I think I’m gonna have to pack up and go after this summer’s over. I’m already looking into my online funds and the costs of properties near my university, and what types of part time jobs they have in the area. I want to have an exit strategy for when shit hits the fan. I’m even tempted to go straight after the wedding, though I don’t think I can secure something fast enough for that. I know a few shelters to sleep in, places where I can use my laptop, so I’ll be able to maintain contact with the internet and get my lodgings sorted. I can sleep in my car if needed.
I just need to be ready.
When the day of the wedding comes, uncle Victor and my soon to be aunt Fiona are getting married just outside the main ranch building, and a pastor has come to attend the wedding. They don’t want a long, arduous ceremony, though obviously the speeches will be saved for the wedding reception inside the ranch canteen, where professional chefs have been hired from a five-star restaurant to cook. We’ve already ticked off what we want to eat from a set list, and when we attend the wedding, there’s about fifty of us all standing up.
Music blares from a CD player, pretty oldschool, and Fiona makes her way down the assemble, opting for a short wedding gown so that it doesn’t trail in the dirt. Her father walks beside her, holding her hand. She looks radiant, of course, beaming behind her transparent veil, shaking with excitement as my rather portly uncle watches her walk down, a huge smile upon his face. The local pastor wears a kindly expression, and when she makes it to stand next to Victor, her father lets go of her hand with a rather misty-eyed look. It’s the same look on her mother in the crowd, who is already grabbing tissues and sobbing into them, happy to see her daughter married at last.
The vows are exchanged, the rings are exchanged, delivered by the best man and woman, and then they kiss to ecstatic applause. It’s that simple. I notice Richard giving me odd glances across the crowd, though I’m far enough away to not feel threatened by him. I notice my brother giving scowling looks as well, especially when he looks at Richard. Come to think of it, my family seems to be standing proportionally quite far from Richard.
We make it then to the wedding reception, and my da claps me on the back. “Ain’t it a wonderful thing to see a man and woman tie the knot? Poor Victor’s been alone for years, ‘bout time he got hisself a nice, sturdy woman to fill the void.”
“Yes,” I say, my voice cracking slightly. My da smiles at me through his red face and limp brown curls. “I always thought uncle Victor desperately needed someone by his side.”
“That he did, son. You know, it’s a shame you couldn’t come to the fishing trip. We all had a great time. I know it ain’t your thing, but one of these days, you got to get interested in doing something like it. A man’s meant to have some alone time. He’ll need it, once he’s got a wife chattering in his ear. Whether that’s camping in the mountains, fishing – best you get something so that you’re prepared.”
“Da, I already have the thing I like to do. You know this. My drawing, my upcoming archaeology. And a little horse riding,” I add, purely for his benefit. He brightens at this normal mention, and claps me hard on the back again.
“Good on you, son. Now, do me a favor, get to know some of the ladies on the bride’s side, will you? There’s some stunners there, I’m sure they’d love to talk to a handsome young man like you. Maybe you even get some if you ply them with enough drink.” He laughs at his own observation, and I approximate a smile, though I’m less than impressed, because I know I won’t be interested in any of the women at all. I can probably try and please my father and just talk to some of them, to make it look like I’m doing what he said, but that’s the furthest I’ll go.
The wedding reception speeches go around, people say how wonderful the bride or groom is, family members start crying, and I just want to eat my delicious meal and get out of there. I know weddings are supposed to be an amazing, event packed affair, but I’m just wanting to get out of here before the bomb explodes and the life I know ends. I don’t think that’s a bad desire.
Some of the ladies are giving me the eye, which makes my father wriggle his eyebrows outrageously, as if I haven’t already noticed this going on.
Then there’s Richard, ostentatiously not catching my eye, which confirms my worse suspicions. He’s clearly horrified at what he heard from me. It’s probably tainted the memory he has in his head of me, but as I’ve said, there is no turning back. We can only walk forwards and hope we don’t wreck too many things along the way.
After the speeches are done, and we’ve tucked into our food – mine’s a shrimp in garlic butter sauce, followed by a creamy leek and potato bake. Others are tucking into steaks, full vegan or vegetable curries or monstrous angus burgers, and I’m probably one of two who chose the leek bake. I eat enough of the other things every day from my ma’s cooking, and I’m happy with my choice, because the combination of flavors is divine. I didn’t opt for dessert, and once everyone’s finished, we leave to where an improvised bar has been set up in the ranch, ready to get our drinks.
I get myself talking to a few women just to appease my father, though I’m not really into it. Just as I’m making excuses to leave and head off to the other side of the ranch into my private lodgings, my brother, holding a drink in his hand, comes and hooks his arm into mine.
“Hello, little bro,” he says, spilling some of his drink on the floor, making people back away. “Nice to see you talking with the ladies. I was beginning to suspect the worse of you…”
“Like what?” I glare at him suspiciously.
“Oh yeah, you wouldn’t know about it, since you didn’t go on the bachelor party trip like a man, preferring to sit at the ranch and draw your shitty pictures. Shame. We had quite the discussion about you.”
My face tinges red at this, and my heart’s sinking, beginning to suspect that my brother’s intentions are anything but nice. He’s circling his words, preparing himself like a hawk to strike the quivering prey in its sights.
“You see, one of the boys at the trip told us that a kid who went to his high school killed himself last week. All over Facebook and whatever. Said the kid was a faggot, everyone knew it, and of course, we said good riddance. And our da started saying how he was so proud no one in the family turned out like that, and well, I said, are you sure, cos your younger son’s clearly leaning that way.”
Oh, for fucks sake. I can imagine Richard chipping in and confirming this bait, or my father getting mad at this accusation. I shrug myself out of my brother’s grip. “I don’t really fucking care, you’ve already said this same old shit a million times. You’re about as original as a brick.”
“Getting offended now? C’mon, bro. You know we’ve all been suspicious as hell over it. Da goes on now that you’re peculiar, but you ain’t shown any inclinations to men, you don’t talk faggoty, you’re probably just real dedicated to your work. Then Richard says, ‘what’s the big deal about this faggot stuff, anyway? Even if he does turn out to be one, and I’m not saying he is, why would that change anything about what you feel like him? He’s still one of us.’”
Terrance gives a low chuckle at that. “So I says to him, what the fuck you defending that for? You a fag, then? And you know what he says? He says ‘what if I am? The fuck you gonna do about it?’ Let me tell you, bro, the whole trip went silent as fuck. And da quite candidly says ‘you better be joking, cos if you are, I want you out of here. I never want to see you again.’”
At these words, I gape at Terrance. I’m outside the ranch now, and what my brother’s saying is completely opposite to anything I ever expected from him. I expected Richard to basically announce that I’m the gay and for my whole family to despise me. Instead…
He hints that he’s gay? What the actual fuck?
Now I’m intrigued.
“So, just to warn you, little bro, our cuz might be a raging faggot. Denies he is, of course, but why make such a statement if you aren’t one? So if you associate too much with him, we mi
ght think you’re one for certain, rather than just the teasing, yunno? You get what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, yeah. I get you. Are you sure, though? Sounds to me like he was trying to offer an alternative viewpoint. Not implicate himself.”
Terrance scoffs. “Bullshit shrink crap that you guys feed yourselves. Dunno what they teach you, but I ain’t falling for that. Just be careful, yeah?” He strides off, and I’m left there at a loss for words.
Jesus fuck. Richard knew I was gay, and instead of putting me in the line of fire, he put himself in the line of fire. Asking why it was so wrong.
What did that mean? What could it possibly mean? I knew at that moment, I needed to find him. I needed to hear with my own ears that this was true, what he said. But it does seem he’s avoiding everyone. I didn’t see him at the after party.
We have people walking around in their cowboy hats and gear, people talking about horses, people talking about the ranch family business, and my cousin, usually the biggest cowboy of the lot, decked up in full war gear, with an eye for the horses and a tender heart for the animals, isn’t there.
He’s not in his lodgings, though I knock on the door, not caring if anyone sees me. I can make an excuse, like I was wondering where the fuck he was, which is true. I head to my lodgings, have a quick shower, and consider just chilling out on the bed with a book, but it feels wrong somehow, to know that my cousin’s missing. That he said something so enormous, and now I don’t know where he is, when I want nothing more than to talk to him.
He’s not answering his phone, either. I sent two messages and two calls. I don’t plan to flood the phone with desperation, but he’s clearly avoiding all talk.
The ranch is huge, and I can’t cover it all by foot in a short amount of time, but there’s no horses missing in the stables, either – so I know that if my cousin is in the area, he can’t have gone too far. It’s just a matter of tracking him down. I follow my suspicion, and head off to the stream about thirty minutes away. If he’s going to be anywhere, it has to be here.
If he’s not, I don’t know where else to look. He could have left the premises for all I know, but if he has, what does that mean? That he is gay? He’s deliberately avoiding other people’s ire?
The hope is blossoming in my chest. I’m desperate to hear his answer.
At the stream, he’s not in the spot where I was caught drawing, and disappointment flashes through me. I honestly thought he’d be there. Then I remember the treehouse we build together about twelve years ago. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing but ruins now, but it’s ten minutes away from this spot. Again, the hope nestles inside, and I instead head over there, my shoes crunching into grass and twigs. I wind my way through the idyllic scenery, appreciating what’s there in front of me. We live in such astounding beauty. It’s easy to be lost in the magnificence of Montana, and I feel pang of regrets that I’ll soon be leaving this all behind. It’s the only way I can be free – to leave the one place I’ve loved.
Sure enough, I spot my cousin where we built the treehouse, and I blink in surprise. Where I expected to find ruins, I instead see what looks like a fucking shed perched in the boughs of the huge sycamore we made our base. It’s been transformed into something perfectly liveable, with a rope ladder leading up to the door entrance. There’s also a small compartment and an electrical generator within it, and a grilling area by the roots of the tree for cooking. The grill is off, and Richard is cleaning it, and when I crunch more twigs, he spins and looks at me for a long moment.
“Oh. It’s you.” He then turns his back on me and continues scrubbing. I feel a little offended at this.
“So, what was the speech all about when you went on the camping trip? My brother mentioned something about it. But you know what he’s like.”
Richard lets out a sigh at this. “Nothing big. I wanted to see how people might react if they knew someone was gay. Ain’t favourable. I know I can’t say anything. I can’t blackmail you like that no more. You don’t have to talk to me.”
A lump appears in my throat. It’s not what I want to hear, but it’s not exactly what I don’t want to hear, either. It’s… something. “Thank you.” I pause for a moment, my hands fidgeting, as I watch Richard’s strong back. He’s unclothed down to the waist, with his legs wrapped in familiar blue jeans and boots. His broad back draws me to the flex of muscles for a moment, the sweat covering them. I like the way the muscles scrunch up when he rolls back his shoulder blades, and the wonderful structure of his body.
I know I’ll like seeing his abs as well, the punchable chest he has, which I reckon could be made out of solid iron. I like the way his sandy blonde hair flops about, damp with his efforts. It’s late afternoon, and it won’t be dark in Montana for a while yet.
Richard needs more than just a thank you. I clear my throat, and add, “You certainly didn’t have to do that. But now I need to know, Richard. Are you bothered by what I said?”
He gives me a little shrug, continuing to clean the grill.
“It doesn’t matter, I suppose,” I say then, casually, “since I’m going to go anyway. I’ll leave my home, the ranch, everything. I don’t want my family to find out what I am. I don’t want to face that pain, and I don’t want you to feel bothered by me. I miss the friendship we had, but it’s just not possible for me to do it anymore.”
I notice him stiffening at my words, though he keeps his back facing me. My mouth dry, I persist on, even as my heart tries to leap out of my lips, “I like you. But it’s not the same for you. You’re my fucking cousin. And it would quite literally destroy our entire lives if I even breathe these words to anyone else. The only logical option left is for me to leave. Before that happens.”
Or if he says something to confirm that maybe he likes me more than he wants to admit, as well. But I have to wait and see.
“The fuck?” Now he turns his head in my direction. “So, what, you wanna talk about this now?”
The hostility isn’t exactly encouraging. “Uh, yes? Isn’t that obvious?”
“You gave me the cold shoulder for two years. No word. No explanation. I had to threaten you to even get you to look at me, but you still didn’t want anything to do with me. And now, what? Because I supported you without your family knowing, you suddenly want to talk to me, after stating that everything we have is over and can’t work? You pretentious piece of shit.”
The rage in his eyes confounds me, and I stand there speechless. Also, a little guilt creeps up into me.
“Your attitude disgusts me,” Richard says, now crossing the distance, intruding into my personal space. “You can’t just fuck around with people like that, then assume they’re going to fall in line because suddenly they helped you over your stupid, pointless fucking fear which fucked everything up between us in the first place.”
Breathing heavily in front of me, he jabs a finger into my chest. “It bothers me as well why you never said a thing. It took you that long to just tell me to my face, and you never once asked how I felt.”
What? “But you told me how you felt,” I say in protest, slapping his hand aside. “You clearly said it’s a thing friends do. Well, you tell me, is it a thing friends, or cousins for that matter, do, when one of them says yeah, by the way, before you did that, I actually wanted you in that way for at least three years? Is that normal?” I’m yelling the last words now, and I hit him in his rock-hard chest. He doesn’t budge. My puny efforts mean nothing to him. “Nothing about this is normal! And I’ve been thinking for years that you never meant anything of it, you had no idea what a massive faggot I was and how I knew things couldn’t work out, because you’re straight and manly and whatever.”
“You never asked,” he says then, quietly. “You heard what I said, and you just assumed. Ever stop to think I was just saying it because I didn’t want you to think I might like you that way?” His black eyes bore into mine. “Like a thing guys do when they want to go ‘no homo’ but actually are lying out their asses? You
think I wasn’t scared that you’d hate me after that?”
I stop mid-tirade, utterly gobsmacked.
No. I had not. I hadn’t thought any of those things.
“You made it all about you. Your fear. Your stupid emotions. You forgot to ask me about mine when you shut me outta your life.” He hands clench into fists, and I see he’s breathing hard like me, daring me to say something against it. Instead, feeling all floaty, drifty or whatever shit people feel when they’re hit with a massive revelation like that, I say, “You… like me?”
He rolls his eyes, but nods. “Yes.”
“In the same way I like you? With the fucking?”
“Yes. With the fucking.” He sounds pissed off as he says this, but a small, upward curl of his lips occur as well.
“Shit,” I say. I deflate at this point, my rage utterly gone. “I fucked up.”
“That you did,” he agrees. Then he pauses. “Though I didn’t really help my case, either. So, I’m not entirely sure I can put all the blame on you. Coulda been honest to you as well. And… maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty to blackmail you. I guess I thought you would never talk to me again unless I did.”
I close my eyes. My heart’s floating away. I’m unbearably happy at the moment, a sort of giddy, foolish happy, that makes me want to grin and grin and forget the rest of the world exists.
I clamp down on that feeling long enough to say, “Well, we can’t exactly admit this out loud, can we? We’ll be lynched on the spot.”
“Maybe,” he says.
“So. You’re gay?” A dumb question, but I have to ask it.
“Not sure,” he says. “Could be I’m just gay for you. Couldn’t imagine wanting to spend my time with anyone else.”
“I think I’m a little too gay,” I confess. “And I freak out because I don’t want to be. Like, what if the fact I like art and whatever is actually, because I’m gay?”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot. Being gay has nothing to do with that,” my cousin scoffs. “Don’t think it’s always something that can be helped.”
To Love A Hitman Page 12
