Chapter26
Marston
The roaring of the truck’s engine was satisfying as Marston tore up the hillside and across the top of the grass-swept hilltop, and past the replica of a cabin belonging to a man called John Henton, a frontiersman who’d lived above the valley long ago and whose connection to the guest ranch always evaded Marston’s understanding.
Marston barely paused to open the green-painted gate, or to close it behind him, though he did slow down once he was in the town of Farthing.
There, parking sloppily in front of the bodega, he purchased two six-packs of shitty beer and a fifth of crappy rum. Then he tore off again, the low sun stretching his shadow in front of him, a marker of darkness that grew longer and longer, no matter how fast he was going. Even the prettiness of Hawk Springs wasn’t enough to slow him down, the tall green grasses going by as a continuous blur, his windows all the way open, the air howling in his ears.
He’d screwed up big this time, taking advantage of a kid who’d been arrested even before he’d gotten his driver’s license. A virgin, for fuck’s sake. A sweet-faced strip of a boy just doing his best to get to the next safe place, the next level up. Trying to make his life turn around.
He didn’t doubt what Kell had told him. Sure, Kell’s file made it seem like Kell and Bede had been lovers, especially if Kell had been on the road for two years, because there was no way he could have stayed innocent that long.
But the look on Kell’s face when he’d told Marston the truth was pure honesty, framed in droplets of water.I never did anything with Bede. I’ve never done anything with anyone.
Marston’s own first time, hurried and hard over a low motel room bureau, had been done for a double cheeseburger and a fold of twenties. Sometimes, he paid someone. Other times, he got paid.
What had happened in the shower hadn’t been for money, and he’d not hurt Kell. But, if he’d known the truth, rather than just going to his knees to break the ice and offer pleasure, he would rather have taken the time to worship the gift he’d been given. Would rather have focused on Kell’s pleasure than his own satisfaction on a job well done.
If there had been a way to teleport himself far, far away from the valley, and from Kell, he would have. And how he would miss the magic of pine-scented sunrises, and cloud-dappled sunsets, complete with streaks of color as vivid and varied as if from an artist’s paintbrush. The magic of Kell’s smile, his sweetness that the valley had revealed beneath the tough, street-kid exterior that Kell had presented upon arrival.
Missing all of this was only what he deserved.
How he wished he could have courted Kell properly. Slow hugs beneath the moonlight, gentle kisses over coffee, laughter in the sunshine. Instead of what now felt like a furtive blow job in the showers. Something from his old days, when money exchanged hands more frequently than hello or goodbye.
As he screeched into his favorite spot, the blank gravel area next to the Fresh Foods, he knew he was about to throw himself a party that would be more about self-pity and grief than anything else. He was going to drink himself sick to match how sick he felt inside.
That exercise would end with him nursing a roaring hangover and the need to find a new job come morning. Because after this, after leaving the valley without word to anyone and coming back drunk, they wouldn’t want him anywhere near.
More of what he deserved.
Somewhere, on the inside, as he reached for his first beer, prepared to pop off the lid with his teeth if he had to, a tiny voice was screaming at him. He was being pathetic. He should have stuck it out, or brought Kell with him so they could talk while watching what promised to be an amazing, technicolor sunset, the clouds already moving into place, a fine haze of dust on the horizon for the sunlight to reflect off.
But no. He was going to drink himself sick and ask himself whether the sun was lingering in the sky as if it didn’t quite know whether it wanted to set. As though it was waiting for something, some signal.
He needed the darkness the sunset would bring, so no one had to see him as he became even more of a disaster.
In the seat behind him, he felt a vibration, and turned. His phone had slipped out of his back pocket, and the ringer was on silent. But it was vibrating, doing a little dance against the seat cushion like a cute metallic bug wanting attention.
Switching the still unopened beer to his other hand, Marston picked up the phone and looked at who was calling.
It was Kell. The last person he wanted to talk to and yet, the only person he ever wanted to talk to.
The vibration continued, insistent, continuous. He had a feeling that he could ignore Kell to the end of time and Kell would just keep calling. Which, again, was more than Marston deserved. So, to put Kell out of his misery, at least, Marston tapped his phone with his thumb and brought it to his ear.
“Marston here.”
“Where are you?” Kell’s voice was sharp and urgent, still sweet.
“In my spot,” said Marston, not explaining it any more than that. “Got some beers here. A fifth of rum. I’ve fucked it all up anyhow.”
“Fucked what up?”
“You,” said Marston. “Everything.” Darkness tore inside of him, dragging long and hard at his heart. His reaction felt extreme, but he was at a loss to stop it from happening.
“Why would you think that?” asked Kell, and it sounded like he was holding the phone very tight and close. “Because I didn’t tell you? I should have told you, but I got carried away. This is my fault and I’m sorry. Please come home.”
“No.” Marston snapped the top of the bottle of beer on the metal part of the door handle, and brought it to his mouth, but before he drank, he said, “If I would have known, I would’ve done it differently.”
