Chapter 5 Devon
Devon
Most of my time the week after Thanksgiving was spent doing three things—exploring the city, spending time with Kit, and trying to help him with his fledgling design business.
All he’d had was a pretty lackluster Instagram page with a few photos of his designs.
Most of them only showed the clothes on mannequins, which wasn’t very dynamic.
To remedy that, I accompanied Kit to the club where he worked and talked to the drag queens who’d bought things from him.
He’d been too shy to ask, but all of them were more than happy to send me photos and videos of themselves wearing Kit’s designs.
By uploading that content and tagging the performers, I’d been able to quadruple his number of followers overnight. I also set up pages for him on three additional platforms, and cross-posting was helping him gain momentum.
He was happy about all of that, but he didn’t love my next idea.
I wanted to post pictures of him working on his designs, while showing their progress from a drawing to a finished product.
“The clothes are what’s interesting, not me,” he said, in response to my latest request. It was the first Friday in December and we were in his studio, so he could try to get some ideas down before he had to go to work. “Can’t you leave me out of the shots?”
“You’re the brand, Kit. It’s not enough to show the clothes. People want to see you,” I explained. “And it doesn’t hurt that you’re incredibly cute. Why not use that to your advantage?”
He muttered, “I’ll think about it,” and turned his attention back to the sketch he was working on.
While he added color to his design, I sat cross-legged on my bed with the contents of my backpack dumped out in front of me. My plan had been to clean out the receipts and random junk that had accumulated, but my gaze kept wandering to Kit.
A lock of his wavy hair had fallen into his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. I wanted to go to him, brush it back, and run my fingers through it. His hair was incredibly soft. I remembered that from our one night together—that, and everything else.
I’d replayed the memory of our first kiss countless times. He’d held back at first, but only for a few moments. Then he’d melted into me. It had felt so right, like we fit together somehow.
Kit jarred me back to the here and now, looking up at me as he said, “You’re staring.”
Busted. I went with the first excuse that came to mind, which also happened to be true. “I was just thinking you look great right now, so this would be the perfect time to take some photos for Instagram. I know you said you wanted to think about it, but—”
“Thanks for the compliment, but I really don’t want to do that right now.” He indicated the pile in front of me and changed the subject. “Is that big book with all the stuff sticking out of it the journal you mentioned?”
“It is.”
“Can I see?”
I shrugged. “If you want.”
Kit crossed the room and sat beside me on the bed, and I unwrapped the cord that held it shut and placed the journal in his hands.
He treated it like it was fragile, carefully folding back the indigo leather cover, but I said, “I’ve dragged that thing all around the world.
You don’t have to worry about messing it up. ”
When he saw the writing on the first page, he said, “It jumps right into your bucket list.”
“It’s why I bought this notebook originally, the day after I met that psychic.
I figured I’d write out my list, then journal and reflect on each item as I crossed it off.
Turns out, I’m not big on trying to extract meaning from this stuff, so it ended up evolving into more of a scrapbook of my travels. ”
“I just realized this list might get kind of personal. Are you sure you’re comfortable with me reading it?”
“Yeah, of course. It might need a bit of an explanation though, or it’s going to seem odd.”
“Okay.”
I pointed at the page and said, “At first, my entire bucket list only consisted of these four items. They were what I wanted more than anything. But then, after I crossed them off, I started thinking about what else I’d like to do.
I’m mentioning that because it starts out with these big, life-changing goals, and a lot of the stuff further down the list is going to seem trivial or silly by comparison.
But they’re all things I wanted to experience or accomplish. ”
Kit read those first four items out loud. “Quit my job. Travel to Asia. Learn to play the guitar. Leave something positive behind.” He looked up at me and said, “Tell me about that last one.”
“I wanted to leave some sort of legacy… to know I’d made a difference somehow and changed someone’s life for the better.
An idea came to me right away, so I called my lawyer, and he used part of my trust fund to set up a scholarship in my name.
It’s for kids who want to study music but can’t afford to take classes. ”
“That’s wonderful!”
“I never wanted my stepdad to give me a trust fund. It made me feel way too spoiled, but then I realized I could do a lot of good with it. Those funds are in an account that earns interest and will keep replenishing itself, so the scholarship will keep going for years to come. It’ll be like a piece of me lives on, even after… ”
Neither of us needed to finish that sentence.
Kit turned back to the book and scanned the items I’d added over the last three years.
“You’ve done so much,” he murmured, as he turned a page and kept reading.
“Everything from driving a race car and seeing the northern lights to skydiving and—oh wow, swimming with sharks. Were you in one of those protective cages?”
“No. Actually, I added that one to the list and checked it off after it happened unexpectedly. I was snorkeling in Costa Rica when a gorgeous school of hammerheads swam by. I don’t usually add things after the fact, but it was an amazing experience, and I decided it belonged on the list.”
His dark eyes went wide. “Were you scared?”
“No, not at all. I knew they weren’t dangerous.”
Kit looked skeptical, but he turned back to the list and kept reading. “There are a few things you haven’t crossed off yet, including performing onstage, driving a tank—and solving a Rubik’s cube? Really? There are all kinds of videos on YouTube showing how it’s done.”
“I know, but that seemed like cheating. I wanted to figure it out on my own, but I don’t think I ever will.” I fished the jumbled cube out of the pile of stuff in front of me and held it up to show Kit.
He took it from me and gave it a few quick twists. When he handed it back totally solved, I exclaimed, “You did it!” He looked pretty proud of himself. “YouTube videos?”
“Bored kid with a lot of time on my hands. One of the waitresses at the diner gave me one when I was nine or ten. She was always bringing me little puzzles and games. I think she took pity on me because I was always there, sitting at my little table in a corner of the kitchen while my dad worked.”
“How long did it take you to solve it?”
He shrugged. “A week, maybe? I don’t remember exactly. But once I solved it, I started teaching myself to do it faster and faster.”
“I feel like a moron.”
“Don’t say that. You’re obviously an intelligent guy.”
“Then why can’t I solve a toy meant for a child?”
“Everyone’s different. I just happen to be good at patterns and puzzles.” He turned back to the list in an obvious attempt to distract me from getting down on myself. “I don’t know where you’re going to find a tank, but riding a bull is doable, as long as it’s the mechanical kind.”
“I’d prefer the real thing.”
“So, you want to sit on an actual, live bull that’s trying its damnedest to throw you off and stomp on you?”
“Yes.”
A crease appeared between Kit’s brows. But instead of trying to talk me out of it, he turned his attention back to the journal and started flipping the pages. They were filled with doodles, notes, Polaroid photos, and random bits of ephemera from my travels, like post cards and brochures.
After a moment, I asked him, “If you were going to write your own bucket list, what would be on it?”
“I’ve never really thought about it, but I know it would include a lot of travel. I can see why it’s a big part of your list.”
“There’s a second list too, which I’ve never really talked about with anyone.
It’s up here.” I tapped my temple with my index finger.
“After I’m gone, I hope this book finds its way to my mom and stepdad.
I have their address written on the inside cover, so maybe someone will send it to them.
But there are some experiences they really don’t need to know about. ”
“Like what?”
“Like the three-day weekend I spent tripping on mushrooms, or the time I tried a menage a trois. To be clear, I didn’t do those things at the same time.”
Kit lowered the book and turned to me, curiosity written all over his face. “How was that? The menage a trois, I mean.”
“It was… interesting. I also tried a menage a quatre and a menage a sept, but those were just confusing. Too many body parts.”
“Is sept six?”
“It’s seven, actually.”
“So, you had an orgy.”
“Yes. For the record, I used condoms, and I’ve been tested several times since then.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to point that out, since Kit and I weren’t sleeping together.
“Was it an all-male orgy?” I nodded, and he asked, “Have you ever had sex with a woman?”
“Once. I was nineteen. She and I were good friends, but she really wanted us to be more than that, so we gave it a shot.”
“And how did it go?”
“Not great. Even though she meant a lot to me, I just wasn’t into it.”
“Are you still friends?”
“No. Our friendship fell apart after that.”
“That’s sad.”
“It was. She ended up doing great, though,” I said. “She went on to earn her MBA, married a dentist, started a successful business, and has two brilliant kids.”
“How do you know all of that?”