Hope Is the Thing with Feathers

by Brandon Witt

  He shrugged. “They’re okay. Wait till you try one of the magic ones. So much better.” He smiled at me then, kinda like he was really seeing me for the first time since I’d come into his house. “It really is good to see you. Sorry I’m in such a rush.”

  “No big deal.” I opened his door. “I just was returning a dish.”

  Two could play games.

  Even if one of us didn’t really know what the game was.

  He called another goodbye to me before he shut the door.

  I was nearly back to my house, and practically frozen solid, when it hit me. I now had another pan to return to Raymond Webber.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

  Turned out, I wasn’t sure of much anymore.

  IT WAS cold enough that the entire herd of cattle had gathered in the open part of the barn, sheltering within the three walls. I enjoyed working with cattle, not as much as the birds, but I’d never met an animal I didn’t love. Even with the cold, I relished caring for them. The work was much more manual than most things the birds required. Between tossing out hay bales from the loft and putting out a couple new salt licks, I actually let myself get lost to the familiar rhythm of the work.

  So much so that when I heard a slam of a vehicle door outside I let out a yip. I’d not even heard it drive up.

  Before I could fully climb down the ladder, a man poked his head through the barn doors, his large body silhouetted against the whiteness of the snow outside. “Hey, Samuel.”

  I relaxed somewhat but felt a fleeting disappointment, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe part of me had hoped Raymond had shown up. Thought. Maybe part of me had thought Raymond had shown up. “Travis! What are you doing here?”

  He stepped all the way inside the barn, his handsome face now visible. “Same time as normal. Just making the CCFC deliveries.” He looked at me with concern as he stepped closer. “You doing okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. Just got busy with the cows and all the cold.” Yeah, because that made sense.”

  Travis seemed satisfied. “Tell me about it. I swear these Missouri winters get more brutal every year.”

  “Yep, and hotter every summer.” God, it felt good to talk about the weather. Just like Travis and I did every week. No games here. I’d ask about the family, and then we’d be done talking. Just unload his truck in comfortable silence. One of the reasons Travis was the only person I actually liked being around anymore. “How are Wesley and the kids?”

  “Oh, fine.” Travis grinned. “Caleb’s back from college for Christmas break, so the twins are thrilled. Well, all of us are thrilled. Wendy’s cooking enough to make sure he puts on the freshman fifteen before he goes back in January.” He stood a little straighter. “Speaking of, Wendy sent me with a platter of cookies she made. There’s about twenty varieties. I reminded her you’re just one man and that we weren’t trying to kill you with instant diabetes, but you know my sister. Don’t let me forget to give them to you before I leave, she’ll have my hide.”

  The Bennetts were the nicest family. If I’d been told there’d be a gay married couple in El Dorado who hadn’t been run out of town, I’d have called bullshit. However, Travis and Wesley had been accepted. Hell, their feed and veterinary business was booming.

  And just like that, we fell into our routine.

  It was nice. Or at least it would’ve been. Travis’s words started kicking around in my head. I reminded her you’re just one man….

  Just one man.

  That thought wouldn’t have even registered before. But now? Well, now it hurt. Just one man.

  What the fuck had Raymond Webber done to me?

  I nearly asked Travis a question. Nearly asked him a million questions. Asked his advice. Told him about Raymond.

  I didn’t.

  We finished our work. Said goodbye, and Travis didn’t forget Wendy’s cookies.

  As I watched him drive away, I wished he had. The platter seemed like it was enough to feed an army.

  The cheerful color of the frosting and sprinkles just made me feel lonely.

  Wendy sent me those cookies every year. Every damn year. And not once had they made me feel lonely. Not even after my momma passed.

  Raymond really was messing with my head.

  FIVE

  NEARLY ANOTHER week went by. The brownies were placed in the deepfreeze. At least until the second or third day. Then they were devoured each morning as I stood at the kitchen window drinking my coffee and at night as I drank my tea. They might have been good. I didn’t really taste them. Though, there was no relief or relaxation with them, so they definitely weren’t from his magic recipe.

  Travis’s words kept echoing in my mind. Just one man….

  There were no more service vans.

  Every so often Raymond drove off in the Winnebago but always returned by the evening.

  A few times he noticed me as I took care of the birds. He waved a huge, exaggerated wave. I couldn’t tell from the distance, but I’d have placed money on there being a huge shit-eating grin on his face to match.

  Games.

  I was past fantasizing about Raymond Webber. Well, except for about fifteen minutes a day. The rest of the time was spent in loathing and despising.

  Apparently, like uncle, like nephew.

  Though I’d never masturbated to the thoughts of Old Man Webber naked.

  THE BROWNIES were gone. The daily chores done. Soon, it would be sunset, and I’d go out and shut up the birds for the night.

  I used the time to make my mother’s gingerbread recipe. It was the one tradition I kept alive. It made a massive amount of cookies. A third of the batter was for actual cookies. The rest became a gingerbread farm. I used the same metal templates my father had made over forty years before. The barn was always exactly the same. The farmers, fences, cows, and birds never changed. I’d forced myself to go into town the day before to get peppermints, gumdrops, and red-hots. I’d spend several evenings decorating it, and then it would sit on the dresser in the living room, in the middle of the family pictures until Valentine’s Day, when I’d bust it into a million pieces and give the birds a treat.

  I’d just finished the dough and was wrapping it up to place in the refrigerator to cool when a noise disrupted the peaceful silence of the kitchen. For a moment, I couldn’t think what it could be. Then it stopped abruptly, and I realized. It had been a car. Someone was there.

  All this new shit. Again, I was thrown off. I couldn’t come up with the last time someone had just shown up at my house.

  Hurriedly, I washed and dried my hands and bustled to the front door. This time, I didn’t flinch when Raymond stood on the other side, his hand raised to knock.

  His eyes widened. “You are terrifyingly good at that. It’s a little off-putting.”

  I glanced behind him. The Winnebago was parked in the driveway. So close to my house, the thing looked even bigger than usual. I turned my glare on him. “It’s not even as cold today as normal. You’re too good to walk across snow now?” Even as I spoke, I realized that my irritation at him driving made absolutely no sense. Embarrassed, I turned back around and stomped off, and I still couldn’t make my voice sound normal. “Probably here for your pan. It’s clean and by the sink. I’ll be right back.”

  “I don’t need my pan.” Raymond’s tone was hesitant.

  There was the click of the door closing.

  I didn’t look back at him. “Well, you’re here for some reason. I’ll just get it.”

  He was standing by the table when I came back in and shoved the pan toward him. “Here you go.” I was getting angrier by the moment. And more embarrassed. “They were good. Thank you.”

  Raymond took the pan, reaching for it carefully, like I might have turned it into a bomb or something. “I’m glad you liked them.” He motioned over his shoulder. “I actually have something for….” He studied me with a narrow gaze. “You’re mad at me. Why?”

  I flinched
that time. Raymond and his stupid bluntness. “I’m not mad at you. Quit projecting.”

  He laughed, and his lips curved into that smile, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. Those actually looked concerned. “Well, my man, if this isn’t you mad, give me a warning before the anger arrives. I, for sure, want to be over the state line.”

  My man.

  My man.

  Just throwing that out all casual and like it didn’t mean anything.

  The fucker.

  Turned out, when I’m angry enough, I can be as blunt as Mr. Off-Grid, No-Pants Webber. “Just quit playing the fucking games already. It’s obnoxious and a little cruel, to be honest. At least your uncle made his distaste for me apparent. I didn’t have to guess.”

  His smile vanished instantly. “What?”

  I rolled my eyes, enjoying finally letting out my disdain. “Oh, give me a break. Sure, maybe you’ve been all over the country and I’ve never left the goddamn Show-Me State, but I’m not some ignorant hick you can jerk around and toy with for your sick enjoyment.” Now that the anger was released, it wouldn’t stop. And my volume just kept increasing. “I’m over your stupid games. I’m sick of trying to figure out how you feel and what you want. You’re all flirty and promising sex and then you vanish into thin air like I’m the fucking plague. Well, I’m done. Finished. I don’t give a shit how you feel anymore, and I’m done thinking about your dick. You can just go dance around your stupid little off-grid house and build your wind towers and smoke your magic brownies, and leave me the hell alone.” It was only then that I realized my hands had curled into fists.

  Raymond didn’t notice, but his smile slowly returned, as did the humor in his voice. “Holy shit. You’ve got a bit of crazy in you, don’t ya?”

  I nearly screamed. Nearly grabbed that stupid pan out of his hands and bashed it over his stupid head. Instead, after a breath, my words came out in a hint of a whisper. “Get out.”

  His smile never wavered. “I don’t even know where to go with all of that. But, one, they’re wind turbines, not towers. And you don’t smoke the brownies, you eat them.”

  I took a step toward him, putting him less than a foot away. “I swear to God, if you don’t—”

  “And, most importantly”—he waggled his eyebrows—“you’ve been thinking about my dick?”

  I flinched again, feeling like ice water had been dumped over me. “What? I’ve not been thinking about your dick!”

  “Uhm, yeah. You have. At least that’s what you said.”

  “I most definitely did not say anything of the sort.”

  Still more smiling. More stupid, sexy, stupid smiling. “Yeah. You did.”

  “No, I—” Shit. I had.

  Anger fled. Replaced by complete and utter shame. I looked down at the floor and backed away.

  I’d not made it two steps before Raymond grabbed me by both arms. I looked up in shock and didn’t even have time to think before he slammed his lips over mine in a kiss.

  Honestly, I’m not sure how long that kiss lasted. Or how long it took me to start to kiss him back. I stayed frozen in his grip, brain trying to keep up, to make sense of what was happening.

  It couldn’t, so finally my body took over. Memories of years ago leading the way. My lips finally responded on their own accord. My tongue finally touched him. My hands, at long last, reached up and pulled him closer.

  That warmth and ache that he’d ignited weeks before and that had turned to anger now burst forth, nearly making me unsteady on my feet. Probably would’ve if Raymond’s grip hadn’t held me firm.

  His ice-blue eyes searched mine when he pulled back, his smile free of all play and humor. “Wow, Samuel. Wow. You got some fire in you, boy.”

  My cheeks heated. Embarrassed again, though different now, and I wasn’t entirely certain why.

  “I’ve been wanting that to happen since you showed up on my doorstep.” Raymond loosened his grip but didn’t stop touching me, instead running his hands lightly up and down my arms. “Do you still want me to leave?”

  Part of me, a terrified… petrified part of me screamed yes, that he should leave and never come back. I shook my head.

  “Good.” He finally dropped his hands, his tone growing serious. “What games, Samuel?”

  More embarrassment. And some of the anger returned as well. “What games? Don’t act like you don’t know what games.”

  “No. I really don’t.” Both his expression and his words seemed sincere. They threw me off.

  Seriously? I focused on keeping emotion out of my words, or at least anger. “You made it seem like you… liked me or something. Like you… well, hell, I’ll just say it. You kept talking about getting into my pants and stuff. You made me food. You….” My voice broke, but I refused to be overcome. “You made me… feel shit I haven’t felt in years. In years. Stuff I didn’t want to feel again. I was fine. I was fine, Raymond. I was fine! I had exactly the life I wanted. I was fine.” So much for not letting anger slip back in.

  He waited, but I didn’t have anything else to say. “I don’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry you didn’t want to feel those things. I guess I kinda had my hopes up. I know we didn’t really know each other, but there was something about you, and the more I learned, the more I wanted you.”

  I scoffed. “Wanted me. Right. That’s why you disappeared. Acted like we didn’t live a fucking foot from each other. See, you’re still doing it. Still playing games. You say you wanted me. Bullshit.”

  “I do want you.” He reached out to touch my face, but I stepped back out of his reach.

  “Yeah, you’ve proved that all right. How long has it been since you showed any interest? You did just enough to make me want things and then jerked it all away.”

  He cocked his head. It kinda reminded me of a chicken. “I, ah, think maybe I misjudged you. I wasn’t trying to play, Samuel. I did want in your pants. But after our meal together, I wanted more than just to get in your pants. And, if we had done it that night, I thought you’d probably freak out and shut me out. You seem a little set in your ways.”

  It was hard to know if what I was hearing was true or not. My hopes kept colliding with reality. “It’s been weeks, Raymond. Weeks. You just disappeared.”

  He let out a laugh, and I thought I heard a touch of anger when he spoke. “I didn’t disappear. Like you said, I’m right beside you. I was giving you time. Didn’t want to rush or pressure you. I could tell you’d freak out a bit.” He gestured down my body. “Kinda like you are right now, honestly. I’ve been right there. Waiting for you to let me know if you’re interested. Like you said, I made my intentions and desires very clear.”

  Suddenly, I could see it from his perspective. Maybe. Had he really been waiting on me? “But you didn’t come back.”

  He rolled his eyes, but the gesture seemed more out of impatience than anything. “I was waiting for you, like I said, to let me know when you were ready. I couldn’t have been clearer about how I wanted you. I’d decided that you didn’t want me that way. And if you did, and if you’ve been over here for weeks stewing over it… well, you just needed to man up.”

  Again anger and shame bit at me. I took a second to replay the weeks through his point of view, letting his words filter over how it all had seemed to me. He was right. At least mostly. I had been waiting on him to make all of the moves. But still. “Okay, maybe you’re right. And maybe I should’ve come over and said I wanted you. But you came on so strong and then nothing. I’m not sure how you expected me to be able to read your mind like that.”

  He opened his mouth, then paused, his expression altering. After a bit, he closed his mouth and shook his head. Finally he gave a little laugh. “You’re right. We’re both right. And both wrong. And both a little stupid, and maybe a bit off our rockers. Can we chalk it up to being two old men who are rusty at this?”

  “Speak for yourself. I’m not old.”

  Raymond’s smile returned. “I’m gonna have you p
rove that later.”

  A touch of the bitter sound came back. “Oh good, more promises. When would you like me to prove that, at the turn of the next century? Not sure if my pants will still be around to be gotten into by that point.”

  He shook his head again. “You really are a bit crazy, and maybe in a good way, maybe not. Luckily, I’m not your run-of-the-mill guy either, so it might just be a very good thing.” He stepped closer. “And no, not the next century. Tonight. You’re going to prove just how young and nubile you are tonight. And then again tomorrow night. Hell, maybe tomorrow morning too.”

  I froze at his words. Hope, lust, and terror sweeping through me. Tonight.

  Tonight.

  What if he walked away again?

  “Why tonight? Let’s prove it. Right now. You say you want me, prove it.” What the hell had gotten into me?

  He kissed me. Hard, heated, wet. His stubble raking against mine. He pulled me close, smashing my body to his, letting me feel that he wasn’t all talk. He pressed his erection on mine, and pulled away from the kiss. He lightly ground against me. “All right, my man. My crazy man. And you’re going to have to get used to that nickname. It’s sticking.” He continued to rub his groin against mine. “But we are waiting for tonight. The Winnebago has been idling too long as it is.”

  Disappointment flared, then confusion. “What?”

  He grinned. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  Then he was gone. The pressure of his hands, of his erection, of his presence gone.

  Maybe he was right. I did feel like I was going crazy. That I’d been lost to craziness.

  Before I could make sense of all I was feeling, before I could take in that I’d just been promised sex tonight, that I’d been promised a tomorrow, Raymond was shoving the door open with his foot and walking back into the house. He held a huge something in his arms, covered with a heavy blanket.