Chapter Nineteen
They say that hardships come in threes, so I certainly hope this is the third and final fucking thing, because I don’t think I can take anymore.
First, it was getting that text from my brother that had my heart sinking into my stomach: Dad’s boat didn’t return to the marina when it was supposed to, and a storm was on its way in.
I didn’t even get to fucking process the news about my son having a boyfriend when I got that news.
Then, when I took a ride to wait for word from Gannett—since there is spotty cell signal at camp—I got a flat tire from some sharp piece of metal lying somewhere in the gravel road.
Luckily, and I use that term loosely, a passerby stopped to give me a ride to town, so I could get a new tire.
I say loosely, because that passerby was fucking Kai, on his way in to get Brooks for Pride in Portland the following day.
I will give him some credit. He did look genuinely sympathetic when I told him that I was worried about my dad and crew being possibly lost at sea. Kai wasn’t his normal impish self. He seemed like a whole different person, and it was odd, to say the least.
Finally, not having gotten word from Gan, I started to panic and hopped on the road to Ternbay myself.
By the time I got there, a trawler was towing Wagner’s broken down boat to shore, just as a massive storm was rolling in.
Amidst all the commotion there, not only did my phone slip out of my pocket and fall straight into the fucking drink, but dad also had a heart attack right there on the dock.
The good news is, he’d waited to have the coronary when he was safely on land, and he’s absolutely fine now.
If it seems like I lack empathy, it’s because I do.
The man eats like shit, and treats his body even shittier, all while knowing the risk.
This wasn’t his first rodeo, unfortunately, so he had some of his pills on hand he’s supposed to take when he gets chest pain, and we were able to get him to the hospital pretty quickly.
All he’s done since is bitch. He bitched about the cost of an ambulance ride, when he had a car and could have driven himself here. He bitched about the state of the potholes in the road on the way there. He’s bitched about how he’s absolutely fine, and how all this hubbub is for nothing.
In fact, he’s so fine this Tuesday morning that he’s in his hospital room bitching to the doctor about how he wants to be discharged, just as he has been since roughly—oh, I don’t know, the minute he came out from his heart cath on Sunday, where they had to put in another couple of stents.
“Why can’t my ole’ lady keep an eye on me? What needs ta be observed anyway? I feel fine. T’want nothin’ an old man like me hasn’t dealt with befoah,” he gripes in his thick Downeast accent, where ‘r’s’ are used arbitrarily. “The food heah sucks!” he adds cheerfully.
“It’s low sodium. You’re one juicy steak away from needing open-heart surgery, Mr. Waters.
Try eating that lobster you’re so good at catching.
If you don’t drench it in butter, it’s a healthier protein,” the doctor grumbles.
He then sighs, clicks out of Dad’s chart, and walks out of Dad’s room, asking the nurse to draw up discharge paperwork.
Wagner takes this opportunity to turn his fantastic attitude on me now. “Ya know, this wouldn’ta never happened if you’da just stayed home and helped out, instead’a runnin’ off to that camp.”
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m going back after you get out,” I tell him. “And since I already know you’re going to ignore doctor’s orders to rest, I cleaned out your engine while you were in here giving everyone a hard time, so you’re up and running again.”
He snorts. I guess that’s as much of a ‘thank you, son’ as I’m going to get. “Makes you like workin’ there so much, anyways?” he asks.
I sigh. “Because Dad, the camp is actually a really nice place. It needs a lot of rehab though. They haven’t had a dedicated maintenance worker there since it started. Brooks, essentially the only owner, needs the help.”
I go on to tell him all about everything I’ve done so far in the little while that I’ve been there—fixing up some of the buildings, making some of the facilities safer for the kids and sprucing up the grounds.
I also tell dad all about the mission of the camp, the work Brooks does, and about how worried I am for the future of the camp—the number of campers declining year-by-year, from what Brooks tells me.
He shifts his head to face me, quirking an eyebrow up—a sure sign he’s not buying what I’m selling.
“And that’s tha only reason you’re stickin’ around?
You’re worried about the outlook of the camp?
Gannett said that maybe you, uh, got a little snippy with him a bit ago, when he talked about them owners bein’ gay. ”
I nod. “I did. He sounded a little condescending.”
“Why’s it bother you, son?” He gives me an odd look, which leaves me feeling a little squirmy in my seat.
“Because,” I say hesitantly, gnawing so hard on my inner cheek that I can faintly taste copper, “he doesn't know who he might be offending.”
“Someone like my grandson?” Wagner asks, catching me by surprise.
He chuckles. “Don’t look so shocked, Evan.
Gordy coulda pressed charges for Colton keying his car, ya know.
Caught him on the cameras out back of tha pub doing all that vandalism…
and also lockin’ lips with his buddy there.
Gordy says he didn’t, cuz he respects ya too much, but he’s hopin’ you get Colt to mind himself without havin’ to involve O’Reilly. ”
My jaw may as well be on the floor right now. Dad even friggin’ knew about Colton before I did? What the actual fuck? How little I know my own son…
Also, when did I ever earn Gordy Masterson’s respect?
“Yes, someone like your grandson,” I finally reply, looking up at the ceiling briefly to summon every ounce of courage I can, “and someone like me.”
Dad feigns a look of shock. “You too?” he replies sarcastically.
“Wait, all this was just so you’d get me to admit—”
“Christ, Evan,” dad interrupts me, then chuckles. “I just listened to you blather on about Brooks this and Brooks that. If you’re not already in a relationship with the man, you damn sure want to be. So, just say it…”
I nod, allowing myself to lock eyes with him—our blue eyes mirror images of each other’s.
“I’m gay, Dad. And before you can blame this on me being at the camp, I need you to know that I’ve been attracted to guys since before even Miranda, so don’t—don’t do that thing where you assume being at Camp Healing Waters turned me.
Also, neither Colton nor I knew about each other.
He doesn’t know I found out he has a boyfriend, and he doesn’t know about me. ”
Dad snorts. “You and ya boy always have been exactly like one another.”
I scoff, pushing myself up from my chair and taking a few paces to the corner of the room, running my fingers through my hair.
I take a few calming breaths, since it’s not like I can light up a smoke in here and blow the whole damn place up.
I reveal this lifelong secret about myself, and that’s all he can say? That my son and I are twinsies?
“What’s got your knickers in a knot?” Dad grunts from the bed.
“That’s what you come back with? That it figures Colt and I are both gay, because we’re just alike?”
Dad looks like I just slapped him. “Well, whadda ya want me to do? I ain’t thrilled about it, but I’m not going to disown ya for it either. This isn’t somethin’ I know anythin’ about, Evan. I ain’t never known anyone gay before.”
Of fucking course he doesn’t. No one around here feels comfortable being out and proud, for Christ’s sake!
I’m sure they’d feel just as scared as I do, for both Colton and myself, to put targets on their back by admitting it!
That family that put out the Pride flag was harassed about it until they either took it down or it was stolen off their porch.
“Were ya expecting a party or something?” Dad snarks, drawing my attention back.
“What’re we throwing a party for?” Gannett asks, sauntering in. “I’m not buying you cake just for having another heart attack, Wag-o-ner…”
“No, not for me, numbnuts. Tell him, Evan,” Dad says.
“Tell me what?” Gannett’s brows furrow.
“I’m gay,” I admit.
He smirks like the cat who got the canary.
“I fuckin’ knew it! You were acting all weird that day out on the boat, the day my finger nearly got nipped off.
” He holds it up and shows me the poorly reset digit—likely a performed-at-home job.
“Okay, so are we really having a party? Kinda weird, but alright. There, like, a Pride flavored cake I’m supposed to get? ”
I scrub both my hands down my face. “No, we’re not having a party. Dad’s not ecstatic, but apparently, he’s just figured me out and knew about Colton for a little bit—”
“Wait,” Gannett cuts me off, his jaw now slack, “Colt too?!”
“Oh, my fucking baby lord,” I groan. “I am so friggin’ confused right now. This is why I never get involved in town gossip, too much involved in trying to figure out who knows what…”
“Tell me about it,” Gannett snorts. “So—ok, wait… are either you or Colt seeing anyone?”
“Apparently Colt is, but I just found out about it yesterday. Please don’t go spreading this around guys, please. I haven’t even had a chance to talk to him about it yet.”
“Listen, I’ve known for a bit, and I didn’t say a goddamn thing,” Dad interjects. “Gordy obviously knows, he saw the proof of it, but I don’t think he’s said anything either…”
“But you just, what, woke up and decided you were gay?” Gannett asks me.
“No…” I hedge.
Gannett dons a shit-eating grin. “You’re getting some booty, aren’t you, you fuckin’ dog.” He curls his lip back and makes a snapping noise. “I totally fuckin’ called it!”