Page 29 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“No.” I sighed. “School is fine.”
“What do you mean, school is fine?” Walt hammered a fist on the breakfast bar, rattling plates and silverware.
I jumped at the noise and Walt’s aggression. “What’s wrong, Walt?”
“You tell me, big brother!” Walt shook a finger at me. “When were you last on campus? I’m thinking at least two weeks ago. Something is bothering you, and I’m not letting you off the hook until you spill your guts.”
My shoulders sagged again, and I studied the pattern on my dinner plate. There is no way I can tell Walt what really bothers me. I never shared my preference for men. After he found out, he would join the throngs of people disappointed in me. Okay,throngsare a bit much, but right now, I can't think of anyone besides Walt who still likes me. “I need to work this out myself.”
“Wyl, growing up, we always talked to one another. With Mom and Dad gone, we’re all we’ve got. If you can’t talk to me, who will take this two-ton boulder you’re carrying off your shoulders?”
I sighed. “The problem is complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Wyl, I was born at night, but not last night. I dealt with bullies in high school. I dealt with uncooperative ranch hands. On top of that, I went through the worst marriage in history and was dragged through a fucking divorce, so problems and I are old friends. You’re hurting about something. I’ve been around the block a time or two, so you’ll have difficulty shocking me.” He rapped the counter three times with his knuckles. “I’m listening.”
“I can’t even come to terms with this myself, much less try to explain things to someone else.” I put my elbow back on the breakfast bar and rested my cheek on the heel of my left hand, tracing my right index finger over the dinner plate design.
“Wyl, are you sick? Did you visit a doctor who told you something you’re having trouble facing?”
I shook my head, still resting on my hand. “If only the issue were that simple. No, I’m not sick, at least not in a physical sense.”
Walt turned, reached into the refrigerator for beer, and brought out two bottles. “What do you mean?” Each bottle hissed as he twisted off the caps.
“There are people who might think I’m sick.” I glanced at Walt and reached out an empty hand for a beer bottle.
“If you’re not sick, why would anyone think you were?” Walt placed a bottle in my hand and took a sip of his own beer.
I sipped my beer. What could I say now? Silence hung in the air like skunk odor.
“Wyl?” Walt placed his hand on the plate in my field of vision. “Talk.”
I gazed at Walt in silence, then at my left hand. It was hurting. No wonder. It was balled into a tight fist. I relaxed the fist and flexed the fingers. “Okay.” My mouth opened and closed several times, false starts to an explanation.
“Is Rod the problem you won’t talk to me about?”
My eyes darted to Walt, dismayed that he mentioned Rod. He encouraged our friendship. Former friendship, despite how close we became. I needed this conversation. Words formed. “Yes.” I exhaled a heavy sigh, and the flood of words poured out. “When Rod came for steaks the night you were gone to Oklahoma, something unexpected happened.”
“What? Some unforgivable thing like he beat you in a game of pool?” Walt took another sip.
I shook my head and chuckled. It felt good to chuckle, or even to think something was funny. I missed the banter Rod and I shared. We were always laughing about something. Laughter eluded me for two weeks. “No. Losing a game of pool is no big deal, but this…”
Walt shook his head. “Well, I can’t imagine what happened to upset you so much. After classes started, you talked daily about school, your music class, and Rod. I loved seeing you so happy.”
“I never had a friend I could depend on, Walt. Not since high school. When Rod and I have a conversation, happiness wells up inside me. I enjoy his company. We have fun joking with each other.”
“You’re describing friendship. What happened to push you over the cliff of despair? Did Rod say something to upset you?”
“No, he didn’t say anything to upset me. I’m upset over what I did to him.”
“What did you do?” Walt glanced sideways at me. “Cook his steak well done or something?”
“No.” I chuckled again, the memory of Rod sayingnext stop, beef jerkystill fresh in my mind. “I kissed him.”
Walt’s beer bottle stopped in mid-air and slowly sank to the counter. In a calm voice, he asked, “You did what?”
“I kissed him.”
Walt didn’t miss a beat. “What did he do when you kissed him? Did he run from the house, and now you’re afraid he’s avoiding you?”
