Focus on Me

by Megan Erickson

  They cautioned that at any time if we felt faint, dizzy, or nauseous, we were to remove ourselves from the hut to prevent dehydration.

  I shuffled my feet on the bare wood floor. I’d slipped my sneakers on without socks and left the laces untied. The plastic ends of the laces clicked on the dusty floor as I moved my feet.

  Yiska had a soothing voice, and he talked about how important Sweats are to the Native Americans, that it was a purification process. And as he talked, I let his words sink into my bones. I gazed out of the back doors, toward the fire raging in the middle of the huts. I thought that actually, this wasn’t such a bad idea. I needed to do a little purging. Forget all about my dreams that I’d had out in California. I wasn’t that Colin Hartman anymore. I was this one. A guy who was on one last road trip until he buckled down to his familial responsibilities.

  I glanced over at Riley, who was watching Yiska talk with rapt attention. He seemed so eager, and I smiled to myself. Thank God I’d said yes. The smile on Riley’s face was worth it. What I’d get out of it was secondary.

  ***

  I was from the South, and while I wasn’t necessarily near the ocean, the heat in North Carolina was humid.

  Humid heat always caught me by surprise, dampening my clothes and slicking my skin. It was like a vapor. I felt every degree of the one hundred and two degrees Yiska said it would be. We filed inside and I sucked in a hot breath, sputtering as it seared my lungs. I panicked for a minute when I couldn’t catch my breath, but then I closed my eyes and calmed myself.

  This was okay. I could do this. Just breathe.

  I sat cross-legged next to Riley, who was in position, eyes dark and full, watching me as I settled. I smiled at him, and he beamed back, big and bright.

  We were in close quarters, but Riley and I had a spot close to the entrance of the lodge. When they closed the hut, we were plunged into darkness. Because of our position, I could just barely make out Riley’s face.

  The sweat had already begun dripping down my back. I could feel the beads descend down my spine and slip over my ribs.

  Some of it ran into my eyes and spread across the seam of my lips. I went cross-eyed when a bead of sweat ran down my nose and I felt it drip off of the tip. I stared down at the dirt below me. The bead of sweat must have evaporated before it even touched the ground. The dirt below me was still loose and dry.

  I glanced over at Riley, squinting in the darkness. His chest rose and fell, like he was taking great gulps of air, and his eyes were closed. I figured I should do that, too—concentrate—so I closed my eyes as well.

  Being alone with my thoughts was an odd feeling, because that wasn’t me. Even when I exercised, I was counting my reps or listening to music or focusing on what I had to do to get bigger, better, stronger.

  I never simply . . . sat.

  I let my mind slip back to my parents’ restaurant. The smell of the smoke and the sound of the chairs scraping the floor. The clang of the old register because no way in hell would Ma ever get something new. The shouts of the waitresses hollering orders.

  I’d missed that place. I’d missed it like hell. So while I’d failed at school . . . maybe it was a failure that needed to happen. A sign? I didn’t know. I didn’t usually believe in that stuff. After Riley had mentioned my astrological sign, I’d looked up Taurus on a whim. And it was kind of crazy how the whole description fit me to a T. On the plus side, I was placid, reliable, warmhearted, loving, and determined. But on the negative side I was possessive, inflexible, and greedy.

  I wondered if those negative traits were what made me go off to college when I’d never had any business doing any such thing. I was greedy and I wanted what others had. I was inflexible about it. But at the end of the day, my positive determined trait might have been a negative one.

  But with Riley, I could make my natural instincts work for me. I’d be reliable for him. I’d be loving in a platonic way. And I’d be inflexible about my determination to see him through this to the other side, no matter what that other side was.

  I’d make sure he could rely on me. I’d told him I’d get him to the Atlantic Ocean, and that’s what I’d do.

  I wasn’t necessarily comfortable, but I was calm. I hadn’t known what to expect but I definitely thought there was something to this Sweat. I was focused now, and I wanted to run out of this lodge and shout. My body hummed with a new energy, and I looked over at Riley to see how he was doing.

  His face was still and he wasn’t moving. I took in his flushed cheeks and glanced away, but not before I saw his throat swallow convulsively.

  I jerked my face back to him, my body now thrumming with a different kind of energy, one of concern. His eyes were closed, squeezed tight, and his entire body was flushed red. He seemed to be trying to swallow and then opened his mouth a few times, rolling his jaw.

  Even though we were sitting cross-legged, he seemed to wobble a bit. I inched closer. We weren’t supposed to talk to each other, but something about Riley’s demeanor sent off warning bells in my head. What had he eaten this morning? Had he drank enough?

  I touched his leg and he didn’t open his eyes or acknowledge my presence. I shook his knee and his eyes opened slowly. He stared at me a minute, but he wasn’t focused on me at all, his eyes glassy and far away.

  I reached for his wrist and felt his pulse. It was fast, really fast, and as he tried to swallow again, I knew he’d reached his limit. He was close to dehydrated and there was no way in hell he was doing this to himself on my watch.

  I didn’t know the etiquette on how to do this. I didn’t want to disrespect their traditions, but I had to get Riley out and I had to get him out now. I caught the eye of our leader and motioned to Riley and the door. He nodded at me and that was my go sign. Although to keep Riley safe, I would have busted down this whole hut.

  I pulled on Riley’s arm. “Come on, we need to get you out.”

  He blinked at me and it was another couple seconds before he focused on me. Then he shook his head. “Not done.” His voice was garbled, like his tongue was too thick in his mouth.

  “Ri, I think you’re getting dehydrated, we need to get you out now.”

  “Not done,” he said more forcefully, but his head rolled and he nearly tipped backward.

  “Oh, you’re done.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him upright. He stumbled to his feet because the only alternative was me pulling his arm out of its socket. He was resisting, though, mumbling and trying to collapse back onto the dirt. So I put a shoulder to his stomach and fireman-carried him, which was difficult as I had to crawl out of the hut. Once outside I sat him down in the shade of the visitor’s center and grabbed a thermos of water nearby. “Drink. Slowly.”

  He shoved my hand out of the way, spilling some water so it darkened the earth at our feet. His eyes were wide, hurt and accusatory. “I told you I wasn’t done! Why the hell did you take me out?” His voice cracked—a broken sound, high with pain.

  “Riley, please drink some water.” I shoved the thermos at him again but he ignored me and rolled unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled back toward the hut, but with one step, I banded an arm around his waist and hauled him back against me. We were both covered in sweat, so holding onto him was like capturing a greased pig. Fortunately, I had experience with that.

  I’d made a decision in that damn lodge while I sweated my ass off. I’d be reliable with Riley, starting now. And one of my negative traits was stubbornness, so Riley was in for it if he thought he was getting back in that damn lodge.

  He struggled weakly, beating his fists against my arms and stomping his feet.

  “Riley, stop. Please.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” His elbows jabbed at my ribs but I held firm.

  “Riley, I’m trying to help you! You can’t go back in there.”

  “I have to!” He wailed.

  “Why?” I shouted.

  He continued to struggle, his damp hair sticking to my lips. He let out a sob that st
opped my heart, and then slumped in my arms. “It didn’t work.”

  I shoved the thermos under his face and held it as he drank slowly. “What didn’t work?”

  He took a breath, the water glistening on his lips. “This. It didn’t work.”

  “You sweated like crazy. Isn’t that the point of this?”

  His legs gave out, and rather than hold up his weight, I went to the ground with him. I braced myself against the visitor’s center building and let him lean against my chest. I doled out small sips of water, checking his pulse occasionally. I would have to check in with the medical staff inside before we left, but I think I’d gotten him out before things went too bad. Already his pulse was back to normal.

  He hadn’t answered my question. I shifted him so I could see into his eyes. “Riley.”

  He bit his lip, and I had to say, I wasn’t so sure I liked his eyes now more than I had when he was in the hut. Because now they looked blank, his face slack.

  I cupped his face, wishing I could lean in and breathe into him, fill his lungs with my own air until the lights shone again in his eyes. “Baby, what did you want to get out of this?” I whispered.

  He flinched a little at the endearment, and his eyes sparked before dulling again. He blinked slowly. “Something.”

  I ran my fingers over his cheekbones. “Okay, and what did you get?”

  He jerked out of my hold and stared off into the distance. When he spoke again, he closed his eyes and whispered, “Nothing.”

  Chapter Seven

  I wasn’t necessarily delighted to get into a car and drive for a couple of hours when I had just sweated my ass off. But the lodge had showers, so we were able to wash up and put on clean clothes.

  I watched Riley as he robotically stepped into his cutoff denim shorts and slipped a T-shirt over his head. Every movement was stiff and he held his head at an awkward angle. If I didn’t know him, I’d think he had chronic pain.

  But I did know, at least enough to know that while he always had a certain poise about him, he never carried himself like this.

  I asked him if it was okay if we drove for a while, because what else were we going to do? He’d shrugged without making eye contact and then walked toward the car. I bit my lip and called after him, “Gonna take a quick leak first, then we’ll get going, okay?”

  He gave me a wave over his shoulder, then pulled open Butch’s passenger door and got inside.

  I walked back into the lodge, where Yiska was talking to the couple we’d been with in the sweat lodge. They were just getting out, having lasted longer than Riley.

  I waited patiently until they were finished, then approached Yiska. His dark eyes watched me, and I squirmed a little under his knowing gaze. “Your friend feeling better?” he asked.

  We’d gotten him checked out by the medical staff, who said he needed proper rest and plenty of liquids. I nodded. “Yeah, he’s okay. Uh, I have a question, actually.”

  He inclined his head for me to proceed.

  I licked my lips and shifted my weight as I fidgeted with my hands. “So, what exactly do people come here to get out of the sweat?”

  His face didn’t change. “Did you not enjoy the experience?”

  Oh man, I didn’t insult him, did I? “No, I did enjoy it. A lot, I mean.” I tapped my temple. “I figured out a lot in here, I would say. But Ri—my friend—well, I’m thinking he expected to feel . . . different than he does.”

  Yiska gazed out at the fire, where several men were heating rocks. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned back to me. “Most of us feel its a cleanse, a way to come back to basics, return to nature.”

  I nodded, because that made sense. And in fact, that’s how I’d felt.

  “But some people,” he continued, “they see visions, and reports of those visions spread. Others come seeking the same thing. And when they don’t also see visions, it can anger them. But sometimes we hope for things that just don’t happen. And that’s not Mother Nature’s fault.” He tipped his head. “What do you think your friend hoped to see or feel?”

  I couldn’t really look into those dark eyes anymore, so I lowered my gaze to the ground. “I’m not sure.”

  Yiska’s hand clapped me on the shoulder and I raised my head. “His problems bother you.”

  The statement was true. “Yes.”

  Yiska nodded and dropped his hand. “I think someone else willing to take his burdens for a bit will be a big help.”

  I blew out a breath as Yiska’s words warmed my gut. “I sure as hell hope so.” He smiled softly. I reached out my hand and he shook it. “Thanks a lot for everything.”

  He told me to take care, and when I walked out of the lodge and reached the car, I peered into the window. Riley was slumped with his head on the passenger’s-side window, fast asleep.

  He didn’t wake when I started the rumbling Butch to life.

  He didn’t wake when I stopped at a fast food drive-through to order food. And he didn’t wake as I drove for three hours.

  He did wake when I pulled into a motel parking lot at ten at night.

  He blinked at the windshield as I turned off the Jeep.

  “This look okay?” I asked, pointing to the rooms in front of us.

  All I got was a shrug and a whispered, “Fine.”

  ***

  By the next morning, I wondered why the hell I was doing this to myself. Was I helping Riley in any way?

  He sat on the bed, the light from the curtains cutting across his sharp cheekbones. I stood across from him, leaning back on a dresser, my arms crossed over my chest and my foot crossed over my other ankle. “Where’d you plan to go next, Riley?”

  He didn’t answer, those dark eyes staring at the blank TV.

  “Catwalk?”

  He jerked his head to me, and his cheeks colored a little. “I, uh, had planned to go to Dallas.”

  I sank my hook into his words. I had a plan, a goal. “Dallas?”

  He swallowed. “Yeah, I heard the gay community there is really great and I thought I’d give it a shot, but . . .”

  Nope, I would not let him finish the phrase that began with a but. “Great, we’ll go!”

  He startled at my words. “What?”

  “We’ll go to Dallas!” I punctuated my statement with a definitive clap of my hands.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I hadn’t thought . . . You still want to do this trip with me?”

  “What? It’s not like you want to go back to Las Vegas or something. This is still on my way home. I’ve never been to Dallas, anyway.”

  He stared at me like I had three heads. “But the sweat lodge and—”

  I waved my hand. “All the more reason to go have some fun. Drink and dance and ogle ass.”

  He didn’t look as excited as I thought he would. Hell, I was getting excited. Even if I only wanted to drink with Riley, dance with Riley, and ogle Riley’s ass.

  He blinked at me. “Are you always like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Persistent.”

  I barked out a laugh and his lips curled into the closest thing I’d seen to a smile since before that ill-fated Sweat. “Nah, not always, but I’m really starting to embrace my natural Taurus tendencies.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Did you even know you were a Taurus before I told you?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I might have been told at one time or another. But look what a great influence you are! Convincing me to be persistent—”

  “—Pain in the ass—”

  “—So that we can go party in Dallas.”

  Riley took a deep breath, wincing, like it hurt to inhale. “Okay, fine.”

  “That wasn’t enthusiastic, but I’ll take it.”

  I walked over to my bag and zipped it closed. When I turned around, he was still sitting on the bed, staring at the TV. “Ri?”

  He jerked at his name and stood up, hauling his bag over his shoulder. “Okay, let’s go.
”

  I didn’t stop looking over my shoulder on the way to the car to reassure myself he was still there.

  ***

  Landry,

  Have you ever wanted something so hard, and thought it would happen, that . . . maybe you wished it too hard?

  Well, maybe you did, but you ended up getting it, didn’t you? You got Justin.

  We went to a sweat lodge, because I thought it was what I needed. My parents have always thought that lying on a couch and talking to some doctor and then popping some mind-numbing pills were going to help me, but they don’t get it. I can’t imagine that’s the right way to make me feel again.

  The sweat lodge had been my last hope. I’d get rid of all this . . . shit in my body. This constant gnawing in my gut. I thought I could sweat it and cleanse my body. I thought I’d be able to see my purpose.

  But there’d been . . . nothing. Just nothing but the silence and my heartbeat and my sweat. It stung my eyes and tasted sour in my mouth.

  I wanted to stay there forever, until I shriveled into a husk, but Colin dragged me out and made me drink water.

  I’m not sure why he’s still here, sleeping in this bed next to me. I give him nothing, and yet he still hasn’t dropped me on the side of the road where I belong.

  I don’t know what’s next, Landry, but I don’t think it’s good. None of this is good.

  —R

  Chapter Eight

  We drove for two days. Two days in which Riley was quiet and withdrawn. I hated the look in his eyes and the stiffness in his posture.

  He glanced at his phone a lot. And one time when it was vibrating while I was driving, I looked over and saw “Mom” calling before he ignored it and shoved it in his pocket.

  “You don’t need to get that?” I wasn’t that guy, the nosey guy, the one in other people’s business, but I wanted Riley’s business to be mine. And at this point, I felt like I could ask him a couple things about his personal life. Didn’t mean he had to answer me.

  Which he didn’t. He stared out the window.