Shotgun

by Marie Sexton

  “The night you and I met,” he said, his voice quieter. “It changed my life too, Dom. Maybe not in the same way, but….”

  He fell silent, turning a single Lego over and over in his hand. I waited patiently, and eventually he spoke again.

  “I came out as soon as I got home, and I never looked back.” He shook his head. “In hindsight, I can see I’ve made some really shitty choices in my life, especially with regards to men. But you were never one of them. I never regretted my night with you at all.”

  “Me neither.” The only thing I regretted was how much harder it was now than it had been back then. We fell silent for a few moments, both of us staring at the table, apparently lost in thought.

  “Hey,” he said, looking up with a smile. “You like football?”

  The question caught me completely off guard. “I guess. I mean, I can take it or leave it, but I don’t dislike it, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

  “Zach and Angelo invited us over tomorrow to watch the game.” I couldn’t help but wonder how that invitation had come about. “You’ll come with me, right?”

  And even though I couldn’t have cared less about whoever would be playing on Sunday, I found myself saying, “I’d love to.”

  LAMAR

  MISS PRISS didn’t venture too close on her first night with me. She stayed a few yards away at all times, watching me warily with her big green eyes. She refused to come nearer, despite me talking to her constantly and trying to lure her with treats. When I finally climbed into bed for the night, she parked herself on the corner by my feet and continued to stare at me as if I might suddenly turn into the world’s largest rat.

  “I’m not scary, you know,” I told her.

  She looked skeptical.

  At 2:00 a.m., she began meowing incessantly. I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled around the house, trying to figure out what was wrong. Food? Check. Water? Check. Access to the litter box? Check. A toy? There were a few scattered around the house, but she ignored them all.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked her.

  Meow.

  I went back to bed and startled awake a few hours later to something tickling my nose. I pulled away, opened my eyes, and found myself staring at Miss Priss’s pink nose as she sniffed my eyeball. I held very still, waiting for her to complete her inspection. She circled my head, climbing over me in the process. Finally she settled down, lying draped across my neck like some kind of furry scarf.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I told her.

  She began to purr.

  I’d never owned a cat. I’d certainly never had a cat decide to sleep on me. But there was something remarkably peaceful about hearing that faint sound as she breathed in and out. About knowing she was content. I scratched her ear, and she tilted her head toward my hand, still purring away.

  “Maybe we can make it work after all,” I said.

  Meow.

  Each morning, I feared I’d wake to snow, but a glance outside on Sunday morning showed me clear blue skies and all the sunshine I could hope for. A glance at my phone showed four missed calls from my stalker, but even that wasn’t enough to dampen my spirits. I brewed a cup of Irish breakfast tea and spent the morning luring Miss Priss into my lap with cat treats.

  It’d been hot enough the day before to rake without a jacket, so after showering, I dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, but when Dominic arrived to pick me up, I stepped out into what felt like the arctic. It may have been sunny, but the wind felt absolutely polar to my Texas skin. I climbed gratefully into Dominic’s car.

  He studied me as I sat there, rubbing my bare arms.

  “Aren’t you freezing?”

  “A little bit. It was almost eighty degrees yesterday! How can it be this cold today?”

  “Welcome to Colorado.” He flipped a U and pulled away from my house.

  “Is this normal?”

  He laughed. “When it comes to the weather, there’s no such thing as ‘normal’ here.”

  “Those first couple of weeks after I moved, it did nothing but rain.”

  “Yeah, that was unusual for us. We’re usually dry as a bone. But besides the distinct lack of measurable precipitation, just about anything’s possible.”

  “When does the snow start?”

  He grinned, glancing sideways at me as he steered around a corner. “We’re overdue, to be honest.”

  I groaned at the thought. “And how long does it last? Until April or May?”

  “Ha! Hell, no. It generally sticks around for a day or two. A couple of weeks, tops.”

  I blinked at him, stunned. “But I thought there’d be tons of snow.”

  He shook his head, clearly amused. “Maybe in the high country, yeah, but not here. We’ll have a bit more than the Front Range, but still not as much as you’re probably expecting. It’s pretty unusual for it to last all winter. We actually get the heaviest snowfall in February and March, but even then, it usually melts in a few days.”

  I sat back in my seat, rethinking my assumptions about winter in Colorado. I’d pictured being trapped in my tiny house week after week while the thermostat dipped below freezing. I’d envisioned mountains of snow lining my walk. But if it usually melted off between storms, then my assumptions about the temperature were probably off too. “How warm will it be?”

  “Could be anything, really. I can remember days in January when the temperature got into the seventies. And I can remember nights where it got down to twenty-five below.”

  “Ouch.”

  “That’s pretty rare. It may get damn cold at night, but once the sun’s out, it warms up. Most days, it’ll probably be somewhere between thirty-five and sixty-five, depending on the month. January and February are the worst. March is all over the map. But fall’s a great season in Colorado. From now until the first of the year, it’ll be like this.” He gestured out the window.

  “It’ll be sunny?” I asked, my hopes lifting at the thought.

  “More often than not. We’ll have a few overcast days, but not many. Scattered afternoon thunderstorms. Maybe some hail. Snowstorms possible. But mostly, every day’s a crapshoot.” He grinned at me. “I love it.” He stopped at a stop sign and reached into the back seat to grab a jacket, which he shoved into my hands. “You can wear this if you want. It’ll drown you, but—”

  I didn’t care how big it was. It looked warm. It smelled like him, too, like metal and car oil and rubber. Like his family’s garage, only with a hint of aftershave underneath it all. “Thanks.”

  “You’ll get used to checking the weather every single day from now until June.”

  It was welcome news. I stared up into the sky. Yes, there were tufts of clouds here and there, being herded quickly toward the east by a stiff Colorado breeze, but behind them was nothing but brilliant blue. And unless Dominic was lying—and why would he be?—I’d be seeing it on a regular basis all year long. It seemed contrary to every assumption I’d ever made about Colorado, but Dom had lived in Coda his entire life. If anybody knew what to expect, it was him.

  Sunshine, more often than not.

  Suddenly, fall didn’t seem so bad. I’d thought of it as the beginning of the end, like some kind of death throe, nature taking her last gasp before being smothered by the cold. Now, as I looked around at the aspens with their bright gold and orange leaves, the Halloween decorations gracing doorsteps, and the grassy lawns that were still more green than brown, I saw autumn for what it was: a transition. A slow but beautiful shift from one stage of being to another. Not something to be grieved but to be celebrated for its own worth. To be reveled in while it lasted. I thought of pumpkins and trick-or-treaters and sipping cups of hot tea while wearing thick, warm socks. It might be warm outside, or it might be cold, but through it all, right outside my window, there would be brilliant, sunny, cornflower skies. I nearly laughed out loud at the thought. It was autumn, and the idea of spending an entire afternoon watching football seemed perfect.

 
“What are you smiling about?” Dom asked.

  His question made me smile even more than before. “Everything.”

  DOMINIC

  I WASN’T sure how I ended up with an invitation to watch football with Coda’s collection of gay men, but it was worth it, seeing Lamar so happy.

  We arrived shortly before kickoff. Jared and Matt sat in the living room, a bowl of popcorn and two sweating bottles of beer on the table in front of them. They were clearly the hardcore football fans, and I could tell at a glance they’d be cheering for opposite sides. Matt wore a Kansas City Chiefs jersey, and Jared wore Broncos orange. They looked as excited as kids getting ready for a trip to Chuck E. Cheese.

  “Playing the Chiefs today?”

  “Yep,” Jared said with obvious enthusiasm. “You’re a Broncos fan, right? You grew up in Colorado, so you must be.”

  “I guess.” Most of my family was. I didn’t care much one way or the other, but I’d watched enough games through the years to know the rules. I took an empty seat in front of the TV. “Better them than Kansas City, at any rate.”

  Jared laughed appreciatively. Matt booed and threw popcorn at me.

  “You’re cleaning that up, you know,” Angelo said without looking away from the card table set up behind the couch, where he and Zach were playing gin. Or maybe it was rummy. Or maybe it was gin rummy. I couldn’t ever keep them straight.

  “I always do,” Matt said, turning to throw popcorn at Angelo, who didn’t bother to brush the pieces out of his dark, spiky hair.

  Lamar hesitated by the card table, clearly unsure about where to sit. Zach noticed him eyeing their game and asked hopefully, “Want to play?”

  “I can wait for the next game. Looks like you guys are in the middle—”

  “Nope, not in the middle of anything,” Zach said as he quickly scooped up the cards.

  “Hey!” Angelo protested. “What the fu—”

  “This is a good place to start over,” Zach said to Lamar.

  “Only ’cause I’m kicking your ass,” Angelo muttered.

  Zach smiled and snatched Angelo’s cards out of his hand. “Exactly.”

  The three of them played cards while I watched football with Matt and Jared. I couldn’t help thinking I’d found Coda’s version of the YMCA. It was fun but strange. A lot like hanging out with my family during a football game, but nothing alike at all. I couldn’t get over how natural they all seemed together. Matt and Jared ribbed each other constantly over the game. Angelo paid just enough attention to cheer at the right times, although I couldn’t figure out which team he was rooting for. He seemed to be simultaneously both for and against Matt. Zach didn’t give a rat’s ass but chatted good-naturedly with Lamar, who seemed to be winning at cards. And Lamar… well, I hadn’t seen him smile so much since he’d been back in Coda.

  As the game wound down to a tense fourth quarter, I found myself studying the men around me more than the television. Watching Jared and Matt, I might never have known they were a couple. They acted like best friends, or like brothers, laughing at one another and throwing things at each other, insulting each other’s teams. Zach and Angelo were their exact opposite. Every touch, no matter how incidental, hinted at sensuality. It wasn’t as if they were all over each other. Their interactions were as utterly casual as any couple’s would be, but there was no denying the way Zach watched his lover or the flirting glances Angelo occasionally threw back. There was a blatant sexuality about them that made me want to look away.

  My gaze landed on Lamar.

  What would it be like to share such casual intimacy with him? I imagined grocery shopping with him. Cooking dinner. Watching TV together in the evenings and waking up next to him on Christmas Day. The thought filled me with a longing so painfully acute, I had to close my eyes and breathe deep as I turned away from his laughing eyes, back to the football game.

  There was less than a minute left, with Kansas City down by five and driving for the end zone. It all came down to the Broncos’ defense to hold them out. For the first time, Jared and Matt quit their playful banter, moving apart by bare degrees, both of them sitting forward on the couch, tense in anticipation as they watched the final down. The quarterback took the snap, faked to the runner, and stepped back to throw.

  “He’s open! He’s open!” Matt shouted.

  Denver’s outside linebacker broke free of his coverage, cut through the offensive line, and slammed into the quarterback, taking him down behind the line of scrimmage before he could complete the pass.

  “Yes!” Jared screamed, jumping off the couch.

  “Motherfuck!” Matt swore at the same moment.

  “Looks like you’re doing the dishes all week, Matt,” Angelo said.

  “Fuck you.”

  Angelo laughed and went back to his cards.

  After all their insults and playful bickering, I expected Jared to gloat a bit about his victory, but he didn’t. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling as I followed him into the kitchen, but he didn’t say a word.

  “You’re not going to rub it in?” I asked as he opened the fridge.

  “We didn’t get this far by being assholes to each other.” He took out a bottle of Fat Tire and held it out to me, then took one for himself, still grinning ear to ear. “Winner gets out of dishes for a week and has to play it cool. Loser gets to decide when we speak again after the game.”

  “Seems fair.”

  He handed me the bottle opener. “It keeps the peace. Although after that divisional playoff game last year, he gave me the silent treatment for almost three hours.”

  “Your team cheats as much as you do!” Matt yelled from the living room.

  Jared only grinned at me and took a drink of his beer.

  It didn’t take anywhere near three hours this time. Less than five minutes later, Matt followed us into the kitchen. “Jared forgot the best part of our deal,” he said as he took a beer out of the fridge for himself.

  “What’s that?”

  “Loser gets to claim a consolation prize of his choice.” He winked at Jared. “And I fully intend to collect tonight.”

  Jared actually blushed a bit, clearly both embarrassed and pleased as hell. “Yeah,” he said with a smile. “There’s that too.”

  They went back into the living room, and I was left by myself, wondering at them. How must it feel to be so sure of each other? To be so perfectly happy together, it didn’t matter what the rest of the world thought?

  I couldn’t even imagine.

  I drove Lamar home in a companionable silence. For half a second, sitting in front of his house, I thought he’d lean across the seat and kiss me, but he didn’t.

  “Good night” was all he said.

  I made the short drive back to my house. My car felt ridiculously hollow without Lamar. It was like the trip to Estes all over again, the imprint of him still echoing in my life. It was the same at home. Naomi hadn’t returned from Elena’s yet, and I rattled around the house, wondering at the void that seemed to follow me. I thought of Matt and Jared, and of Zach and Angelo. I envied them their happiness. I longed for the simple pleasure of sharing my life with the man I loved.

  Or the man I might grow to love. I hesitated to call it love quite yet, but what else could I call this sense of unrequited belonging?

  The door opened, and Naomi came rushing in, tossing her backpack onto the couch. “Hi, Dad.”

  She was down the hall and into her bathroom before I answered, but the sense of constriction around my chest eased a bit.

  Naomi. That’s who I was missing. Not Lamar. It was Naomi who filled the empty places in my life. But not even she could make me whole this time. She’d been the center of my existence for thirteen years, but now she wasn’t enough. The thought made me feel both lonely and traitorous. What kind of father was I to let her be pushed aside?

  But wasn’t this part of being a parent too, letting my child go? She had her own life to live. My job was to guide and support her. Expectin
g her to forever be my baby in return wasn’t fair to either of us.

  I sat at the dining room table, eying the many bags of Legos. The beginnings of the Death Star lay in front of Lamar’s seat, although so far the assembled pieces didn’t look like anything recognizable. I picked up the instruction manual, thinking maybe I’d start the next section, but it felt wrong to do it alone.

  “Hey, Dad,” Naomi said as she came to retrieve her backpack. “Want to go to the pumpkin patch next weekend?”

  It had always been an event for us. We’d wander through the corn maze, then buy five times more pumpkins than we actually needed and spend the evening carving them together. The thought of spending that kind of time with her eased my heart. “Sounds great.”

  “You should invite Mr. Franklin to do it with us.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. “Do you want me to?”

  She shrugged and tossed her backpack over her shoulder as she headed for her room. “Sure. It’ll be fun. Besides, if we don’t invite him to carve with us, he’ll have to do it all by himself, and that’s a pretty shitty way to spend an evening, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t even bother to correct her language. Her sentiment was perfect. It was one of those rare, rewarding moments in parenthood when you know you’ve done something right. “I think that’s a fantastic idea, Snowflake.”

  THE FOLLOWING Sunday, Lamar, Naomi, and I crowded into my extended cab pickup truck and left town. Pumpkin patches abounded in Colorado. The one Naomi and I preferred lay thirty miles east of Coda, between the Front Range and I-25. We exclaimed over the changing aspen as we left the Rockies behind. Upon arriving at our destination, we paid the exorbitant entry fee and climbed out of the car. It was a perfect fall day—sun shining, temps in the low seventies, with just a hint of a breeze. Lamar zipped up his jacket, but Naomi and I went without.

  “What first?” I asked as we headed into the hubbub of screaming kids and bedraggled parents. “Hay tower? Corn maze?”

  Naomi walked several feet in front of us, more out of excitement than any desire to distance herself from us. “Not the corn maze,” she said, grinning back at me. She pointed. “Petting zoo!”