A little over an hour later, they pulled into the drive of the farm. Zef perked up, head swiveling in every direction as they tried to take it all in at once. Like a little kid at the zoo for the first time, they trilled and chirped in curiosity, practically stumbling out of the truck in their haste.
The dogs converged on them immediately, making Zef stagger back into Bryce as they whistled in alarm. “Oh, don’t mind them. They don’t bite.” He patted their side before he knelt down and gave the dogs some love. “This is Rascal. He’s a shepherd mutt of some kind. And that diva is Stratus. She’s a collie.”
Stratus sniffed cautiously at Zef’s shoes as Rascal circled them, tail wagging.
“Hello,” they said carefully, inclining their head at the dogs. “I have only met one dog before, and Molly was not very rambunctious.”
“Yeah, Rascal’s still a pup, so he has lots of energy, but he won’t hurt you.” Bryce grabbed their bags from the bed of the pick-up. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
Rascal trotted to the house at Zef’s side, yipping excitedly. Zef chirruped back, and the dog cocked his head, making Zef copy him. Bryce watched from the porch as they navigated nonverbal communication until a squirrel caught the pup’s attention, and he sped away with a furious bark.
Inside the house, Bryce sighed in relief at the air conditioning and breathed in the scents of home. Zef stared at everything in awe, soft clicking noises echoing in the back of their throat. They leaned in to study the cuckoo clock, jumping when the bird emerged to tweet the half-hour.
He tried to take them upstairs so they could drop off their bags, but Zef was already enamored with the living room. They dragged their fingers over the throw hanging on the back of the couch and inspected the scenic artwork on the wall. Above the fireplace, they perused the family photos, shooting Bryce a soft smile over their shoulder when they found one of him from second grade, missing both his front teeth.
The stuffed beaver beside the mantle captured their attention next, and they poked it, jumping back like they expected it to retaliate. When they completed a full circle around the living room, he nodded at the stairs, and they started up them. It was slow going since they paused to look at the pictures on the wall, but they eventually made it to the landing.
“That was Charlie’s room, before Nan moved in,” he said, and Zef peered in through the open door without entering it. “My room’s at the end of the hall.”
“Yeah, ’cause I’m a lady,” Nan said as she bustled out of the bathroom, “and I don’t need to be subjected to the ruckus you two make at night.”
“Jesus, Nan, can you not?” Bryce blushed horribly.
“I have never found Bryce to be loud at night,” Zef said sincerely. “He is very considerate.”
Bryce snorted as Nan made a face. “Eh, there’s some things a grandmother should never know about their grandson.”
“Then don’t make inappropriate jokes,” Bryce said as he ushered Zef farther down the hall.
Like a light bulb flickered on, Zef made a comicalOwith their mouth. “Oh, she was making a sexual innuendo. I understand that now.”
In his childhood room, Bryce dropped their bags on the bed and plopped down beside them with a sigh. Zef hovered on the threshold, and he waved them inside.
“You can come in.”
They did, investigating his space as they had the living room. His science trophies. His 4-H county fair ribbons. Even the chess championship cup he’d won junior year.
Next, they traced the spines of the many books on his bookshelf, their lips forming the titles without speaking them. They picked up the picture frame with Charlie and Bryce as teenagers, in their cowboy hats and boots.
“You look alike.”
“Yeah, we’re only thirteen months apart. Drove my mom batty when we were kids, but we were pretty close growing up.”
“You are not close anymore?”
“He moved away when I was twenty, and we just don’t talk much, I guess. He fell in with the wrong crowd.” They whistled in question, and he shrugged. “Red hat, red pill. I don’t really wanna talk about it.”
They set the picture back in place. “I am sorry it causes you pain.”
“Sometimes, people change and it ain’t for the good.”
“Yes, and that is painful. To grieve what once was and what could have been.” They came to a stop in front of him and he parted his knees automatically so they could stand between them. Framing his face with a feather-light touch, they stared down at him. “I am sorry you miss him.”
“Me too.”
“Would you like a hug?” they asked, and hot affection burned through his chest.
“I always wanna hug you.”
