by Andrew Grey
“How can you be so… blasé about this?”
“What? You’re gay. So what? You think you’re the first gay person I’ve known?” She rolled her eyes. “Just because I live on a farm doesn’t mean I don’t know how things are. We get CNN, remember? I get to watch television, and I like that RuPaul show. It’s hilarious.” She laughed loudly. “You don’t need to hide from the people who love you.”
“But why aren’t you mad? We’ve been going to church, and I’ve heard for years how I’m going to hell because I’m gay.”
“Please. That old windbag doesn’t know his head from a hole in the ground. I only go because I have friends there. You really think I listen to that crap?”
“Lots of people do.” Foster wasn’t sure how to react. At this moment he’d always pictured some sort of fight with tears and maybe a few threats or her telling him how disappointed she was.
His grandmother pulled him into a hug. “Sweetheart, I’m your grandmother, and I love you no matter what. Being gay is part of who you are, and didn’t I always try to teach you to be true to yourself?”
“Yeah. But I guess….” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, letting her hug wash over him. He didn’t need to beg trouble or heartache; he already had enough to last a lifetime.
“You miss Javi.”
“I loved him, Grandma, and now he’s gone and I’m not going to see him again.” Foster felt tears stinging his eyes. He’d held them in for weeks, not wanting anyone to know what he’d been going through. It sucked to feel like a black hole had opened in his life and to have to keep it in and remain silent about it.
“Are you sure you were in love with him?” she asked.
“You told me how I’d know, that day when we were working in the garden. I spent hours thinking about him when he was gone, and then when we were together, it was like everything was right with the world. He made me happy just by being here.” Foster released the hug and wiped his eyes, embarrassment taking over a little. He didn’t want to cry in front of her or anyone—he was a man now and in charge of the farm. “He told me he loved me, and I know he did. I could see it in his eyes, but maybe what hurts most is that he didn’t love me enough to stay.”
She shook her head. “Sweetheart, love isn’t the answer for everything. I know you see it in the movies and on television—love overcoming every obstacle, one way or another, and I’d like to think that it’s true. But I’m afraid it’s not. The world has a completely different agenda sometimes. Javi left with his family because he felt he had to, am I right?”
“Yeah. I asked him to stay. He could go to school if he wanted, and we could work the farm together.” Foster’s shoulders slumped. “I had this vision in my mind of Javi and me taking care of the farm, living here, happy together for the rest of our lives. I know it was stupid, but I wanted it. I think about him all the time, and I miss him, especially at night.”
“Of course you do. I still miss your grandfather after all these years. And I know your mother will always miss your father. I believe that when you love someone, they never truly go away. You carry them with you in your heart and memories always. Your grandfather is always with me because I take the good times we had together wherever I go.” She inhaled, and her eyes hardened. “But I do have something important to say that you need to understand. You’re young and you have your entire life ahead of you. I spend a good share of my time remembering the happy times of my life. You need to go out and live yours, meet other people, and see what the world has to offer.”
Foster looked around the barn. “This is my world, unless you and Mom want to sell the farm.” The idea left him cold. The land was part of him. He hadn’t realized it until he said the words and thought about losing it. “But that isn’t what I want. Mom keeps telling me that I need to find someone to share the farm with, the way Grandpa had you, and Dad had her.”
“Yes. But what’s more important is that you’re happy, regardless of whether you’re with someone or not, and lately you’ve been working yourself hard, day and night, to keep from feeling and thinking about Javi. A broken heart isn’t going to heal by forgetting or running away. You need to deal with it and then let the magic of time take over, because that’s the only cure… and maybe talking to those who love you.”
Foster hugged her as tightly as he dared. Grandma Katie was a tough old bird, but he didn’t want to hurt her. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She patted him on the back. “I’m always here to listen if you need me. And you need to talk to your mother. She’s worried about you too.”
“Do you think she’ll be angry?”
“No. I think your mother just wants you to be happy.” She took a step back, looking into Foster’s eyes. “I have a few more things to say. First, you better be safe and use condoms.”
Foster groaned. There were many things he could talk about with his grandmother, but this was so squicky.
“Don’t even go there. You need to be safe.”
“Grandma, Javi is gone, and I’m not going to go out and try to sleep with every gay guy within a hundred miles.”
She smacked him on the shoulder. “I should hope not. But that doesn’t mean you should be stupid. Anyway, second, you need to live for yourself and be happy in who you are. Doesn’t matter if you have someone in your life. So don’t hide. Your mother and I will support and care for you no matter what, so just be yourself. Sometimes that’s the hardest thing in the world.”
Foster wasn’t sure how he felt about others knowing he was gay. “I need to—”
“Just be happy with who you are. That’s all I want for you. It doesn’t matter who you love or marry. Just be happy.”
“What about church and all those people?”
She scoffed. “Find a place that you’re comfortable with and where you fit in.”
Foster swallowed. “What if I tell people and no one wants to do business with me anymore? What if we lose the farm because the dairy doesn’t want to buy our milk? Or….” He shivered as the possibilities of what they all stood to lose because of him left him cold. “People around here are conservative, and they all go to the same church we do. They’ve heard that ‘old windbag’ Reverend Cartwright for years, and they believe it, so what if they start to act on that and cut us out?”
“Then we’ll deal with it. But you can’t let small-minded people define you. Just be yourself.”
Foster nodded. “But what about….” He sighed. There was nothing anyone could do about Javi. He was gone, and no matter how much Foster missed him and wished he hadn’t left, there was nothing he could do about it. “I guess I have to get over Javi, but I don’t want to forget him.” He swallowed hard, remembering the tender moments when they were alone, standing at the top of the hill as they shared their dreams. “I was never anyone’s dream before.”
“Yes, you were,” Grandma Katie said, and Foster realized he’d vocalized his thought out loud. “You were a dream come true to your mom and dad. They didn’t think they could have children and had been trying for a long time. Your mom was about to give up, and they had started to research adopting, but then she found out she was pregnant, so believe me, you were your mother’s dream, and your dad’s.” She paused. “But I understand what you mean. Javi looked at you like you were the center of the world, and he kept watching you, sharing smiles, and when you were alone, you shared secrets each of you has only told the other.”
“Yeah, and even when we were working, he made the chores seem lighter.”
“Your grandfather did that for me, and I like to think I did it for him.”
“So what should I do?” Foster asked.
“Remember the best parts, the warmth and the joy, use it like a blanket, and go on.” She smiled and turned, walking away more slowly than she usually did. He watched her go, head slightly bowed, swaying ever so slightly from side to side, not unsteadily, but almost like she was dancing. Maybe in her mind she was. Foster certainly hoped that her memories w
ere happy. Because no matter what he’d said to his grandmother, he couldn’t let go. Not yet.
Chapter 10
FOSTER SAT on the tailgate of his truck, legs dangling as he looked out over his home below, now colored with the first dots of red, yellow, and orange of fall. He didn’t have much time. This was a very busy time of year. He’d cut the last of the hay and that had been rolled into huge bales, which had been covered and sat near pastures where he’d need them. He was going to start harvesting the corn soon, placing it in the silos for the winter. There was plenty of work to be done and a lot that had been completed. Somehow he’d done it—they’d done it.
Loneliness was still a near-constant presence, especially when he tortured himself like this and came up here to the top of the hill. “I’m so stupid,” he muttered under his breath. “I need to stop this,” he added out loud even as he turned to look toward the edge of the asparagus fields, like he always did. There was no red van—not that he expected to see one, obviously. Javi was gone and it was time for him to move on. That was why he’d come up here. Javi wasn’t going to return until spring, if at all. Foster slid onto his feet and closed the tailgate before getting in the truck and driving down the hill, then back to the farm.
“Hi, Mom,” he called with a smile after getting out. “What are you doing?”
She straightened up from the garden. “Just getting the last of what there is before a really hard frost kills it off.” She picked up her basket and carried it along with her. “We’ll have a few weeks for some things yet, but the rest are done, and I thought I might as well glean what I could.” She turned to him. “What’s got you smiling?” She stroked his cheek. “It’s good to see you like that again.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so….”
“I know.” She slipped the basket down her arm. “Do you still miss him?”
Foster chuckled. “Yeah. I want to tell him how well we did at the market, and that the stand, which was his idea, has been a great success.” He turned to the stand, which was locked up tight now and all set for winter, but would open again in the spring. He had plans to expand what they grew so he could keep it going longer in the season.
“Foster,” she said, and he turned his gaze away from the stand, blinking a few times to bring himself back from his little mind trip.
“I’m sorry.” He shifted from foot to foot nervously.
“No. You’re allowed to feel the way you want.” She shook her head. “This has been hard for me because, unlike your grandmother, I didn’t see any of it coming.”
“I know.” His mother had taken the news that he was gay quite hard. She hadn’t been angry, but it had been difficult for her to understand. “But it’s part of who I am, and I’m coming to understand that and accept it, just like I have to accept that Javi is gone and isn’t coming back.”
His mother turned away and groaned. “I’ve seen you. Every morning when you come down for breakfast, the first thing you do is look out in the yard, and you have this hopeful light in your eyes, and then when the yard is empty, it’s gone. I still don’t understand it after all this time.”
“I dream about him almost every night, and then I wake up and want to hope he’s here. Is that so bad?” Foster challenged.
“No. I only want you to be happy. I can learn to accept anything as long as you’re happy.”
“Including me wanting to be with another man?” He’d talked things over with his grandmother, but his mother hadn’t wanted to talk up till now. There had been no yelling or drama, just silence on the subject for weeks. And truthfully, he hadn’t needed to talk with her about the fact that he was gay. But now that she’d brought it up….
“Yes, dear. I always wanted grandchildren, but I think a nice son-in-law would be perfectly fine.” She smiled.
“I just want you to be proud of me,” Foster said, and his mother stopped, her expression registering surprise.
“I’m proud of you each and every day. You manage this farm better than your father did. We’re in a better place financially than we were last year, and we should make it through the winter without worry. There wasn’t a year that your father didn’t worry if we would run out of feed or if we’d have enough money to cover unexpected expenses. We have that now and the debts are being paid down. That’s the most any farmer can hope for.” She hugged him gently. “I’ve always been proud of you. This isn’t an easy life for anyone, and you took to it and have mastered it.”
“This is my home. If I didn’t do something, we were going to lose it.” That had been unacceptable no matter which way he’d looked at it.
“Go on inside and sit down for a little while. I’ll make us some lunch, and you can rest for an hour before afternoon chores. There’s always work to do, but taking a little time to rest makes all the difference.”
He walked with her, not having the heart to argue and knowing a little time to sit with his feet up would be nice, even if he had his laptop on his lap so he could plan his harvest.
They went inside, where his grandmother had already started lunch, filling the kitchen with the buttery scent of fried potatoes and the spice of sausages. “I thought something hot would be good on a day like this.”
“Let me help you,” Foster said.
She shooed him into the other room. “I can make lunch.” She flicked her gaze at his mother quickly enough that Foster wasn’t sure he’d seen it. “Go sit down. I’ll call when it’s ready.”
He went into the living room, turned on the television, and settled into his favorite chair. The recliner had been his father’s, and Foster had appropriated it since neither his mother nor grandmother ever used it. He lifted his laptop from the floor next to the chair and settled it on his lap. He ended up ignoring the television as he planned how he was going to get all the corn harvested before the snow set in. He still had some time, but the weather would most likely dictate how quickly he could get the crop in. He would need five clear days to get everything in and set. He was figuring out the order and routine he wanted to use when the phone rang and was answered.
“Foster,” his mother said, bringing him the phone. The farmhouse still had one of the old ones with the superlong cord.
“Hello?”
“Foster.”
“Mr. Dulles, how are you?” Foster smiled.
“Good. It’s been a good year, and from the looks of things, you’ve had a good year as well.”
“I took your advice—treated the farm as a business and looked for opportunities. And they seem to have worked out for the most part.” He smiled.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Foster could hear the smile in the older man’s voice. “I was calling to coordinate the use of the harvester.” There was no need for both farms to have a full harvester that would be used just one time a year.
“I was just planning what I was going to need.” He talked harvest schedules and plans until he was called to lunch. By the time he hung up, Foster had added tentative dates to his harvest plan, and he was relieved he had someone to work with. He had agreed to help with Mr. Dulles’s harvest, and he was getting help in return. Things were really working out.
After ending his call, Foster went in for lunch and sat in his usual place. His mother and grandmother talked softly while he ate and mostly stared out the window at nothing. A car pulled off the road in front of the farm.
“Foster,” his mother said to get his attention.
Foster turned away, pulling his thoughts back to the present. “Sorry, Mom,” he said softly.
“I was saying that we have enough produce to go to the farmer’s market one last time. Katie is going to send some of her preserves, and that should be it until spring. She and I will put up the rest of what’s in the garden for us to use in the winter.”
“That sounds good to me,” Foster agreed. Grandma Katie and his mother had already put up plenty, but a little more wouldn’t hurt, and neither would a little extra money. “I was thinking about adding yet another ga
rden area. There’s some fresh ground over near the toolshed. I thought I’d till it up this fall, and we could plant squash there. There’s room, and they’ll be easy to grow and a great fall crop.”
“Good,” his mother said.
“But no zucchini. I hate that stuff,” his grandmother chimed in.
“I agree with that. Everyone grows it, anyway. I was thinking some butternut and maybe one other kind of squash. If there’s room, we can see about pumpkins, maybe pie pumpkins or something. But they take a lot of room that we may not have.”
The doorbell rang, and Grandma Katie got up before he could stop her. “Probably someone asking about the produce stand.” She left the room and went to the front door. No one ever came to that door, so Foster wondered if it was people trying to find souls to save or selling something.
“Foster,” Grandma Katie called.
He got up, passing her as he headed to the door. “What is it?” he asked.
“Definitely someone for you.” Her smile was wickedly naughty, and he went to the door, pulling it open the rest of the way.
Foster stood stock-still, blinking more than once, not willing to believe he was seeing Javi standing on his porch.
“Foster,” Javi whispered. He was thinner and his voice seemed rough, his eyes a little sunken. Foster opened the outer door and waited for Javi to step inside before pulling him into a hug, burying his face in his neck. The scent of Javi, something he never thought he’d smell again, filled his head with warmth, sweat, and a hint of spice.
“What are you doing here?” Foster asked when he found his voice.
“Am I welcome?” Javi asked. “I didn’t know where else to go, and I hoped you…. That you’d still want….” Javi moved away. “I should have known this was a bad idea.” He turned toward the door, but Foster grabbed his arm. Without thinking, he enveloped Javi in another hug and kissed him, hard, full-on, and with all the longing that had built up during their months apart.
