CHAPTER 25 #2
After the incident at the strip club, Diego insisted they drive around, but he no longer searched the streets for his biological father.
He seemed to have been buying time. Eventually they returned to his grandmother’s apartment and broke the tragic news to her.
Ricky sat in the next room, listening to her cry while Diego shared gruesome details.
Gunned down by the Border Patrol! What a terrible way to die. Or to lose someone.
Any plans they had were abandoned in light of this revelation.
Including the promise to get a hotel room.
Ricky understood why. He didn’t complain when they settled onto the pull-out couch for the night.
Instead he had faced his boyfriend in the dim living room while aching for him.
Diego, stretched out on his back, stared unseeing at the ceiling, not uttering a word.
Not even in response to his well-meaning condolences.
He didn’t close his eyes when lying there.
Ricky did though, eventually, and when they opened again, it was like Diego hadn’t moved. He was still staring at nothing.
Lucinda cooked for them the next morning, but Ricky was the only one who ate. After they’d showered, separately, Diego left with his grandmother.
“We’re gonna see if we can get an official report,” Diego explained. “She wants to know what happened to his remains. We’ll be back.”
They didn’t return until the afternoon. Diego merely shook his head when he saw Ricky’s inquisitive expression.
Soon after, he announced that they were departing.
Once on the road, they only stopped when necessary.
Ricky fed himself at gas stations—nachos on one occasion, a microwaved hamburger on the other.
Diego didn’t eat. He drank coffee. That was it.
Conversation was minimal. Diego would turn up the radio if Ricky talked too much. Music filled the Trans Am’s interior now. Pearl Jam came to an end, replaced by Nirvana. Diego grumbled something and turned the knob, snippets of news reports playing from stations he never settled on.
“—Cobain disappeared five days ago—”
“—what is believed to be a suicide note was found near—”
“—shotgun injury to the head—”
“Who gives a shit?” Diego snarled, turning off the radio. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “I need a drink.”
Ricky wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but he kept his mouth shut. They pulled up to a convenience store with two gas pumps out front, no other sign of civilization visible in the darkness that ringed them in.
“Wait here,” Diego instructed.
Ricky’s stomach sank, his worst fear confirmed.
Diego was going to buy booze. So far, Ricky hadn’t been allowed to drive.
Now he would insist. Diego was running on empty.
The alcohol would hit him hard. Not to mention everything he was going through emotionally, which remained a taboo topic.
Any attempt to broach the subject was immediately shut down.
“Yeah, well fuck you!” Diego shouted as he exploded from the store. His fists clenched and his arms curled, like he was desperate to punch something. “Nraaaagh!”
Ricky felt a mixture of concern and relief while watching him pace the walkway outside the store. The clerk obviously wouldn’t sell to him. That was rare. And a fortunate twist. Although he still didn’t think Diego should drive when he was so upset. Especially since—
Ricky stared in disbelief. Diego had reached the end of the pavement again, except this time he didn’t turn around. He just kept walking, disappearing into the night. Maybe he had to pee. Or maybe he wasn’t coming back.
The keys were still dangling from the ignition. After a moment of hesitation, Ricky grabbed them, unbuckled his seatbelt, and gave chase. Diego had already made good progress. Ricky could barely see his large lumbering form—a slightly darker shadow than the rest.
“Hey!” he called.
Diego didn’t stop. He moved faster.
The ground was hard and dusty beneath Ricky’s feet as he sprinted after him.
“What are you doing?” he called.
Diego spun around. “I’m done! With everything!”
Ricky slowed, the distance between them making it impossible to see each other clearly. His voice squeaked when he asked a question that he dreaded the answer to, but he had to know. “Does that include me?”
“You don’t understand.” Diego turned and marched toward him, his face twisting up as he neared, the shadows making it more menacing than usual. “I was gonna kill him! And now I can’t, so everything is ruined!”
“Kill who?”
“Oscar! He’s the reason my dad blew his brains out. It’s his fault that my mom is so messed up. The piece of shit literally made me in his image, and now I’ve gotta live with that. But I won’t. I’m done! I’ll go somewhere else, get a new name, a new life… I refuse to play this game anymore.”
“What about—”
“Go home, Ricky.”
His chin began to tremble. “But it’s my birthday.”
Diego’s chest heaved a few times before the fight seemed to go out of him. “Oh fuck. I forgot.”
“It’s okay,” Ricky said. “You lost your dad.”
“He wasn’t my dad!” Diego spun away, walking a few paces before he kicked at the ground. “God damn it!”
“I’m sorry,” Ricky said, on the verge of tears. “I don’t know the right words to say besides… I love you.”
Diego looked skyward, his back still to him. Then he clutched his head in his big hands a moment before he dropped them and turned around. “All right. Come on.”
“Where?”
“To the car. It’s your birthday.”
Ricky followed him back to the fluorescent glow of the convenience store.
“Wait here,” Diego instructed.
“You’re going in there again?” Ricky asked in disbelief.
“My money is as good as anyone’s!”
Ricky watched through the window as he entered the store and raised his palms, as if in surrender. Words were exchanged with the clerk, who kept his arms crossed as Diego went up and down the aisles.
“This is the best I could manage,” he said as he returned outside. Diego unwrapped a pair of Hostess cupcakes. He tossed one over his shoulder and sat on the hood of his car. “Come here.”
Ricky settled down next to him and watched as wooden matches were stuck into the top of the cupcake.
“They didn’t have candles,” Diego explained, “so this will have to do. Better make your wish fast.” He struck one of the matches, which flared into life, and used it to ignite the others.
Ricky already knew what he wanted.
Please let him be okay.
He blew out the makeshift candles on his first try. That meant the wish would come true.
“One more thing,” Diego said. “Have you got my keys?”
“Yeah.” Ricky handed them over.
Diego worked one of the keys free and held it out.
“Happy birthday.”
Ricky stared. The key belonged to the Trans Am. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re sixteen now. You need your own ride. Now you’ve got one.” Diego jabbed the key at him. “Take it.”
“Frankenstein belongs to you!”
“Not anymore.”
Diego pressed the key into his free hand. The other still held the cupcake. Ricky looked back and forth between them, on the verge of tears.
“We’ll make it official once we’re back in town,” Diego said.
“You’re coming back with me?”
“I kind of have to. You forced my hand.”
“Because I love you?”
Diego searched his eyes. “Something along those lines.”
Ricky’s heart thudded in his chest. He wanted to say so much—that they would get through this together, that he would make the pain go away somehow. He didn’t think Diego wanted to hear any of that now, so he held his tongue, but he promised himself to make it all true.
“You’re driving,” Diego said. “Ready to go?”
“Just a sec.” Ricky took a bite of the cupcake before holding it out in offering.
Diego shook his head. He still looked weary. Hopefully he would sleep during the rest of the trip. Ricky left the radio off, wanting to encourage exactly that while avoiding any more painful reminders.
“Lean your seat back,” he suggested as the road became a steady hum beneath the wheels. “Close your eyes.”
To his relief, Diego did as he suggested. He didn’t move again until the sun had risen enough to warm their faces. They were almost home.
“Just drop me off at my place,” Diego instructed while adjusting his seatback. “Unless you want to hang.”
Ricky shook his head. Time to go home and face the music.
Which worried him, because he needed to keep tabs on how Diego was doing.
How would he be able to check on him if he was grounded?
Although having his own car made sneaking away easier.
Ricky decided to keep the impromptu gift a secret from his parents.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked when parking in front of Gomez Auto Repair.
“I don’t see how,” Diego replied, as honest as ever, “but I’m not going to do something stupid.”
“Like leaving town without me?” he asked, despite knowing his true meaning.
“I’ll be around.”
Ricky didn’t want to upset him again, but he had to say something about everything that had transpired. “I’m sorry the trip didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to.”
Diego snorted. “Be glad that it didn’t.”
I was gonna kill him!
The words still echoed in his mind, troubling him.
Ricky didn’t understand why he’d want to hurt Oscar.
A mystery for another time. All that mattered now was the love they shared.
He leaned forward. Diego didn’t move. Okay, so this was going to take some work.
He unbuckled his seatbelt to lean even closer and almost whimpered in relief when Diego kissed him back.
“I’ll see you soon,” Ricky promised.
“Yeah. See ya.”
Diego got out and trudged inside. Ricky’s worry turned to momentary glee as he drove away…
in his own car! His impending doom muted his joy on the way home.
Whatever punishment his parents cooked up would only be the tip of the iceberg, because nothing would stop him from breaking every rule to see Diego again.
They could try to lock him up in a mental hospital or attempt to send him to live with his grandparents in Seattle.
Ricky wouldn’t go. He’d run away if that’s what it took.
He parked the Trans Am a block away from his house and hid the key in a back pocket, only realizing then that Diego had kept the little Frankenstein keychain Ricky made for him. This doubled his conviction as he approached the front door. His boyfriend needed him.
The front door swung open while he was still inserting the key in the lock. His mother stood there, her face drawn. “Oh, thank god!” Ami breathed before pulling him inside. Her arms wrapped around him possessively. “Ken!” she called. “He’s back!”
His father’s footsteps thudded into the entryway, his arms joining hers. “Where were you?”
“Are you okay?” his mother asked, pulling back to look at him.
“I’m fine,” Ricky said, his voice hoarse, because it did feel good to be home. “All I want for my birthday is to not be in trouble. I don’t need anything else. Please.”
His mother shook her head, in exasperation more than anything. “Have you eaten?”
“There’s cake!” his father said.
“For breakfast?” she shot back.
“It is his birthday,” Ken said, the sentence carrying extra weight.
At least one of his parents was convinced.
“You’ll both be the death of me,” Ami said. “Come on, birthday boy. I’ll make you something to eat, and you can tell us about your trip.”
Ricky couldn’t believe his luck. Or how unfair it was that not everyone had such a blessed life. Somehow he would find a way of sharing his good fortune with Diego. But first, he’d have to find a way to help his boyfriend heal.