Winter Heart

by B. G. Thomas

  At least parts of the path north were easier to handle. There were a lot of trees, of course, and their overhanging branches had helped some to deflect the depth of the snow. He was beginning to get really cold and longed for the warmth of the cabin, but he was so close to his goal. Just a little farther?

  Kevin reached North Five (he’d often wondered why the cabin was so far from North Four. A cabin could have easily been built between them. Maybe there had been a cabin there once upon a time?) and glanced off to his left. It was hard to tell, but he was looking for where the road took a decided sharp turn to the right and—yes—he saw he had reached that bend he was looking for.

  He was going to do it.

  Kevin pushed the snowblower down the steep embankment to the road and then made his way to the little path that cut into the dense trees there. It was tougher going on the road—the snow there was the deepest yet—but when he finally got to where he was going, what he saw made him laugh with joy.

  Perfect.

  Absolutely perfect!

  But now it was time to get the hell back to Wyatt. He would be wondering what was taking so long. Kevin had said he would be back in an hour, and he knew he’d been gone at least twice that long.

  When he got back to the cabin, though, what he found stopped him in his tracks.

  Wyatt looked terrible.

  He pulled off his hat. “Wyatt?” he asked, concerned. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, Kevin!” Wyatt looked like he was going to cry. “Is Howard right? Am I a total turd? Was the only reason anyone had anything to do with me was because I was with him?”

  Kevin jerked. What? What was he saying? Where had this come from?

  “Wyatt, sweetheart. What are you talking about?” He pulled off his gloves and laid them on the table, stepped toward Wyatt. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t get what Saffron said out of my head.”

  Kevin had to think. What Saffron said? What hadn’t Saffron said? He took another step, rubbed his hands together, resisted the urge to lay them on Wyatt. “Wyatt? What… what did she say that’s upset you?”

  “The part about the names, Kevin. About how people should be able to go by any name they want.”

  Kevin shook his head. He wasn’t sure what this was about. “What about it, Wyatt?”

  “I was being so negative.”

  Negative? Wyatt? Negative?

  “What do you mean?” he asked, unable to keep from placing his hands on Wyatt’s shoulders.

  “I was being so judgmental. Making fun of people for the Craft name they wanted to use….” Wyatt’s eyes were glassy, wet. It was obvious he was trying to prevent himself from crying.

  “Wyatt. Sweetness.”

  Sweetness? Did you just call him “sweetness”?

  Kevin took a deep breath. “You weren’t making fun. You were just pointing out something a little amusing in the pagan community. We have to laugh at ourselves.”

  “But I wasn’t laughing at myself. I was laughing at other people.”

  Kevin shook his head. “I can’t imagine you laughing at anyone.”

  Wyatt pulled away, turned his back. “But I do. I do. Howard used to think it was funny, and I liked to make him laugh. It was better than the yelling. But what I was doing. I wasn’t thinking….”

  Kevin didn’t know what to do. What to say. He never did. That’s why he’d hired Theresa Nash to do the public and presentation speaking for him. And this not knowing what to say was another reason to remain silent and let others do that talking. But today there was no one else!

  He took another deep breath. What would Malcolm Kane say?

  “I don’t know what you were thinking, Wyatt. But if there is anything I know about you, Little Bear, it’s that there isn’t a malicious bone in your body.”

  Wyatt spun around, his face quite wet now. His tears had been so silent! “Not thinking is my problem. Maybe if I thought—used my brain—Howard would never have left me.”

  Maybe if you had “thought,” you would have left him years ago, Kevin wanted to say. But he didn’t. Instead: “Wyatt, just because you were a little insensitive about the magic names people pick doesn’t mean you are an unthinking person. I mean, we’ve all joked about—”

  “It’s not just that,” Wyatt all but spat. “I say things all the fucking time without thinking about it! Like the day I found out Howard was HIV positive—”

  Kevin’s eyebrows shot up. He couldn’t help it. Howard was HIV positive? Dear God! Did that mean…?

  “—I was talking to Kitty, and she was saying that the guy who manages the gas station next to the store was a dickhead—”

  Kevin couldn’t even wonder who the hell “Kitty” was. All he heard was “HIV positive.” Was Wyatt…?

  “—and I said that she should say ‘vagina’ and not ‘dickhead’ because penises were good things, and then Katherine pulled me into her office and gave me this lecture about how I shouldn’t use the word ‘vagina’ in a negative way and I said—”

  “Wyatt!” Now Kevin did grab Wyatt’s shoulders. Hard.

  “Ow!” Wyatt looked up into Kevin’s face. “I didn’t mean anything bad when I said it, Kevin! I was just trying to be funny. People use the word ‘dick’ to be a bad thing! So why isn’t it okay to—”

  “Wyatt! My God! Howard is HIV positive?”

  Wyatt stopped. Opened his mouth. Shut it. He gave a slight nod, and then the tears began to flow down his sweet, round, beard-shadowed face. “Y-yes.”

  No! No no no no no! Had that bastard infected Wyatt? “And you? God. You?”

  “What about me?” Wyatt asked.

  “Did he infect you?” God! Oh God! He wanted to scream. Could someone else he loved have HIV?

  Wyatt’s eyes were huge and round and so very dark. Eyes that had always struck Kevin as beautiful now looked like holes into the abyss.

  “N-no. I’m okay.”

  Okay? Okay? Did he mean…?

  Wyatt shook his head. “I’m okay. He—Howard—he didn’t infect me.”

  The relief was immense. Like nothing Kevin could remember in years. He pulled Wyatt into his arms, trying to pull him into his bones, his soul, and he did everything he could not to cry himself. He didn’t succeed. Crying. Him. What would Theresa think?

  But all he could think was Thank God, thank God, thank God! Hadn’t Wyatt been through enough? Hadn’t Howard already put him through enough, then to give him a final “gift” of HIV? Thank God Wyatt was okay. But then the worry came rising back to the surface like a rocket launching from a hidden submarine.

  “A-are you sure?” he asked, letting go of Wyatt just enough so he could see his face. HIV! Fucking HIV! Hadn’t the virus done enough?

  Wyatt nodded again, his lower lip trembling. “Yes. I was tested. The guy there… he said enough time had passed since I was last sexual with Howard and—”

  Kevin pulled Wyatt tight against him once more. He couldn’t remember feeling like this. Discovering that Google wanted to purchase the apps he’d created—a couple of them he’d even thought of as silly—and had been willing to pay a hell of a lot for them hadn’t brought him this much joy.

  “K-Kevin” came Wyatt’s muffled voice. “I can hardly breathe.”

  Kevin jerked and stepped back, if only by inches. “I—I’m sorry, dear.”

  “Dear?” Wyatt asked, that lower lip trembling again.

  It was all Kevin could do to keep from kissing Wyatt. Wyatt’s beautiful sweet mouth.

  “You scared me, Wyatt. I thought that Howard had given you—”

  “No.” Wyatt stepped back. “And how do you know it wasn’t me that gave it to Howard? How do you know it was him?”

  He looked angry, and that was not what Kevin would have expected.

  How did he know? He just knew. But could he say that? “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so relieved.”

  Wyatt turned away, walked over to his bed, and sat on the edge of the mattress. “
Seems to be a lot of that going on. Me making crass comments on the names people choose for themselves. Me using the word ‘vagina’ to be a bad thing.”

  Kevin winced. Wyatt’s comment hadn’t hit him the first time. All he had heard was “HIV positive.”

  Boy! What would Theresa say if she’d heard Wyatt call someone a vagina? They would all have heard a lecture.

  “Katherine said that women are made to feel bad about their bodies. About their… female stuff. That their… girl parts… were nasty and dirty. I didn’t know that! All I knew was that I’ve heard straight guys wax poetic about them. I had a friend in high school go on for days about how beautiful he thought they were. It was listening to him go on and on about them that made me realize I was gay. He wasn’t fooling. He was serious. He really did think they were beautiful! And I knew right then that was how I felt about penises. That they were beautiful, and not just hot. I liked dick and he liked vaginas. I mean, don’t a lot of people like them? Vaginas? Rita Mae Brown loved them so much she wrote a book about it and called them ‘rubyfruit jungles.’ And didn’t Georgia O’Keeffe paint her flowers to look like vaginas?”

  Kevin fought the abrupt urge to laugh. He couldn’t help it. Even in distress Wyatt was adorable.

  “I’ve heard that wasn’t really intentional,” Kevin said. He’d seen an exhibit of her work at the Whitney Museum several years back, and he was sure that was part of what he heard while he was there.

  Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Yeah! Sure! Whatever! I may’ve not seen too many vajayjays up close, but I know one when I see one. And that’s just what those paintings are!”

  Now Kevin did laugh. He couldn’t help it. One minute Wyatt was in tears because he thought he was an unthinking “turd,” and now he was going on about Georgia O’Keeffe and vaginas. “The point, Wyatt, was that you didn’t realize you were doing anything wrong.”

  “But shouldn’t I have? Known?” Quite suddenly he was looking desperate again.

  Kevin moved over to the bed and sat down next to Wyatt. “You probably don’t spend much time talking about vaginas, Wyatt.”

  “…and I was watching this recent Margaret Cho special and she was talking about ‘pussy’ and doing this routine about gay men having to eat them for the first time in order to save the world, and it was sooooo funny and I was laughing so hard, and now all I can think of is that I’m some kind of misogynist and—”

  “Wyatt!”

  Wyatt jerked and looked up at him. Oh, those eyes!

  “You are not a misogynist. I can’t imagine you hating women. I can’t imagine you hating anything.”

  Wyatt slumped. “You don’t know me very well.”

  Ah, but I want to.

  Now how to make Wyatt feel better?

  “Wyatt, we can’t help what we’ve done. We can only try and help what we are about to do.” He was drawing from Malcolm Kane now (and again). “We can only do our best from day to day. And that is going to change each day. Yesterday’s best will be different than today’s best and tomorrow’s. Whatever we do, we must simply try our best. You didn’t know that there were women who were made to feel bad about their genitals.”

  “Margaret Cho sure doesn’t seem to feel bad about hers,” Wyatt said with comically wide eyes.

  Kevin almost laughed again. But not now. Later. They could laugh about it later.

  “Nevertheless, now you know. So now you know never to use the word ‘vagina’ as a bad thing. It doesn’t matter that people use ‘dick’ as a bad thing. We should always keep other people’s feelings in mind whenever we can. We can’t monitor every single word we say. We can’t know how everyone feels.”

  Wyatt gave a little sigh and looked at him with those big brown eyes again. At least now they didn’t look quite so sad.

  “And people shouldn’t use the word ‘dick’ as a bad thing either,” Kevin said.

  “That’s what Katherine said. She said, ‘You’ve never heard me use that word, have you?’”

  “I’m glad she did. It sounds like she was trying to help you.”

  Wyatt nodded. “She’s like my mom.” There was a flash in Wyatt’s dark eyes, but it was gone as fast as it was there. “I love her so much.”

  “Then I’m glad you have her in your life.” In fact, Kevin found he was a little jealous about that. “You know, ‘dick’ isn’t the only word we shouldn’t use in a bad way. What about ‘junk’? I hate that people use that word! Is that what they think of their genitals?”

  “Yeah!” Wyatt cried. “I sure don’t call my stuff ‘junk’!”

  “Me either. Even if I’m not all that big when—”

  Wyatt’s eyes went big. “Not big? Your cock and balls are fabulous!”

  Kevin felt his face heat up. Wyatt had been looking at his…?

  “I mean, your balls are so big! And your dick, it might not be flopping around like Rat Bastard’s, but it’s so thick. And that’s when it’s soft. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered how big it—” He stopped, and then it was his turn to blush.

  It only made Kevin blush all the harder. Wyatt had wondered about his hard-on?

  Wyatt looked away. “I’m the one with the tiny dick,” he whispered.

  Tiny dick? “Wyatt…. You don’t have a tiny dick.”

  Wyatt nodded. “Yes, I do. Howard said that was one of the reasons he needed to be with other men. That mine wasn’t big enough to satisfy him.”

  “Howard is a fucking fool,” Kevin said with distaste. God, he couldn’t stand that man! Imagine, making your lover—your lover—feel bad about his most personal part. “Wyatt, I think your penis is perfect. Perfect for you. You’re not a big guy.”

  Wyatt looked back. His cheeks, which had gone from red to pink, heated up again. “You think my penis is perfect?” His voice cracked at the end.

  “I think all of you is perfect,” Kevin replied, and once more his face grew hot. How had they gotten into this conversation? And he did think Wyatt’s penis was perfect. His testicles weren’t small by any means, one always riding up higher than the other, especially when he came out of the lake when the water was cold. His penis, stout and riding up over his balls, was cut, and he had seen Wyatt with an erection. In the shower house for one, when men were rousting about late at night, catcalling and tickling each other and playing grabass (and more). “And yes. You have a very nice penis.”

  “You’ve looked?” Wyatt’s expression was unreadable. Was it sad? Happy? Hopeful? What?

  Kevin nodded. “I’ve looked,” he said very quietly.

  “I’ve looked at yours too,” Wyatt said, equally as quiet.

  They gazed into each other’s eyes, and Kevin found he was getting hard right then. But this wasn’t the time or place. Or at least the time.

  But what to do?

  Then he remembered his plans for the snow. And what he’d done.

  “Hey.” He grinned. “Want to play in the snow? It’s the best kind. Snowball weather!”

  “But it’s so deep!” Wyatt said. “How could we do anything?”

  “At least two feet!” Kevin smiled all the wider. “But the parking lot is all cleared now. Want to?”

  “You won’t throw one in my face, will you?” Wyatt asked with a little pout.

  “Well… I can’t promise anything.”

  Wyatt laughed… then grew serious. “You just came in from two hours out there. Aren’t you cold?”

  Kevin shrugged. He’d warmed up. And how! “I’ll be fine.”

  So they got all bundled up and went to the parking lot and had a wonderful time. It was so grand to hear Wyatt laughing. And they both got a few snowballs in the face.

  It wasn’t until they were returning to the cabin that Wyatt noticed the path that Kevin had cleared to the north, past their cabin.

  “When did Gryphon do that?” he asked.

  “I did it,” Kevin said and felt himself blush once more.

  “You did?” Wyatt looked down the path, then back. “Why?”<
br />
  Kevin cleared his throat and was surrounded in a plume of frosted air. “You said you wanted to do a little ritual down at Pax Place. I cleared the way for you.”

  Wyatt’s mouth fell open. “You did?”

  Kevin nodded.

  Then Wyatt did what Kevin absolutely loved. He smiled. Wyatt had the most wonderful smile in the world. Then he jumped into Kevin’s arms.

  “Oh, thank you, Kevin! Thank you! I just love you.”

  Kevin felt his heart leap.

  If only you did, Little Bear. If only you did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  IT HAD been a most interesting day. Certainly not the day Wyatt had expected, not at all what he’d prepared for. No, he’d thought this day was going to be about being alone and meditating and then working his ritual to try to finally say good-bye to Howard. Put him away, as he knew Howard had put him away.

  That’s not what happened. Instead Kevin—a man he’d known as “Hodor” for as long as he could remember—had shown up out of the snow and spent the day with him. An emotional day, filled with highs and lows, games and tears… and snowball fights.

  Was it silly that he was reminded of that scene in Beauty and the Beast when Belle and the enchanted prince were playing in the snow? Kevin was no beast, but he was a head taller than Wyatt. And Wyatt knew he was no petite Belle, no beauty, but still. He couldn’t help it. It had felt good to play. And really good to have someone say sweet (and sexy) things to him. Was it any wonder that song had filled his mind? Lyrics about something being there that hadn’t been before?

  Was there something there that hadn’t been before?

  And should he even be thinking about things like that?

  He hadn’t even been apart from Howard for six months. What was he doing thinking romantic thoughts? And he was thinking romantic thoughts.

  Wasn’t sex a much better way to direct his thoughts? Sex was so much easier. He wasn’t stupid enough to think anybody would want more from him than that, even though Howard had said he wasn’t sexy. But Kevin seemed to think so. Kevin said he had a nice penis.

  He certainly liked the idea of having sex with Kevin. A lot. The man kept giving him a boner. He’d liked the idea of crawling into bed with “Hodor” for a long time. And from what Kevin said, he might like the idea too!