Truly, Wes didn’t care what they said as long as he could continue sharing those lovely walks with Art. And so, the following day, they kept their regularly scheduled time for theirexcursion.
Wes noticed how much closer he walked to Art than he had when they’d first begun taking their walkstogether.
“I started reading that book you’ve been on about,” Wes toldhim.
“Which one?” Art asked with a laugh, and Wes knew it was because Art had a tendency to let the conversation slip into book-talk, particularly if it involved the ignorance or obliviousness of some of the attendees of his book club, which Wes had enjoyed attending…since it meant more time withArt.
“In Search of Lost Time, the one you just finished. Oh, excuse me. I meant to say the first volume of thatbook.”
Art laughed, but Wes hoped he appreciated that Wes had noted thedifference.
“How far areyou?”
“Not too far. It’s not a Michael Crichton or a Dan Brownnovel.”
“Definitely strays from your usual fare, but I hope you enjoy it. I can tell you it’s definitely worth theexploration.”
“I’m sure it willbe.”
“So you’re really considering the tug-of-war competition? That’s a good one. And the flag football sounds good. There’s a group that meets that we could join. I’d be willing to try that out withyou.”
“I might have to take you up onthat.”
They continued down the trail for a bit before Art said, “Oh, look, a bluejay.”
He pointed up at a low-hanging branch, and Wes observed the bird searching around as though it was looking for where it would fly to next, and then it took off, its wings spread out as it soared through theair.
Art wore a bright smile, one he’d had across his face since they met up that day, but it amplified at the sight of the blue jay’sflight.
“Don’t you think it’d be nice to be able to fly?” Art asked as he continued along the familiar walk. “I think that’s part of what fascinates me about birds. They don’t like somewhere, they can just pick up and leave. Humans, we’re kind of tied down. We have mortgages and debts that keep us fixed to certain places. All this space on Earth, and we spend most of it with two feet on the ground. Seems like awaste.”
“I never would have thought of it like that,” Wes said, surprised by Art’s train ofthought.
“I guess that was kind of strange, but I suppose I’m a little envious that I’ve never been able to just fly away. When I was a kid, I would have loved to just take off sometimes, get away from itall.”
“Isn’t that what you did with those little stories you made up in your head…like the ones about pirates?” Wesasked.
“Oh yes, for sure. Anything to get away from my family. It was just a very strict house sometimes. Mom was very big on ‘idle hands,’ and so we were always put to work, and there was plenty to do. Escaping for even a moment was something Icherished.”
“Did being gay have anything to do withit?”
He shrugged. “Probably. Mom definitely needed a god after Dad left, so we were always in church, around our little Baptist congregation. It was a sin, a crime, a curse, was all we’d ever hear. When I realized who I was and what that meant, it made me aware that I needed to get away from my family. We didn’t talk about things like that back then, and Mom made it clear it was wrong, by talking about homosexuality and the Bible. She would call people queers and fags. I knew myplace.”
“Did she ever findout?”
“When I was with my ex, Kirk, I’d finally worked up the courage. And I made the mistake of telling her.” He hesitated, seeming uninterested in going any further. But then he went on. “What did I tell you about my exes? That they had a way with fists? Well, so did Mom, and we can just say it took us a long time to mend that moment, and only when she was sick and neededhelp.”
Wes stopped, and Art followed suit. “I’m so sorry,Art.”
“I watched a video online not long ago. It was this long stream of all these coming-out experiences with these supportive parents, all saying they loved their kids no matter who they were. I google them sometimes just to watch because they make me cry every time. That didn’t even seem like a possibility for me, and it wasn’t. Not where my mom was from. Not in the place we were at, when she might as well have believed I was possessed by thedevil.”
“It was definitely very different then. I’m certain that’s why it was so hard for me—and for so many of us—to acceptit.”
“How did you tell yourparents?”
“I didn’t have to. I had an aunt who heard about it after Becca and I broke it off, and word travels fast, youknow?”
“Oh yeah. Especially in thattown.”
