‘What’re you looking at, babe?’Hank had murmured against his ear after taking the picture.
‘Rhinos,’Eugene had breathed, his slender fingers twisting through Hank’s dust-covered hair and beard.
‘There ain’t no rhinos here, you silly man,’Hank had chuckled. ‘They’re long gone by now.’
‘No, listen,’Eugene had whispered, the tips of his fingers drawing small circles across Hank’s sensitive scalp. ‘Just listen, my love, they’re here. Always have been. Always will be.’And for a moment, Hank had seen them, too, the large, majestic creatures roaming across the great plains, ancient horses blowing past them in a never-ending race against the setting sun. ‘Do you see them? Do you see them, Hank?’
Later, much later, when the sun had finally set behind the rock formations in the land of stone and light, Hank had had that one moment of clarity where the rest of his life was laid out before him. A life that had seemed like such an impossibledream during those lonely teenage years when he’d realized that he liked boys instead of girls.
I love you, Eugene,he’d wanted to whisper out into the stillness that was only interrupted by the occasional coyote and the flickers from the fire, but something had held him back. Something always held him back. Eugene’s face, one side half covered in shadow, one lit up by the orange flames, had smiled back at him.I know,he’d seemed to say.
‘One day,’Hank had said, suddenly urged on by an inner fire that he’d never felt before, ‘when it becomes legal for men like us to marry… I want us to do that, Eugene. I want us to stand before man and God and know that you’re mine. For everyone to know that you’re mine.’
‘I’m already yours, Hank,’Eugene had spoken, his voice wistful, the flickering flames reflected in his indigo eyes. ‘I don’t need a piece of paper or some man-made law to tell me you belong to me. Like I belong to you, too.’He’d hesitated for a moment before continuing. ‘Besides, in the eyes of God, we’re every bit as married as any other couple.’
‘How do you know that?’Hank had asked, his heart almost pounding its way out of his chest. He knew Eugene was not a man of faith, and neither was he.
‘Just look at us, sweetheart. How could any divine power not approve of us?’When Eugene had continued, there had been a bitter edge to his voice that very seldom appeared. ‘Make no mistake, Hank. It’s not some god that doesn’t approve of our love. It is man and man alone. It is man who puts words into the mouth of some divine entity because he’s too cowardice and weak to speak them himself.’
‘But what if it matters to me?’Hank had whispered, and there must’ve been a rare vulnerability to his voice because Eugene’s features had once again softened as he rose from his seat on the ground and went to Hank. Reaching him, Eugene sat down nextto him, grabbing his hand and playing with Hank’s rough fingers like he usually would in the evening at home.
‘Then we’ll do it,’Eugene had spoken against Hank’s temple, his sweet breath causing goose bumps to erupt all over Hank’s neck and arms. ‘Anything you want, my love. Anything.’
Watching Henry and Colton head towards the clinic, Hank forced himself out of his memories, brushing at a stray tear that he hadn’t realized was making its way down his stubbled chin.Then we’ll do it.Eugene’s promise echoed through him, intermingling with regret and anger. In June of 2015, only a couple of months after Eugene had died, the state of Nebraska finally passed a law that allowed same-sex marriage.Too little, too late. Too damn late.
Chapter Six
Finn
Then
The row of six small dancers bowed to the audience, their pale pink tutus floating around their waists like soft cotton candy clouds. Their equally pink leotards and stockings had a faint shimmery glow, and under the spotlights illuminating the small stage in the auditorium of Florence Primary School, they lit up like thousands of fireflies. Finn sat in the front row between his parents, wearing his best Sunday clothes, which were usually reserved for church. He’d insisted they arrive early—very early, Mom—to secure the best seats, center stage. It was Cara’s first school performance, and he was not going to miss a single thing. Not one twirl or one jump. Not one split or one arabesque.Nothing. He was going to take it all in so that he could praise Cara later—much later—when they would pretend to be asleep, hiding under the covers, whispering, her eager face glowing back at him in the dim light from the torch.
Cara had started ballet practice at the age of three at Madam Beatrice Durand’s School of Ballet in Florence. Finn was a frequent guest at practice aside from Wednesdays when he ran track after school or had an appointment in Eugene with his ophthalmologist, Dr. Hassani. His sight problems had started shortly after his eleventh birthday, his vision getting blurry in school when he was focusing on the blackboard or in the evening when he was watching his favorite cartoons with Cara. After a few tests in the doctor’s office, Dr. Hassani had offered the Kennedys the exotic-sounding diagnosis.Myopia. In plain English, near-sightedness. That meant glasses, of course, which didn’t bother Finn too much. A lot of his friends at school wore glasses. No, it wasn’t a matter of vanity, but a matter of his dream—hisonedream—of becoming a fighter pilot that was at stake. Even though Cara had now, at the ripe age of six, decided that she was going to be a prima ballerina instead of Finn’s co-pilot, he still held on to the dream of joining the U.S. Air Force. A dream that was becoming increasingly more elusive after every visit to Dr. Hassani’s office, where he would leave with a new pair of lenses.
The group of six-year-olds spread out onto the stage, their eyes searching the large auditorium for their proud parents and siblings. As soon as Cara ran to the edge of the stage, Finn rose from his seat, maneuvering past his dad and heading in her direction. Holding out her still-chubby arms, she beamed at him, her cheeks bright red from exertion.
“Finnie, did you see my twirl?” she panted as she leapt into his awaiting arms, never any doubt in her heart that he would catch her. There’d always been this endless trust between them. Thekind of trust that only came from being loved unconditionally. And Finn did exactly that. He loved Cara with every fiber of his being.
The smell of coconut from her hair gel enveloped him and he squeezed his eyes tight as he breathed her in.
“I did,” he murmured against her left ear, and she squirmed in his arms. “I did, Cara. It was the most perfect twirl ever.” With Cara hanging on to him like a baby octopus, he started walking back towards their parents, who were waiting patiently for their turn to congratulate Cara.
“Reeeaaally?” she preened, her voice needy for every last bit of praise. It was funny, but Finn knew with certainty that his opinion mattered more to her than anyone else’s. It’d always been like this even though to Finn, Cara was the sun, and he was just some small insignificant planet spinning around her, pulled in by her glowing presence.
“Of course, Miss Kennedy,” he spoke. “You were the belle of the ball, the highlight of the show. You outshone everyone.” He adjusted her in his hold, her arms tightening around his neck. She was still light as a feather, and with his muscular runner’s physique, it was no hardship carrying her around. Finn was tall for his age. Always had been. At sixteen, he was now 6‘2″, towering well over his best friend Aaron, who wasn’t exactly small either with his 5′9″.
“I did, didn’t I?” she giggled with the unwavering confidence that only a child who had been adored all her life could master. Finn wished that he could have just one-tenth of her faith in herself. That would make the whole high school experience a whole lot easier. He didn’t exactly have a hard time in school—he was fairly popular amongst his peers. He knew a lot of the girls wanted to date him since he was a jock, not too bad-looking, and considered a ‘nice guy.’ The other boys liked him as well, since he wasn’t viewed as an immediate threat in the male high schoolhierarchy, but he wasn’t exactly a nerd either. So, yeah, high school wasn’t too bad, all things considered—he just wished that he could allow himself to enjoy it more.
As they reached their parents, their dad took Cara from his arms while their mom started showering her with compliments about the performance. Finn never felt jealous. He always received an equal amount of attention and praise and was never made to feel less.But you are less,the taunting voice would much too often sneak into his thoughts.You’re not a real Kennedy.He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t, even though everyone pretended he was. He was reminded of this every morning when he stared into the mirror, features that were so different from the rest of his family staring back at him. Or when they looked at pictures in the evening and there would only be baby pictures of Cara, whereas Finn’s pictures started at the age of three. So, despite all the love he received, despite all the reassurance and the attention, most days Finn was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Reaching for his mother’s hand, the intrusive thoughts evaporated when her calm eyes met his, and they started walking out of the auditorium behind a chit-chattering octopus Cara. His father nodded patiently andhm-hmmedeagerly in all the right places, and it must’ve taken the rest of Cara’s energy to recount all the twirls and jumps because, on the way home in the car, she fell asleep mid-sentence. Her head of soft dark curls Finn had released from the tight high bun leaned heavily against his right shoulder as they drove through the darkness. Catching his mom’s gentle gaze in the rearview mirror, he sighed deeply before rubbing at his eyes behind his black-framed glasses. Suppressing a yawn, he looked out of the side window, the small town of Florence blowing past him. Lit up family homes and front lawns cast in shadows from large trees. The occasional dog walker or evening jogger.
They lived in a quiet family neighborhood in the north of Florence, and Finn could easily bike to high school in ten minutes unless it was raining, or he was running late. Then he would catch a ride with Aaron or take the bus. Outside the tourist season, the town was quiet, with very little traffic, making it a safe place for kids to roam the streets on their bikes. Most of his friends at school had their own cars by now, old Toyotas or Fords, but Finn enjoyed his morning bike ride, the salty ocean breeze sweeping across his face, the wind carrying him to his destination.Free. He felt free. Of course, his girlfriend McKenzie had been nagging him to get his own car ever since he’d turned sixteen. There was, after all, a fair amount of prestige in dating a guy who had his own car instead of having to catch a ride with your girlfriends or, God forbid, your mom.
‘You know your dad would buy you a car like this,’she would sigh, snapping her fingers in front of him. ‘I mean, it’s not like you ever ask for anything expensive. Like designer clothes.’She would give him a once over, taking in his worn jeans, scuffed sneakers, and faded Oregon Air & Space Museum T-shirt. He always just shrugged. He fucking loved that T-shirt. He liked McKenzie, too, but she was often up in his face, and he still had an issue with people raising their voices at him. Then again, as far as girlfriends went, he could’ve done a whole lot worse. Just look at Aaron. Boy, was he whipped, Amanda running her one-woman show, Aaron just a convenient side character.
‘I don’t need a car, Kenz. And if you wanna avoid riding with your mom to school, you should get one yourself.’
