16. Colors Yet to Come
Colors Yet to Come
Soon, August’s approaching end brought Montana’s smoky season.
Gus and Bridger soaked in as many final days of adventure as they could before Gus had to leave for college.
With their deepening relationship, skating, and now their expanding board business, the boys’ lives had become almost inextricable.
Bridger slept over at the cabin so frequently that Dan often had to kindly send him home so Gus could focus on their carpentry.
On Gus’s days off, the boys swam and kissed in Gus’s secret lake behind Dan’s property, went whitewater rafting in Yellowstone Park, and rock climbed in Bear Canyon.
After delivering Tara Shae her custom skateboard, which she proudly showed off around town, not only did all the skaters in Livingston seem to crave a SCRAPS board, but all their families eventually started requesting new furniture as well.
With the increased workload in his small shop, Dan started paying Bridger to handle some simple woodworking tasks in addition to focusing on customer interactions to fulfill the surge of new orders.
Within a week, Dan promoted Bridger to an official part-time employee because of how effortlessly the boy could sweet-talk both skater kids and elderly couples alike into seeing the “once-in-a-lifetime” value of owning a Shepard original.
When September hit, Gus’s final few days in town grew increasingly bittersweet.
His father watched Gus woodwork during his last shifts with a mix of pride and sorrow.
Tara asked about Gus’s upcoming art classes often, trying to get him used to the idea of moving away like she was.
Bridger held each hug with Gus a little longer and a little tighter.
Everyone was feeling the impact of his inevitable departure.
Gus could feel the oncoming change, too.
He tried to savor every small, final sensation: the hot sun on the skatepark’s concrete, the whirring wheels rolling across mounds and the clanging of decks on rails, the sweetness of sawdust swirling in the shop, the laughter of his friends.
With all of it, Gus kept telling himself, You’re gonna miss this. Remember it now before it’s gone.
The morning Gus had to fly out to Rhode Island, he sat packing his bags in his wooden attic bedroom with Bridger.
The lamps were lit low. Calming music played.
The boys focused on steadily folding shirts and packing art tools into boxes.
Gus added a last piece of clothing to his suitcase and zipped it shut. He handed his backpack to Bridger.
Gus broke the silence first. “Thanks again for helping me pack.”
“Of course,” Bridger replied softly, taking Gus’s bag to the desk that held Dan’s computer and some art supplies. The room was full of melancholy warmth. Both boys knew they were going to part soon. Neither of them knew how to say goodbye.
“I spoke with Tara yesterday,” Gus said.
“Yeah?” Bridger prompted.
Gus nodded. “She starts her Cali job next week,” he said, pushing a smile.
“Rad. That’s… great.” Bridger nodded, tapping his hand at his side.
He then looked down and saw an RISD pamphlet sticking up from Gus’s belongings. He picked up the brochure and flipped through it.
“There’s lots of art clubs on your campus,” Bridger observed. “No skateparks though.”
Gus shrugged. “I’m not sure if I want to join any clubs.” He sat down on his bed. “I just want to pass my classes. And… I’m not good at meeting new people.”
“What? Nah. Join some,” Bridger encouraged gently. “Pretty soon you’ll have all new friends.”
He put the brochure in Gus’s backpack along with some colored pencils. He paused.
“Pretty soon, you won’t even have to think about Montana anymore,” Bridger added, letting his head fall.
Gus sighed gently. He slid his suitcase from the bed to the ground and caught Bridger’s eyes.
“I’m not gonna forget this summer, Bridger,” Gus assured him.
His skater boy shrugged. “Seems like everyone’s about to have a brand new start.” Bridger exhaled sadly. “And I still don’t even know my next step.”
Gus tilted his head. He stood up to join Bridger by the desk.
“I mean, you didn’t know your next steps when you started teaching me how to skate.” Gus pressed his shoulder to Bridger’s. “And that worked out.”
Bridger nodded drearily in return. He walked to sit down on Gus’s bed. Gus followed him.
“What am I gonna do without you here?” Bridger breathed. “No one knows me like you do. Not really.”
Gus scanned Bridger’s eyes. His face wore a sad but grateful pout.
“Then open up more. Let other people get to know the real Bridger,” Gus suggested. “I know I like him a lot. Others will, too.”
Bridger scoffed. “No one cares that much, trust me. Easier to just go back to kickflips and smoking with the guys.”
“They will care though,” Gus reassured him. “Because the real you… makes nothing special.”
“I… what?” Bridger chuckled.
“What we said back at the lake.” Gus lifted his head up, remembering.
He smiled slowly in contemplation. “This summer could have been terrible. Mom just died, I never got along with Dad, I had nothing to do. But somehow, you taught me how to make every day better. To take a whole lot of nothing and have it become something… memorable,” Gus reflected.
The sweet words stuck in the heavy air.
Gus leaned his forehead against the side of Bridger’s head. “I’m grateful we made the most of the time we did have.”
Bridger placed his hand on Gus’s. “I wish we had more.”
The boys sat in silence. Bridger pouted again but then leaned over and gave Gus a tender kiss. Gus kissed back. After they parted, Bridger lowered his head. He sighed with a chuckle and looked up.
“You’re sure you won’t forget about me in that bigger city? At that fancy college?” Bridger joked.
Gus flicked Bridger’s chin and smiled. “No. Because for each day of nothing where I push myself to try something wild or new… I’ll think of you.”
Bridger bit his lip, trying to ward off the grief setting in. He pulled Gus roughly into a hug that he hoped said how much this had all meant to him.
Gus let a tear fall, and Bridger squeezed him harder.
When the boys separated, Bridger looked at Gus deeply.
“Things will be okay… right?” Bridger asked. “With us?”
Gus hesitated. He wanted to immediately say “Of course!” He wanted to say that nothing could ever change what they’d built this summer.
But… the truth was, Gus had no idea what would happen next.
He had no idea what would happen over breaks or over the summers that awaited.
College could change his life for the better, or everything could get worse than it was before April.
Suddenly, he was terrified all over again.
However, this time, Gus didn’t panic. He didn’t stay stuck in his own mind.
He looked at Bridger, at the boy he fell in love with this summer, and took a deep, calm breath.
Gazing intently into Bridger’s eyes, Gus did know two things for certain.
“We’ll be okay,” Gus promised. “And, I’ll be back.”
“I… I’ll miss you,” Bridger said, barely a whisper.
“I’ll miss you, too.” Gus pulled Bridger in. “So much.”
The boys held their final, tearful embrace on Gus’s bed.
~
Gus walked through the cabin for the last time that summer with his backpack and suitcase.
Bridger followed behind holding both their skateboards.
As Gus passed his mother’s newly re-hung Elk in Forest painting in the entryway, he paused.
He took a second to soak in its enchanting beauty.
He glanced around him at the rest of the cabin’s walls, at all his mother’s favorite pieces that his father had returned to their rightful places.
Gus released a slow, satisfied breath he hadn’t realized was pent up.
That familiar warming comfort he had missed for so long had finally returned to his home.
Gus opened the door, and together, Gus and Bridger stepped outside the cabin.
The boys turned to see Dan walking over from locking up the woodshop. He carried a cardboard box and nodded his head at Gus and Bridger.
The smoky Montana air was quiet and somber. The boys lingered on the porch, avoiding their farewell. The Bozeman airport was a forty-minute drive away.
“Let’s get a move on.” Dan patted his son’s shoulder. “We’re already runnin’ late.” He handed the cardboard box to Bridger and grabbed Gus’s suitcase.
“I know, I know.” Gus hiked up his backpack.
Dan carried Gus’s luggage over to his car, popped the trunk, and placed it inside.
Gus turned to Bridger, about to offer a quick hug, but Bridger instead held out Dan’s box.
Gus accepted it.
“This is from your dad,” Bridger said, “and something small from me.”
Gus brightened, surprised. He knew both his father and Bridger weren’t exactly gift-givers. He reached to rip open the box.
“Don’t open it yet. Wait till you’re on your own,” Bridger said.
As Bridger stood there before him wearing his new Shepard’s Custom Furniture T-shirt, Gus marveled at how far they had come. The boys traded tender smiles.
A surge of uncertainty swept over Gus. He felt the pull to kiss Bridger again, one last time. However, it felt too final. Like he wasn’t coming back. Gus sighed. He also was still too shy to kiss Bridger with his dad so close by.
Bridger nodded slowly, catching Gus’s eyes full of desire. I want to kiss you, too.
“Okay,” Gus agreed. “I’ll wait.”
Bridger handed Gus’s skateboard painted with mountains to him. He kept his board of flames. The boards that brought them together now had to be separated, too.
Gus didn’t want to leave. It was so hard to move his feet.
Bridger sniffled a bit but kept a strong face.
This sorrowful, shared, silent gaze was their goodbye.
It dripped with both heartache and love.
Eventually, Gus turned to walk to his father’s car. He opened the passenger door and placed the cardboard box in front of the seat.