Ozrik
Iwoke before Gale the following morning and left him warm and sleeping in bed. We hadn’t crashed until long after three in the morning, far too interested in seeing how many times we could get each other off before exhaustion took us out.
Gale’s shyness had vanished, and I loved watching his confidence grow with every new experience we shared. Every day his walls came down more. He talked enthusiastically about the things he enjoyed and listened to my passion for chasing, no matter how repetitive it sounded when spoken aloud.
Gale was deeply religious but struggled to talk about his faith. He shared about his complicated relationship with God and his decision to leave his calling behind. My lack of faith didn’t seem to bother him. It had always been a bone of contention between my mother and me, so I was grateful.
Above all, Gale’s uninhibited laughter was the thing I treasured most. I couldn’t get enough. Watching his eyes light up and his cheeks color, did something to me.
I hit the bathroom, cleaned up, and performed a ritual of tasks to satisfy my mother’s neurosis. She was an early riser, and I wanted to check in before my day got too busy. If I was to be subjected to her usual string of morning inquiries, I preferred that Gale wasn’t a witness.
Something was up. Stella had taken off for hours the previous day, and that wasn’t like her.
We were heading to Kansas today, and I didn’t anticipate she would be happy when she heard I was leaving so soon after being sick.
I found her at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. A familiar spiral-bound notebook, where she kept notes on my health, sat unopened in front of her. As much as I hated the book, it injected a sense of normality that had been missing the previous day.
“Good morning.” I sauntered to the fridge and debated a glass of orange juice.
“Good morning, sweetie.” I waited, but her greeting wasn’t followed by the typical game of twenty questions.
Abandoning the idea of juice, I closed the fridge and faced her. “Good news. I didn’t lose any weight while I was sick. The scale is rocking in my favor. Sugar levels are normal, too.” I’d never been diabetic, but I tested my sugar once a week as indicated on her chart.
“That’s good. There’s coffee.”
I glanced at the fresh pot, then stared at the top of Stella’s downcast head. A few strands of silver stood out among the brown. Her entire focus was on the notebook. She didn’t pick up the pen and write anything down.
My comment did not kick-start her engine. She didn’t request my bathroom charts, feel my forehead, or check my pulse.
I pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
She blinked from her daze and glanced from me to the coffeepot. “You don’t want coffee? Moderate consumption is good for you. As little as one cup a day has significant health benefits.”
“I know. I’ll have one in a bit.”
“Oh. Okay. Would you like breakfast? Your friend stayed the night, didn’t he? I can make pancakes or eggs.”
“Gale’s still sleeping. What’s going on?”
She spun her mug once, twice, then lifted it to her mouth, sipping. “I haven’t made French toast in a while. I could do that.”
I didn’t respond and waited.
“Omelets?”
“Mom.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to see Dr. Jacob.”
“Is that what this is about? Because I mentioned you should think about an appointment?”
“I don’t understand. Why is it wrong that I care about your health?”
“It’s not. You know that. I’ve played this game long enough, and it’s not good for either of us. I’m twenty-four, not six. You aren’t fooling me, and I’m tired of living like this.”
“You’re going to leave like he did.”
“No.” I assumed the he was my father, but we’d never talked about him, and I had no memory of the man. He left when I was an infant. All I had were Elk City rumors to go on, and I didn’t give a shit about finding him anymore.
“Not like he did,” I continued. “But I do want to move out. I can’t live at home forever. We’d still see each other all the time. I could have you over for dinner. We could plan movie nights. Talk on the phone or text.”
“You don’t answer my texts.”
“I can do better with that, but things are going to change real soon, and an appointment would help you adjust to the idea.”
We were dancing around the real issue, and she knew it. It wasn’t about losing a connection with her adult son, but talking directly about the real problem made her skittish and defensive. If I could convince her to seek help via one avenue, it would extend to the other.
“I could go with you,” I suggested. “We could talk to Dr. Jacob together.”
“He’ll want to lock me up.”
“It’s therapy, not prison.”
“It’s the same.”
“He might not. If you’re cooperative, you’ll be able to stay at home.”
“He’ll put me on pills.”
“Probably, but they’re the good kind.” The word good was intentional because we both knew that she’d used medication on me for different purposes over the years, but again, we weren’t drawing lines to her indiscretions. We were dancing around them.
“I was planning to do better. I laid off after you remarked about the doctor. Didn’t you notice? I barely texted you after that. I was so careful, but you came home sick for real and needed me.”
“I did, and I noticed you’re trying.”
“See? So why can’t I keep trying and forget Dr. Jacob?”
“Because it won’t last.”
“It will. I swear.”
“It won’t, Mom, and if this keeps up, you’ll drive me away for good.
” I didn’t want to guilt her into therapy, but the root of her fears stemmed from losing my dad, so I took advantage.
“I don’t want to shut you out of my life, and you don’t want to lose me, either.
Let’s do this together. Try. Please. For me. ”
“Can I think about it?”
“Yeah.” I shifted, ready to escape and crawl back into bed with Gale, but thought it wise to give her a heads-up. “Oh, I’ll be heading to Kansas today. Only one night. Not long.”
I saw the protest in her eyes, the boiling concern. Stella nodded and ducked her chin. “Okay.”
I found Gale semi-awake and smiling against my pillow like he’d surfaced after an amazing dream. His blond hair was adorably sleep-rumpled, and his cheek held a pillow imprint, making me think he’d rolled over recently.
I closed the door behind me. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
He hummed and cracked his eyelids. “What time is it?”
“Not quite nine.”
He groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “Too early. We were up so late.”
I chuckled. “I know. Do you want breakfast? Coffee?”
He shook his head. “Can’t. I should head home and… face my dad.” He rolled to his back, the blankets shifting to reveal his bare chest. He scrubbed at his face as he stretched. “Olivia will probably be looking for me soon to ensure I don’t try to duck out of today’s run.”
“Are we driving up together?”
I expected him to say no, from fear of exposing our relationship, but he readily agreed, rolling to his side and propping himself on an elbow. “Are you busy right now?”
“No. Probably should check in with the guys soon, but why? What’s up?”
“Will you come home with me?”
I tilted my head, peering inquisitively.
“I thought…” Gale picked at the comforter, avoiding eye contact. “It might be easier to tell Dad if you’re there backing me up. I won’t be able to chicken out as easily. I’m nervous.”
My heart melted, and I approached, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Of course I’ll go with you. I have to drop you off anyway. I picked you up yesterday, remember?”
“Oh, right.” He laughed. “I forgot.”
“I’ll hold you up if you need me to, Gale, but I bet you would do fine on your own. You already said your dad would be cool.”
“I know. You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
The day was heating up by the time we rolled down the lane leading to Gale’s house.
His nerves surfaced the instant we were in the car.
I rested a hand on his bouncing knee as I drove, hoping to give him strength.
I’d never really had a coming-out moment with my mother.
She’d found out through the rumor mill, and we rolled from there.
I could respect Gale’s anxiety. He was a gentle soul who didn’t react well to the harsher edges of society.
I hoped letting his family in would give him a greater sense of inner peace.
The rumble of a riding mower sounded from somewhere out of sight as we got out of the car.
Gale glanced at the distant barn where the doors stood open. “He must have finally got it fixed.”
“Lex knows what he’s doing.”
A quiet moment of indecision passed before Gale aimed for the backyard. We found Merrison Windrow cutting even passes through the thick grass with his newly fixed mower. When he caught sight of his son, he let off the gas and waved.
Gale waved back, and although he didn’t indicate that he needed or wanted to talk, his dad powered down the engine and hopped off the machine, brushing flecks of grass off his jeans and shedding a pair of work gloves, leaving them behind on the mower’s seat.
I stood next to Gale, not touching, but close enough that I sensed his jittery nerves. I wanted to rest my hand on his lower back and whisper words of support and reassurance in his ear, but I didn’t.
“Good morning,” his dad called when he was close enough he didn’t have to shout. “Excellent timing. I forgot my hat, and that sun is going to bake my face off at this rate.” Merrison tipped his head in my direction. “Good morning, Ozrik.”
“Good morning. Got it fixed, I see.” I motioned to the mower.
“Yep. Lex got ’er running, but I figured I’d wait until this morning to tackle the grass. It was hot yesterday afternoon, and I would have cooked.”
“The jet stream is bringing a cold front. Clashing air masses are expected by the weekend. Arctic air vs subtropical air. Tornadoes possible.” Gale’s voice quivered as he recited random weather facts like a forecaster.
“I hear. Liv says you guys are running up to Kansas today?”
“Yes, sir.” I glanced at Gale, but he seemed numb. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, staring wide-eyed into nothing.
Inquiry hung in his dad’s eyes, and I sensed he was waiting for something to happen.
“How about some coffee?” he asked. “Are you boys just getting in? Have you had breakfast? I can pull something together lickety-split.”
“Coffee would be great.” I stepped closer to Gale and nudged his arm.
“Yeah. C-coffee. I need coffee.”
Merrison clapped his son’s shoulder. “I’ll get ’er started. You boys meet me inside when you’re ready.”
Gale was right. His father was no fool and knew exactly what was going on. The second he vanished, I rubbed Gale’s arm. “You’ve got this. He already knows what’s coming. The man could hardly contain his grin.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m serious. Put him out of his misery.”
Gale shook out his hands. “Why is it so hard?”
I had to think about it. Gale and I weren’t the same. To me, this was a piece of cake. To him, it was life-changing.
“I think you’ve spent so long convincing yourself of every possible way it could go wrong and bracing for impact that you forgot that there’s an entirely other outcome available.
Not everyone is a bigot, Gale, and sometimes, it goes exactly as it should.
Your dad is one of the good guys. Every gay kid out there should be so lucky to have a dad like yours. He’s going to love you no matter what.”
Gale’s eyes glistened in the morning sun, their surface wet with unshed tears. He blinked a few times and let out a heavy exhale. “Okay. I’m ready.”
We headed inside and were welcomed by the rich scent of brewing coffee. Merrison arranged three coffee cups on the counter and had a carton of eggs open and a frying pan on the stove. A pat of butter slowly melted in its center.
Gale moved to the counter and started cracking eggs into a dish. He added milk, whisked, and dumped them into the heating pan. He worked methodically, avoiding eye contact, spine rigid.
Merrison watched his son with a keen eye before glancing in my direction.
He asked without asking, and I nodded, answering the unspoken question.
Intervening, Merrison shut off the element, removed the spatula from Gale’s tight grip, and set it aside.
He turned his son to face him and encouraged a trembling Gale into his arms, wrapping him in a bear hug.
Merrison was a mountain of a man, and Gale sagged into the embrace as a load of anguish let go.
A soft, barely repressed sob escaped his parted lips.
“It’s alright,” Merrison said, brushing a kiss on the top of Gale’s head.
For a while, Gale buried his face against his dad’s chest. I suspected he was crying and averted my eyes to give them privacy.
After a time, Merrison drew back and held Gale at arm’s length, peering deep into his eyes.
Gale’s lips trembled around words that didn’t come.
Merrison rubbed his arms. “It’s all right. You don’t have to say a thing. How about you introduce me properly to your company, and we can have ourselves a nice breakfast?”
Gale nodded, swiped away a few lingering tears, and faced me. It took another minute before he cleared his throat and spoke. His voice quivered. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Ozrik.”
Merrison smiled kindly in my direction. “It’s nice to officially meet you, son.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You can call me Merrison.” To Gale, he said, “Was that so hard?”
“Yes.” Gale’s teeth chattered.
Merrison chuckled and ruffled Gale’s hair. “Do you really think I give a shit who you date?”
Again, Gale couldn’t seem to find words.
“Well, I don’t.” Merrison hugged his son again.
Once Gale managed to calm his shakes, father and son finished making breakfast. We sat and ate, chatting about our run later that afternoon. Merrison made the situation as normal as any other day, never once shining a light on Gale’s revelation.
Gale’s cheeks remained rosy through the whole meal. His gaze lingered a few times on his dad, as though ensuring he was reading him correctly. He didn’t seem to quite understand why his coming out had been so anticlimactic.
I rested a hand on Gale’s knee under the table. He hadn’t eaten much, but I imagined his stomach was in a knot. We shared a smile.