6. GaySomethin’ #3
Gus chuckled. He reached out to give Bridger’s hands a firmer press so that it put more pressure on the electric sander.
Bridger smiled, surprised by the confident, guiding touch.
Together, they moved the machine in the proper circular motions.
Bridger bobbed his head excitedly with new understanding.
The boys linked eyes for a moment as they smoothed out the left edge of the skateboard as a pair.
Then Gus dropped his hands to let Bridger keep practicing on his own.
It didn’t take long before Bridger got the motion down, shifting his weight to finish the right side of the board.
“You’re doing great,” Gus encouraged.
“It’s so cool you know to do all this,” Bridger replied.
The woodshop door opened with a loud creak and Gus’s father walked in.
The boys jumped apart quickly, trying to act casual. Dan was taken aback. His eyes darted between both boys.
“You’re back!” Gus sputtered.
“What are you two doing?” Dan asked sternly.
“Uh, just practicing what you taught me,” Gus replied.
“But I told you, no using the machines without me knowing,” Dan reminded him, growing frustrated.
“I mean, by this point, I know how to use them.”
“Gus. Don’t get smart. I also said not to have Bridger in here.”
Bridger glanced over at Gus, looking a bit slighted. Gus had lied to Bridger, too.
Dan looked down and saw the buckets of wood scraps and tools. “Is that wood from my inventory?” he questioned, louder now.
“No. Well, j-just the scraps,” Gus stuttered, feeling cornered.
Dan sighed. “We still use those for other projects. No wonder expenses are up.”
“Oh. I didn’t know—”
“It was my idea,” Bridger cut in, protecting Gus.
“What was?” Dan probed.
“Making skateboards.”
Dan switched back to his son. “Making… skateboards? Gus, you need to focus on your work. Then college. Not some dangerous hobby,” Dan lectured.
Gus exhaled, giving up. “I work all the time now. I saw other guys skating in town and… I really wanted a board, but I couldn’t afford it,” Gus explained. “So I made one from the extra wood. I’m sorry.”
“Skateboarding? But… why? It just… seems like a waste of time.” Dan shook his head, confused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Gus admitted. “I guess I was just embarrassed about it all.”
“Sorry, sir. I asked him to build me another one too,” Bridger added.
Dan looked between both boys, squinting. He was more annoyed than upset. The boys stayed silent.
“My shop sells furniture. We’re not equipped for skateboards,” he stated firmly.
Both boys looked down. When he saw the state Gus was in, Dan softened.
“Gus, I’m not angry. I’m just disappointed you kept this from me,” Dan said.
“Well, you don’t talk to me much either,” Gus retorted. “We barely know each other.”
Dan’s eyebrows raised in affronted surprise and Gus immediately regretted what he’d said.
Bridger looked between them both. Anxious to ease the tension, he pulled out Gus’s hidden board from beneath the bench and placed it next to the one they had almost finished for him.
“I think you’d be proud of his work, sir,” Bridger stated.
Dan glanced down at the board, still perturbed. However, as he inspected the wooden deck, his grimace of frustration molded into intrigue. He looked up at the boys.
“You did this yourself, Gus?” Dan asked.
“Yeah,” Gus replied.
“You should’ve done your rip cuts on the table saw, but you’ve certainly improved,” Dan said, rubbing the smooth grain. He squinted. “But again, why make boards like this? Why all the extra effort?”
Gus shrugged, letting go. He was finally ready to be honest.
“I’m just… trying to make some friends,” Gus admitted.
The shop was silent. Dan stared at his son. He glanced at Bridger, then back at Gus. Then, with a mighty exhale, Dan grabbed a new piece of sandpaper.
“Alright. Move over. Let me help you polish this off better,” the seasoned craftsman offered.
“What?” Gus asked.
“You already put all this work in, so you can keep at it,” Dan conceded. “Just tell me next time you plan on taking from my supply. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Gus agreed.
His dad’s hands stopped above the board and stilled for a moment. “No more sir. Call me Dad,” his father corrected.
Gus paused upon hearing that statement, finally smiling as his dad put paper to board.
In a quick series of movements, Dan smoothed out Bridger’s board with ease, wielding the sandpaper like a sculptor.
He touched up the board’s edges, then walked off to open a fresh jar of sealant.
The boys stayed firmly put and watched while he worked.
Dan deftly poured the varnish onto Bridger’s unpainted deck and wiped away the excess with a beveled scraper.
“Damn! Now mine’s smoother than Gus’s!” Bridger proclaimed, buzzing with excitement.
“Thanks, Dad,” Gus quietly said as he bowed his head slightly, catching his father’s eye. “I’ll put the wheels on later.”
“Will you help us build more decks for my friends?” Bridger asked. “They’ll buy ’em!”
Dan chuckled lightly at Bridger’s boldness.
“I can show you the process I’ve done so far,” Gus added in.
Seeing his son take initiative, the corners of Dan’s mouth twisted upward with a subtle, proud satisfaction. He leaned against the workbench.
“Fine, but not tonight,” Dan replied, then turned to their guest. “Bridger, are you spending the night?”
Gus froze. He can stay over?
Bridger perked up. “Oh! Sure. I’ll stay if I can.”
“Great. I’m going to bed. No more secrets, okay?” Dan peered at his son.
Gus turned serious, eyed Bridger, then nodded back to his dad.
“Good. You both clean up here. See you in the morning,” Dan said, pulling off his work gloves and walking toward the exit.
Once Dan left the shop, Bridger picked up the new deck. The fresh polish gleamed in the light. He marveled at the fact that what was once a pile of scraps was now a custom board all his own.
Gus, meanwhile, exhaled. “I thought that was going to go way worse.”
“Where are your paints for the deck?” Bridger asked, looking around.
“Up in my room,” Gus replied. “Should we go?”
Bridger lifted his eyebrows and gave a fast nod, eager to see what they could create.