt that way with you. It was like I couldn't get enough of you. Ever. We lived together. Worked out together. Planned all our meals and cooked together. Obviously we played hockey together. I don't have to tell you all the shit we did. Then—” Clay gulped. “Then, well, Manon happened. And, well, you know, we started kinda … sharing our sex lives, too.”
Rust and Clay met eyes. With that connection, Rust felt a tingle, a jolt of excitement ripple through him, but he didn't dare let it show. He quickly looked away instead.
“At the time, it all happened so fast, I didn't know what to think of it. Fuck, buddy. I remember when she coaxed you into sucking me off. And I looked down, and I saw you sucking my dick, and I remember thinking … damn, that's hot.”
Rust's heart skipped like a stone thrown across water.
“And that scared me. I didn't know what to think. So I tried not to think about it. Until, you know, the day on the truck hood. The day you got called up.”
Rust gulped. “Yeah.”
“I don't even know what to say about it. You were my best friend, my teammate, partner, my everything. But somehow I'd never made the connection that—that you might have feelings for me. Or that I might have feelings for you. My brain just sort of short-circuited. I wasn't sure what to do. Part of me wanted it to stop. The other part of me didn't want it to stop.”
Clay's nails began to lightly traipse back and forth, across Rust's back.
“And so there we were, just the two of us on that truck hood. No girl for us to hide behind this time. We were really—really doing it. I was hard as hell, and you were sucking me off.”
Rust, of course, didn't need the reminder. Just talking about it made all the memories come back—the sights, the smells, the feel of Clay's throbbing, hot flesh in his mouth—and Rust's dick started to plump between his legs.
“It took a long time for me to make sense of it, Rust, I'm not going to lie. I had to let it stew. Let it marinate. It didn't happen right away.”
“And—so—what'd you end up thinking about it?”
“I liked it. I liked it a lot. I liked you a lot. That's part of what scared me so damned bad.”
“So … that's why you retired and disappeared? Because you were scared?”
“Sort of, yeah. Not just scared for me, but scared for you, too.”
Rust made a sour face. “Huh?”
Clay looked up, and he took note of the stars in the sky while he gathered his thoughts.
“You always said these things to me—about our future together. How we were going to be partners on the big club. We'd have chemistry, we'd stand up for each other, score goals, hit guys—all the things we did in the AHL, we'd do in the NHL.”
“Yeah …”
“But, the reality was, I knew I wasn't going to make it, Rust. I wasn't good enough. And I didn't want to get in your way. I was like an anchor tied around your neck. I had to set you free.”
Rust shook his head. “That's not true at all. What are
you even talking about?”
“Rust. I was in the AHL a lot longer than you. I saw guys come and go. I was once a promising prospect of the big club too, you know. That's when I got my looks up in Washington. But I always seemed to underwhelm the coaching staff there. And then, all of a sudden, it was the younger guys who started getting the call-ups, not me. The first time it happens, you don't want to make a big deal out of it. The fourth and fifth time it happens, you know you've got a problem. And I could tell from the way the coaches started talking to me that I'd had my shot … they just didn't want to say it to my face.”
“How do you mean?”
“When all those other guys started to get call-ups, I went to the coaching staff and asked them what I had to do better to get another shot. They sort of smiled, this uncomfortable looking smile, and told me how much they loved the job I was doing with tutoring my teammates in Hershey. And what a great veteran leader I was.”
Rust eyes widened. He hadn't heard that before.
“Yeah … that told me all I needed to know. I knew I'd hit my ceiling. It just took me some time to accept it. The truth is, Rust, when you joined the team, I was already on my downward trajectory.”
Rust scoffed. “I don't buy it.”
“Yeah, I know. You really thought we could have this NHL career together. And you purposely tanked your third training camp with the Capitals. Hell, you might've tanked your second training camp, too. But definitely the third.”
Rust suddenly shot Clay a look: his guilty eyes said it all.
“Ah-ha. That look. See, I knew it was true.” Clay smiled. “And I know why you did it, too. You didn't want to leap frog me on the depth chart.”
Rust swallowed. “I—okay, yeah, I might've tried to sit back a little in camp, but it was only so you could shine instead. But that's because I believed in my heart that you were good enough for the NHL team, Clay.”
“I know.” Clay nodded sagely. “And that was exactly the problem. I wasn't good enough. You just couldn't see it, because of what we had together. But you were already willing to sabotage your own career to try to help mine get off the ground.” Clay shook his head. “I never could've lived with myself if I dragged you down with me.”
“So that's why you retired and disappeared, huh.”
“Yup. I knew you were good enough to stick with Washington—even when Bergman came back from injury. Which, by the way, you did, because you played your heart out.”
Rust blew a gust through his nostrils. “Yeah, because I was so mortified at what had happened. And so—so damn pissed at you!—that I didn't want to ever go back to Hershey. I played so damn hard because I didn't want them to send me back.”
Clay shook his index finger at him. “See? In other words, you finally played up to the level you could play at all along. And what happened? You made it impossible for Washington to send you back. They had to keep you with the way you played. But how would you have played for Washington if we had this thing back in Hershey? What do you think would've happened if you knew I was waiting for you back home?”
Rust paused before sheepishly admitting it. “I would've been excited to come back home and see you again.”
“Yep.” Clay nodded. “The fact that you're still calling our Hershey apartment home speaks volumes, doesn't it?”
Rust let out a long, simmering groan. “Fuck. You're right. I hate it. I hate that.”
“I hated it, too. But I did what I thought was right. Maybe it was wrong, but … I really thought it was right. Well, that, and like I said, I was scared shitless after finding out I was gay.”
“Oh,” Rust muttered with surprise. “So you really think you're …?” he trailed off. He almost couldn't say the word.
“Hell. Ever since that day with you, I don't go for women.”
“Well, what about Manon? You told me you loved her.”
“And I wanted to believe that myself at the time, yeah. But I wasn't in love with her at all.”
“What happened between you guys?”
“I saw her once. Once you left for Washington, I bought her a plane ticket. I told her she had to come see me. I had something to prove to myself, I guess. I had to do something straight, like bang Manon and maybe fall in love with her for real, to get you out of my head. So, she came over … and …” Clay trailed off.
“And?”
“It wasn't the same. At all. When I kissed her—nothing. No sparks, no excitement, just nothing. All I could think about was you. We didn't do anything but kiss, and not much at that. She kept asking what was wrong, why wasn't I into it? She could tell I was upset, and she asked if it was about you. She knew we had something together, Rust, and she wasn't at all surprised to hear it. She said she could tell we were falling for each other … the way she put it, she was just our excuse to do things together. Not that she minded. She apparently thought it was pretty hot that we were hard for each other. Actually, she reamed me a new one when I told her she didn't know what she was talking about. She told me I had to get my shit together and 'win you back.' Then uh, she stormed out and headed back to Montreal.”
“Wait, you mean you told her about what happened, then?”
Clay nodded. “Yeah. I think she's the only person I've ever told, actually.”
“You still talk to her?”
“Oh, no. I wasn't ready to hear what she was telling me. That was the last time we ever talked. I haven't even thought of her in years, until you brought her up earlier.”
Rust drew his lips into a thin line. He felt somehow lighter, as a decade of misplaced jealousy over Manon washed away like sand castles on the shore.
“Hm. Wow,” was all he could say at last.
“Yeah. So now you know the story with Manon.” Clay chuckled. “No marriage, no moving to Montreal, and definitely no French-speaking daughters.”
Rust needed some time for all that to soak in, and another silence fell over the two. Clay put his arm around Rust's shoulder and squeezed, bringing them tighter together.
“So, you said you weren't ready to hear what she was telling you,” Rust said at last.
“Yeah.”
“How long then—did it take for everything to set in? When did you … you know … start to accept it yourself?”
Clay chuckled. “It happened slowly, I guess over the first couple years. The horses, like I said, are a mirror to the soul. You can't work with a horse honestly, without first being honest with yourself. I got a sense of companionship from these horses that I hadn't gotten from anyone else, but you. But the horses, great as they are, can't fill in for honest-to-God human companionship. And so the closer I got to the horses, the more I missed you.”
“So why the hell didn't you get in touch with me at some point, Clay?” Rust said with a sudden fire. “Because I was missing you too, you know.”
Clay frowned. “I was scared you'd hate me, or you'd reject me, or you'd have found someone else and moved on. I was scared I'd mess your life up again. Scared of a lot of things, Rust.”
“What changed? Why'd you decide to track me down now?”
“Well. I lost a horse a couple months back—her name was Apple.”
Clay filled Rust in on Travis and Apple's background. How Travis was a troubled kid who'd been sentenced to do community service at Clay's farm. How Travis had such an infamously bad attitude, he had the rare honor of being 'fired' by Clay—but the judge ordered Travis to come right back and try again.
And how, once Travis laid eyes on Apple, his life completely turned around for the better.
“Somehow, I looked at Travis and Apple, and all I could think about was me and you. Not that you're a poor old horse that's missing an eye.” Clay elbowed Rust jokingly. “But more like … how unexpected it was, for Travis to fall in love with that horse. And how Apple turned his life around.”
Clay looked up at the night stars and sighed.
“Travis was saving up all his money, hoping he could get some land to eventually adopt App
le. But that horse … she was old, Rust, she'd lived a long life. That was one hell of a pipe dream of his. Not that I'd ever try to dissuade him. But it made me think about—about what I'm doing out here, with all this, and why.” Again Clay gestured at his land, his farm.
“Why?”
“I had this dream that someday we'd have this reunion. That I could make things right with you. Once your career was over, or something. And in the meantime, I was building up this life, and saving all these horses, to prove to you that I'm a good guy. Or maybe to prove it to myself …”
Clay trailed off and shook his head.
“You are, though,” Rust said quietly.
“I could keep going, saving horse after horse and making the world a better place. But I started to realize, that if I never made it up to you, it didn't matter how much good I did in the world. I'd always feel unfulfilled, dissatisfied, like I didn't do what I really had to do with this life of mine. And what's more, if I didn't hurry, I might miss my chance completely. God damn, ten years went by in the blink of an eye.” Clay paused. “So after Apple died. That's when I went to your game. The night of your concussion.”
Rust grimaced and bobbed his head.
“I felt responsible. For the hit—because you saw me—yeah. But for all the other pain I knew I'd caused you, too. I knew I had to reach out to you, I just didn't know how. And of course, reading about how bad your concussion was, well, that was like twisting the knife in my guts.”
“It's so weird how I'm just—feeling better all of a sudden,” Rust remarked. “I don't think I'm out of the woods just yet, but man. It's amazing how good I feel right now, compared to how bad I have been.”
“I don't think it's weird at all. And I don't think it's a coincidence, either.”
“No?”
“No,” Clay answered firmly. “Not at all.”
“Then what?”
“My work with horses has taught me to follow your intuition, your heart. I think that concussion stirred up some very old wounds. And now, since I finally sacked up the courage to see you again, we're finally getting our chance to heal them. The fact that your symptoms let up around me? That was just fate's way of convincing you to give me a second chance. Because, on a rational level, I certainly don't deserve one.”
