River-Leon Bridges
When I saw Mara in that dress my brain went on the fritz. She wore tight skirts and sparkly shit in high school but nothing as homely as the dress she came down the stairs in this morning. Feminine, simple, beautiful. I know it’s my mom’s dress and it shouldn’t have had that effect on me, but I couldn’t help it. The way she looked with the braid over her shoulder and the top of the dress tight to her chest caused me to forget how to think for a moment.
I’m glad I got to spend the whole day cooking, it was a nice change from all the work I have in the shop for me. I know I have all winter to finish the orders but I have a tendency to get as much done at the start of the season as I can, which gives me the rest of winter to work on projectsIwant to work on. I don’t think I have a lazy bone in my body.
Cooking has always been something I enjoy, much like metal work and crafting firearms, it calms my mind and gives the anxious energy something to focus on. Gives my restless hands something to do.
My mother saw this side of me very early in my childhood, she said “idle hands are the devil’s handiwork” so she asked me to help her in the kitchen. She was always baking or cooking something. Muffins, scones, stew, pot roast. She taught me everything that she learned from her mother. She’s also the one who taught me how to can and preserve food, even though wedidn’t grow the food we preserved. We didn’t have room for a garden at that house.
In turn, I taught Dylan when we moved up here.
It was kind of strange sharing the kitchen with Mara, today. She didn’t force conversation, but she didn’t seem repulsed by me as usual, so I hindered my resentment as well. For today, we can be civil, for the holiday, maybe we can be friendly.
If she’d been different in high school, if she’s been more like she is now, maybe this whole situation would be different. Maybe we would’ve even been friends in high school.
I know her boyfriend,Bryce, was the culprit behind most of my adolescent torment. But she was a pawn he used to play the game and she willingly went along with it. Besides, he never coached her on what to say. Every jab at me or my brother was entirely her own creative, spiteful mind at work. She can’t blame her own maliciousness on another person.
Hours of cooking between the three of us paid off because Thanksgiving dinner is excellent, if I do say so myself. Even the rolls and the pie Mara made turned out well, though I would have done the pie crust a little differently. Though, I’ll admit, watching her struggle with rolling it out was kind of entertaining. And cute.
In honor of the holiday, we break out a bottle of Merlot to go with the elk. I wouldn’t say I’m a wine snob, but I’m a quality food snob. So I wouldn’t have wasted the bottle on fucking chicken.
When I took a bite of the pumpkin pie Mara made, I held up the OK symbol to congratulate her on a pie well done. Like I said, I would have done the crust differently, but for her first attempt she did a damn good job. My mom would be proud.
“Ok, ok, I have a question for you,” Mara directs at Dylan. She’s only had a glass and a half of wine but it seems to be hitting her now. I guess her little body doesn’t need much alcohol to feel the effects. “Why stay in this town as the only openly gay person here?”
I have to restrain my eyebrows from shooting up to my hairline. That’s a pretty bold question.
And also a little silly. Dylan might be the onlyopenlygay guy in town, but he’s not the only man who prefers male company in our neck of the woods.
“Oh Mara,” Dylan chides. “How’s that wine treating you?”
She blushes a little, probably realizing how brazen her words were after they skipped past her tongue.
“But to answer your question, I like it here. I like the life Jason and I have for the time being. Maybe one day I’ll move away, but not far. I like big cities for a weekend, not forever.
“That being said, I don’t want to live with my big brother forever. And I can still get my dick wet in this po-dunk town, so what’s the rush?”
“What?” Mara’s jaw drops, she’s back in high school feeding off the gossip. “Who else is gay?”
Dylan lifts his wine glass to his smile and takes a sip, keeping Mara on the edge of her seat.
“Well, you want to know the real reason I was kicked off the wrestling team?” I can feel Mara’s anticipation in a wave of heat. “Coach Garner was my first. And apparently I was his too, in a sense.”
I snort a small laugh, I knew that already but Mara’s slack-jawed expression is priceless.
No one would expect the burley wrestling coach to be into men, and especially not young men since it’s a bit of power play. But I know Dylan was the one that pursued him so I don’t give a fuck.
“You’re kidding,” she says on a disbelieving breath. “I don’t believe it.”
“There have been a couple others, a couple regulars I can call when the need strikes, but no one serious. No one willing to come out and make it official.”
“Oh, Dylan,” Mara extends her hand across the table but stops short before taking his hand, second guessing herself.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Dylan says with all seriousness. “I don’t want someone who only wants a secret. Feel sorry for them, they’re the ones living a lie.”
“Wise words. I wouldn’t be so ok with it in your situation.”
Dylan lifts his nose in the air like an aristocrat. “You just aren’t as evolvedas me.” Mara holds her hand to her chest in mock offense. But when I chuckle behind my glass, she turns beady eyes toward me.
