by Andrew Grey
Chapter 13
ARTY RETURNED from his walk. He had gotten back from another fishing trip, this one shorter than the last one, and thankfully he hadn’t gotten sick this time. He pulled open the back door to find his dad sitting at the kitchen table. “Arty….” He lifted his gaze, his eyes deadly serious as he held up his phone.
“Yeah, Dad.” Arty sat down across from him. “Is something wrong?”
“Arty, you’re fired.” Then his dad stood up and slowly left the room. The chair creaked in the living room as his father sat down.
“What do you mean?” Arty asked, pushing back his chair. “You can’t fire me. I never worked for you.” He stood in the doorway, seething.
“I mean that you’re fired. Your fishing days are over. My leg is feeling better, and I’ll take the boat out next week.” He reclined in his chair and turned on the television as though he had just explained that tomorrow was going to be hot… in Florida.
“Excuse me?” Arty was shocked as hell, and anger threatened, but he did his best to control it and stay calm. “What do you think you’re doing? You were going to lose the house and the boat when I came down here. I got a better price for the catch, financed four fishing runs that were some of the best we’ve ever had, got the bills caught up, and actually have the family business humming, and you tell me I’m fired? I don’t fucking understand you at all.”
“Don’t use that language with me.” He lowered his feet and sat up. “You’re hiding. I don’t know exactly what from, but you are. This isn’t what you want out of your life, and it isn’t what I want for you.” Jesus, his dad was actually talking to him. Arty sat down before his legs collapsed out from under him in supreme shock.
“I’m making sure you have something to return to once you’re on your feet,” Arty explained feebly, a little shocked at how dead-on his father was. Maybe he was hiding, but life was easier here and more predictable. It seemed he was good at fishing and could make a success of it. What if he wasn’t good enough to make it in New York? What if his career truly was over?
His dad stood up without a cane or cast on his foot. “I’m back on my feet, and I’m taking the boat out for our next run. You need to stop this moping that you’ve been doing. You’re driving me crazy.”
“Me? I’m driving you crazy? I’m here with you for weeks, and you never say a word. You watch television, eat, and that’s it. Your friends come over and you talk to them, but I spend hours with you in the same damned house and you say nothing until it’s ‘You’re fired, Arty, I don’t need you anymore. Get the fuck out.’” He was working up to a good tantrum.
His dad just looked at him like he had two heads. “You helped me when I needed it. And I’m grateful. But it’s time you went back to your life. The one where you show up on my television every once in a while. The life that you made and tell me about whenever you call. I like hearing about your friends and the auditions you go to.” He smiled. Fucking hell, his father actually smiled. And he’d been listening. All this time, he had thought his dad just sort of zoned out on their calls. He never said much on the phone; Arty had always done most of the talking.
“But, Dad, are you…?” He trailed off at the look in his father’s eyes, the same one he’d gotten as a kid and knew he was treading on thin ice.
“I’m fine, and I will be fine. Thanks to you. I’m proud of the way you came down here, determined to help an old fool who thought he was still a kid.”
Arty blinked. “You’re proud of me?” Those were words Arty had never thought he’d ever hear from his dad.
“Of course I’m proud of you. You left this place to make something of yourself. You wanted to be more than what I was, and I want that for you too.” He paused. “I remember you and your mother talking about your dreams, and you were on your way to making them come true. And that’s what I want for you… so much more than this.” His dad had just said more to him than he had in a year.
“But don’t you still need my help?” Arty asked.
“No. In a week, after I get the boat cleaned and equipped again, I’ll be ready to go out. With three crew members, I’ll be just fine. And honestly, it will be good to get back out on the water again. I’ve been feeling a little trapped lately,” his dad said with a slight smile, nodding at his leg. Then he narrowed his gaze. “What is it you’re hiding from?”
Arty shook his head. “You never ask me about my life. Are you sure you want to hear all this?”
“I never ask because most of the time you just tell me. Now you’re being secretive and sulky. It isn’t like you.” His dad knew him better than Arty would ever have thought. The older man stayed quiet, watching him.
“Jamie doesn’t really need me. He’s doing great in New York, and everything has been going to shit for me. I figured at least here, I was needed.”
His dad clapped his hand on Arty’s knee. It was a much more intimate gesture than Arty could remember from him in quite a while. “Your career there isn’t going to change until you get your ass back to it and work hard. As for Jamie doing well, he’s struggling and he needs you. That’s what your friend Ryan said.” His dad sat back in his chair and put his feet up. “You need to go to New York and back to the young man who made you so happy. He needs you, and you need him. I’ll be just fine.” His dad grabbed the remote and turned on the television. Arty sat still, not even hearing the television as he wondered what the hell had just happened. Hell, his dad understood that he was gay after all. That blew his mind just a little, because he never really acknowledged it. Maybe his quiet father knew him better than he thought.
Arty didn’t waste time. He left the room and got his laptop, booking a flight to New York as soon as he could. He made some other calls about his job to say he was going to be returning, and left a message for Margaret to let her know that he was coming back.
“Line up as many auditions as you can. I’m ready to take New York by storm.” Once everything was booked, he sighed, and the fatigue that had plagued him for days fell away. This was the right thing to do. He knew it in his bones.
ARTY DROVE his dad’s truck to the airport with his luggage behind the seat and his dad in the passenger seat. “You know, Dad, you could come to New York sometime to visit.”
His dad shook his head. “What would I do there?” He continued watching out the windows. After the conversation a few days earlier, things had returned to the same sort of short bursts of words that Arty knew his father preferred. “You come home when you can.”
“I will.” He retraced the drive he had done with Jamie weeks before and pulled into the airport. He got out and grabbed his things from the back, saying goodbye to his father, who stood at the curb. Arty took a few steps away and then turned, letting go of his suitcases, and hugged his father. Damn, he might not say much, but still Arty felt closer to him than he had in a very long time.
When he stepped back, his dad turned and got to the driver’s side of the truck, stopping to look at him across the bed. Arty took his suitcases, nodded, and turned away and headed into the terminal. He had spent weeks ready to go home, and now that he was on his way, he was reluctant to say goodbye to his dad. Maybe that was truly the mark of a good visit, and one he’d needed to have.
THE FLIGHT to Newark was fine, and he got his luggage and waited for the train to take him into the city. There was some issue on the line, and Arty ended up taking a bus into the city, where he transferred to the subway line and then rode to his apartment. By the time he got there, he was grungy and exhausted. The flight hadn’t been that long, though everything around it had been hellacious. But now he was home.
The street outside the building had gray snow piled along the curb. Thankfully, it was melting in the afternoon sun. The cold was bracing, but it felt good. Who would have thought he would miss the smell of the city? But he had. One thing he hadn’t missed was the flights of stairs to the fourth floor carrying all his danged luggage, but he made it and opened the door.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Ryan said quietly, even as he got up from his sewing machine and rushed over before engulfing him in a hug. “Jamie is in the bedroom. His first rehearsal was yesterday, and then he had a late shift at the restaurant. He decided to take a nap when he got home today, and needs to be to work in an hour. The kid is a trooper.”
“Jamie is that,” Arty said. Ryan stepped back and thumped him on the side of the head. “What was that for?” Arty rubbed the now sore spot.
“He’s been working and worrying, and overwhelmed. You were supposed to have come back weeks ago. Everything is moving so fast, and it’s damned near overwhelmed him. Then you go on those damned fishing trips and don’t call. That man in there jumps every time the phone rings because he hopes it’s you.” His lips drew a hard line. “He’s had to learn a great deal about the city, as well as the fact that he’s had success, and that’s damned overwhelming as well. So, you deserved a smack.” Ryan turned him around. “Now you go in there and talk to Jamie. He’s convinced you’re never coming back and that he’s here all alone.”
“But I texted that I was coming and tried to call.”
“His phone was stolen yesterday and they cloned it, so he had to get a new one, but he didn’t have the money, so I found someone to loan him one, and he had to get a new number. Don’t worry about that shit now. Just go on in there and see him. He’s had a very busy couple of days, and the city has been a little rough on a trusting guy from Iowa.”
Arty sighed and left his bags where they were. Ryan went back to his sewing machine, and Arty quietly opened the bedroom door and went into the darkened room. Jamie was asleep on his side, and Arty closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m getting up, Ryan,” Jamie said and rolled over. Then he shot to a seated position, and Arty tugged him into a hug. “You’re here! My God, I thought you were going to stay down there forever.”
Arty felt so stupid. “Dad is doing better and he can take over now, so I came home.” God, he hated the way he’d made Jamie feel. “I wasn’t going to stay away, and I got here as soon as I could.” He inhaled deeply, reveling in Jamie’s scent. He closed his eyes as a sense of rightness settled over him. How things could feel so right so fast….
“So much has happened. I have to tell you all about it,” Jamie said.
“I know. Ryan told me that you’ve been running yourself ragged and working really hard all the time.”
“Yeah. I have this play and another photo job. I heard the photographer say he was looking for another guy. So now that you’re back, maybe I can call Margaret and she can see if you can do it with me.” Jamie rested his head on Arty’s shoulder, and Arty closed his eyes one more time. He knew that wasn’t likely, but Jamie was Jamie—open, friendly, caring, trusting, and so full of hope… even for him.
“You have to work tonight, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Jamie yawned. “Until eleven.” He lifted his head, and Arty leaned closer, capturing Jamie’s lips. The heat became an explosion, and Arty pushed Jamie back on the bed, tugging at his shirt while Jamie got to his clothes. They thrashed and writhed as their clothes hit the floor. Jamie laughed when Arty accidentally tickled him, the sound drawing out to a soft moan. “I don’t want Ryan to hear.”
“I’m fairly sure Ryan has a pretty good idea what’s going on in here.” Arty ran his hands over Jamie’s smooth skin, sending his desire through the roof. It had been weeks of thinking, wondering, and lying awake at night wishing Jamie had been there.
God, he was so stupid to have stayed away. Somehow, he should have figured out a way to come back to Jamie sooner. He was happier and felt so much better. Of course, holding Jamie in his arms was reward enough for anything. Arty kissed Jamie once again, needing to taste him.
A sharp knock sounded on the door. “If you two are about done getting reacquainted, Jamie needs to get ready for work, and Arty has to take care of his bags and things, because if I trip over them again, there’s going to be hell to pay all over his ass.”
Arty held still and waited for Ryan to leave and then buried his face in Jamie’s back, laughing.
“You did say he would know what we were doing.”
“Yeah, I did. I just didn’t think he’d cockblock me like that.”
Jamie stroked his cheek. “I’ll be back after my shift, and he’ll be asleep. Then you and I can have the rest of the night. I have a rehearsal at nine tomorrow, and….”
Arty closed his arms around Jamie, holding him and just breathing him in. “That sounds perfect.” He stayed where he was, letting some of the excitement fade. He was just happy to be here. “You should change for work.”
Jamie squirmed out from under him and padded bareassed to his suitcase, where he pulled out his neatly folded clothes. “I need to hurry or I’ll be late.” He dressed quickly and left the room.
“That was mean, you know,” Jamie told Ryan, his voice drifting through the door.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan said and then the sewing machine hummed. “You know, I’m working to make clothes for you, and you’re in there fooling around while I’m love-starved and working out here like a dog.”
Arty pulled on his clothes and left the room. “Yeah, yeah.” He joined Jamie, able to kiss him goodbye before he left the apartment. Ryan settled down to work, and Arty took his bags into the room to put his things away.
ARTY WAITED up for Jamie, even though it was nearly midnight before he got back. He turned off the television as soon as Jamie came inside, and got up from the sofa. “How was your shift?”
“Great. I got really good tips, and I called Margaret and told her what Andre had said about needing another guy. She said she’d call him in the morning.” He came right into Arty’s arms.
“Things don’t work like that,” Arty said. “But thank you. It’s likely he’s found someone else already.”
Jamie stepped back. “Maybe he did.” He turned away and sat on the futon. “I think you and I need to talk.” He patted the seat beside him.
“It’s late, and—”
Jamie shook his head, so Arty sat down. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about things while I was here and you were still in Florida. I came here because I thought it would be an adventure and you would be here to help me. But instead, I ended up coming alone, and—”
“I’m so sorry about that,” Arty added. “I wanted to come with you.”
“I know. But then you were gone so long….”
Arty nodded. He had a pretty good idea what Jamie was leading up to. “You met someone else and I missed my chance.”
Jamie laughed. “No….” He rolled his eyes. “But Ryan made me see that I needed to do things on my own. I was overwhelmed and I still am, but I’m learning to navigate things by myself. I know a few people now, and every day, I meet a few more.”
“What is it that you’re trying to tell me?” Arty asked.
“That when I first met you in Florida, I was scared and trying to just set my foot on a path to independence. You’ve been here and made it, so I wanted to follow you. I had this dream that I might be able to act, and since that’s what you did, I jumped at the chance to follow you. I figured that I could come here, and you would be there to help me in case things didn’t work out.” Jamie shook his head. “I was a fool.”
“Why is that foolish? I came here and struggled to figure things out too. I was lucky that I had Ryan to help point me in the right direction so I didn’t end up living behind a dumpster somewhere. And I wanted to be there for you, the way Ryan was for me. Is that so bad?” Arty was really confused by this conversation. His heart raced, and he wondered what Jamie was getting at.
“I’m not saying this very well. I needed to get away from my father and the farm to see if I could have a life of my own. Because if I didn’t, I’d never know if I could stand on my own two feet. The farm was there, and I could have just stepped into that life.”
“I think I understand,” Arty told him.
“How can you?”
Arty smiled. “You think I was always independent? The easy path is always alluring. The last few weeks, until my dad fired me, I’d been tempted to do the same thing. New York had become hard and nothing had been going my way before I left, so staying on the boat and fishing had become my own means of escape, like the farm is for you.”
“Your dad fired you?” Jamie asked, his eyes widening.
“Yeah. He told me that he was going to go back to fishing, and that I needed to get back to my life and you.” Arty leaned closer. “He told me that he wanted me to be happy and that he knew that you were what makes me happy.” Arty put up his hand. “Honest to God. He actually said that much to me, and I think I understand him a lot better now. Fathers. Sometimes they’re a pain in the butt, but then again, maybe we just need to take the time to understand them.”
“I’ll never understand my dad,” Jamie said.
“I think we’re getting a little off the topic of what you were saying,” Arty said.
Jamie shrugged. “I think it’s all wrapped together. I had to be independent and stand on my own two feet while you were gone, and I think I liked it. Dad wasn’t there to look out for me, or yell if I didn’t do something, and you weren’t there to make me get up and fish so we could get home. I had to do all that.”
Arty turned toward the door. “So do you want me to leave?”
Jamie snickered and put his arms around his neck. “No. But it means I have to be able to stand on my own and make my own decisions. The other day, I got offered another job… and I turned it down.” Arty’s eyebrows shifted upward. “They wanted me to pose naked, and I wasn’t going to do that. I talked it over with Margaret, and she didn’t think it was right either.”
