I stood back, rod in hand, just enjoying the interplay between my lover and my son. Dahn had forgotten his trepidation of Ollie over the past few days and seemed quite interested in this fishing lesson. Ollie showed him how to cast out his line, and after a few fumbled attempts, the worm and the bobber hit the water with a soft splash. Somewhere to the left, the cry of an osprey carried over the calm waters of Green Fish Lake. I then cast out my worm like a pro. Well, not exactly a pro, but I didn’t hook myself, so I considered that a win. Ollie sent his line sailing out smoothly, hitting the water several feet further than we’d cast. Showoff.
Ollie then set off to find some sticks with a Y at the top to prop up our poles so we could sit back and relax. My line never moved for the four hours we sat there. Not one nibble. Dahn and Ollie, though, were catfish masters, reeling in four huge catfish in total. Dahn caught one, and it was a battle royale to land the big gray fish with the long whiskers. He did it all by himself and was so proud that we had to take pictures to send to our family and his new friends from the goat barn. The Leary boys were in the beef barn. So far, we’d not laid eyes on them or their parents.Something I was glad for because neither Dahn nor I needed that stress right now.
That night, Ollie showed us how to fillet and cook catfish. He rolled it in egg and cornmeal before lowering the breaded fillets into hot oil while I made some steak fries in the air fryer. Dahn was watching us all the while, asking Ollie questions about the reservation and what we would see when we went there, fishing queries by the dozen, and when he would have to paint the statue.
I turned from salting the crispy fries. “Do you want to do it tomorrow?” I asked my son and got a firm nod. “Why the rush?” I placed the platter of fries on the table just as Ollie lowered the plate lined with paper towels, golden brown fish still sizzling, beside the fries.
“I don’t want people to see it anymore,” he quietly confessed.
“Then we’ll do that tomorrow,” I replied. Ollie grunted in agreement, and we began eating. The fish was delicious. The three of us talked easily, Dahn’s discomfort around Ollie a thing of the past, it seemed. I was glad. A movie and popcorn followed then bed for the boy.
I lay in bed that night next to my son, the thrashing machine, wondering if I should say to hell with trying to be a man of higher morals and just go sleep with Ollie. I’d certainly get better rest. Dahn was obviously wrestling a Kodiak bear in his dreams. That or he was trying out for the Rockettes. Eventually, he stilled, and I dropped off like a bag of bricks.
Everyone was a little stilted the next morning as we drove to town, a can of gray paint, a ladder, and a brush in the back of the Jeep. Dahn was fidgety. Understandably. He’d lingered at the goat barn with Phil and two young girls, sisters, who also had goats, until we had to call him away. Now he sat slumped in his seat, chewing on the inside of his cheek, as we pulled along the curb in front of the little clump of grass and flowerscommemorating Isiah Bastian. The pink penis had been covered with a cloth by the town council.
Dahn threw back his shoulders when we handed him the can and the brush. It took all I had to stand my ground at the base of the statue, holding the ladder for my son. I wanted to help but knew this was his job to do and do it he did. It took the better part of the morning. It wasn’t the best paint job—I was sure a professional would have to be hired at the expense of the offenders’ parents—but the offending appendage in flamingo pink was covered. He was sweaty and covered with paint but standing tall when he climbed down to join us on the ground.
“Job well done,” Ollie and I said and then took the boy to the Calico for a hot dog and tater tot lunch. Dahn was proud of his hard work. Some of the shame he’d been carrying in his gaze lifted now that his penance had been served. The milkshake after his lunch erased the last bits of chagrin weighing him down.
That night, we went to the ranch for dinner so that my mom and aunt could meet Ollie. They gushed over him and he them, cementing him in their hearts as the best possible man for me. A role that I had also concluded he should play for the near and distant future. Days and nights began to speed by, the week rushing past in bright days spent with family and friends. A long day on the reservation rounded out the week with a large meal at his father’s house. Dahn was obsessed with the white chickens with feathers on their feet and began talking about maybe showing poultry and goats next year.
Ollie’s sister, Mara, was gorgeous and warm, and his father was kind and full of silly jokes that made the kids laugh. I got to meet his nieces and brother-in-law. We played poker inside the double-wide that Mr. Ahoka called home while the kids raced around outside, kicking a soccer ball. I lost at cards. Nothing new there. But did manage to charm Mara so deeply that shetold her brother I was a keeper when we were getting ready to take my exhausted son back to Ollie’s for a bath and bed.
“No worries, I’m not throwing him back,” Ollie replied as he kissed his sister on the cheek while giving me a saucy wink.
The sun was just about hidden from view as we made our way out of the tribal lands to the main highway, chatting away about the delicious brown beans and fried hog meat that we’d been served.
“Dad wanted to serve you some of our traditional foods,” Ollie explained as we rolled along a long stretch of highway with some Tom Petty playing on the stereo. “Just to gauge your reactions, I think.”
“I thought everything was incredible. Your sister makes a dish of mac and cheese to rival Granny’s,” I said and turned to look in the back seat. “Don’t ever tell your grandmother I said that or she’ll make me sleep with Linc and his night murmurs.”
Dahn nodded, his weariness evident. “Why don’t you sleep with Ollie?”
I blinked at the abrupt change of topic. How did we get from Linc’s talking in his sleep to me sleeping with Ollie?
“Well, we’re not married.” As soon as it fell out of my mouth, I knew how prudish that sounded. Ollie flattened his lips, fully willing to let me handle this one.
“Uncle Baker and Hanley aren’t married, and they sleep together,” Dahn replied factually.
Shit. “You’re right. They do.” I wiggled about as much as the seat belt would allow to look back at him. He was filthy but in that good filthy way Granny always talks about. “I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable for anyone.”
“Oh, that’s dumb. I don’t care that you guys are having sex.” Ollie nearly went off the road, the right-hand tires catching the edge-line rumble strip for a second or two. My eyes flared. “You talked to me about sex and how when two people love eachother, they have intercourse. The man puts his penis in the woman’s vagina, or if it’s two men, one of them puts his penis—”
“Right, I remember that talk well.” It had only been two years ago when he’d come home from school to ask if either Chris or I would get preggers. A word he had picked up from a friend. That day we had the talk. A nice one, lengthy, that covered all the bases of reproduction and consensual sex among adult couples of any gender identity. Chris had not been part of that important talk. As usual, he was off with some football alumni thing, or so he had said. He was probably balls deep in a twink. “I just didn’t want to send any conflicting messages.”
“Oh, well, why don’t you sleep with him and let me have my own bed? You get all sweaty in the night, and it’s really gross.”
I almost lost it. This coming from the lad who kicked like a bucking bronco all night long. I looked at Ollie, who was battling not to laugh out loud. “Can I sleep with you tonight since my sweaty body grosses out my son?”
“Sure. We’ll put a towel down under your sweaty, disgusting form to soak up all the perspiration you ooze over the sheets.”
I pinched his thigh. That made the man snort loudly in amusement.
“I donotooze,” I feebly argued. In all honesty, sometimes a certain part of me oozed, but that was not being discussed here as we cruised along the highway with the windows down.
“Cool,” Dahn said in the back and fell sound asleep. Like in the space it took to blink. How grand it must be to drop off that quickly.
I wiggled back to face front, my cheeks warm, and peeked at Ollie smiling widely. “Do I really sweat all that much?”
