They took Highway 34 out of Sturgis and drove halfway across South Dakota. “Driving the I-90 would be quicker, but we don’t need quick,” Rory explained. “We get to see more of South Dakota this way.”
What he really wanted wasn’t to see the scenery, which wasn’t changing much even with all the miles they were putting behind them. What he wanted to do was to talk to Cary. He’d given him some of his history, and the boy already knew much of it from the book. His reason for taking Cary along with him back East was to work on his self-esteem issues. This countryside wouldn’t steal his attention away as much as Utah and Wyoming had.
Cary made it easy. “When did you stop being afraid when you knew you’d be in a fight?”
“That doesn’t happen right away. It’s natural to be afraid or excited when danger is imminent. It’s your body’s defense mechanism kicking in. The bravest people of all get scared. They just don’t let it control them.”
Cary seemed to be soaking this up, so Rory continued.
“When you’re confronted with danger, there’s a lot to think about. With the Sturgis guy, I had to think about you; was I putting you in danger by fighting him? Would the guy have help? Would I be endangering any onlookers? If the police showed up and threw me in jail, what would happen to you? Could and should I risk that?
“I didn’t even think about myself. That’s usually not that important to think about because I’m very aware of what I’m able to do. I did worry about you. Only after I decided to engage with the guy did I start thinking about how best to put him down.”
Cary was quiet, thinking. They’d passed through Union Center and White Owl before he spoke. “You always do that, don’t you? That’s a big part of who you are. You protect people, especially people you care about, but anyone who can’t protect himself who’s in danger.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way. Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it’s a defect in my brain.” He laughed, then became sober. “The truth is, I don’t know who I am. I’ve done a lot of one-time things. I was in the Army for a very short period of time before getting out. I wrote a book. I helped write a film script. I helped a movie director on a couple of films. But I’ve never stuck to one thing. I don’t have a job and don’t have any sort of career. I’m still a work in progress. I have protected some people; you’re right about that. And I feel good when I’m able to do it. It feels right to me. But that’s just part of who I am. What I am most, I guess, is unfinished.”
“You’re forgetting the good parts. You care about people and try to help them. I think you care about me more than my parents do.”
Rory didn’t answer that. To deny it . . . well, he’d met Cary’s parents, and he had no use at all for his dad, and his mom was ineffective at best and enabled his father at worst. Rory did care about Cary. He saw so much of himself in him. He’d been a mess at Cary’s age, and he’d changed. He thought Cary could, too, but he had to want it.
“I care about you because you deserve someone doing that. I also think with the right motivation and advice, you can overcome some of the things you don’t like about yourself. All kids your age have things like that. A lot of those things are more imaginary than anything else, and just growing older solves most of them. But some do need fixing. And some of those kids work to overcome their flaws; some just accept the flaws and do what they can to ignore them. Which type of kid are you?”
Cary was quiet again, all the way through Howes and Bridger and Billsburg and almost till they came to where the 34 became US 14.
Then he said, as though no time had passed at all, “I don’t know. And if I did know, and if I said that I want to change, which is clearly what you want me to say, I wouldn’t know how to do it. And because of that, why should I say I want to? Wouldn’t make any difference, anyway.”
“And that’s part of why you are as you are, part of why the things you hate don’t get any better. You’re right: you don’t know how to fix what you don’t like, and so you don’t. Well, we’re on a trip back to where, when I was your age, I was a worse mess than you are. We’re going to spend some time there, and I’ll introduce you to what I did to fix myself. If you like it, which you won’t at first, but if you stick with it long enough to see your attitude changing, well, then it’ll be up to you to answer that question again. And I won’t put any pressure on you. It’s your life. I’ll still like you even if you don’t want to change. You’re a great kid, Cary. One of the best. I don’t guess I’ll ever have kids. I’m not the marrying kind, and I think a kid should have two parents. But you’ll be in my life as long as you can stand to have me there.”
« »
They’d talked about where to go next, and both of them thought it might be fun to see the Twin Cities. Rory told Cary that was where the Mississippi River started, and Cary checked the map and his phone and corrected him, told him no, the Mississippi River began way north and west of there, but it got larger in St. Paul when it was joined by the St. Croix River, which was also on the border between Minnesota and Wisconsin. They decided that would be a good place to cross the Mississippi.
To get to the Twin Cities while staying on US 14 much of the way, they had to continue all the way into Mankato, Minnesota. They stopped for lunch in Huron, saw the world’s largest pheasant, and then looked for a place where Morris could stretch out some. They ended up at Ravine Park.
Morris liked the park. Cary had his frisbee, and the dog had his energy, so it was a good match. They played till Morris indicated he’d had enough. He did that by not chasing the last throw Cary made, just sitting down next to Cary and looking up at him with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
Rory was sitting at a picnic table watching them. Cary collected the frisbee, telling Morris he was lazy, and Morris managed to look contrite. They joined Rory at the table.
“He should sleep well tonight,” Cary said.
“He sleeps well every night,” Rory responded. “Most of the day as well. By the way, and of no special importance, look off to your right.”
Cary twisted around and saw three young teens kicking a soccer ball around.
“You know what we talked about in the car?” Rory asked.
“Yeah. Whether I want to be fixed or not. Something like you ask the owner of a male dog.”
Rory laughed. “Yeah, and this’ll be just about as painful. What’s one of the things you dislike about yourself the most?”
“I’m too shy. I think that comes with self-confidence. I don’t have any, and that makes me shy.”
“Okay. I agree. Being shy robs you of a lot of fun, causes you to miss out. So, here we have an opportunity. I want you to go talk to those guys. I know, that’s the very last thing in the world you want to do. You’ll be uncomfortable and feel vulnerable, afraid they’ll say something mean and belittling. They won’t. Boys don’t do that, especially if they are the sort who come to the park and kick a ball around. I’ll tell you what to say so you’ll be less nervous. You know how to work off a script.”
Cary was still looking at the boys. They looked just like boys in his grade in high school. Very few boys there were mean. Most of them just ignored him, and it was mostly because he was so shy he wouldn’t engage with them. But they didn’t bully him or tease him. They simply left him alone.
“This is what you do. You walk up to them. They’ll stop kicking the ball and face you. You say, ‘You guys need a fourth? I’m’—and then you say your name or make one up—‘I’m so-and-so, and I’ve been in a car all day and need to run around. You guys up for some two-on-two? I warn you though, I’m not much good.’
“Doing that shows them you’re not shy, because a shy boy would never approach them that way. It shows you’re humble and because of that, likeable. You don’t want them thinking you’re shy because shy boys make other boys nervous. This way, you’re just like them, and they’ll welcome you. And if they don’t, nothing’s lost and you can feel good anyway because you just did something you were afraid to do.
“Anyway, make up your own words, what feels right. You speak teen boy a whole lot better than I do.”
“I’m not very good at soccer.”
“Neither are they. I’ve been watching them. Go for it, Cary. Do it.” He smiled at Cary and squeezed his shoulder. Then said softly, almost in a whisper, “Now!”
Not liking this at all. Cary got up. Morris did, too, but Rory said, “Morris,” and he looked at Rory and sat back down.
It was a long walk to where the boys were, and every step felt difficult. Cary hated this, even though he realized doing it was a step in the direction he wanted to go. He hated his shyness.
When he had approached near enough, the boys saw him coming and stopped playing. Cary walked up close enough and said, “Sorry about interrupting. You looked like you were having fun. I’ve been in a car all day long and had to get out and move around some. Could I join you? Maybe play some two-on-two soccer? I’m not any good, but . . .”
“Sure,” said one of the boys. “I’m Steve, this is Evan and Brian.” Steve was the tallest of the three and had long, blond hair. The other two had brown nondescript hair and ordinary-boy sort of looks, neither cute nor ugly. Normal, like the majority of boys. None of the three was unattractive; none was in Cary’s class, but then, few were.
Both boys nodded when their names were mentioned.
“I’m Wyatt,” Cary said. He’d always wished he’d been named that.
It was a warm day, and they all took off their shirts, which were then used to mark the corners of the short, narrow area they decided was to be their playing field. Steve was a natural leader, and he told them the rule should be that you had to be within ten feet of the goal for it to count if you kicked it beyond the end line. Steve also made up the teams, putting Brian with Cary and taking Evan on his team.
Steve and Brian were the two better players. Neither Cary nor Evan was very athletic, but Steve made a point of passing the ball to Evan, so Evan had it as much as Steve did, and Brian did the same with Cary, so the game was fun and included lots of laughing rather than being competitive, especially when Cary and Evan had the ball. They played for twenty minutes, by which time they were all exhausted. They sat down on the grass, panting.
“Where you from?” Steve asked Cary.
“Los Angeles,” Cary said, and immediately wished he’d said anyplace else.
“You see any movie stars?” Brian asked.
The L.A. expert answered. “Around 18 million people live there. Besides which, when movie stars aren’t in costume and makeup, just in regular clothes, you’d never recognize them.”
“So you haven’t?”
Cary blushed. He hated that he blushed so much. But he didn’t know how to avoid it. Now, he needed to say something to account for it. “Okay, this is going to sound like a whole lot more than it really is, but I live near and go to Beverly Hills High. There are some kids who go there whose parents are actors. There are also a few kids who’ve been in movies or TV shows that go there, too.”
Steve asked the inevitable. “Who?”
Cary laughed. “Probably no one you’d know. Kids get bit parts, you know, like in crowd scenes, or a kid at the breakfast table with a family. Mostly, kids don’t have speaking parts. Or they’re in a commercial, but commercials don’t have credits, so no one knows who the actors are. When these kids are in school, they like to keep a low profile, most of them. They can get teased or bullied, sometimes.
“But Beverly Hills High is generally very laid back and easygoing. There’s not much bullying at all. The reason for that is there are lots of rich people in Beverly Hills. They have some pull, and they don’t tolerate their kids being picked on, or even just having that sort pressure for their kids to endure. So the no-bullying policy is strictly enforced.”
“There aren’t any movie or TV kids we’d know going there? At least you don’t know any?” Brian looked disappointed.
“I’m just one of over 1,300 kids there. And I’m not popular or rich, so I don’t get into those groups. No, I don’t know any movie stars or even any of the kids who’ve worked in films or on TV. Sorry.” He grinned at them.
“No bullying at all? Even of the black or gay kids?” Steve looked a little uncertain asking that, like maybe that was a rude question. Then he followed it up with, “We have that rule here, too, but some bullying still goes on. We only have a few black families and no gay kids.”
“Well, there are gay kids at Beverly Hills High, but they’re not picked on. They’re just kids like everyone else. I know a couple of boys who’re gay. Nothing special about them at all. We have some black kids, too. Some come there because they get recruited for their athletic ability. And some because academically it’s a great school. But bullying simply isn’t allowed. Anyone doing it gets expelled, and no one wants that to happen. How big is Huron, anyway?”
“Around fourteen, fifteen thousand I think,” Steve said. “Isn’t that right?”
Evan nodded and Brian said, “Closer to fourteen.”
“Then you certainly have some gay kids. We heard in sex ed that between five and ten percent of the male population is gay. If you have 7,000 males here, probably as least over a couple of hundred of them are gay.”
“No way!” Steve said. “I don’t know anyone who’s gay!”
“I guess they’re all in the closet,” Cary said. “That’s too bad. In L.A., gay kids can be who they are.”
Cary was feeling something he wasn’t accustomed to. He was talking to kids his age and not holding back. He was voicing opinions and facts, holding up his end of the conversation; he never did this with other kids; he rarely spoke, in fact. And he didn’t feel shy! He didn’t understand any of this. Was it because in only few minutes he’d never see any of these guys again? He didn’t know but recognized how good it felt to talk freely like this. Free was what he felt.
Brian looked at his watch. “Damn! I got to book. My mom’s expecting me five minutes ago. She’s going to kill me. Nice meeting you, Wyatt. Wish you were staying longer. I’d like to hear more about Los Angeles.”
“I got to go, too,” Steve said, jumping up with Brian. “I’m riding double on Brian’s bike! Yeah, great meeting you, Wyatt. If you knew Scotty Tower, I’d ask you to get his autograph for me. No?”
“No, sorry,” Cary grinned. “But I do know a kid who knows him. I understand he’s a real snob. The girls all think he’s cute, though.”
Steve was already on his way, running after Brian, and waved without turning around. Cary wasn’t sure he’d heard him.
Evan was still sitting in the grass with Cary. Cary realized he hadn’t said a word the entire time. In fact, he couldn’t remember him saying anything during the soccer fun.
When Cary looked directly at him, Evan looked away.
“Hah!” Cary said, not meaning to say it out loud but with sudden understanding. “You’re shy!”
Evan dropped his head farther.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry! It’s just that I suddenly realized that what you’re doing is exactly what I do. I’m shy, too. Awful, isn’t it?”
Evan raised his head but didn’t meet Cary’s eyes. “You’re not shy,” he stated positively. “You came up to three boys you didn’t know and spoke to us. Looked right at us, too. I could never do that, even if I knew who the boys were.”
“I couldn’t, either. I only did it because the guy I’m with said I should. Said I needed to; he said it was an important step to getting over my shyness. He said I’d see I had nothing to fear. He even told me what to say to you guys so you’d accept me. I couldn’t have, wouldn’t have done it without him pushing me. I never know what to say to kids I don’t know and stumble all over myself.”
“You’re trying to get over it? The shyness?”
Cary nodded. “It’s just one of many things I need to fix.”
“Me, too!” Evan looked at the grass again. “I don’t fit in. I’m jealous of you living in L.A. There must be all sorts of things to do there and all sorts of people to meet. Everyone here seems the same, and they all like being the same. Anyone who’s different is teased or excluded or bullied. And I’m different.”
“Different because you’re shy?”
Evan didn’t answer.
Cary thought about that, then said, “I can guess.”
Evan slowly raised his eyes. “You can?”
“Do you want me to?”
Evan shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Just then, Cary heard a woof. Looking over at Rory, he saw Morris looking at him, and Rory pointing at Morris. Cary took a quick look at Evan, who was again interested in the grass, and nodded. Rory spoke to Morris, and he took off running.
“I want you to meet my friend,” Cary said, and just as Evan looked up, Morris was there. He stopped next to Cary and sat down, his ears up, his eyes bright.
“This is Morris. He might be the best friend I have. He saved me the other day. Not only am I shy, but I’m scared half the time and too timid. Three guys were going to jump me, and Morris stopped them. You can pet him if you want to. Since he sees you’re my friend, he’s now your friend, too.”
Evan didn’t seem as shy with dogs as he was with people. He reached out and stroked Morris’ head. Morris in turn stepped forward and licked Evan’s face, making him laugh.
As Cary was hoping would happen, having Morris there was an icebreaker. Evan relaxed. Cary could see it happen. And then hear it when Evan spoke.
“Okay,” he said, sounding tentative but purposeful, “what’s your guess about me being different?”
“I think you might be gay. I remember what Steve said, that there were no gay boys in this town. Of course there are. I’d guess they just don’t feel safe to come out.”
As Evan didn’t respond, Cary kept talking. “We learned about this in sex ed. Many people in southern states and many in the Midwest still think being gay is a choice. Some churches still teach that. So being gay in a small town with a conservative attitude has to be scary. And you’re shy. That might be because you feel the need to protect yourself and keep your feelings inside. Part of that might be because you’re gay.”
Cary stopped, and the silence grew pregnant. Evan finally spoke. “I’ve never told anyone. Not even my parents. I don’t know any gay people. It’s so lonely. It feels so good to tell you. I told you and you didn’t get up and leave, or hit me, or even scowl. You didn’t react at all.”
“I know gay kids in L.A. They’re just kids. Just like you.”
“I could only tell you because you’re driving through and will soon be gone. I sure wish you’d stay. I’d have someone to talk to. I wouldn’t feel so lonely or like a freak that way.”
“You’re not a freak. If I were staying, you and I would be friends. Maybe best friends.”
Evan responded to that by blushing. But he was looking at Cary now, not lowering his eyes, and suddenly his opened wider. “Uh, wow!”
“What?”
“I just realized! I knew you reminded me of someone. And then there’s Morris. I saw Leaving Home three times. And I read the book. And I watched the Oscars. You were there. With Morris. You’re not Wyatt. You’re Cary Reynolds!”
Cary grinned. “No point in denying it, I guess. I hope you’ll keep it secret. If the press finds out I’m traveling across the country, they’ll go apeshit and try to find out all about it. I was hoping no one would recognize me. Evan, I really am shy. I hate someone coming up and talking to me like he’s my best friend because he’s seen me on TV or in a movie. People think they know me, think I’m the character I played once. I like to go incognito.”
“I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be my secret alone. I met Cary Reynolds! Can I tell you? I’ve had a huge crush on you since forever. Even before Leaving Home, but even more after.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you my phone number and you can text me. I’ll text back. So you don’t need to feel so lonely. Would you like to do that?”
“Oh my God! Yeah!”
They traded phone numbers. Then Rory called out they needed to go.
“Is that Rory Spencer?” Evan asked. “Are you with him?”
“Yeah. We’re taking a vacation. Us and Morris. We were going to drive to Mankato, Minnesota, but I think we’ll stay here instead. I’ve been in the car long enough today, and so has Morris. Haven’t you, fella?” He rubbed Morris’ ears and Morris rewarded him with a short bark. “See? He agrees.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I don’t know. What’s the best hotel in town?”
“Probably the Hotel Huron. But they don’t allow pets.”
“You don’t know Rory. He can do anything he wants. He’s incredible. I wish he was my dad. They’ll tell him no pets; he’ll ask to speak to the manager. Then we’ll end up with a suite, and Morris will be accepted there. I don’t know how he does it, but he gets his way. People just seem to respond to him. It happens all the time. He’s amazing.”
Cary stood up. “Anyway, I need to go.”
Both boys stood up, both suddenly shy again. Evan tentatively held out his hand to shake Cary’s. Cary looked at it, then stepped forward and hugged Evan, then kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay to be gay,” and quickly ran off with Morris.
They spent the night in Huron. Morris spent it with them in the suite. The plan had been to drive to Mankato and sleep there, but then they’d made a new plan and followed it. They’d breakfasted in Huron, then taken off going east. They’d stayed on US 14 till it met the I-29 in Brookings and taken that north to the US 212 in Watertown. Then they’d had a pretty straight shot east on US highways 212, 71 and 12 heading towards the Twin Cities.
They had a late lunch, deciding to stop in one of the small towns they passed through on the way. Next stop: Minneapolis.