Hope Is the Thing with Feathers

by Brandon Witt

  For some reason, the equal mix of warmth and pain became unbalanced with him so near, in my space, eating food. Eating food.

  “This is really, really good.” I was doing my best to simply find something to say. But that didn’t make it untrue. It was delicious. I tried not to think about eating poached venison. Although, Raymond’s rationale kind of made sense. “The cilantro is amazing.”

  The grin again. “The cilantro? Really? Afraid to compliment the deer since it might make you an accomplice?”

  My cheeks heated.

  I searched for something else. Anything. “I, uhm, noticed your Winnebago. You got a ton of solar panels on that thing.”

  Raymond’s playful grin gave way to bright eyes and a boyish smile, like how I imagined I looked when talking about my birds. “Groovy, right? And it runs like a dream. Been living in that thing for ages now. Course, didn’t always have solar power. Gonna cover the roof of the house too, pretty soon.”

  I paused with my forkful of food in midair. “The roof? Of your house? Won’t that cause a glare?” Wonderful. If my roosters didn’t crow early enough to wake me up, the glare from his fucking house streaming through my windows would.

  “Nah. The newer ones aren’t like that at all. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna blind ya.”

  For a second I felt bad that he’d interpreted my selfish thoughts correctly, but he trudged on, without letting me dwell on it.

  “I bet, after you’ve seen what all I do to the house, you’ll wanna do the same thing. I’m gonna get a wind turbine, and be totally off-grid.”

  I stuffed the food in my mouth before I could comment about a wind turbine in the backyard. A fucking wind turbine!

  He must have been waiting for me to blow a gasket. His eyes widened in surprise when I finally swallowed and spoke. “It’s strange to have an environmentalist who hunts out of season.”

  It only took a moment for him to regroup. “The environmental effects are great, but that’s not really why I do it. I want to be off grid. Don’t want the government watching me any more than they have to. None of their damned business. I won’t have internet or phones or cable. So the little electricity I use will be more than covered by wind and sun.” He grinned again and took a bite of his dinner.

  “You know, you’re kind of as strange as your uncle, just in a different way.”

  He laughed. “Well, as long as we’re not the same kind of strange, I’ll take that as a compliment. Lord knows, traveling the US, I’ve been called a lot worse than strange.”

  I latched on to the topic. “How long have you been living in the Winnebago?”

  Raymond paused, and I could tell he was far away for a moment. “Well, I got that monster right after Maggie left. No, wait. That’s not true. That was just when I left Boulder.” He tapped the fork on the table. “Oh that’s right. Robert and I got our first Winnebago when we got together, so pushing thirty years.” He let out a little puff of a breath and shook his head. “Wow. Long time.”

  His expression was one I’d not seen from him yet. Maybe sadness. Almost. It nearly made me stop talking, but I couldn’t. For some inexplicable reason, I needed to know. “Who’s Maggie and Robert?”

  His blue gaze focused on me. Yep, sadness. “Maggie was my wife, and Robert was my husband.” It was said matter-of-fact. Any other tone from him and I would’ve thought he was just being his playful self. But he was serious.

  And wife?

  “You were married to a man and a woman, at the same time?”

  He gave a breath of a laugh. “No. I was married to Maggie for a few years. She split on my twenty-eighth birthday. I’ll never quite forgive her for doing it right then. Though I don’t suppose it matters at this point. And Robert was never really my husband. Couldn’t do that sort of thing back then. But that’s what he was.”

  I couldn’t keep myself from asking. “He left too?”

  He nodded, slowly. “Yep. Didn’t even know he had it until it was too late.”

  I waited. There were tears brimming at the corner of his eyes, though I didn’t understand them.

  After a moment, he wiped at them and seemed to return to the present once more. He smiled sadly. “Robert died of AIDS. We had well over a decade together, traveling the world, well, the country. After I lost him, I just never quit traveling.”

  I started to say I was sorry. Ask him if he needed a Kleenex or something stupid. Instead, I just sat there, feeling my own eyes burn.

  We ate in silence for a bit. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it just was.

  And then it began to feel like it was too long. Like if it kept going, it would get suffocating. I chose what I hoped was an easier question. “So, why are you stopping the traveling now? You’ve been waiting for your uncle’s house?”

  He snorted. “God, no. That was just, well….” He gave one of his shrugs. “You know, maybe it was just the universe telling me it’s time. I’m not going to quit traveling, but the trips will be few and far between. I’m not sick or anything, but it’s taking a toll on me, the constant moving. I’d actually been thinking about slowing down for years. That jackass dying just forced my hand, I guess. And strangely, as much I despised that fucker, he was the one bit of blood I had left, you know? Suddenly, I felt the need to put down roots.” He laughed, somewhat bitterly. “Sixty-seven and finally feeling the urge to put down goddamn roots.”

  Again I didn’t know what to say.

  Raymond’s smile returned. “Although, if I’d known how hot the faggot neighbor was, I’d have come knocking earlier. Somehow, when he was bitching about you, he forgot to bring up there was a Kevin Costner look-alike next door.”

  Despite that horrid word, I couldn’t help but be pleased. And I was glad to hear Raymond sounding more like himself.

  Though his tone didn’t darken, he looked at me seriously. “And you? Your story. Why are you here, now? Did you have a wife or husband in your past?”

  If he’d have asked me that same question an hour before, it would’ve hurt too much, and I wouldn’t have answered, but after hearing Raymond speak, I couldn’t begrudge him. I also couldn’t tell if I felt lucky to have avoided going through a husband’s death or jealous that I’d missed a love that had lasted so long.

  “Nah. No husbands. And for sure no wives.” I debated for a moment how much I should tell him. I quickly decided there was no reason to hold details back. He could find me lacking if he needed to. “I left here to go to Joplin, where I figured it was safer to be gay. And it was. Though I always hated the city. I had several boyfriends over the years. Most lasting a few months to a year or so. I had one, Mick, who stuck awhile. He was the most recent, actually. Well, if you can count seventeen years ago recent. He hung around for about six years. Then that seven-year itch came, and man, did he enjoy scratching it. I guess you can say I’m kind of a failure in the whole love-relationship department.”

  I waited for a comment. For him to confirm or to rush ahead with the “it was them, not you” speech. He didn’t. Which I appreciated.

  “I came home, back here, less than a year after he left. My dad was gone, and Mom was getting close herself. I’m glad I got that time with her, but, honestly, I’d have come back either way. I like it here. There’s a lot of quiet. It’s peaceful. And beautiful. My little slice of heaven, I guess. Or, roots, like you call them.”

  Raymond smiled, just a bit, gave a nod, but again didn’t make any judgments, positive or negative. I was glad for that too. After a few more bites, he spoke again. “Have you heard of the three loves theory?”

  I nearly choked on my food. “Uhm, no?”

  He cocked a brow at my flustered tone. “Well, I don’t really know what it’s really called, but that’s how I remember it. It’s actually offered me a little comfort after Robert. I think it really had more to do with divorce than death, but still….”

  “Okay. Well, I’m glad something helped.” I had no idea what I was supposed to say.

  Maybe nothing, as Raymo
nd kept right on going. “It’s this idea that each person has three people they’re supposed to spend their lives with. One person for their young adult lives, and they grow apart. Another person to have a family with, and then grow apart. Again, it’s more about divorce and straight people, but still. And then, finally, a person for your golden years. Three different people for different stages of life.”

  I still had no idea what to say. “I’ve… never heard that.”

  He smiled, though somewhat sadly it seemed this time. “I think I like it. Gives me hope that maybe I’m not all done yet.” The smile morphed into something more cheerful and teasing, though it was the first one that seemed rather forced. “And, no, I’m not offering marriage, Mr. Phipps, so calm down.”

  I’d not even considered that, but now that he’d said, it did rather seem like he was announcing he was looking for the final option.

  “I wish you could see your face right now. Adorable and hilarious.” He cleared his throat. “So, tell me about these Swedish Black Hens who lay golden eggs or some shit.”

  We finished eating and then cleaned up the table and washed the dishes. Each moving together like we’d done it a million times. The silence was warm and safe. The sound of his breath, comforting.

  The occasional brush of the back of his hand, or arm, and once even his thigh, was new. Kind of exciting, but warm more than anything. The snow was blowing outside the house, building up on the window seals, but I was warmer than I remembered being in a long, long time.

  When the dishes were dried and back on shelves, the silverware arranged in the drawer, and the leftovers in the fridge, Raymond finally turned to me and spoke again. And though there was just a hint of his teasing smile, his tone was serious. “Now, I know you want me to stay and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. And, believe me, even without my magic brownies, I’ll rock your world. However, I’m going to head home.” Another one of his shrugs. “Honestly, I’ll probably jerk one out thinking about you. But I don’t want you to think this gets you off the hook. I’m getting in those pants. I promise you.”

  Disappointment and relief washed over me. Surprisingly, more disappointment than relief. I glanced out the window. “It’s practically a blizzard outside.”

  This time, his grin was back in full force. “I’m not a spring chicken, Mister Phipps. I’ve heard ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ more than once. I know what you’re doing. But your seduction isn’t going to work. Not tonight. But it will. It will. You just keep it up.”

  He placed his hand on my shoulder. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. And judging from the look in his eyes, I think he thought so too. But he didn’t. After a quick squeeze, Raymond disappeared into the snow.

  I went to bed, both warmer and more alone than I had been since I’d moved back home.

  FOUR

  OVER A week passed. I tended the cattle and the birds. The days were gray and cloud-covered. No new snow. Only ice and layers of dirty snowfall refusing to melt.

  I set up the old family Christmas tree with the old familiar ornaments. The melancholy of solitude more sharp than normal. I hung the wreath on the front door that no one ever came by to see.

  I made dinner every night. Well, the first two nights, I had leftover poached venison Mexican casserole. But after that, I was back to my normal routine. Food from the deep freezers that I’d cooked in bulk and froze in individual containers.

  I sat by the Christmas tree and fire and fell asleep, then trudged up to bed in the wee hours of the morning to fall asleep again.

  Everything was how it had been. Just how I liked it. How I’d always liked it.

  However, I found myself staring at the chair Raymond had sat in when we’d had dinner.

  I glanced over toward his property about thirty times a day as I cared for the birds. I barely paid them any attention, I was so distracted. I used to talk to them, coo at them lovingly, pat their silky feathers. It didn’t matter how biting the winter wind was, I’d never slacked in giving them attention. Suddenly, the wet winter felt colder, more cruel. If I kept going the way I was, the birds would turn wild again, not used to human interaction.

  And I’m ashamed to admit, I started masturbating again. Took longer than it used to, but I enjoyed it. Until it was over, then I didn’t. I’d promise myself I wouldn’t do it again. But I did, every day. Without fail. Picturing Raymond naked. Wondering if he was always unclothed in his own home or if I’d just caught him at the right moment. Imagining what it would have been like if he’d kissed me instead of squeezing my shoulder. It was all so sordid and pitiable.

  I didn’t notice the new patterns for several days, and when I did, it just pissed me off.

  I’d been happy in my life. In my routine. I’d had all I really wanted or needed. I could’ve torn down Old Man Webber’s house and lived in peace for the rest of my days.

  Until fucking Raymond.

  Now, I wanted. I longed. I ached.

  And, seriously, what the fuck was that about? I didn’t feel those feelings anymore. I didn’t want to. And it seriously pissed me off that I was. Pissed me off at him.

  I knew what he was doing. He teased and taunted and then pulled back, making me want him more. He was fucking with my head, and he knew it. He enjoyed it. He was probably dancing all over Old Man Webber’s home naked, stupid big cock flopping about, and laughing gleefully over the agony he created.

  If he’d just pressed a little further when he’d been here, the fucking could’ve happened. It would’ve gotten awkward, but it would be over. We could’ve moved on. Itch scratched. Forbidden fruit tasted. Remembered in the afterglow of orgasms that we hated each other.

  But, no. He had to play games and make me miserable.

  I WAS pouring coffee into a thermos, getting ready to hop in my truck and drive down to the barn, when I noticed a service van pull up to Raymond’s house. I was not staring at Raymond’s house through my kitchen window at the time. I was merely checking cloud cover.

  Within a few seconds, Raymond practically bounded out of his front door to greet the van. Wearing clothes. Interesting.

  God damn it. He looked happy. Like a kid on Christmas morning. Probably was planning a magic brownie-induced orgy with the service men.

  The fucker.

  Betraying me, my gaze left the window and landed on the Pyrex casserole dish that had lain clean and waiting by the sink.

  It had mocked me many times over the past several days. Letting me know clearly that I had a reason to go to Raymond’s house. One that didn’t involve hands on my shoulder, possible kisses, or floppy cocks.

  “Well, fine, Pyrex, have it your way.” I slammed the thermos down on the counter and grabbed the casserole dish. I was three-quarters of the way down to Raymond’s before I thought about what I was doing.

  How was I going to talk to him in the middle of whatever the service men were there for?

  What if he was annoyed I showed up and ruined him offering them pot-laden brownies?

  I could’ve saved the dish for when I knew he was alone, increase the likelihood of making that cock not so floppy.

  I nearly turned around and went back. But what if he’d seen me? Then I was certain he’d make a big deal of me coming down to see him and chickening out. That was probably exactly how he’d say it. Chickening out. Probably complete with egg-laying noises, while claiming he was just being demonstrative of my love of show chickens.

  The fucker.

  I pounded on his front door, then realized how forceful I’d been. I knocked again, this time like a normal person.

  It took longer for him to answer than the other time I was here. Probably making sure the service boys had their clothes back on.

  I had no business being there. I shouldn’t even—

  The door swung open, and Raymond poked his head out. He flinched a bit, then smiled. “Hi! Samuel. What a great surprise. Come on in.” He stood back, letting me enter.

  “I, uhm….” I he
ld out the dish. “Here. I washed this for you. Thank you for the food.” Why had I chosen to do this?

  He took the dish, still smiling. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re just wearing a sweater. You’ve got to be freezing.”

  Well, damn it. I was. I’d not even noticed on my walk over. The fires of fury blocked out the weather, apparently. “Nah. Feels good.”

  He gave me a look.

  Why the hell couldn’t my father have bought this land? I never would’ve had to go through his torment.

  “Well, I’ll let you go. I just wanted to drop this off, and it looks like you have company. So….”

  Raymond’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah. I’m getting the battery installed today.”

  “Okay.” No clue.

  He pointed downward. “It’s in the basement. It will store energy from the solar panels and the wind turbines when they’re installed. It’s brand-new technology. And crazy expensive. It should get me off grid. If not, then I’ll get another one.”

  “Oh, great.” I didn’t understand his obsession with being off grid, I wasn’t even entirely sure I got the point, but he seemed happy. “Well, I’ll let you go.”

  “It’s great to see you, Samuel. Sorry I’m a bit busy at the moment, but—oh!” He grabbed my shoulder quickly, but not like the other night. “I have something for you. Be right back.”

  He rushed out of the room and came back less than thirty seconds later, a square pan in his hands. “I told you I’d make you brownies. And don’t worry, they’re not the magic kind.” He shoved them toward me.

  I took them on reflex and nearly dropped them as they almost burned my hands. “They’re frozen.”

  “Yeah. I made them a couple days ago. Wasn’t sure when I’d get to see you again.”

  I nearly reminded him that I was his only neighbor. That I could see his house from my kitchen window. I didn’t. Games. The fucker was playing games. I wasn’t sure why, but they were games nonetheless. I gripped the pan tighter, ignoring the cold ache it shot to my bones. Of course I’d not even worn gloves. Moron. “Thank you. I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”