Page 11 of Small City Heart
The first photo was one of him holding an enormous school-issued camera. In the picture, he was crouched down and taking action shots at a basketball game. It had been an assignment for yearbook. He’d never seen that photo of himself, though. It was kind of meta—a picture of him taking pictures. He’d been a junior or senior, and he was wearing pink jeans and had a blue streak in his hair. But that’s not what caught the breath in his throat. It was theAwwwsfrom the crowd and the happiness on his young face in the photo.
The slideshow ended with an In Memoriam section, which sent another pained shockwave through him. They’d lost two men from their class—one to suicide and one in Iraq—and he’d had no idea. He hadn’t been close to either of the boys, but he was surprisingly shaken by it.
When the slideshow ended, the mood in the room was melancholy, but as people started to mingle again, the oppressive sadness began to lift. Patrick sunk back into his corner.
The pool tournament was about to begin, and a few of his classmates were taking their leave. It would be a good time for him to sneak out.
“There you are.”
Patrick jumped and sloshed Arnold Palmer down his wrist.
Charlie caught his hand and set the drink aside. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You didn’t,” Patrick lied. His heart was rattling around in his ribcage, pounding so hard he was surprised Charlie couldn’t hear it.
Patrick had been hoping this weekend would lend him some clarity on what his next step should be, what new destination he should set his sights on. He’d thought it would help him press reset and start over. Instead, all he could focus on was how long he’d been gone and how much he’d missed.
Charlie held Patrick’s wrist and sopped up the spilled drink with a cloth handkerchief, which was so precious it made Patrick want to cry.
“I love that picture of you,” Charlie said. “The one where you’re Mr. High School Sports Photographer.”
“I looked like a weirdo.”
“Still do,” Charlie said with a laugh. “I like that about you. Always have.”
Patrick glanced down at his clothes. He was wearing black jeans rolled up to the middle of his calves, which showed off the tats on his legs, and hunter-green tennis shoes. His short-sleeved button-down was black with a muted floral pattern. He’d been trying for normal but maybe missed the mark.
Charlie’s fingers tangled with his, and Patrick almost jerked away in surprise before he realized Charlie wasn’t trying to hold his hand but examine it.
“You took your fingernail polish off. Yesterday they were blue.”
The fact that Charlie had noticed, that he seemed to notice everything, was too much to comprehend at the moment.
“You’ve been coming on pretty strong, Charlie. What’s your goal here?”
Charlie glanced up sharply and dropped Patrick’s hand. “I’m sorry … uh … I’m not—”
“Cat got your tongue?” Patrick said, echoing Charlie from yesterday.
“I had a crush on you in high school.”
“You acted like I didn’t exist in high school.”
“Yeah, and I’m so sorry. I was scared. I’m gay, and I didn’t want anyone to know. And also, I was obsessed with the most beautiful kid in my class, and I was nervous he’d realize and laugh at me.”
Patrick shook his head. It was too hard to believe. “And you’re out now?”
“I am.”
“And you evidently have coffee with my mom all the time.”
“I do,” Charlie said with a laugh. “My family is a mess, and your mom’s been good to me. She …” He frowned. “She makes it feel like I’m not carrying all the heavy stuff by myself. It’s nice to know someone else cares.”
“Your family … Is it because you’re gay?”
“No. My parents—it’s alcohol. It’s been alcohol or drugs for as long as I can remember. They’re too distracted by that to be interested in me. I hid it for a long time. We don’t speak anymore.”
Patrick took a step off the wall in surprise. He tried to remember Charlie’s parents but drew a blank. How was it that in a small town where everyone was in everyone else’s business, Patrick had no idea who Charlie’s parents were? It must have been a horrible secret to bear on top of everything else.
