AN LGBTQ+ NOVEL
MADELEINE N. CULL
Contents
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2019 by Madeleine N Cull
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
FIRST EDITION
www.madeleinecull.com
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To all the summer vacations that made me who I am today.
And to everyone who knows what it’s like to grow up in the blink of an eye.
"It's about growing up, mostly. Sometimes it's about family, and sometimes it’s about friends. Sometimes it's about love and loss, or the sound of cicadas in the heat of July. It's about what turns the leaves from green to orange; the moments faded to memories captured in an old photograph."
1
California
On June first, 2004, June sat outside his parent’s ranch-style home, watching the first wave of cottonwood seeds float through the air. It was warm and windy; dust whirling up and moving frantically across the yard. Leaves twirled and spun like the inside of his head. Dizzying, careless thoughts lifting and falling with his every breath. June had an untouched cup of tea his mother had handed him sitting on the wooden steps at his side, and a heavy black cloud hanging over his heart. He was suspended someplace between disgust and anguish.
He knew this was coming. He’d known this was coming for quite some time actually—but he never quite wrapped his mind around the reality of it until now. Today was the day he and his family would typically be making the cross-country trip to California, where they would spend their summer in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and all their problems would be forgotten.
There weren’t many places in the world June really looked forward to going. There weren’t very many places in the world that made June feel happy and whole either. But Bass Lake, California had been his sanctuary year after year since he was practically born. It was a constant comfort—something he desperately looked forward to at his lowest-lows, and continued to provide him with subsequent highs. He needed that mountain. That lake. That cabin in the woods.
And yet this year, due to circumstances June had no control over, his parents had chosen not to renew their contract with the Valentines—a family from Oregon that rented the cabin to them every year. June had watched his father scrawl his messy signature across some simple agreement and fax it away without batting an eye. Just like that. Summers were over.
The wind picked up a handful of cottonwood and hurled it toward June’s feet as if telling him to shake it off. To let it go. It wasn’t the end of the world, after all. It was just a cabin in the woods two-thousand and some miles away from here. A cabin that existed in a piece of paradise where people were tan and friendly, and his best friend since he was toddler lived. A place that also existed in six fat photo albums sitting on the bottom shelf in his den.
When June closed his eyes, he could picture the tiny ice cream shop that sat on the south end of the lake, crowded with people and loud from whatever hip-hop played over the old radio speakers. He could smell sugar-cones and Angela Delgado’s overused vanilla perfume.
He wanted to go one last time.
When June argued with his father and offered to pay for the trip himself, his father had gently told him to get the idea out of his head. He’d begged. His father had yelled. The back and forth had been unsettling, and in the end, June knew better than to abuse his father’s patience.
Still, he sat on the porch with sadness slowly turning to anger and thought back to that cabin in the woods, and the lake no more than a mile down the road. He pictured Angie’s face smiling and cheerful as ever. He pictured speedboats on the dark green water and teenagers whooping and laughing as they tried to fling each other off inflatable tubes. He remembered the way a bad sunburn felt on his knees, the instant regret of walking on the metal dock without flip-flops, and the chill of water when you dove in head first.
June longed for some peace and resignation with his childhood. He was eighteen now, and plenty smart enough to know it would all have to end at some point. Yet it felt so abrupt and wrong like this. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to say a proper goodbye.
June took a deep breath, unfolded his arms from around his knees and reached down to take the cup his mother had handed him before she left to go grocery shopping. He brought it to his lips, swallowed a few lukewarm mouthfuls, and decided right then and there that sometimes things in life were just too important to pass up. That if the pieces of his childhood had to remain in old photo albums, he would at the very least celebrate them one more time.
He glanced back at the iron clock nailed beside their front door.
One hour.
One hour is plenty of time.
And then suddenly it wasn't just June’s head or the cottonwood in a whirl. It was him, lurching off the steps and tearing through his house in search of every clean article of clothing he owned. He picked up socks that had been thrown on the floor in his room to see if they had been worn yet or not. Fished out boxer-briefs from the back of his drawer he never used unless desperate. Grabbed day-old T-shirts with band logos on them and the well-worn pair of aviators he’d bought a little over a month ago.
He hurled himself up and down the spiral staircase gathering his most important belongings, refusing to think too hard about what he was doing. Sunscreen from the hall closet, his pet’s carrier from the garage, his beloved Mp3 which was so full it wouldn't download any more songs. June yanked open the wooden drawer of his nightstand and found his wallet, which—thankfully—had his first credit card in it. He also took the fat collection of hundred dollar bills he’d been saving in an old VHS case since he quit his job a few months ago.
In less than an hour, June had picked out every necessary detail of his life and threw it in a suitcase. He found the slim phonebook for their tiny country-side town and convinced himself he was crazy enough to do this. He dialed the number. He ushered his cat, Quail, into his carrier, and soon sat back outside on the porch, leg bouncing as he anticipated the cab coming to get him.
Was summer vacation really so important to him? Yes. Absolutely. That cabin in the woods of California was the one place he had always felt like himself. Three months of every year he spent making memories and growing into the person he was meant to be. He’d learned to swim in that lake and drive on those roads. His poor pubescent voice had cracked and mended there. His mother had caught (and not caught) him sneaking out more times than he could count.
June had essentially hit every good milestone of his life at that cabin, and like clockwork, he would return to conquer the next trial. To learn a new lesson. To feel alive.
Eighteen years and he was too young to say goodbye. Saying goodbye meant he would have to give up.
Not yet, he breathed, marching past the half-empty cup of tea sitting on his front porch as the yellow striped cab pulled into his driveway.
When his driver asked him where he was going, he’d said the airport with enough authority not to raise any further questions. And thankfully the airport was only about
two miles from his house, which meant his cat didn't have enough time to start howling from his carrier and freak the driver out.
He tipped the man a fair amount once they reached the unloading zone. Then hurried inside, trying his best not to leave a guilty trail in his path.
The airport was a surprisingly calm experience. No international flights came and went from this small town in North Carolina, and so the majority of travelers were here on behalf of family or business. Tourism being dead to the county made it easy to navigate to a service counter with his luggage and made the staff at the desk friendlier to deal with. One of the representatives would recognize his eyes if she caught him staring. They’d gone to high school together—been in an advanced math class together or something. He turned his back to her, excited flutter of anticipation tickling his ribcage like it always did when he was up to something his parents wouldn’t approve of.
June bought one of twenty-five open seats left on the earliest flight to Los Angeles and made it through security with just enough time to buy a bag of pretzels from the gift shop and get to his gate. He was in the last boarding group and figured that was fine since the five-hour flight would be long enough as it was.
June swallowed hard and shook his head, adrenalin making his skin feel hot as he climbed into a row of unoccupied seats. His family knew him too well—the moment they realized he’d taken Quail and packed a bag they would know exactly where he went. The only question was if they would fly themselves out to California to drag him back home or not. He hoped, since he was eighteen now, they wouldn’t bother.
June licked his lips, plugged his earbuds into his Mp3, and waited impatiently for the cabin doors to close and for the take-off to begin.
Los Angeles, to some people, was nothing but a dirty and chaotic city overflowing with traffic and pigeons. Concrete and desert shrubbery tangled with the hillsides while over-crowded highways ran in long, neat lines. Backyards were dotted with blue-green swimming pools and the occasional sun-tanner on a white lounge chair—sunglasses on their face. The Southern Pacific Coast was just a hop and a skip away. Whitecaps broke over the golden shore in the distance—surfers popping up over them.
June loved it. Loved the sun and the heat and the diversity among the people. He enjoyed hearing more languages than just English—liked to think if he lived here, he would pick up on some of it too. That somehow, he would absorb the culture and morph into a more well-rounded person.
When the plane landed, it was a much different process of getting through the airport than it was back in North Carolina. Excitement buzzed through June’s veins as he navigated the crowds in baggage claim. His luggage spun on a huge rack that took over a minute to go around, but once he had it, he moved on with steady purpose. Stopped only once or twice to ogle at a passerby or to read the signs on an advertisement about Nelly Furtado coming to Hollywood.
He wondered on and off about his family and how they might be reacting right now. Was his mother crying over him? He wondered if she was disappointed or furious. He pictured his father’s tired face when he got home from work this evening only to find his son who liked to dip his fingers in delinquent activities now and again, had indeed run away from home. The man would sigh, pinch the bridge of his nose and comment on how his two daughters seemed to have accepted the fate of their summer home just fine. Why couldn’t he?
The more immature part of June’s brain told him this was totally justified; his father should have kept the cabin at least one more year. Then maybe June would have had time to prepare and wouldn’t have to run away just to get the chance to say goodbye.
Or something like that.
Bass Lake, California was about a five-hour drive from the LAX airport, and June hadn’t thought this far ahead yet. Now that his feet were on the ground and his head wasn’t spinning, he could let the impact of his situation weigh on him. It wasn't that big of a deal since there were plenty of cab drivers in the city, but he squirmed at the thought of spending well over a hundred dollars for the ride.
Nevertheless, he flagged down a driver in the loading zone and promised he could pay for the trip upfront. They shook hands on it after he offered a fair warning on behalf of Quail who would probably cry during a large portion of the drive. The driver was unfazed, perhaps already used to these situations coming from the airport.
It was a long drive in the night; the city flashed by, and LA traffic kept things interesting until they hit the interstate headed toward Yosemite. June slept on and off after that, waking only to find buildings turned into trees and rolling hills turned into mountains. The smog of the city had cleared to fresh, familiar smelling air.
Somewhere around one in the morning, June recognized his surroundings. The trees, looming in all their overgrown glory, hid the tiny sliver of moon from almost every angle. He rolled the window down and breathed in the scent of pine. Let the nostalgia wash over him like a heavy wave. Almost crushing. He was happy, but maybe coming here would make it a lot harder to say goodbye? For a fleeting moment, June worried he might never have the strength to leave.
They passed a tiny, overpriced mini-market with a flickering neon beer sign in the window, and the excitement of getting close made June tingle. He grinned and apologized to the cab driver for rolling the window down all the way to dangle his arms out of it. The sounds of crickets chirping and the familiar bumps and dips in the old pavement welcomed him. Soothed him in ways he was sure nothing else could.
There was something to be said about what home felt like, and June was pretty sure something was wrong with him because this—this place where he was now alone, away from his parents and his sisters—probably shouldn't feel like home, but it did. Home wasn’t actually supposed to be a location, right? It was supposed to be the people and the feelings?
Needless to say, when the cab finally pulled into the old driveway, and the ancient maple tree sitting in the front yard shifted, leaves brushing up in the wind to greet him, he realized he was home. Period.
On June second, 2004, Aaron Valentine decided he was going to change his life. Because, really, at this particular moment in time, his entire world was falling apart around him anyway. And if life was going to change around Aaron, he might as well learn to change too. He decided (after a disturbingly long discussion with himself in a bathroom stall) he was going to leave. Leave and maybe—although dramatic he admitted—never come back. Ever.
There was a scandal; unexpected, volatile, and centered around the radio station where Aaron worked. He’d tried to stop it. Tried to explain the situation, tried to defend himself and put his foot down for once. He’d tried…but in the end; it hadn’t mattered. The scandal upturned the town and his entire, insignificant world within it. His boss called him into the office, and shook his head in a strange father-that’s-been-disappointed kind of way, said I’m sorry, Aaron. I know you didn't cause this to happen. But there’s nothing we can do, and Aaron was heartbroken. He hadn't KNOWN any of this was happening to begin with. But arguing with a disappointed boss was a lot like arguing with a disappointed dad, and Aaron had decided to take his lumps like a man and just go. Ruined reputation or not.
That’s how he’d ended up in the bathroom stall, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. He’d considered walking out with middle fingers raised and driving home to really sulk until he had the guts to look for a new job, but the rational part of his brain considered the fact that his boss was an understanding man. He’d let Aaron go with a “temporary leave,” not actually firing him. So not only did he feel like he’d gotten lectured by his dad again, he felt a lot like he’d gotten suspended from high school.
Aaron stayed in that stall, staring at the cracked ceiling tiles and listening to the muted chatter coming from behind the door until he couldn't take it anymore. If he wasn’t wanted here until further notice, then he would leave.
Aaron was going to change his life. Not only while sitting in that bathroom stall, but again when his older cousin (hi
s best friend) decided not to answer his phone for the ninth time, causing the younger Valentine to chuck the thing in the back seat of his car never to be seen again. Just like me.
Aaron drove down the I-5 highway at eighty miles an hour in his lipstick red Toyota Solara, top up and a bottle of Coke rattling in his cup holder until he saw a sign for San Francisco. It was still over three-hundred miles away, but he convinced himself it would be worth it. The I-5 wasn’t all that crowded this far north (even into California), and he had a whole binder of CDs to listen to. He popped in a Phantom Planet album, lost himself in the irony of California, and pushed on the gas with newfound vigor.
He took the ten-plus hour drive in stride, stopped only twice when necessary for bathroom breaks and caffeine, and wound up somewhere below San Francisco in time to watch the sunset. The Pacific Ocean was alive with energy. The downtown area bustled in the same way Portland did. He wondered briefly if his cousin Arco felt at home here.
It had taken two different gas station attendants to get him pointed in the right direction to find his cousin, and when he did, Arco was unexpectedly sour with disbelief. There had been an exchange of happiness, genuine smiles, and making sense of the situation until Aaron explained why he’d come. He told him about the radio station scandal, and how his boss had basically asked him to leave until the whole ordeal blew over. He explained feeling hopeless and lost and even admitted to missing Arco more than he could explain.
The Maple Effect Page 1
