Ryan knew how to clean their catch as well as how to cook it. The three worked in the kitchen together, Cary making the salad, Rory the rice and vegetables. Ryan did the fish. He also made tartar sauce—his own recipe—and cut up a couple of lemons and added those to the spread on the table.
They talked over dinner. What Rory loved was watching the boys interact. There was no missing that Cary was taken with Ryan. And that Ryan’s eyes never seemed to leave Cary. Rory also liked the fact that while neither he nor Cary was the most talkative person around, Ryan didn’t have that affliction. Probably eighty percent of what was said during dinner came from Ryan.
What was surprising was that Cary would take something Ryan said and tease him about it. The teasing was always gentle, but it was unprecedented. Rory decided it had to be because Cary was more comfortable with Ryan than he’d seen him with anyone else. Was it because Ryan seemed younger than he really was? Rory hadn’t seen Cary with younger kids. Perhaps he was simply less nervous around them. Whatever it was, this was a different Cary he was seeing—and a much livelier one.
Rory said he’d do the dishes, and maybe the boys would like to go sit on the porch and watch the moon rise over the lake. They didn’t put up any argument at all. Rory took his time, and when he was done, sat down in the living room and read the newspaper he’d found there. It was a day old, but he’d been busy the past few days and hadn’t seen a paper.
Finally, the boys came back inside. “I have to take off,” Ryan said. He looked at Cary and said, “See you tomorrow,” then nodded at Rory and left.
Cary stood in the doorway and watched him till he was out of sight. Then he turned to a smiling Rory.
“Uh, is it okay if I don’t go fishing tomorrow?”
“Well, I think Ryan will be disappointed.”
Cary shook his head. “It was his idea. We’re going to go hiking instead.”
Rory nodded, and his face became very serious. “Okay, I have some good hiking shoes and we can spray each other with insect repellent. Should I make a lunch to carry with us?”
Rory was watching Cary’s face, and the expressions he was seeing, plus the ones that Cary was trying to mask, caused him to break out laughing. “Gee, I’m getting the idea here I’d be a third wheel. Well, you know what? I wouldn’t mind at all staying here and working on that story outline I began at the dude ranch. I should get it all written down while it’s clear in my head. You’d be doing me a favor by leaving me here.”
Cary smiled and his body relaxed. “Uh, that lunch, though. That’s a good idea.”
Rory said he’d be happy to do that. Then, “You’re really into Ryan. That’s obvious. But I don’t want you to be heartbroken. He’s probably not gay. He could easily get aroused just walking through the woods with a boy, especially one who looks like you. Boys your age always have racy thoughts. Nothing at all to prevent something from happening, either. Both of you aware of the possibilities.
“Maybe he’d be interested in what you’re thinking. He’s certainly into you. He keeps watching you. He’s as infatuated with you as you are with him. Straight or gay, he’s still a boy, and boys want sex. They crave it, and at your age the gender of their partner isn’t all that material. But I know you: you want a bond of some sort with anyone you are intimate with. He might not be that particular; he might just want sex.”
Cary smiled. “That’s not going to be a problem.”
“No?”
“No. I told him I was gay and that I’d been crushing on him real bad since I’d first seen him. He said, ‘Me, too.’ So I asked him if that was ‘me, too,’ he was crushing on me, or ‘me, too,’ he was gay?”
Cary stopped and looked away, hiding his smile. He could tease Rory as well as he could Ryan.
Rory let the pause linger, then asked, exasperation ringing in his voice, “And?”
Cary grinned. “Both.”
“So he’s gay?”
“Yeah. And Cap is his uncle. His dad threw him out when he came out to him. He moved in with Cap. That was a couple of years ago. Cap taught him all he knows about fishing on the lake, and that was a lot because Cap’s been here his entire life.
“The only thing Ryan misses is that there are no other kids around here. He’s lonely. And gay. He doesn’t know any other gay kids at school. Seems you’re not supposed to be gay if you live in the Midwest. David Connor had the same problem. I guess I’m lucky to live in California where there’s no stigma being gay. Not that I ever had the chance to be with anyone.
“When actors being gay came up in conversation with my dad, he said that would ruin the career of any child actor. Of course, my career was the only thing about me that mattered to him.”
“But Ryan said he’s so ready to be with another gay boy, and then he saw me and couldn’t get over the way I looked. Then when I started messing with him and he was messing back, well, he doesn’t want to go fishing, he wants to be alone with me. And I want that, too.”
“So you’re going hiking?” Rory said with a grin.
“Yeah,” Cary said, and couldn’t stop smiling, his eyes focusing on what was ahead. “Hiking.”
« »
Rory spent the next day working on the outline of his new book, wondering if he’d ever get around to writing it. The idea seemed fresh, a grieving boy growing up on a ranch, discontented and unhappy as young teens frequently are, wanting more freedom and independence and the chance to demonstrate his ability to make a life for himself on his own while trying to get over his loss. The story will give him that chance when a foal is born that is rejected by its mother. The boy’s dad says to let the foal die, that rejected foals often die—that’s the natural way of the world. In his over-the-top teenaged defiance of his dad, the boy decides to save the animal, and he ends up bonding with it.
So far, so good, and that part could be made dramatic with a few humorous moments injected, just the way Rory loved to write. The problem was the ending. How could he make that different from other books with this theme? Usually such stories ended with the horse becoming a great racehorse, or being turned loose to enjoy its own life in the wild with freedom and independence—two things that the boy craved. Rory didn’t want to duplicate those finales. He would have to give that more thought. There had to be a way other than tragedy. He didn’t want to write an Old Yeller book. That wasn’t for him.
It would come to him. He just needed to let the problem percolate in his head a while.
Cary spent the day with Ryan. When he returned to the cabin late in the afternoon, he had a smile on his face and a healthy-looking glow on his cheeks.
“You look like you had fun,” Rory said, closing his laptop. “Good hike?”
“Great. Saw the lake from different angles. Ryan showed me a place where he swims and camps out some nights. We had a good time.”
Rory looked at him and didn’t speak. Cary met his gaze, and then, frustratingly, he blushed. He hadn’t wanted to show any emotion, and now this. He turned away as he felt his face reddening, but it was too late.
Rory saw his discomfiture. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Cary. Cary wasn’t only sensitive; he was also fragile. So, Rory spoke very carefully. “Can you tell me something, Cary? It’s something I’m uncertain about. I know you as well as I know anyone. I care about you more than anyone else, too. And I can’t figure out the reason you acted like you did yesterday. It wasn’t bad—I enjoyed it, actually—but it was just atypical. Maybe you can explain it.”
“What are you talking about?” Cary was able to turn back to Rory, his blush gone.
“I know you. I know how you act when meeting new people. We’ve talked about it. And what you did yesterday when you met Ryan—it was the opposite of the Cary I know. You started right off sparring with him, teasing and throwing and catching barbs, and it was delightful, it was fun, and it wasn’t you. Can you tell me what happened, why you were able to act like that?”
Cary came over and sat down next to Rory at the table where he’d been working. “Okay, this is going to take an explanation for you to understand. This might seem strange to you, but, well, I get a lot of attention from all sorts of people, but mostly they’re adults. I work with industry people, and the only time I’m with other kids is on set or at school. The adults I work with tend to treat me like a kid, boss me around, expect me to do what they want. To them I’m something like one of the props they use. I’m not a real person. Why shouldn’t I be shy? They’re adults, I’m a kid, and what I say or think doesn’t matter.
“The two types of kids I deal with treat me differently. The kid actors I meet are mostly like I am, trying to impress the directors, show runners and craft people, and we don’t spend much time together. They’re in the same business I’m in and they act like that. We don’t become friends. We’re business associates. We don’t have time for friendships, and most of them aren’t the sort I want to be friends with anyway. Most of them are arrogant, and I hate that.
“That leaves the kids I meet at school. You know I work a lot. Because of that, most of my schooling is on set, and if there are other kids with me, it’s like I just said. We don’t become friends. We don’t get to know each other.
“I only go to public school when I’m not working, and I’m usually working. But I have been to public schools a little, and there I meet two kinds of kids. There are the ones who are jealous of me and my life, who want what I have and are envious. Easy to just ignore them.
He stopped to take a breath. His voice changed when he continued; he almost sounded sad. “The other kind are the ones who idolize me. They see my fame, my performances, the characters I play. They love what they’ve seen and mix me up with what’s been on the screen. They think that’s me, that I’m really special and way out of their league. They don’t see me as just another kid with the same feelings they have themselves. They put me on a pedestal; they idolize the image they see.
“The looks in those kids’ eyes—both kinds of kids—I’ve learned to read. It isn’t hard to do that. You see it often enough that you get to know what it means. And what it means is, they’re seeing something that isn’t real. They’re not seeing me at all. I have to be fake to deal with them, and that’s part of why I’m so shy with them. I can’t be myself, and I’ll never be who they think I am. I just want to be a normal kid, a kid just like them.
“So, yes, I’m shy with those people because I can’t give them what they want. Some of them then get hostile. All of them are disappointed. I don’t want to be around that. I don’t really mind being shy with them because it gives me a way to avoid a situation I don’t like.”
Rory reached out and laid a hand on Cary’s. Cary rewarded him with a wan smile. “We all find ways to protect ourselves,” Rory said softly.
Cary continued his explanation. “That’s what I always see when meeting new people, but it wasn’t what I got with Ryan. In the first place, I thought he was younger than me, and I’m not shy with younger kids. I don’t need to be. And secondly, he didn’t have the idolizing look in his eyes I see so often. What I did see was very clear: it was lust. Yeah, lust. He wanted to have sex with me!”
“Really?” Rory was surprised. “I didn’t see that.”
“He was looking at me, not you, and it was there. Believe me. I saw a young kid, and he wanted sex, and I thought it was funny. So I started out joking with him, teasing even, and he teased me back. And it was only after that when I found out he was my age, just a few months younger, and, well, you saw what he looked like, how cute he was, and he seemed so confident and, well, I started feeling, uh, you know.”
“Yeah, I do know that feeling. I was your age not that long ago.”
Cary looked unbelieving, and Rory understood. Kids!
“Anyway, you invited him to dinner, and that was brilliant, by the way, and then we sat on the porch. It was beautiful there, warm and the lake, and moon, and, well, we were honest with each other. I was into him and him, and he was into me. We ended up thinking we’d like to spend some time alone together and then had to figure out how to do that. It was his idea to go on a hike. I told him you wouldn’t object.”
“Really? You knew that?”
Cary gave him a look, then said, “You think I don’t know you? Anyway, we hiked. I really like him. He’s funny and fun. He showed me places in the woods that were great and then where he swam, and he undressed. We did things, then swam, then did things again. I’m going to miss him.”
“We don’t have to leave right away. Why don’t you, uh, hike again tomorrow? We can leave the next day. I can maybe get a first chapter written.”
“You don’t mind?”
“More than anything, Cary, this trip is about making you happy, getting away from all the pressure you’ve been under. It’s about you finding yourself, letting you decide who you are, who you want to become and then getting a start walking down that road. It’s just a little bit about me getting closure on some childhood stuff. But I think helping you find yourself is way more important than the closure I’m seeking.”
Cary shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re so good to me, and I probably never say thanks enough.”
“When you’re smiling, when you’re happy, that’s the greatest thanks I’ll ever need. Now, what do you want for dinner?”
« »
The two boys left the next morning after breakfast. Ryan ate with them. “I just get cold cereal at Cap’s. He’s not a morning person. You cook good!”
Rory grinned. “Where are you going today?”
“There’re more places in the woods to visit, we can swim again, and maybe you’d like more fish for dinner tonight. We could go out on the lake and catch some more.”
“What we had the other night was really good. Yeah, why don’t you catch us some more fish? Uh, if you have the time for that.” Rory grinned, and Cary blushed. Ryan didn’t, but he did smile. Most of the time, his eyes were on Cary.
Rory did open the laptop when the boys were gone. He pulled up his outline, added a few notes, but then started thinking about what came next on their road trip. The next day they’d head out for Ripley’s Creek, though that was a long haul still, all southeasterly. Might be better, he thought, to stop about halfway. They weren’t in any sort of rush. It would be a six-hour drive to Madison, Wisconsin. They could spend the night there and take a look at the University of Wisconsin campus. It wasn’t too early for Cary to start visiting colleges. Rory knew he’d be better off leaving California when that time came, getting out of the womb.
Cary was fifteen. What a great time of life. That got Rory thinking about his own life at fifteen, going on sixteen.
« »
He and Bobby were 15 when tryouts for the football team took place. It was the end of summer, the summer before they’d be sophomores. Everyone wanting to play football for the school had to try out. They all gave their signed permission slips to the coaches, and they were told they’d all practice together the first day and be separated into varsity and junior varsity teams after that first practice.
Rory had talked his mother into signing his waiver sheet. It hadn’t been hard; his father was at the bank, and his mother was easy to convince.
He’d been nervous at the beginning. Actually, the first time out on the field with the other guys, he’d been scared. This was so not him, putting himself in this position. The fact was, however, he was now the same size as most of the other sophomores. He’d grown over the summer, as had Bobby. The two had worked hard during those months. They were in great shape now and stronger. No one looking at Rory now would call him a wimp.
Bobby had proved to be sensitive to Rory’s debilitating sense of himself, and, as Rory was his only friend, he spent hours trying to help him lose his negative attitude towards himself. What had helped more than anything else was that by spending time with Bobby, he was kept away from his father.
That hadn’t been too difficult. He slept over at Bobby’s house more often than his own. His dad didn’t care, and his mother went along with whatever attitude his dad had. Out of his father’s sight, out of his mind—that was how the summer went.
Rory didn’t understand why his dad didn’t like him, but he was growing a backbone along with muscles with Bobby’s support, and if his father’s animosity turned into criticism, then so be it; Rory was learning that his father’s opinion of him belonged to the man, and he didn’t need to share it. Being away from it and him helped.
He was still scared when he walked onto the school’s practice field for the first tryouts meeting. The coach told them they’d be starting with calisthenics and then testing them, seeing what each boy’s physical capability was.
They did pushups and sit-ups and jumping jacks and up-and-downs; the coaches all watched and evaluated. Then there were agility trials and races of twenty, forty and 100 yards. The coaches were modern-day teachers; they kept the boys hydrated and allowed them frequent rests. Still, it was obvious which boys were in shape and which were exhausted by the time they were asked to run.
Neither Rory nor Bobby was spent by the workout. They did more on their own every day than they were being asked to do here—and they didn’t take nearly as many rests.
The head coach called them all together and asked them to form two groups: the boys wanting to play offense and the ones interested in defense. Both Rory and Bobby joined the group on offense. That put them with the majority of the boys.
They were asked what positions they favored. Bobby joined the prospective running backs, Rory the receivers. Rory’s nervousness returned. He’d been fine with what he’d already done. But now, separated from Bobby, doubts came back.
There were three boys wanting the quarterback position, a senior, a junior and a sophomore. The senior had been the backup last year and would almost certainly be the starter this year. The potential receivers were formed into three lines about twenty yards apart from each other. Each prospective quarterback would throw to each line. The front boy in his line would go out and run down the field, straight toward the end zone, and the passer for his group would throw to him once he was fifteen yards downfield and still sprinting.
It was easy to see why the senior QB would get the job. He had the strongest arm and was the most accurate. When it was Rory’s turn, he took off running and after fifteen yards, looked back and saw the ball being thrown to him. It was high in the air and out in front of him. He kept running, and when the ball came down, it was perfectly placed so all he had to do was reach up and haul it in.
So far, many of the balls had been dropped. He caught his. One of the things he and Bobby had been doing all summer was having Rory run pass routes with Bobby throwing him the ball. Bobby had a good arm and quickly learned how to lead Rory, getting better at that every day. Rory got better at catching it, too.
The drill kept going. After the straight routes, the receivers were told to run out fifteen yards and then cut directly right and run straight for the sideline. The senior throwing to Rory’s group still was throwing great passes. They were right where Rory could pull them in rather easily. He didn’t drop a single one.
At the end of practice, the coach praised them all and told them to check the bulletin board outside the gym before the next practice. Each boy’s name would be listed showing a varsity or junior varsity placement.
Walking to Bobby’s house, Rory was silent. Bobby was gushing. “I think I made varsity! The running backs coach called me to the side when we were done. He said my running times were the best of the backs and asked if I’d played Pop Warner ball. I told him I hadn’t but that I’d been working all summer and was looking forward to seeing how good the linebackers were. He laughed and said that would be happening real quick.”
Rory didn’t respond, just kept walking. Bobby was used to Rory’s silence, but this felt different, awkward. Why wasn’t Rory telling him how his practice had gone?
“So?”
Rory shook his head. “I caught everything thrown to me. But . . .”
“But what?”
“Well, what if I made varsity? Did you see the size of the seniors?”
Bobby wanted to laugh. He was looking forward to taking on those seniors. And he wanted to celebrate with Rory beside him. Who’d he sit with on the bus to away games if it wasn’t Rory? But he knew he had to be careful. Rory wasn’t faking his feelings. He was actually worried. And it was up to Bobby to calm him.
“Well, they may be big, but can they catch you? Anyway, we’ll know tomorrow, and why worry today? You need all your energy, and worrying just robs you of that.
“Energy for what? I’m tired!”
“We still have that damn hill to run.”
When they’d done that, Bobby insisted they go back and check the bulletin board, saying the coaches might have posted the result already. They had, and Bobby found his name on the varsity list as expected.
Rory’s was there, too.