“Thank you,” said Austin, taking the offered bowl and spoon, eating as he stood there while the idea that Clay thought he had a girlish figure raced around in his head. “Does it rain like this all the time?”
“Depends,” said Clay. “End of August is our monsoon season, but if we’ve had mild winters like we did this year, then it rains on and off all summer. Drives Bill crazy when he can’t tell his ghost stories beneath the stars, but then sometimes we get thunderstorms and those are always pretty.”
Polishing off the mac and cheese, Austin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like he was five years old.
“That was excellent,” he said, and meant it. “Now, how can I help set up?” He shimmied out of his windbreaker, and was somewhat astonished when Clay took it to hang up for him.
“You need a Carhartt,” said Clay, mildly scolding. “This thing is fine normally, but it can get chilly when it rains.”
“What’s a Carhartt?” asked Austin as the two of them helped wipe down the tables.
“It’s a kind of ranch coat,” said Clay. He grabbed a broom and handed one to Austin. “We don’t sell them at the store, as there’s not much of a demand by guests who are only here in the summer months, or who have brought their own coats. They’re kind of pricey, too, but the ranch’ll cover the cost. Just ask Leland.”
“I’ll do that,” said Austin.
When the dining hall had been wiped down, swept, and set up, guests started coming back in, laughing as they shook off the rain and grabbed boxes that contained table-top games or puzzles. Austin had been expecting that when they were done, Clay would say goodnight and goodbye, having already put in a full day’s work. But, as always, Clay surprised him.
“Want to do a puzzle together?” asked Clay, leaning close, as though the question was a secret. “I should sit with guests and be jolly and stuff, but, well, honestly, I’d rather just sit with you.”
“Clay—” Austin stopped himself, unable and unwilling to blurt out that he had no idea what he was doing and even if he did, Clay was bound to end up disappointed. What did gay guys do in these situations? More to the point, what did anyone do? Again, he had no idea.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Clay. “I just like your company and I bet you’re a whiz with puzzles.”
“I am, as a matter of fact,” said Austin with mock gravity, as if it was the highest, most prized skill in the land.
If this—whatever it was between them—went any further, he was going to have to tell Clay that he couldn’t get it up. Right? He’d have to say it out loud, rather than make Clay discover the fact at the last minute.
And, thinking about all of this, about maybe being naked with another human being other than Mona, aman, made his chest tighten. He needed to calm down, needed to be in the moment. Needed, no, wanted to enjoy his evening with Clay.
“How about this one?” Clay stood up from where he’d been bent over to select a puzzle. The one he held showed a group of wild cowboys running from a herd of cattle, shooting in the air for no apparent reason. There were one thousand pieces and the puzzle was rated for age fourteen and up. Perfect.
They grabbed a table near the windows, not the long table, but a smaller one, where the box and the lid, propped up to show them what they were working toward, took up all the room. There was only room for the two of them, making them a couple.
The lights were dimmed and staff brought out kerosene lamps to give the dining hall a festive air. From the kitchen, Austin could smell hot chocolate being made, and the noise descended to a low, comfortable hum as people bent to their puzzles, or rolled their dice, or moved their checkers across a black and red board while freshets of rain-scented air breezed in through the propped-open double doors.
It was hard to concentrate on the puzzle, as much as he tried, for his eyes kept going across the pieces to stare at Clay. Whose hair turned golden in the kerosene lamps, his face flushed in the warmth of the room. Absently, he rolled up his sleeves, and picked at the puzzle pieces with his fingers. He tried a lopsided join here, a zig-zag connection there, turning each piece this way and that before planting it into place with a happy sigh.
“You know you’re staring, right?” asked Clay, without looking up.
“I don’t mean to,” said Austin. His mouth was dry.
“And you don’t look so good around the eyes.” Now Clay looked up, making a circle with his finger around his own face. “You look sad, and it’s not just because you missed my company at dinner. So what happened? And don’t tell me nothing.”
“Nothing,” said Austin, trying for a small joke, but though Clay smiled, he shook his head.
“Friends tell,” said Clay. “And yes, we’re friends.”
“Okay, so—” Austin reached up to scrape his short hair back from his suddenly warm forehead. “I call Bea almost every day. Most days Mona won’t let me talk to her.”
“Well, that sucks,” said Clay, frowning, his dark brows drawing together.
“It does, and today I got to talk to her, and she was crying within five minutes. She misses me, she says, and she doesn’t like it at Miss Minchin’s.”
“With a name like that, I wouldn’t like it there either.”
“She’s a character in a book. The real name of the lady who watches Bea is Mrs. Delgado, but the result is the same. Mona and I share custody, but right now, Mona’s trying to override my visitation rights. Except, instead of spending time with Bea, she’s palming her off to someone else. She was so insistent so why is she doing that?”
“Why indeed?” Clay looked down at the partially finished puzzle as though it could tell him what he needed to know. “It’s a funny world,” he said, looking up at Austin, his eyes very blue in the lamplight. “Sometimes you get what you want, only you don’t want it anymore. And sometimes, you don’t even know what you want.”
