Page 9 of The Weight of Your Wishes

“Well, if she’s the one, then I’m excited to meet her,” I lie.

He’s so… different—not at all how I remember him being when he was a kid. He used to be sort of shy and reserved, kept to himself a lot of the time. If I’m honest with myself, I think it had a lot to do with Cynthia. She gave him a hard time, shutting him down at every turn. He got in trouble often, but he always had an energetic spark to him, like he was brimming with potential and curiosity.

I figured she was extra critical of him because of how stressed she was—working all day and sometimes nights, pulling doubles all the time, and then coming home to raise a young kid on her own. That kind of life would exhaust anybody. That’s why I cut her so much slack, why I helped whenever I could.

Walking back into their bubble last night made it blatantly clear to me that the only thing that had changed in the past nine years was Hendrix. My frown deepens.

It seems like somewhere along the way, maybe in high school, he came out of his shell despite it all. I know he’s courageous. He came out to her as bisexual back in his freshman year of school. She’d called me that night and cried—not for the fact that he was bisexual, but because she thought he might face judgement from his peers in school. She said that maybe it was just a phase, a curiosity, but I didn’t know how something like that could be just a phase. If he’d mustered up the courage to announce to his own mother and everyone at school that he wasn’t straight, knowing full well that some people would probably give him shit for it, maybe even try to hurt him physically, then I think he definitely thought it through beforehand.

People can be so cruel, especially in small towns like my own. I’ve heard the drunken slander from people in my own bar when I hired Sky. Sky’s goes by they/them pronouns, and some folks refused to respect that.

I’ve heard the stories of kids getting beat up and bullied. Atrocities. When I was a kid, being anything other than straight in our town just simply wasn’t talked about. To this day, the only openly queer people I know are Hendrix and Sky, although I’m sure there have been others who kept it to themselves. Or maybe they never ended up coming out. I simply don’t know, and I’d never put much thought into it until that night.

For the longest time, I went along with what I was supposed to do. Graduate, work for the family business, settle down with a wife and have some kids. Trouble is, I was never good at it. Never been good at much of anything, really. Cynthia skipped out on me the first chance she got, and every partner since has done the same. It’s not something I like to acknowledge, but it’s always there in the back of my head. Get left by enough people and soon enough, you start to feel worthless.

My idea of love is… tarnished. I don’t know that I ever felt it for anyone other than my family, Hendrix, and maybe Cynthia. So, when the topic of Hendrix having a… sexual orientation came about, I didn’t like it. It’s a vicious, unforgiving thing. It seems that heartbreak is inevitable, even for normal people—people that are actually desirable. And if there’s one person I never want to wind up hurt, it’s him.

I readjust myself in the driver's seat and shoot a glance at him. The busy, five-lane highway has narrowed into a two-lane one, and the concrete jungle to the left and right of us has crumbled into grassy wetland as far as the eye can see. His chin is perched on his knuckles, eyes flicking back and forth as he takes it in.

I clear my throat and speak up. “You ever been out this far?”

He perks up immediately. I’m sure being cooped up in here with me has bored him to death. “No, actually. It’s so crazy to me that this has been just a few hours away from me this entire time, yet I’ve only ever seen pictures of this stuff in school.”

It strikes me as odd that he’s only ever known big city life. It’s what his mom had always wanted, so it didn’t surprise me that they’d ended up settling down there, but it feels like a disservice to him. I think everyone could do with a little peace and quiet when they come home. Hearing cars flying down the road, loud music playing from them, ambulances and police sirens all the time just isn’t right. Maybe that’s an unpopular opinion though. I’m sure it’s more exciting for someone his age, but even when I was his age, I didn’t care for it. Then again, it’s all he’s ever known.

I’d followed Cynthia to the city to make sure I could be there for her, and I’d made long commutes to work for my dad. It wasn’t much longer than usual because there hadn’t been much work in our small town to begin with. Working in the city was one thing, but actually living in it had been a real eye-opener for me. I’m sure this will be the same for him.

“I know it probably looks boring, but there’s things to do. People go fishing a lot, hiking, kayaking,” I say, testing the waters.

His thick, dark eyebrows pinch together. “Do you do that stuff?”

Guess he’s not too fond of it. “Yeah, sometimes. I go fishing occasionally, and I have an airboat, so I don’t ever kayak.”

His eyes spring wide. “An airboat? Those are the boats with the gigantic propeller on them, right?”

“Mhm,” I respond. His genuine surprise is amusing because this is just everyday life for us out here. You can’t go to the only gas station in town without seeing people towing their boats behind them.

“And what—you just take it out into the swamp? With the alligators and snakes and who knows what else?”

I can’t help it when the chuckle bursts through my lips. “Now I know you’ve seen a gator before, boy.”

“Well, of course, but I’d never willingly go into their home on a boat. That’s just asking for trouble.” He shakes his head, but a small smile tilts his lips. “And here I thought you were a sensible person.”

“It’s really not all that bad. The gators are more afraid of you than you are them; I’m sure you know that.”

He rolls his eyes so dramatically that it’s comical. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t believe that for a minute. I’ve heard the stories, and you’re forgetting about the Burmese pythons. Have you seen the pictures? They eat alligators even though they’re too big. It rips them in half. That’s the kind of animal that I want nothing to do with.”

I have seen the pictures, and he has a good point, but I don’t give in. “You probably don’t want to hear about the panthers and bears then,” I say with a smirk.

His mouth falls open as he gasps in shock. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Hearing the curse word come from his mouth gives me pause. Logically, I know he’s twenty-one and plenty old enough to curse, but something about it rubs me the wrong way. I don’t want to come off too overbearing too fast though, so I decide to put it off for now. The kid may be a flight risk—like he said, I don’t know him all that well anymore. The idea of him somehow escaping from this swamp is slim to none though. “I’m actually not. There are all kinds of dangerous animals out here, but I promise you’ll be fine. Look at me—I haven’t been mauled by anything,” I say, flourishing my hand at myself.

He squints his eyes carefully, as if he’s really checking me over for scars. My eyes crinkle at the corners with the smile on my lips. “I don’t know. I might need to take a closer look,” he says.

I shake my head a bit, and we fall back into an easy silence. Well, it’s easy for me, I can’t be too sure about him. Eventually, the sawgrass turns into thicker woods around us, blocking a lot of the sunlight. We’re just about home. I veer right, exiting the highway, and approach our town area. It isn’t much—just a gas station that doubles as a live bait shack, a grocery store, and a few other odds and ends.

I eye my gas meter and quickly decide to pull into the gas station. “You want anything?” I ask while throwing the truck into park at the pump. He pauses for a second, ruffling the dark curls atop his head with his fingers.

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