The Road Home

by Michael Thomas Ford

  “Family secrets,” Burke said.

  “How did we start talking about this?” Lucy asked. “Oh, yes, the photograph.” She picked it up and stared at it for a moment. “I think he’s leaving,” she said. “For one thing, his uniform is too clean. For another, the girl looks as if she’s expecting the worst. In my day she would have been grinning from ear to ear, pretending everything was just fine.” She set the photo down. “No wonder so many of us became alcoholics,” she said thoughtfully.

  “Who’s an alcoholic?” Burke’s father asked as he came through the screen door.

  “All women my age,” Lucy answered. “And it’s because men your age drove us to it.”

  Burke’s father turned on the water and began washing his hands. “Well, I apologize for that,” he said.

  “It’s all right,” said Lucy. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

  Burke’s father turned around, drying his hands on a dish towel. “More photos?” he asked.

  “These are from the Civil War,” Burke explained. “We were just looking at them.” He handed his father the picture he and Lucy had been discussing. “What do you think is going on in this one?”

  His father looked at the photo, peering over the top of his glasses. “I think that young man on the right is very happy that the one on the left is going off to war, because it means he’ll have that pretty young lady all to himself.”

  Burke and Lucy exchanged glances. “That never occurred to me,” Lucy said.

  Burke’s father chuckled. “That’s because you’re not a man,” he said.

  But I am, Burke thought, and it didn’t occur to me, either. “You think he’s jealous of Amos?”

  “Who’s Amos?” his father asked. “The soldier? Yes, I think he is. I think both gentlemen have an interest in that young lady. What’s her name?”

  “Tess,” Burke told him.

  “I think both gentlemen have an interest in Tess. As Amos has his arm around her, my guess is he’s the one with a claim on her. The other fellow . . . What’s his name?”

  “We don’t know,” said Lucy.

  “Let’s call him George,” said Burke’s father. “George there is hoping that Amos will go away and get himself killed. I don’t know what Tess is hoping. You never can tell with women.”

  “An interesting theory,” Burke said. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Doesn’t much matter, does it?” his father said. “They’re all dead.”

  Lucy looked at him, shaking her head. “You’re an incurable romantic, you know that?” she said.

  “I do my best,” said Burke’s father. He looked over at Burke. “I spoke to Will this morning. He’s going to drive you to your appointment in Montpelier tomorrow.”

  “Will?” said Burke. “Why?”

  “Says he has to go there, anyway, to pick up something for his father. It saves me a trip, and I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “No,” Burke said. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to put anybody out.” Which, apparently, I am, he thought. I’m only too happy to save you a trip.

  “He’ll be by around eight,” his father said. “That should give you plenty of time.”

  It certainly should, thought Burke. Despite the fact that his anger at Will had diminished, he still didn’t relish the idea of spending a couple of hours with him in such close quarters. But apparently Will felt otherwise, as he’d volunteered for the job. Burke hoped everything would be okay. You’re the grown-up, he reminded himself. It’s up to you.

  He looked at his father. “I’ll be ready,” he said.

  CHAPTER 13

  Dr. Radiceski clipped the films to the light box and flipped the switch, revealing Burke’s bones. He pointed to an obvious fault line. “You’ve been putting too much pressure on it,” he said. “Didn’t Dr. Liu tell you to stay off it?”

  “She might have,” Burke mumbled.

  The doctor raised one eyebrow. “I thought she might have,” he said. “You should have listened to her. I’m afraid you’ll have to have that cast on for longer than we—and especially you—had hoped.”

  “How much longer?” asked Burke.

  “I’m estimating another six weeks,” the doctor answered.

  “Six weeks?” Burke said, groaning.

  “That’s only two weeks longer than we originally planned,” Dr. Radiceski told him. “It’s your own fault for rushing things. Try to take it easy.”

  “I don’t want to take it easy!” Burke said. “Taking it easy is making me nuts. Did I tell you I’m staying with my father? You have no idea.”

  “Oh, I do,” the doctor said. “My father is staying with me while he recuperates from a broken hip. Believe me, that’s no day at the circus. My partner keeps threatening to put on the naughty nurse costume he wore last Halloween, just to see if it gives Dad a heart attack.”

  “Does your partner look good in a naughty nurse’s uniform?” Burke asked.

  “He’s a bear,” Dr. Radiceski said. “What do you think?”

  Burke laughed in spite of himself. “That’s a mental image I didn’t need,” he joked.

  “The white patent pumps are the worst part,” said the doctor.

  “Can I ask how your father is with the whole thing?” said Burke. “You know, living with you and your partner.”

  “He’s fine with it,” Dr. Radiceski said. “He’s actually an Episcopal priest. Vermonter born and bred. Doesn’t think either the government or God should interfere in your personal life. In fact, he officiated at Buck’s and my wedding.”

  “Nice,” Burke said.

  “How about your father?” the doctor asked. “Is he okay with you and your partner being there?”

  “Partner?” said Burke, confused.

  “The fellow in the waiting room,” Dr. Radiceski said.

  “He’s not . . . We’re not together,” Burke told him. “He’s just a friend. I’m not with anyone right now.”

  “That’s too bad,” the doctor said. “Well, stay off the leg, and come back in two weeks for another X-ray.”

  What does he mean, too bad? Burke wondered as he got up. He said it like he was telling me I have cancer. When did being single become a disease?

  He walked to the waiting room, where Will was sitting, looking at a copy of Highlights magazine. He looked up when Burke came in. “I can find only six differences between the two pictures,” he said, showing Burke the puzzles page at the back of the magazine. “They claim there are seven, but I think they’re just fucking with me.” He set the magazine down. “Everything okay?”

  “Six more weeks,” Burke said shortly. “So no, not okay.”

  “Ouch,” Will replied. “Sorry. Well, I went and picked up the vaccines Dad needs, so we can head home. Or we can hang out in town for a while if you want to. The vaccines are on ice in a cooler. They’ll be fine for a few hours.”

  Burke weighed his options—going back to his father’s house and lying around, or spending some time in an actual city. “Let’s stay,” he said. “Maybe we can find some real coffee.”

  They left the doctor’s office and walked down the street. “You look like a monkey,” Will remarked as Burke did the peculiar step-swing-step movement with the crutch.

  “Thank you,” said Burke. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

  “Come on,” Will said. “Six weeks isn’t that long. Besides, it gives us more time to hang out.”

  “Why?” asked Burke. His bad mood was getting worse as they walked, and the question sounded harsher than he meant it to.

  “I don’t know,” Will said. “Because I like you?”

  Burke stopped. “Look,” he said. “I like you, too. But we have a problem here. I had a pretty good time kissing you, and I think you liked it just as much as I did. Then I find out you have a girlfriend, and you tell me that you can’t ever be who we both know you are. That makes things a little difficult, don’t you think?”

  “I did like it,” Will said. “And I wouldn’t mi
nd doing it again.” He gave Burke the half grin that made Burke weak in the knees. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “What about what’s-her-name . . . Donna?”

  Will shrugged. “What about her?”

  Burke shook his head. “Don’t you think she might be just a little bit upset if she knew her boyfriend was cheating on her with another man?”

  “Honestly? I think she’d be more upset if you were another girl,” Will said.

  “I need to sit down,” Burke said. “Let’s find a coffee shop or something.” He saw a Starbucks a block away. “There’s civilization,” he said, thinking of Gregg.

  They walked to the shop, and Burke took a seat at one of the outside tables and sent Will inside to get drinks. It was pleasantly warm, and the table was in the shade. Burke felt himself calming down as he watched people coming and going. They all seemed impossibly young, and he suddenly felt very old. When Will appeared, set a latte in front of him, and handed him some bills and coins, saying, “Here’s the change, Pop,” Burke responded with, “Keep it up. You’re not too old for a spanking.”

  “Oh, that sounds fun,” Will replied.

  “Have you ever even done it with a guy?” Burke heard himself ask. “And by it, I mean anything involving a dick and an orifice.”

  Will blushed. “Sure,” he said.

  “Details,” Burke demanded.

  Will sipped his coffee. “This is kind of embarrassing,” he said.

  Burke didn’t give him the out he was looking for. Instead, he just stared at Will until the young man shook his head.

  “Okay,” Will said. “I got a blow job from this guy at baseball camp in tenth grade.”

  “That’s it?” said Burke. “One blow job?”

  “And I jacked off with a guy in the bathroom at Home Depot once,” Will told him. “He was doing it when I walked in, and it just kind of happened.”

  “That’s not exactly an extensive résumé,” Burke said. “I assume you’ve done more than that with Donna.”

  Burke shook his head. “She’s a virgin,” he said. “Seriously,” he added when Burke gave him a look of disbelief. “She wears one of those stupid purity rings.”

  “I suppose that makes things easier for you,” said Burke. “But what are you going to do when she wants to get busy?”

  “I’ve done it with other girls,” said Will. “I just think about . . . other stuff. It’s not that hard, really.”

  “And that’s what you want to do for the next fifty or sixty years?” said Burke. “Think about other stuff?”

  “Do we have to talk about this shit again?” Will asked.

  “I’m just trying to figure out what it is you want,” said Burke.

  “Okay,” Will said. “I’ll tell you what I want. What I want is to go to New York and be an actor. But that’s not going to happen. And what my dad wants is for me to be a vet. But I couldn’t get into vet school. So what I’m going to do is stay in Dullston and help him out until I find something else to do.”

  Burke had to laugh at Will’s nickname for the town. “Your dad and I used to call it Dullston, too,” he said. “Did you get it from him?”

  Will shook his head. “To hear him tell it, Wellston is the best place on earth,” he said. “He used to think it was boring?”

  “All he talked about was getting out,” said Burke. “I guess that changed. So, you want to be an actor?”

  Will shrugged. “I’d like to,” he said. “I did a couple of plays in school. But like I said, that’s a stupid dream. There are a million guys who want to be actors.”

  “And some of them make it,” said Burke. “The difference between you and them is that they believe they can. You’re giving up before you’ve even tried.”

  “I did try,” Will replied. “When I didn’t get into vet school, I told my parents I wanted to move to New York. It didn’t go over well.”

  “But it’s your life,” Burke insisted. “And you only get one. Don’t you want to do something with it?”

  “Maybe I should be a model,” said Will, grinning. “I look pretty good in that picture you took of me. Too bad about the splotchy thing. But we can always take more.”

  “We’ll see,” said Burke. He was in no mood to indulge Will’s playfulness. It annoyed him that he wasn’t taking his own life seriously.

  “I don’t get why you care what I do with my life,” Will said.

  “I care because things are supposed to be different for you,” said Burke. “You’re supposed to be who you are instead of hiding it. You’re supposed to be proud of it. You’re supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. This is what people my age dreamed about, and you’re going right back in the closet.”

  “I guess I don’t see it that way,” Will said.

  “Apparently not,” said Burke. “But can you see why it pisses me off?”

  “I guess,” Will admitted. “But it’s still my life.”

  Burke leaned back in his chair. “Fair enough,” he said.

  “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” Will asked.

  Burke looked at him. “Why do you think I don’t have one?”

  “Because you think you know everything?” Will suggested.

  “Maybe I do know everything,” Burke countered.

  “Do you even want a boyfriend?”

  Burke thought for a moment. “I don’t know anymore,” he admitted. “When I was your age, I did. I thought I’d find the right guy and we’d be together forever, like my parents. But I found out it doesn’t work that way, at least not for most of the guys I know. I’d find someone, and we’d be happy for a while. Then one of us wouldn’t be happy, and that would be the end of it.”

  “Sounds great,” said Will. “And that’s what you think I’m missing out on?”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Burke said. “At least, I don’t think it does. I know some couples who have been together for a long time.”

  “How many?” Will said, pressing.

  “Enough to think it’s not impossible,” said Burke.

  “What about kids?” asked Will. “Didn’t you ever want kids?”

  “You don’t need to be married to a woman to have kids,” Burke said. “You can always adopt.”

  “I just asked if you ever wanted them,” said Will. “I know you can adopt. Christ, Angelina Jolie has enough for a soccer team.”

  “I guess maybe I would have liked to have kids,” said Burke. “Like I said, it wasn’t really an option when I was your age.”

  “It’s not like you’re ancient now,” Will pointed out. “Even if you adopted now, you’d only be what, seventy, when it graduated from high school?”

  “Nice,” Burke said. “Smart-ass.”

  Will grinned. “I’m just pointing out that maybe I’m not the only one who’s afraid to have the life he wants.”

  “At least you’re admitting you’re afraid,” said Burke, ignoring the implication of Will’s statement. “That’s a start.”

  “We can’t all be Neil Patrick Harris,” Will remarked. He looked at his watch. “You ready to go?”

  “No,” Burke said, shaking his head. The idea of getting in Will’s truck and going back to his father’s house was about as appealing as going back to jail after escaping for an afternoon. “But I suppose we should.”

  “You’ll survive,” Will told him as he helped him up. “And on the way home you can tell me about your first time.”

  Burke laughed, thinking again about the night with Mars. “How about I tell you about my second time?” he said. “That’s a better story.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The Sandberg Public Library was a small brick building that sat between the Dew Drop In Diner and, appropriately enough, a used bookstore. It was on Sandberg’s Main Street, which wasn’t saying a great deal. Although much larger than Wellston, Sandberg was still not what could be called a metropolis. It had the benefit of being very near both a fairly popular skiing resort and an equally popular lake, however, an
d therefore enjoyed a brisk tourist trade. Burke had never seen so many maple sugar and moose-emblazoned products in one place. Now I know where it all comes from, he thought as he hobbled past shop windows promising 20 percent off all garden items. He wondered if that included the delightful wooden cutouts painted to resemble very large women bending over and displaying their bloomers.

  His father had dropped him off and was due to return in an hour, after running some errands for Lucy. That didn’t give Burke a huge amount of time, so he headed straight for the library. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, he stepped into a room that looked as if it hadn’t changed in a hundred years. Large, heavy wooden shelves lined the walls, while the center of the room was occupied by several equally large and heavy tables, the tops of which were worn smooth from countless elbows. Even the air seemed ancient—warm and filled with dust motes that floated lazily through the shafts of light that came through the tall, wavy-paned windows on either side of the room.

  The library was empty, although a lone figure stood behind the long circulation desk to the left of the door. It was a man, and he looked up as Burke entered, a somewhat startled expression on his face, as if Burke were the first person to pass through the doors in a century. Burke smiled and went over to him.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m wondering if you can help me.”

  “I can try,” the man answered. He was shorter than Burke and slight of build. His sandy brown hair was cut short but still managed to look as if it needed a trim. He had blue eyes, hidden behind wirerim glasses, and a short-cropped beard. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled to the elbow, exposing forearms covered in more sandy-colored hair. “What is it you’re looking for?” he asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Burke admitted. “I’ve kind of gotten into the history of Vermont soldiers in the Civil War. A friend of mine wrote a book about it.”