Max’s Brain Explodes #2
"Um." My voice sounds weird. "What do you mean? Do you mean—” I can't figure out how to finish the sentence.
My brain stutters. Isaac. My brother Isaac, who I've watched scare off every guy who's ever looked at me wrong, who grunts at people he doesn't like and fixes fences at six in the morning and has never once mentioned, has never even hinted…
Is he saying? He's been sitting on this. How long has he been sitting on this?
I think about the foreman from the Johnson ranch. The way Isaac's whole body changed when he walked past. The too-casual voice when Max asked why he'd been over there. Checking in on old Mr. Johnson. That's all he was... Oh. Oh. The grumpy foreman?
Not knowing what to say, I wait with my mind spinning. He finally looks at me, and for a second I don't recognize him. Isaac doesn't ever look unsure. His jaw is tight, his eyes are open in a way I've never seen, like he's waiting for a verdict.
"Yeah, Max." He swallows. "I'm gay." My mind goes blank. Then it goes into overdrive. Isaac. My brother Isaac. Six years older. Who I've known my entire life.
Gay. How did I not… When did he… Has he always… "You…" I blink. "You're gay."
"Yeah."
"You're gay."
"That's what I said." I spin through every memory.
Every interaction. Every time, Isaac didn't date anyone in town.
Every time Mom asked if he was seeing someone, he changed the subject.
I never thought about it. Never questioned why my brother, who's objectively a catch, who's smart and kind and built like a tank, never seemed interested in the girls around Cashton.
Because he wasn't interested in girls at all.
"How long have you…"
"Known?" Isaac looks back at the ice. "Always, I guess. But I didn't… I couldn't..." He shakes his head. "The farm. The town. Dad's friends. I just... kept it quiet."
My chest aches. "Does anyone know?"
"Now you do."
"Isaac—"
"It's fine." But his voice is tight. "I'm fine.
I… when you were talking about the pressure.
About feeling like you had to figure out the sex thing because that's what gay men do...
" He looks at me again. "I've felt that too.
The isolation. The confusion. Wondering if you're doing it wrong because you don't want to just hook up with strangers. "
Holy circuits. My brother has been dealing with this alone.
For years. There's a tiny selfish sting, why didn't he tell me?
But it dissolves almost before I can name it.
Because I know why. You don't just say it.
You say it when you're ready, when it feels safe, when the moment is right.
I, of all people, should understand that.
What I actually feel, underneath all of it, is just proud. So stupidly, overwhelmingly proud of him. And so glad he's telling me now. "I'm sorry," I say.
"Don't be sorry." Isaac's voice is firm.
"I'm glad you have friends who get it. I'm glad you have Leo.
I'm glad you got out of here and found your people.
" He squeezes my shoulder again. "I wanted you to know you're not alone in feeling that pressure.
And you're not wrong for wanting something different. "
We sit there for a long moment. The ice creaks softly beneath us. Somewhere across the lake, someone laughs. "For what it's worth," I say finally, "I think you're pretty great. And whoever you end up with is gonna be lucky."
Isaac's smile is real this time. Reaches his eyes. "Thanks, little brother." I stare at my line. The quiet settles back around us, comfortable and familiar, and I'm almost convinced I can just leave it there, leave him with something warm and let the afternoon go still again.
"Are you a virgin?" I blurt out. Isaac's head whips toward me. The glare could strip paint.
"You asked me about s-e-x first!" I protest. He sighs and looks back at the ice.
"No, Max. I'm not." He says it flatly, like he's closing a door, but I have approximately zero ability to leave closed doors alone.
"Did you… I mean, was it—"
"I had a boyfriend at college. It didn't work out." A boyfriend. Isaac had a boyfriend. I try to imagine it and can't quite make the image sit still. "Do you have a type?" He doesn't answer. I lower my voice. "Do you date in town?"
"No one here knows, little brother." He looks at me then, and his eyes are doing the pleading thing he'd never admit to. Don't tell. Don't make this harder. "I'll figure it out eventually. Tell Mom and Dad when I'm ready."
"Do you think they'll mind? They didn't with me."
Isaac's mouth presses flat. He stares out at the ice for a moment before he answers. "Max, it was different with you. All Dad talks about with me is when I'm gonna find the right woman to settle down with. With you…" He shakes his head. "We knew long before you told us. There was no shock."
"Fair. I wasn't exactly subtle." I think about Dad's face when I came out at sixteen — the relief there, not because I was gay but because I'd finally said it out loud, like he'd been waiting for me to trust him with the truth.
But Isaac has been carrying this alone for years, while Dad has been asking him to find the right woman. That's different. That's heavier.
"I don't think they'll care," I say quietly. "Not really."
We fish until the sun sets, painting the frozen lake in shades of pink and gold. We don't catch anything, but neither of us cares.
The drive home is quiet. Isaac hums along to the radio, and I watch the dark fields pass, and somewhere between the lake and the farm, my brain does what it always does.
'You can date now. That's what you wanted.' It is what I want. Find my person, put myself out there, stop being weird about the whole virgin thing. That was always the plan. I'm just not sure when the plan stopped feeling like what I want.
JP better have his next ideas ready. Because I'm going home, and I'm going to figure this out.