Crossing Borders

by Z. A. Maxfield

  “You make me smile, Sparky, even in the weirdest, non-smiling kind of moments.” Tristan grinned, eyeing the man’s twitching cock.

  “Thank you for today; it was awesome.”

  Michael responded with a quick kiss before he rose from the bed. “I’ll be ready in twenty, and then I’ll have to leave.”

  “Oh,” said Tristan. “Oh, okay.” He got up from the bed too, his legs still a little wobbly. “I’ll get my stuff, and you can see me out.” Tristan started dressing in the same clothes he’d worn for their ride. He placed his folded-up costume carefully in the duffel and made sure he didn’t leave socks or underwear lying around because, ick, he’d rather Michael remember his ass than his dirty laundry.

  “I…um…well,” said Michael, not quite looking at him, “could meet you sometime, down by UCI for lunch or something.”

  “Sure,” said Tristan. “I’d like that.” He found himself right next to Michael. He couldn’t help it; he was gravitationally predisposed to lean into Michael’s embrace.

  “Can you make coffee while I dress?” Michael asked. “I could take a travel mug to work.”

  “Sure. I could use a cup anyway. I’ll put my stuff by the door and get right on it. You go do what you need to do.”

  “Okay.” He sighed. “I wonder why being together seems so natural and parting is awkward as hell. I wish I didn’t have to go,” he added.

  “Oh, me too,” said Tristan, launching himself at the surprised Michael. “Isn’t that dumb? I just don’t want to…”

  “I know,” said Michael kissing him. “Me neither. I can’t figure out why…”

  “Kiss me more,” said Tristan.

  “Shit,” said Michael, pulling away. “Work, work, work, work, work, stupid…stupid work.” He marched himself down the hall and slammed the bathroom door.

  Tristan laughed on his way into the kitchen, saying, “School, school, school…stupid school.” He found the coffee and managed the coffeemaker, getting a cup for himself. When Michael came out in his uniform, Tristan stopped in his tracks.

  “Officer Helmet,” he said on a sigh. He didn’t know why it was such a shock, seeing Michael fully dressed in his uniform, armed, and remote. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d seen it. It was the first time he wanted to cuff the man and use him like an inflatable doll. Oh, hot, hot, hot.

  “This okay?” said Michael. “Does it bring bad memories? Feel like running?”

  “Oh, not exactly. Officer Truax. Michael.” Tristan walked up and ran a hand over the chest pockets of the uniform, carefully touching the badge. “I’m never going to look at cops the same way again.”

  “You’d better not look at other cops the way you’re looking at me.” He took the travel mug, and together they walked the short distance to the front door. “They really will think you’re a rent-boy.”

  As Tristan neared the door he thought of everything he wanted to say to Michael, except he had no time and didn’t know where to begin. He turned around suddenly. “I like your texts. That’s really nice, you know? Sometimes when people say they’ll call they don’t…or well…I didn’t when I said it to girls and now…I just wanted to say I like it when you text me.” His heart beat as though he’d run a marathon.

  Michael smiled.

  “I wish I’d thought of it that way when…I may have hurt some people.” Tristan tried to smile when he said that, but the thought of pain he may have caused in the past didn’t make him feel much like smiling. Tristan wished now he’d had more empathy. He’d always held lightly to the girls he dated. He was going to have a hard time holding Michael that way.

  Michael appeared to think about that for a while. “I’ll keep in touch, Sparky.”

  Tristan gave him a radiant smile. “Me too, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Of course it’s okay,” said Michael, kissing him senseless and then setting the house alarm. A high-pitched whistle sounded, and they walked out the front door into the fading light. Daylight savings was still in effect, and there was a little residual twilight. “I have to close the door, or the alarm will go off,” he said, close to Tristan’s ear, and Tristan realized he was standing in the way.

  “Oh.” He moved. “I guess I’ll be seeing you,” he said, walking down the porch steps to his car. “Um, sometime soon, I hope.”

  “Yeah, you can count on it, Sparky.”

  Tristan got into his car and began the drive back to his home. Cinderella’s carriage was turning back into a pumpkin, and the real world intruded on his thoughts. He found himself fretting about homework he hadn’t even given a thought to for the whole day and worrying about his family. While he was with Michael, the world receded, and all that existed was the two of them.

  He got home at about six in the evening; the sky was darkening, and the air was getting crisp. The first thing he did was call his friend Jonathon to tell him he wouldn’t be up for poker. He had to talk to his family ‑‑ had to do it now when he was riding the high of being with Michael, before doubt and uncertainty made him wait, made him think of hiding his truth from his family. Truth was truth. This wasn’t going to go away.

  When he entered he could hear his brothers, Devon and Randy, arguing at the top of their lungs about who should clean their room. His sister had on her iPod and was sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop, pretending to do her homework but probably instant messaging her friends. His mother was sitting at the computer in the kitchen where she did the bills and caught up with her own e-mails.

  “Randy, Devon, feel like a run?” he called. His brother Randy stuck his head out of his bedroom door.

  “At the park?” he asked. Randy was the one who enjoyed running at the park, because of the people walking their dogs. He could make friends with a dog in seconds, and it would remember him for a lifetime. Devon thought dogs were okay, but didn’t have the same affinity for them. Fortunately, he wasn’t too picky about where they ran.

  “Sure, if you want. I’ll talk to Mom and you talk to Devon,” said Tristan.

  “Okay,” said Randy. He stopped shouting at his brother long enough to get his attention and start another fight, this one about where to go jogging.

  “Mom,” said Tristan, getting a glass of milk from the fridge. “I thought I’d take the boys to run at Craig Park; is that okay?”

  His mother was preoccupied, cursing under her breath at their Internet service, which was always slow in the evening. “Damn it! This always happens on Saturday night. This is going to take me hours at this rate.”

  “What is it?” he asked, coming around to see.

  “Just bills, honey, nothing big, it just takes forever. Yeah, running sounds good. They’ve been at it since four. Maybe you could run them down for me a little.” She took off her reading glasses and smiled. He looked at her for a minute, realizing he hadn’t really seen her for a while. Her blue eyes, so like his own, seemed more tired than he remembered, and her red hair seemed whiter around the temples. It wasn’t exactly that she was getting old; she just looked like she was changing into someone more muted than the woman he’d known growing up. He knew his father’s death had been hard on her, but hadn’t noticed exactly when it had washed her color away. She patted his hand with a freckled one very like his own, and he laughed.

  “I really am your mini-me, aren’t I?” he said, giving her hand a squeeze back. “Sometimes I forget. I’ll get the boys, and we’ll be back by…seven-thirty or so, okay?”

  “Sure, fine…take your phone.” She went back to her bills.

  As Tristan left the room, he looked back at her. When had she gotten so small? He had decided on his way home from Michael’s to tell her the truth about himself, but now it gnawed at him. Not knowing how she’d take it was worrisome. He didn’t much care and couldn’t change what others thought, but he agonized over how it would affect those he loved.

  “Mom, when I get back, I’d like to talk to you for a bit; maybe we could go for coffee?” he said, hoping she didn’t g
et too wrapped up in anticipating what it could be about.

  She sat silently contemplating him. “Okay, but first tell me, does it have anything to do with immediate physical danger or possible jail time?” she asked, her typical response to make a joke.

  “Nope, neither.” He smiled.

  Reassured, she went back to her bills. “Sure, coffee, but you’re buying.”

  “Right.” He was able to round his brothers up in less than fifteen minutes, almost a house record, and they were off to the park.

  Jogging with his brothers was something Tristan did almost every weekday until Halloween, when the park hours changed, and the gates closed at six. It was always exhilarating to run in the park after dark. Smiling, he imagined that was how wolves felt, running in a pack, and realized that the boys were his pack. He said a silent prayer that they’d have big, happy families, and he could run with nieces and nephews some day. Lily gave no indication of even being interested in any boy who wasn’t about to starve himself to death over the injustice of life. Tristan despaired of her ever choosing someone healthy enough to procreate.

  While jogging along the peaceful paths with his brothers, Tristan divested his mind of everything but what he wanted to tell his family and how he was going to do it. There was no doubt in his mind; he couldn’t live a lie. That he wasn’t scared down to his nuts to tell his mom he was gay reflected, he thought, her loving acceptance of him for most of his life, even when he probably didn’t deserve it at all. Tristan was afraid it would shock and sadden her, but for the most part, he didn’t think it would change their relationship. Strain it for a while, maybe, but fundamentally, his family was solid, and they would all stand behind him.

  Hoping he wasn’t naive and stupid, Tristan jogged on. He thought telling his brothers might be as hard as any part of the whole ordeal. They were just old enough to really understand what being gay meant, and it would probably gross them out completely. Lily would think it romantic, but be angry that he didn’t have a vampire lover or something cool like that. He ran along with them, stopping to greet every dog along the way, and hid his laughter when Devon complained about it holding them up. Randy, to teach him a lesson, simply stopped to chat with each dog until Devon was tapping his foot in agitation, and both Randy and the dogs were laughing at him.

  To prevent bloodshed, Tristan argued for crossing the park and going directly to the car instead of taking the roundabout way. He was tired, both physically and emotionally, and a little sore, his muscles reacting to both his exuberant new love life and the long motorcycle ride. The three of them got to the car sweating and happy, ready to crank up the radio and drive through Jack-In-The-Box for shakes. Tristan bought one for each of his brothers and picked up an Oreo shake for Lily. He wanted a latte, so he decided to wait till he was out with his mom.

  They pulled into the driveway around eight o’clock, the boys jumping right out and racing to the house with their shakes. Tristan took Lily’s to her.

  “Here, Lily, I brought you a shake. You and the boys can stay here. Mom and I are going out for coffee, okay?”

  Lily raised her eyebrows. “You and Mom are going out?” She had an incredulous look on her face. “Since when do you take Mom out for coffee on a Saturday night? Isn’t this, like, the night you get laid or something?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Really, what have you done that you need to talk to Mom about it in a public place?” Her eyes were wide. He knew her imagination was in overdrive.

  “Well, if you promise not to tell her,” he said, looking around as though he were going to confide.

  “Shit, I knew it was big… What’s up?”

  “I have to ask her if I can dig a big hole in the garage floor, under where the car goes, you know?”

  “No way. Really?”

  “Yeah, I have to have a place for my vampire lover’s coffin and the earth to surround it, you know?” he said. “So the sunlight can’t get in.”

  “Oh, you’re an asshole.” She grabbed her shake and tore the paper off the straw.

  Their mother came into the room. “Such language,” she said. “I wish you’d think about how it makes you sound.”

  “Sorry.” Lily slunk behind their mother to stick her tongue out.

  “We’ll be back soon, honey. Keep the boys from burning the house down, okay?” Lily acknowledged that she’d try.

  Tristan opened the car door for his mom and closed it after she got in. When he got into the driver’s seat, she watched him in that careful way she had, studying him in order to brace herself. “You realize you’re scaring me right now,” she said, giving him the opportunity to put her at ease. He knew he should do it, but found he had nothing flip to say.

  “I know,” said Tristan. “I just thought it would be good if we talked, and I…didn’t want the boys or Lily to interrupt.” He pulled out of the driveway and headed the short distance to the strip mall. It seemed strange to use his dad’s car, especially to take his mom places in the passenger seat. He felt…so inadequate to step into the shoes his father had left behind.

  “Is this about school? Are you in trouble?” she asked finally.

  “No, Mom, I’m really not in trouble, I promise.” He looked at her again out of the corner of his eye. She was forty-two, still young, still attractive, and still mourning the death of her husband two years before. Tristan’s father had been talking to her on the phone, just connecting, asking her about dinner plans, when an aneurism in his brain had ended his life. She was young enough to date again, marry again, and conceivably to have more children. She had a friend who’d had a child at forty-four. Whether she wanted to or not, she had never allowed her children to even imagine she entertained such thoughts, and for that, Tristan was shamefully grateful. He knew he should be urging her to consider getting out again, but the comfort of the familiar had enticed him into maintaining the status quo. And now what he was going to tell her would change everything.

  At Starbuck’s they got in line and ordered lattes from the cashier, waiting patiently for the barista to prepare them. When at last they sat down, Tristan found he wasn’t at all as brave as he thought.

  “Okay, Tris, I’m here and I’ve waited. I’ve gone through everything in my mind from unplanned pregnancy to eco-terrorist. Please tell me what’s up before I tear all my hair out,” she begged. “Please, Tristan… Spill it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tristan’s fingers picked at the little cardboard circle around his cup that served to keep his fingers from getting burned. “I’m in love,” he said finally, knowing that was just an appetizer at the honesty buffet. His mom blew out a breath.

  “That’s it?” she asked. “Wow, I thought… Oh, man, I thought it was going to be something awful.” She laughed nervously. “Love. That’s good, right?”

  “Well,” he began. “Yes. I think so…yes.”

  “You don’t sound so sure. Is it unrequited?” she asked. “Such an old-fashioned term. Is it mutual, do you think?”

  “Um, yeah, maybe… It hasn’t really gone that far. We’ve only been out twice. It’s been really sudden. For me, anyway.”

  “Ah,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “That’s hard, isn’t it? This is the first time for you… Despite your rather strenuous efforts in the area of…romance.”

  “Yeah.” He looked down at his coffee cup.

  She watched him some more. “Why aren’t we at home having this conversation?”

  “Well…that’s really not all there is to it. It’s complicated.” He felt it was to his credit that he met her eyes squarely. “It’s different than what you might think.”

  He could see her trying to imagine the possibilities. “You know, if she’s a different race or religion or something, those things don’t matter as much as they used to. If two people love and respect each other, most things can be considered details.” She touched his hand with hers. “Is it one of the girls from school?”

  “It isn’t a girl,”
he said.

  His mother stared at him. “Is it a woman?” she asked, turning her coffee around in her hands, nervously now, as if her heart was telling her brain not to listen.

  “No,” he said, waiting.

  “Oh. I’m going out on a limb here and assuming it’s a human?” she asked, searching for a joke.

  “Yes. It’s a man.”

  She deflated. Sort of just slumped over her coffee with her lips pursed, thinking hard. “You’re not punking me?”

  “I wish I were.” He still watched her struggle with the dawning realization, his eyes glittering now with unshed tears. “It’s a guy. I’m in love with a guy.”

  “Okaaaaay,” she said slowly, and he could tell she was slipping into crisis mode, like when Randy had fallen and broken his arm, and she had marshaled all their resources to have him at the emergency room in twenty minutes flat. “You know, sometimes, it can feel like love when it’s just kind of situational.”

  “I’m in love with a guy,” said Tristan implacably. “I promise you, I wouldn’t bring this to you if I didn’t think it was a done deal.”

  “Oh,” she sighed. “Oh.” Her blue eyes, so very much like his, were watering a little. She exhaled in a long, slow sigh. “How come I’ve gone to sleep every night for five years with a prayer on my lips that you wouldn’t impregnate half the girls in the neighborhood by morning?” She leaned in to hiss for emphasis. “You’ve been a pretty determined hetero until now!”

  “I know,” he said. “I know that I’ve swung like a gate, and it may seem strange. I’ve always liked girls. I mean, I don’t dislike them, and they’re pretty determined as well. What’s not to like? It’s just that ever since I was a kid, it was like… See Dick… See Dick run… See Tristan push Jane and run after Dick.” He sighed. “I hardly admitted it to myself, but it didn’t go away. It’s not going to.”

  “Well, shit,” said his mother, taking another drink of her coffee. “How do you know, I mean, how does anyone know they’re gay? Lots of people have relationships with people of the same sex, and not everyone who does that is gay. Some say it was a mistake, or an adventure. How do you know?”