Emerson turned his head in the direction Luca was pointing. “The pictures, you mean?”
“Yeah. Who are all the people I don’t know?”
Emerson smiled lazily at his wall. The wall he’d never considered changing, even after Jay moved out. It should maybe feel strange looking at it now, these pure pictures of his loved ones, after what he and Luca had just done, but it didn’t.
Some days the wall hurt. And some mornings, it reminded him he’d had a life. It gave him a reason to get up.
“That’s from the first farm I ever worked at.” He pointed at the photo of him and the crew from Cherrywood. “I went to college for a year after high school, even though I kind of knew it wouldn’t be for me. But I needed to get out of my hometown, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do, so…college felt like the only option.
“I met Jay there, so I’m glad I went. But summer after freshman year, I got a job there. At Cherrywood Farm. And it was…I don’t know. I loved it. Felt like I was doing something worthwhile for the first time in my life, and it made me…calm. Growing up, my house…wasn’t. Calm, I mean. And a farm’s never truly calm either, but—god, I’m saying a lot of words. I still feel kind of out of it, sorry.”
“No.” Luca’s hand rested on Emerson’s stomach; his thumb still traced over Emerson’s skin. “Keep going. You’re good.”
“Anyway, they were a good crew, the people in that photo. Breezy, Jasper, Neil. Still talk to Jasper sometimes. So yeah, I quit school after that. Kept working on that farm. Moved on to others when they couldn’t keep me on anymore.”
“But Jayden stayed in school?”
“Yeah.” Emerson shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, keeping one hand on Luca, the other tucked behind his own head. “Cherrywood wasn’t far from Western, where we went, so it was easy at first. At least, relatively. I was self-conscious that I couldn’t be like his other friends, that we couldn’t study together in the library anymore, you know.”
It felt funny, reliving this portion of his life. It all felt so long ago. He couldn’t even remember what classes he’d taken, his singular year of college.
“But he supported my decision, my life. When I moved on to other farms, we survived some long years of long distance until he graduated and we finally got a place together in Portland. Lot of farms within driving distance of the city.”
Luca made a small humming noise, but otherwise stayed quiet.
“Did you go to college?” Emerson asked, curious about all of Luca’s history he didn’t know either. “For writing maybe?”
“No,” Luca said. “Didn’t go for anything. Who’s the older couple in that one?”
Emerson squinted toward where Luca pointed.
“Oh. That’s Yulia and Graham, my in-laws.” It took him a moment to realize he should correct himself. “Ex-in-laws, I mean. But we’re—” Now he paused on purpose. Changed thetense of his sentence. Maybe it was time to finally stop fooling himself. “We were close.”
He looked away from the wall.
“Is it okay if we finish storytime there?” he asked quietly, he hoped not unkindly. “I’m pretty wiped.”
“Of course.” Luca turned his head, kissed Emerson’s chest before extricating himself from the bed. It was quick, brief, but that kiss made Emerson regret what he’d just said. He should’ve kept storytime going forever. He should’ve rambled about each photograph until Luca fell asleep on top of him. Until Luca stayed.
He wanted Luca to stay.
“I should get the rest of this cleaned up anyway,” Luca said as he stepped into his underwear, as he gathered the rest of his clothes and his sex supplies. Emerson’s gaze stuck on the toy in Luca’s hand. He almost asked if he could leave it.
“See you tomorrow,” Luca said at the door, an air of awkwardness suddenly hanging between them. Emerson pictured himself leaping out of bed, pushing Luca against the door for one last kiss, making that awkwardness disappear.
But the truth was, he really was wiped. He was having a hard time believing he’d ever leave this bed again.
“Sleep well, Luca,” he said instead, and was rewarded with a soft, barely-there smile in return.
“Sleep well, Emerson,” Luca said before he slipped away, leaving Emerson alone in the almost dark with the pictures of the life he used to live.
sixteen
September
Wednesdays were dedicated to weeding.
Since Short King Farms was certified organic, they couldn’t use any chemical weed killers or pesticides. Jansel and Emerson used some natural remedies, some basic tools, tarped certain beds, but even still: a lot of the maintenance on the farm was done by hand. There was something satisfying about even this routine, though, Luca had to admit, even if it wasn’t as sexy as harvesting. Looking down each row when you were done, seeing how much cleaner and healthier it all looked, knowing you had made it look that way. Still?—
