Trust the Focus

by Megan Erickson

“I know, but—”

  “These guide horses are really docile—”

  “I know that, Jus!” he hissed. “I don’t know. Horses freak me out.”

  I smirked. “So this is a first. I got you to do something spontaneous you didn’t want to do.”

  He pressed his lips together.

  “Right?” I prodded.

  He looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Fine.”

  Landry ended up liking the horseback ride, and we didn’t take the horses above a walk. The morning weather was mild, and the park was beautiful. The parents with us had two girls who oohed and aahed over the squirrels hopping from branch to branch.

  When we arrived back at the stable and handed the reins of our horses over, Landry’s smile was huge. So was mine.

  We collected Dad’s urn from Sally at the park’s RV campsite where we’d stayed the night before and set off for a particular ravine my father had photographed. The temperature began to heat up, so Landry and I wore cargo shorts and thin T-shirts.

  We found our spot, took our photos, then scattered his ashes. Neither of us wanted to leave the fog-cloaked ravine, so we plopped ourselves on the ground.

  I turned my face to the sun rising high in the sky and closed my eyes, soaking in the warmth, believing for a moment Dad knew we were here. Knew what we were doing and what had gone on between us and was letting me know he was proud of me with a moment of sunny bliss. The scratch of Landry’s pencil on paper soothed me, and I kept silent as he drew.

  I opened my eyes at the sound of his sketchpad closing. Landry bumped me with his shoulder. “What’re you thinking about?”

  I didn’t open my eyes. “I think he knows. And he’s happy.”

  Landry didn’t answer so I lowered my head and looked at him. He wore a small smile. “Yeah?”

  I nodded.

  His smile grew. “Me too.”

  I loved that I didn’t have to explain. I chuckled sadly. “Mom probably knows, too. But she’s not happy.”

  As Landry’s smile fell, mine did, too, and he looked out over the ravine. I dug a rock out of the ground between my feet and rolled it in my hands. When I glanced back at Landry’s face, his lips were pressed into a thin line.

  I knew what he was thinking about, because it was on my mind, too. And it twisted my gut and tightened my throat, but I’d come through for him. Somehow.

  “I’m going to tell her, you know,” I said quietly, my eyes back on my rock.

  He exhaled but didn’t say anything.

  I squinted at him. “What? You don’t think I will?”

  He turned to face me, eyelids drooping like he didn’t have the energy to keep them up. “I think you believe you will.”

  I shifted my body in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t get mad.”

  “I’m not mad, but I’d like you to explain.”

  He sat up and brushed his hands together, the sounds of pebbles and dirt pinging the ground below him. “I think you want to. And I think you intend to. But I’m not sure, when faced with your mom, you actually will.”

  I somehow managed to keep the ire out of my voice. “So you think I’ll back down from her.”

  His eyes shifted to me, an apology in them, so I knew what came next would be a hard truth. “You’ve done it before.”

  I gritted my teeth. “I was nineteen and my dad had just died.”

  “I know. But still . . .” His voice trailed off. “I’m sorry.”

  He was right, though. What difference did a couple of years make? Landry spoke from experience. What did he get out of this if he thought I wouldn’t carry through on my promise? “Then why are you doing this with me?”

  Landry tilted his head. “What?”

  “If you think the fall will come and everything will go back to how it was, why are you letting me in?”

  One corner of his mouth tipped up. “First, I have hope. And second, I have no choice. You’ve always been in.”

  I wilted. Like someone had yanked all my bones from my body so I collapsed to the ground in a pile of skins and clothes. “Landry . . .”

  He waved his hand at me. “That’s all the sap you’re getting out of me today.”

  “Lan—”

  “I’m tapped out.”

  “I love you.”

  “Shut up, Jus.”

  I twined our Twizzlers-ringed fingers together and leaned in to kiss his neck. “I love you, Landry.”

  He huffed. “I love you, too, Justin.”

  ***

  Lan tapped away at his phone in the passenger seat and spoke without looking up. “Want me to heat up some mac and cheese for dinner? How are we doing on time?”

  I regripped the steering wheel, placing my fingers in the familiar worn grooves. I’d thought about this all day. Landry had let me in, trusted me with his heart without a guard, knowing there was a strong possibility I could break it.

  “Can you search for an Italian restaurant nearby?”

  He didn’t look up. “Huh?”

  “Lan.”

  Head stayed bent, tapping away. “Yeah.”

  “Will you look at me?”

  He turned his phone off and tossed it onto the dashboard, then leaned his head back on his seat. “What?”

  I growled under my breath. “Look for nearby Italian restaurants.”

  He perked his head up, eyes wide, and his ears would have pointed forward if he were a dog. “Italian?”

  For Landry, visiting an Italian restaurant was a near-orgasmic experience by the time he got to his beloved tiramisu.

  “Yeah, let’s go out to eat. Like a real date.”

  His eyebrows lifted and a small smile curved his lips. “A date?”

  I wanted to give him something he loved, and I wanted to show him I could be with him—out with him—in public. “Yep.”

  His smile grew to show his teeth. “We’re going out on a date.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t that what I said?”

  He clapped his palms on his cheek and opened his mouth in mock horror. “But I have nothing to wear!”

  I shoved his shoulder. “Shut up, Landry.”

  He laughed and dropped his hands. “You’re serious, though?”

  I nodded. “Now get searching because I’m hungry.”

  Landry found a nearby Italian restaurant within five minutes. We pulled Sally into the fortunately spacious parking lot. We showered, and Landry gave me one of his quick massages. His fingers dug into my back muscles until I swore my body melted.

  We dressed. Or, Landry dressed and I stood there until he told me what to wear.

  “I don’t think it’s that fancy . . .” I said as he dug through my bag.

  He raised his head with a glare. “It’s a date.”

  I knew when to shut up so I did and let him mumble about my coloring and some other crap.

  When he’d finally picked out my clothes and I’d put them on, we stepped out of the RV into the darkened parking lot.

  The scrape of the concrete under my soles hurt my ears, and I rubbed my sweaty palms on my denim-clad thighs. I could do this. I could be on a date in public with a guy. I didn’t have to make out with him but I couldn’t do anything that would make him think I was embarrassed by him.

  I took a deep breath and clenched my fists. We had a right to exist. To be who we were. Fuck everyone else.

  With my brave armor slid over my face, I was about to open the door, but Landry bumped me. I glanced up at him and he gestured his head to the side.

  We stepped away from the door and Landry took a deep breath. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  His smile was sad. “I wasn’t mad at the B and B because you weren’t ou
t. I was mad because you completely overreacted to sharing a room with me.” He glanced out into the growing darkness of the parking lot and licked his lips. “But we’re in a town we don’t know. In a state we’ve never been. We can’t just waltz in there holding hands. I’m not comfortable with that.”

  Landry had always been out and proud. What was he talking about? “But—”

  He shook his head, cutting me off. “If people figure out I’m gay, fine. But I’m not going to invite some asshole to hurl slurs at me or try to punch me. Okay? I’m letting you know my comfort level. And I can tell you aren’t comfortable with it either. You’re sweating.”

  The beads ran down the back of my neck. “No, I’m not.”

  Lan chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah you are.”

  I scrunched my lips to the side, then took a deep breath. “Okay, maybe a little.”

  He bumped my shoulder in a straight-bro kind of way. “As long as you don’t walk in there and announce loudly like a weirdo that you’re straight and we’re just friends, you don’t have anything to prove to me tonight. Let’s just gorge ourselves on pasta and tiramisu and have a good time, okay?”

  I bumped him back. “Okay.”

  The restaurant was darkly lit. Flickering candles in glass vases sat on white cloth-covered tables. A hostess seated us at a table for two along the back wall. The place wasn’t crowded and the air was filled with the gentle murmurs of conversations and the soft clink of glass and silverware.

  A large mural was painted on the wall beside us, a scene from a vintage winery.

  We sat in our seats and a minute later a slender young man appeared quietly at our table, a polite smile on his face, white shirt and black pants pressed. He held his notepad in thin fingers as he introduced himself and asked for our drink orders. Landry opened his mouth before I could and ordered an entire bottle of the house Pinot Grigio. After the waiter excused himself, I stared at Landry. He winked at me. “What? We don’t have to drive anywhere.”

  “It’s two of us.”

  “Yeah, I can count.”

  “That’s a lot of fucking wine.”

  He took a sip of his water, the flame of our candle lighting his eyes. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, then curled it slowly back into his mouth. “I thought you liked me tipsy.”

  I shut up about the wine.

  Our waiter delivered our wine and Landry approved it. We both drank almost a full glass before our calamari appetizer came.

  Landry’s face was flushed, his lips stained red from the marinara sauce. His hair was long and unruly and I wanted to reach across the table and run my fingers through it. He must have read my thoughts because he leaned closer. “Jus, stop.”

  I blinked. “Stop what?”

  He snorted softly. “Looking at me like that.”

  “How am I looking at you?”

  He smiled. “Like you want to kiss me.”

  My voice was almost a whine. “But I do wanna kiss you.”

  He laughed. “Can you make it through dinner?”

  I huffed and plopped my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand. “Fine.”

  Our food was out of this world. Lan ordered his beloved lasagna and I ordered some seafood pasta with clams, muscles, shrimp, and crab.

  We talked about Dad and college and the time I played Seven Minutes in Heaven in junior high with elementary school kiss-stealer Courtney.

  We didn’t talk about the fall. Or my mom. Or my job. We weren’t avoiding it because we both knew it was there. We chose tonight to let it rest. And enjoy our time.

  I grew bolder as the wine flowed through my blood. I stole touches under the table, squeezing Landry’s knee or rubbing my shoe along his calf. He would giggle every time and threaten to spit out his wine. And then deepen his voice and say something ultra masculine, like “Cool it, bro.”

  And then I’d crack up and threaten to spit out my wine.

  We ate our tiramisu and asked for the check. But whether it was the quiet, private atmosphere or our high comfort level or, most likely, the wine, we weren’t as discrete as we thought.

  Our check showed our wine had been comped. Our waiter had written in heavy black scrawl, Welcome to the club.

  When I handed over my card to pay, he didn’t say a word and wouldn’t stay to chat. We left a 30 percent tip.

  And that night, in the privacy of Sally and our bed, we came together, slowly. I held Landry afterward, his face pressed into my neck as his breaths deepened and twined our heavy limbs together. This is what it would mean for me to be out, to be with Landry. Moments like this saved for when we were alone and safe, a different face in public to avoid the ire of those who hated us because we were different. Because we loved who we loved.

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead. When I pictured being with Landry, it was happiness and laughter and waking up to blow jobs.

  I hadn’t thought about the danger that came with it, the need to still be “in the closet” in some situations. Looking over my shoulder. Always being aware. Feeling like holding my boyfriend’s hand in public was something both exhilarating and dangerous.

  Is that where my mother’s concern came from? She wanted me to have a normal life? I hadn’t thought of it that way. Instead I’d focused on her oppressing me or trying to make me into what she wanted me to be. Which could be part of it. But there had to be some kind of maternal concern in there somewhere.

  But as Landry’s curls tickled my neck, his hand curled around my hip, I knew I’d pick this over normal. I’d pick these moments over living someone else’s life. I’d pick Landry.

  ***

  July 1

  [Picture]

  We visited the Brown County State Park in Indiana. It was gorgeous and we spent some time with Justin’s dad in a lovely fog-covered ravine in the early morning

  Also, Justin is gloating right now because he got me on a horse. Yes, you heard that right. Me. On a horse. And I didn’t fall. It was actually kind of nice. Smokey (that was my horse’s name) treated me well. My ass was only a little sore. Here’s how we looked on our horses. [Picture]

  Next up is Ohio. We are in the home stretch and it’s a little weird to think this summer will soon be over. Thanks again for following our journey.

  8 Down

  4 To Go

  —L

  Comments

  Mia: You guys look like naturals on those horses!

  Chapter Fifteen

  We pulled into the rest area, and I groaned as I threw Sally into park. My shoulder was screaming, and my thigh was shaking from the stop and go in the traffic jam we’d just made it out of.

  I was sweaty and wanted food and a shower.

  “I’m going to go get something to eat.” Landry yawned and pointed to the building ahead of us, which held an assortment of fast food and convenience store offerings.

  I nodded, my mouth too dry to talk.

  He hopped down out of Sally and walked toward the building, throwing a wave over his shoulder at me.

  I gulped down half a bottle of water and then clamored out of the RV. I walked around the vehicle, giving it a once-over like I always did, making sure nothing was loose and the tires had enough air.

  I tested the back ones and frowned.

  I probably could have waited until the morning but what the hell, I was near the air pump. So I popped in some quarters and filled up Sally’s tires.

  My phone rang just as the time limit for my air ran out. I fumbled it out of my pocket. “Hey,” I said, holding the phone in the crook of my shoulder while I wound the hose back on the air machine.

  “Justin.” Her voice was colder than normal, like frost misting from the phone. “I told you. I told you that blog and letting Landry run it was a bad idea.”

  His name was an icicle hurled at my heart. A chill started in t
he base of my spine, creeping up the bones of my back and into my neck until my head was a solid block of ice on my shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

  “He needs to take that picture down before everyone knows.”

  My jaw ached and I unhinged it in order to talk. “Knows what?”

  She took a deep breath, and I wanted to stop time. Just freeze it, hang up the phone, put Landry in the RV and drive. Drive as far away as we could and live on some land in the middle of nowhere.

  But that wasn’t practical. So instead I waited for her answer.

  “That there’s . . . something between you two. I suspected it all along and this . . . picture confirmed it. Take it down.”

  She suspected? Why hadn’t she ever said anything and given me a chance to come clean? And what picture? All the thoughts whirled in my head like a blizzard, but she just kept talking before I could focus on my hands in front of my face. “In fact, he needs to take down the whole blog and you need to come home now. This trip has gone on long enough. You have responsibilities.”

  “Mom, I—”

  “I’m embarrassed, Justin. I’m embarrassed by this trip and this blog and your friend. And you should be, too.”

  I blinked and tried to talk around my frozen tongue. “Embarrassed? This trip is important to me. It’s important to do this for Dad—”

  “Don’t even try to spin this as being about your dad, Justin. You don’t care about doing anything but what you want, consequences be damned. Well, playtime is over. Come home.”

  Consequences be damned.

  Click.

  The sound jolted into my ear and then rattled around in my head, colliding with the hunk of useless gray matter that was now my brain. My tongue was too thick in my mouth and my throat was swollen.

  She knew. She knew what was going on and she hated it and what the fuck was I going to do? I looked down at my phone, this stupid hunk of plastic that at this moment was responsible for ruining my life. I cocked my arm back and hurled it into the field surrounding me, not giving a shit when it disappeared among tall grass and wildflowers and probably fucking poison ivy and a snake or two.

  As I stared out in the blackness of the night, the coldness in my head thawed.