“I’ve missed you, Mike,” Dennis says, a slight drowsiness to his voice before he yawns loudly.
“I’ve missed you, too, Den.”More than you know.
He closes his eyes, exhaling languidly, a soft smile playing along his lips. Then, just like that, he’s out, his mouth slightly agape.
For a few seconds, I just stare at him, taking in his serene features. The small scar underneath his left eyebrow that he got when he crashed his bike at twelve. How his nose curves just slightly to the right. It’s something you would only notice if you’ve stared at his face a million times. How his hair falls into his face, the strands not just brown in the sunlight, but auburn in places, too. When he lets it grow, there are locks that slightly curl.
Dennis stirs, mumbling something in his sleep, and I yank my eyes away and start the truck, everything once again right in my world, now that he’s back.
It doesn’t matter how many times I take in the expanse of the ocean as Dennis and I stand next to each other, catching a break where the trailopens up to a panoramic view of the Pacific. The sheer beauty of it blows me away every time. The blue vastness stretches as far as the eye can see. On misty days, you can’t tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins. It’s just blues and grays blending with more blues and grays like a colossal watercolor painting in front of you.
It’s clear today, the sun beating down on our heads now that we’re out in the open, but it’s not exactly warm either. A breeze hits us, and I shiver a little.
“Wow, I missed this.” Dennis exhales, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead before turning to me, grinning. “Fuck, I thought I was in shape, but climbing is not the same as running.” He laughs, and it comes all the way from his belly. I can’t help but laugh too; the sound is so infectious.
“You need me to piggyback you, city boy?” I dig.
He pushes my shoulder. “Shut up. Don’t want you breaking your back.”
I bump him back. “My back is completely unbreakable.”
He stands straighter, puffing out his chest and flexing his biceps, grinning. “Pure muscle, baby. Do you want to touch it?” He waggles his eyebrows as he holds up his arm in front of me. I wrap my hand around it, feeling the warmth and sinewy smoothness of his skin under my palm. I squeeze my hand, and he beams at me. “See? Told you. Pure muscle.”
I nod appreciatively before releasing my grip, my hand tingling with the phantom feel of him. “Not bad.”
Dennis huffs. “Not bad?”
“Anyway… So, how’s school?” I ask as I move past him and start walking down the trail.
He jogs after me, bumping his shoulder against mine when he catches up with me. “It’s good and everything I thought it would be. The professors… Fuck, they’re the real deal, Mike. The stuff they know! Some of them are walking, talking encyclopedias. I have this one professor—Professor Mitchell—who’s been amazing; guiding me through my degree and helping me find the perfect courses. If I struggle, I can always go to him. I’ve never had a mentor before. He just keeps pushing and challenging me. It’s amazing.”
“Yeah? So you’re happy you went then?”
He smiles. “For sure. It’s right where I wanna be, Mike. The people. The whole atmosphere… I mean, I miss home sometimes, but it’s worth it, you know?” He trails off, a rare wistfulness to his voice.
I nod because I’ve always wanted that for him. To go out into the world and find what he couldn’t find right here in Cannon Beach. I’m sure when he graduates, he’ll be off to do even greater things… away from me.
“And I have Wes, a little piece of home with me,” he adds.
“That’s good, Den. I’m really happy for you.” I hesitate for a moment, pride welling in my chest. “I bet by the end you’ll be smarter than all your teachers combined.” The idea of him leaving Cannon Beach for good hits me, and I blurt out, “Then you won’t ever want to come back home.”
He stops in his tracks and turns to me, his eyes locking onto mine, his voice raw and honest when he speaks, “I’ll always want to come back, Mike.” He reaches for me, but stops mid-movement, pulling back and stuffing his hand in the pocket of his hiking pants instead. “Cannon Beach is home. Always will be.”
There’s a finality to his words that hits me right in the chest. Fuck, I wish I were as sure of myself and the world as Dennis is. To be that young and know exactly who you are and what you want. But what really hits home is that he wants to come back and stay.
“What about you? You regret not going off to school somewhere?” he asks.
“Me? Nah… I’m not exactly college material, Den.” I’m not. Never was. I did okay in school, but that’s about it.
“You could be. You’re smart, Mike. I know you think you aren’t, but you are. There are so many different ways of being smart, and if you wanted to, you could easily go to school, so don’t say you can’t. Because that’s simply not true.”
I never know how to respond when he says stuff like that to me. I don’t know what to do with myself. So I just settle on, “Thanks, Den.”
For the next thirty minutes, we continue down the trail, passing through denser, forested areas, interrupted by stretches of rocky terrain. We savor the silence and the trees sheltering us from the sun. The day blends with other days just like this in the past, a replica of moments with Dennis, where no words are needed to express how much we enjoy being together with nature all around us.
The trail narrows, and when we can no longer walk side by side, Dennis takes the lead, and I walk behind him. It’s almost noon, so the sun is higher and warmer. The exertion makes us hot. Dennis’ T-shirt is soaked with sweat, the thin fabric clinging to his back, the outline of his slender spine visible. Whenever he moves, I catch small whiffs of his cologne mixed with a more earthy scent.
Occasionally, his phone pings with a message, but he doesn’t pull it from his pocket. It makes me feel special somehow, to know that when we’re together, it’s enough for him.
