Crossing Borders

by Z. A. Maxfield

  Tristan thought about that for a long time. “Mom, remember when we were watching that U2 Rattle and Hum DVD, and you and Dad kept saying that you’d seen the concert, and the DVD couldn’t compare to watching the band live?”

  “Yeah,” she said carefully.

  “Well, that’s what it’s like. It’s like the difference between watching the symphony on a small-screen television versus watching it live at the Hollywood Bowl. I can’t explain it any better than that. I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know if it’s even mutual, but if it is… Oh, damn, Mom, it’s really, really right.”

  “And it’s not just about sex?” she asked. “Do you know the difference?”

  He shrugged and looked away. “I think so; who the hell really knows? There’s an over fifty percent divorce rate in this country. He’s a kind person, a good man. His mom’s a trip. He’s…special. If Lily brought him home, you’d be on your knees thanking God.”

  “If he’s everything you say and he loves you and you love him? I’ll be on my knees thanking God anyway. Don’t think that I’d ask you to throw that away just because it doesn’t fit my preconceived notion of what is right for you. It’s just hard, you know?” She wiped a tear off her cheek. “It changes all the plans I had for you.”

  “I gotta tell you, it’s not that easy for me, either,” said Tristan, laughing a little.

  “Then why do it, why put yourself through that? You’ve been perfectly happy to nail every girl who gave you the opportunity for five years.” His eyes widened at her frank talk. “Like I didn’t know, Tris. Why can’t you find a girl who’s special?”

  “It’s not that simple. I’m not certain I could. Sure, I had sex,” he said, loudly enough that his mother cringed, and he lowered his voice. “But what I want is what you and Dad had. I want to love someone and build a life with that person, and I couldn’t do that with any girl I’ve ever been with. I’m just made differently, I think. I never knew I could feel this way. I know I couldn’t go back. It wouldn’t be fair to the girls or to me.”

  Tristan’s mother pursed her lips. “Jeez, what will we tell the boys? I hope you know it’s bad enough not having your dad around to talk sex to them, but now? I have no idea what to say to them about ‑‑”

  “I know,” Tristan interrupted. “I thought about that tonight while we were jogging. I think they’ll hate me for a while. Lily will probably think it’s cool, as long as I bring home some poetry-spouting faerie prince. Not going to happen, by the way. I know I kind of jumped in with both feet. This guy, Michael, he’s older…”

  “How much older?”

  “He’ll be twenty-eight on Valentine’s Day,” said Tristan, smiling. “He’s so nice, it would make your teeth ache. He bought a duplex with twin houses, and his mom lives in one, and he lives in the other, and she comes out on the porch in the morning to smoke clove cigarettes. Of course, he’s all like, ‘I thought you were quitting’ cranky with her, you know? I’m gushing like a little girl, aren’t I?”

  “I think,” she said carefully, “if you’re certain this is who you are, you should invite both of them for Thanksgiving…maybe.”

  “Maybe,” he concurred, finally attempting to drink his coffee.

  “And, yes, you’re gushing. What does he do for a living?” said his mother.

  Tristan almost spit his coffee out. Almost. “He’s…a police officer,” he sighed, putting his head in his hands so his mother couldn’t see his face. “Kind of puts a whole new spin on sticking it to the Man.”

  Julia’s own hands flew to her face, the blush building there like a forest fire. Tristan peeked through his fingers, but couldn’t tell whether she was laughing or crying. He thought, after a while, maybe a little of both.

  They drank the rest of their coffee in silence. Tristan sprang for a decadent chocolate pastry, sharing it with her wordlessly. Just before they left, she said simply, “If you’re sure, we’ll have to have a family talk. I don’t want your brothers and sister stuck with questions that you or I haven’t answered in person to their satisfaction.”

  “I can do that. I wish I…”

  “Never mind, Tris, you did right to tell me,” she said. “If I’m half the mother I’ve been pretending to be all these years, I’ll be ready to march in my first gay pride parade any minute now.”

  “Holy crap, you’ll be marching alone. I hate that kind of stuff,” said Tristan, leaving the Starbuck’s and getting out his keys. “You know, Michael’s the one that gave me that ticket for not wearing a helmet.”

  “Oh, no, he did not!” said his mother, appalled. “Well…you should definitely ask him for your money back.” She grinned.

  Tristan felt himself smile. He felt hopeful for the first time since they’d started to talk.

  “I’m glad you trusted me with this, Tris. I hope ‑‑ I mean, I know you’re being safe, right?”

  “With Officer Helmet?” he asked. “You can count on it.”

  “Good to know, baby,” she sighed, getting into the car. “Good to know.”

  * * * * *

  Sitting between Randy and Lily in church the next day, Tristan listened to the minister’s sermon on the true spirit of the upcoming holidays. He looked at his siblings, who were yawning after the late night they’d had. Each of them had taken the news that their brother was gay relatively well. They’d had lots of questions and made lots of yuck faces, but really, it had gone remarkably well. He knew how lucky he was to have a family that was loving and supportive, even if they felt a little shell-shocked. It put his mind at ease, and after church, he had a ton of homework he could get to with a fairly focused brain.

  Tristan jumped a little when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw he had a text from Michael and blushed like a kid. His mother caught the look and raised her eyebrows. He grinned and looked to see what the text said.

  Hey, Sparky. R U in church? it read.

  Tristan looked around. Thumbing, Hey, Michael, yep.

  Michael’s next text made him smile. E-mail addy for Edward is NotNeddie@hotmail.com. I told Jeff he was wrong about you.

  Thank you, Tristan texted back.

  I forgot 2 tell you I love U, came the next, and Tristan put a hand over his mouth. He dipped his head and cleared his throat, sinking lower when someone nearby gave him a hard stare.

  Me 2, I love you 2, he texted back, shamelessly ignoring his mother’s glare.

  Can I get an AMEN? Michael sent, making him smile.

  Amen, sent Tristan, sighing. Oh, yeah, Thanksgiving would be fun.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In chemistry class, Tristan’s professor was a tall, thin, angular woman who claimed that the Santa Ana winds gave her energy. Today she had an abundance of it, giving her lecture in an exuberant monotone, which she occasionally abandoned for staccato bursts of emphatic laughter. Three girls in the front row were clutching their hearts when Tristan’s phone vibrated to let him know he had a text message.

  Have time 2 meet 4 lunch? asked Michael.

  What time? Tristan texted back carefully. Texting in class was strictly déclassé, but not entirely forbidden. Still he didn’t want his professor to connect his face with any rude behavior; in case his grade hovered a little, it was always better to be on the teacher’s nice, rather than naughty list.

  About 1? Michael sent.

  Okay, sent Tristan.

  Pick U up? sent Michael.

  Meet me at Johnny Rocket’s in The District at Tustin Legacy? texted Tristan.

  By the old airship hangars? sent Michael.

  Yes, said Tristan.

  K, TTYL, texted Michael.

  K, L, texted Tristan.

  * * * * *

  At one o’clock, Michael was waiting for Tristan outside Johnny Rocket’s. He looked at his watch again. It wasn’t that he was nervous that Tristan wouldn’t show, he thought, but he was actually anxious to see him. It seemed like weeks since he’d ridden with Tristan out to Oak Glen, even though it
had only been three days. They’d kept up a pretty regular text conversation. Michael had sent him the “I love you” text on Sunday; the thought still made him blush like a kid. It was like he was passing notes in school. Michael just couldn’t get his mind off Tristan going toe to toe with Ron, removing his hand, and letting him know there was a new guy on the scene. He kept thinking of the words, No one is going to hurt you on my watch. They had opened something inside his heart that had been closed a long, long time. It was a done deal. Tristan owned him.

  Minutes later, Michael saw the small cream-colored BMW pull into a parking space, and Tristan climbed out. He wore drawstring pants that rode really low on his waist and a hooded T-shirt with a design that looked like a tattoo on it. Michael could see a tantalizing strip of ivory skin between the two and wondered if meeting Tristan in public was such a good idea. He was getting hard already, and the boy was still half a block away.

  “Hey, Michael,” said Tristan, smiling when he reached the place where Michael waited.

  “Hey, Sparky.” Michael buffeted Tristan with his shoulder, but he wished he were touching with his hands.

  Tristan lowered his eyes, and a delicate blush stained his cheeks. “I’m glad you called.”

  “They should have a table waiting; I gave them our name.”

  “Good thinking,” said Tristan, following Michael into the restaurant. “I’m hungry.”

  “Me too,” said Michael. They followed the hostess to a booth and sat down. “What’s new in Sparky’s world?”

  “I had chemistry today. The professor acted like she was on speed. It was entertaining,” said Tristan.

  “Oh?” asked Michael. “I would have liked to see that. My chemistry professor was a tiny little man with frizzy gray hair who spoke with a Polish accent. It was like listening to the Pope, the last one. John Paul.”

  Tristan smiled. He took a deep breath. “I told my mother about us. Had a talk with the family.”

  “What?” asked Michael, leaning forward. He was concerned. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I decided I wanted to tell her before anything else happened. I told her on Saturday night. I…we had a family talk after I told her. Everyone took it better than I thought. I don’t know what that means. They want you and your mom to come for Thanksgiving. That gives you a month to run screaming.” Tristan didn’t look up.

  “Yeah, it does. Sparky, do you think I’m going anywhere?”

  “No.”

  “Burgers, fries, and shakes? Or do you want something different?”

  “I’ll have half of whatever you’re having.” Tristan smiled, picking up his foot and sitting on it. “And a chocolate shake.”

  “Okay.” Michel flagged down their waiter. He ordered for both of them and turned back to Tristan. “How did your mom really respond when you told her you were gay?”

  “I don’t think she believed me at first. She asked if I was punking her.” He smiled. “I have given her reason to believe that I like girls fine in the last few years.”

  “Sparky, maybe…” Michael searched for the right words. “Maybe that’s something you should consider. I don’t know a lot of gay men who have had as much experience as you on the other side of the street. My heart wouldn’t be in it quite so…”

  “Are you kidding me?” snapped Tristan. “Are you trying to talk me out of being gay? Because if you are, so help me, I will make you sorry you brought me to this restaurant by showing you just how damn gay I am.”

  “Tristan, really.” Michael held his hands up. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought it was something to think about.”

  “At fourteen I was a walking hormone,” said Tristan. “And for some reason every girl at the skate park wanted a piece of that. I liked it, sure, what’s not to like?” A couple at a nearby table stopped their conversation to gawk at Tristan, who was turning red.

  “Tristan, I’m so sorry,” said Michael, urging calm. “It’s just that I don’t understand you as well as I would like to.”

  “It’s not rocket science,” said Tristan, leaning over to speak more quietly. “I was a horny kid who took whatever was offered. But when I decided to choose, I chose you.” He picked up his napkin and placed it on his lap when their server brought out their drinks.

  Michael was still feeling argumentative. “Not really. Actually, I kind of forced the issue, and you were backed into a corner.”

  “Michael,” said Tristan, clearly holding on to his patience by a thread. “I chased your truck down my street on a skateboard. My decision was made then. I chose you.”

  “I’m glad,” said Michael thickly. “Really, really glad.”

  “Me too. Next time we have this discussion let’s do it in bed, though. I think it will take more time to convince you, and it would be a hell of a lot more fun.” He smiled. The server brought them their lunch and an extra plate for sharing. They ate slowly and quietly, making quality eye contact. Michael smiled around his straw and tossed his napkin on the table when they were finished.

  “You want to walk a little? I have until about three,” he said. “It’s starting to get crazy; tomorrow’s Halloween, we’re all working, and there still won’t be enough of us.”

  “Oh, yeah, I love Halloween, but it must be hard on you and the brethren,” said Tristan. “I never thought about it that way.”

  “It’s just a natural law; whenever everybody parties, people do stupid stuff, get drunk, and get in accidents. Lots of DUIs. Sometimes kids get hurt. It’s not very much fun for me anymore.” Michael left money on the table to cover the bill plus a generous tip, and he rose, waiting for Tristan to precede him.

  “I guess,” said Tristan. “I guess you can tell I like Halloween.

  “Yeah, and come to think of it, taking you out of those Samurai pants didn’t suck.” Michael smiled. They walked out into the sunshine, into the warm wind that was kicking up around them. “Shit, this wind always means fire danger too.” He sighed.

  “Do you think that now that I’m gay I should dress differently?” he asked, trying to distract Michael a little.

  “What? Do I dress differently?”

  “No, but I’m thinking you can’t because you have that totally conservative job. I’m in school, you know? I could work it a little while I’m still young.” He had a teasing light in his eye that Michael found adorable. “I kind of need a queer eye for the queer guy, don’t I?”

  Michael looked him over and sighed. “You do fine, Sparky. You’re edible as it is.”

  “Oh,” said Tristan, coloring a little. “Well, now that you bring that up, Officer Truax, can you tell me how much trouble I could get in if I were to…say…suck you off in your truck?”

  Michael, to his credit, kept walking. “More trouble than I’d like, Sparky. I’m not one of those guys who gets off on risky sex.” After a while he muttered, “Much.”

  “Hey,” said Tristan. “I heard that.” He grinned at Michael, raising his eyebrows, and lifted his foot to tap Michael’s ass from behind with the heel, like they were kids.

  “I just can’t, Tristan,” said Michael. “I couldn’t.”

  “Okay.” Tristan was only mildly disappointed. “I just thought…”

  Michael smiled. “No, it’s nice. Here, I wanted to give you this,” he said, holding out an envelope. He handed it to Tristan and stepped back.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the key to my house,” said Michael. “And the alarm codes. You could stop by sometimes. If I wasn’t there, you could maybe wait.”

  Tristan broke into a radiant smile. “Hey! You trust me with your beautiful house?” he asked.

  “Sure. You like my house, you’ll take good care of it.”

  “Of course I will. This is the nicest thing.” Tristan bit his lip.

  “I’m, um, usually off on Friday during the day until Saturday night. It’s quiet, and you might like to do your homework there sometimes.” Michael sighed, feeling like an idiot. “Anyway, I’ll get you a
copy of my schedule, and you can come and go as you please, okay? I’ll be working a couple double shifts in the next few weeks.”

  “This is a big thing, isn’t it?” said Tristan, looking at him. “It’s like…we’re a couple.”

  “Aren’t we?” Michael turned to him. “Aren’t you my guy? You said you were.”

  “I am,” said Tristan. “But aren’t you going to want to drop-kick my ass into the gutter if I’m around too much?”

  Michael laughed. “I don’t think it will come to that.” He kept walking. Tristan ran forward to face him.

  “You really meant it, didn’t you; it wasn’t just a goofy text.”

  “Meant what?” said Michael quietly

  “That you love me. You meant that, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, did you?”

  “Yes. I told my family I’d fallen in love with you. That was Saturday. Just so you know.”

  “Before I told you?” Michael smiled.

  “Yep,” said Tristan. They began walking again.

  “Ha, ha,” said Michael in a singsong voice. “You said it first.” He chuckled to himself as Tristan followed after him.

  “Also just so you know, I knew you loved me all along,” said Tristan. “And by the way, my mother says you should pay us back for that ticket now that I’m your ass slut.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Finishing up his shift on Halloween, Michael eyed the fog rolling in and figured that while visibility wasn’t good, it was plenty safe to drive. It had been a hell of a night, and he was anxious to wash his tension down the drain and sleep. He had probably made a difference in someone’s life, although he wasn’t exactly sure whose, and he pulled his truck into his driveway exhausted, parking it in its usual place. It had been three days since he’d given Tristan the keys, and he wondered if it was too soon for a key exchange. Maybe Tristan didn’t want to use them; maybe he wasn’t ready. It made Michael a little sad, but he figured he’d wait until Tristan decided to talk to him about it.