Rory knew his mother went on a shopping trip every
Saturday morning—or she had when he lived with her. It was the highlight of her week.
She’d usually start with a coffee at Donovan’s Coffee and Pastries Parlor with two
or three other ladies, then go off on her own. He doubted that had changed. So, now it was a
matter of locating her. As Landale was a small town, the stores she could be in weren’t
many.
It was getting on toward lunch time. He hoped he could find her before she went to a restaurant with a friend. He wanted to talk to her over lunch.
Neither Landale nor Briston was large enough to support a mall, and even together it was doubtful one would have succeeded. Rory only had to visit the stores in Landale. He hoped he could do so with no one recognizing him. He wanted to get his business with his mother settled and get back to Briston.
There was one large grocery store where the entire town shopped. Several other private businesses were struggling to stay open, and they were complemented with a few places where the city’s legal and administrative affairs were handled. Rory’s mother usually had had lunch before doing the grocery shopping so there was less delay in getting things needing refrigeration put away. Rory’s scouting for her involved clothing stores, the library, the post office and other miscellaneous shops like the hair salons and stationers and others.
There were four shops that carried clothing, and he thought that his best chance of finding her would be in one of those or the shoe store. He didn’t know if she’d recognize him. He doubted she would. He’d been seventeen when she’d last laid eyes on him. He was thirty-two now.
He spotted her in the second clothing store he tried. He saw her before she saw him. Thankfully, she was by herself, sorting through a rack of women’s blouses. He walked up behind her and said, “Ma?”
She turned, and her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “Roy!”
“Hi,” he said, not nervous but not entirely himself, either. He’d had a hot and cold relationship with her growing up. He’d felt she hadn’t protected him enough from his father, and then she’d let him down on discovering he was gay. But she was his mother, and some of the feelings he’d had towards her when very young still existed.
“What in the world are you doing here?” She looked shocked.
He was very sensitive to her tone of voice. The last time she’d spoken to him, it had been with anger and disgust. He wasn’t hearing that now and found himself starting to breathe normally again. He hadn’t been aware he’d been holding it in.
“I came to talk to you. Do you have a lunch set up with friends? I’d like to take you to lunch, but just the two of us.”
“Oh, that would be fine. I have a lot to say to you, to apologize for.”
“Let’s wait till lunch. We need to find a place with some privacy but good food. What do you suggest?”
They ended up where Rory had eaten dinner the previous night. They got the same table, the one in the far corner of the patio, and Rory slipped the waiter twenty dollars, asking him not to seat anyone close to them. The waiter smiled and winked.
Before Rory could speak after they were seated, his mother started in. “I’m so sorry. I’ve wished every day I could apologize to you. I never should have done what I did. I was so into the church back then. It was my refuge from your father. He was horrible to you and made my life miserable, too. I know it was my job to protect you; I didn’t do it. And I’ve beaten myself up ever since.
“I didn’t know what had become of you. After you went into the Army, that was the last I heard. You could have been dead. If so, it was my fault. Then you phoned, and I didn’t know what to say. An apology isn’t much, I know, and it would have sounded hollow on the phone, but now you’re here, and I want you to know how sorrowful I’ve been because of what I did.”
“You don’t hate me for being gay? You don’t hate all gay people?”
“No, and I’ve stopped going to that church. Those places can get into your head, especially when you’ve got bad things going on in your life. I did at that time: your father.”
“I’m still gay.”
“And I’m so happy you came back! Tell me about yourself.”
Rory wasn’t sure he should do that. He needed something from her and thought it much better to secure that. Telling her about him could come later, and probably from a distance. Too many things involving other people were in play.
“I’d like to do that, but there’s a lot happening right now and I’m feeling some time pressure. Can you wait a bit? What’s important now is for you to tell me what your relationship with my father is. Is it still like it was when I was living with you?”
She frowned. “I want to know about you, but okay, I’ll go first. I’m still living with him, but we’re two people living in the same house and not having much to do with each other. When he kicked you out, that was a beginning for me. I started to realize what I’d been hiding from. It took me a couple of years, but I finally stopped going to that church, and then I told your father I was through with him. I wanted a divorce.”
“But you said you’re still living with him.”
“Yes. He said he’d fight a divorce. Not because he loved me or wanted me there as a housemate or even for sex. To him, image in this town is all important. He loves two things: being a big shot here and money. It would hurt his image for me to divorce him. So he said he’d fight the divorce and I’d get nothing: no alimony, no sharing of assets because Indiana isn’t a community-property state.”
Rory shook his head. “Did he tell you that? It isn’t true. The state doesn’t use that term, but Indiana is much like most states. Divorce cases begin with the supposition that the court will decide on a fair distribution of marital property, and that starts with a presumption that a fifty-fifty distribution would be a fair one. That means the assets he has are your assets, too, including the house if he were to sell it. He lied to you when he told you something different.”
“Well, that’s why I didn’t pursue a divorce. See, I didn’t, I don’t really have a way to make money. I married him right out of high school. I’ve never had a job. When I married, I had no job skills and he didn’t want me working. His image again. So leaving him without getting alimony would have put me in the poorhouse. If they even have poorhouses these days. I didn’t know he’d lied.
“But I considered leaving him, then thought about it. No money, so no divorce. Well, I couldn’t divorce him, but he’d probably be fine with me continuing to live in the house. I could do that and he’d continue to support me, and there’d be very little contact between us. We both agreed to that. That’s how it’s been. I still fix the meals for when he eats at home, but we don’t eat together. I still wash his clothes. One of my rules was, he had to be pleasant. That and minimal contact.
“That was fine with him. And that’s how we’ve lived for over a decade now. I have my friends and have something of a life outside the house. No more church. It was the church that made me intolerant of gays. That was wrong.”
She stopped and looked at him. Rory thought she expected him to speak now. So, he did but didn’t talk about his past. He asked her a question instead.
“Would you like more company in your life, maybe add a little fun and closeness?” He grinned at her, trying to lighten the talk.
“Well, sure.”
“What about your sister? What would you think of her living with you?”
“Oh, that wouldn’t work. She couldn’t live with me. Reginald would never permit that. I couldn’t live with her because I despise her husband. And then the problem of money would still come up. No, I’m stuck with my own husband. Unless I hit the lottery. I buy one ticket every week. Don’t expect to win, but it’s good to have something to hope for.”
“What about your sister coming here to live with you and Reginald if I lay some ground rules for him, sort of like the ones you already have, but with additions? I’d include an allowance each month for both of you. Before you tell me all the reasons that’s not possible, just give me an answer. If I could make that happen, would you like that?”
“Oh, yes, that would be great. But—”
“I don’t want to hear all the buts,” he said, interrupting her. “All the reasons it’s impossible. The thing is, it is possible, and I’ve already set things in motion.”
“You’ve spoken to him? He’s agreed? To this? How in the world . . . ?”
“Blackmail. He’s been a naughty boy, and I have proof. Proof that would send him to jail. He’d much rather have your sister move in and pay you two a monthly stipend than go to jail.”
She thought about that, then asked, “Then why not do that, send him to jail, and I can have my sister move here if she wants to and we can live together without him?”
“There’s a problem with that. You already mentioned what he told you, and it isn’t true. However, he’s got lots of money and as long as you’re married to him, he doesn’t have any legal need to share it with you. And if you try to divorce him, he might decide to use some of that money to hire a shyster lawyer, one of the big shots who knows all the tricks and dodges and can prolong the case indefinitely. It could take forever before you got a cent. He might be able to tie the case up with delays and discovery motions and you’d go broke.
“You’d eventually win if you could last him out, but life would be awful till that happened. I’d think it’s better to avoid that and have him pay your way, and your sister’s, and be free and clear to live life as you want to.”
She looked leery. He understood and said, “This may seem to be a bargain with the devil, but it’s one that’s good for you.”
“And you’ve talked to my sister? I know she won’t come. She has Trace to worry about, and her husband is a monster. He’ll come after her. You can’t stop him. No one can.”
“Yes, she’ll come. I do still have some unfinished business with her husband. I have to work things out with him. That’s my next job.”
« »
Rory told his mother not to confront her husband, that they’d do that probably tomorrow. He just had two more things to do, and hoped he could accomplish both that day. Then he paid for lunch and left, telling her he’d call her soon.
His first chore was to speak to the Tates. They were who he considered his family, and he wanted to see them by himself before introducing them to Cary and perhaps Trace as well. He also wanted advice from Garland.
Betty was delighted when Rory knocked on their door. She hugged him and kissed his cheek, bringing back nostalgic memories of when he lived with them. Garland walked up, brushed aside Rory’s offered handshake, and smothered him with a tight hug.
They sat in the living room and chatted. The two Tates were the only ones from his past that had kept up with Rory. Betty had emailed him once a week since he’d left, then written letters when he was in the Army and had no access to a computer, and he’d written back all that was occurring in his life. She knew about his time in New York, in the Army and in California.
“I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished,” she told Rory. “Bobby, too, of course. You’ve both done so much. We’re happy for both of you.”
“My life is about to change,” Rory said, “and I wanted to talk to you both about that without anyone else in the room. I’m about to inherit two boys, both teenagers. At least I think that’s what’s going to happen. I know you saw the movie and read the book I wrote. The first boy in the movie, he was played by Cary Reyonlds, and I’ve gotten to know him and become very fond of him. He’s with me on this trip and you’ll meet him before we drive back.
“I’m here to pick up a boy I didn’t know was my cousin till recently. He needs protection from his father and the bigots who live in Briston. He’ll have a much better life in California. His name is Trace Edwards. His dad, Levi Edwards, is a piece of work. I somehow have to deal with him so he doesn’t take vengeance on my aunt, Maud Edwards. I’ve already had an engagement with him. He’s not a good man. My problem is that my Aunt Maud will be staying in town here with my mother, and I’m worried about Levi learning where she is. I understand he’s in the Klan here, he has ties all over this part of the country, and he has threatened her in the past and abused her.
“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you guys about. Maybe keeping an eye open and letting me know if he shows up. Maybe telling her she can call you if she feels any trouble coming. Her husband is a huge guy with a beer belly. No way you’d not recognize him if he’s in town.”
Garland sat up straighter. “Big guy named Levi Edwards? Klan member? He doesn’t talk with an accent, does he?”
“Actually, he does. Sounds like he grew up in the South. Being in the Klan, that isn’t too surprising.”
“Rory, I may know something you don’t. You do know I came here from Alabama. The reason I moved up here was because one of the black families that lived here had migrated from Alabama. They’d been friends when they lived back there, and they wrote me after coming here, telling me there wasn’t a lawyer in Landale, white or black, and there was a need for one. I wasn’t getting all that much business where we were living and figured I’d get more customers here, and so we moved. You know all that.
“But something I never told you—I had no reason to—was that when I was in Alabama, there were still some incidents of historic nastiness going on. We had a lynching shortly before I left. A 17-year-old black youth was the victim. Kid named DeVar Reevers. I remember that mainly because his mother had an odd name that always stuck: Florida Reevers. They lived in Anson, Alabama.
“When the lynching occurred, the police discovered who’d done it. Work got around and it became clear the perpetrator
was a young firebrand Klan member. They never arrested him though; they couldn’t find him. Word was, he’d left the state. This was years ago, but I never forgot the case. Or the names of the people involved. The killer’s name was Eddie Levards.
He stopped, watching Rory’s face. Rory’s eyes got large, and Garland nodded. “I see you got it. You mentioning a man named Levi Edwards, and that he was a suspected Klan member and violent, and that he had a southern accent—well, I can’t help but think this could be the same man who lynched that boy in Alabama and then skedaddled. Some places in southern Indiana wouldn’t be unwelcoming for a person like him. Briston could be one of those places.
“The reason I’m talking to you about this is, if this is the same man, and that name is certainly suggestive, it means this boy’s name isn’t Edwards. Legally, it’s Levards. I thought you might want to know that. And to decide if or how he should be told. But there’s more, too. If this is that man, he’s very dangerous. You should give him a wide berth.”
Rory took a moment to think about that. Then, “Perhaps I’ll keep this to myself for now. What I’ll do when I’m back in L.A. is call his mother, Aunt Maud, and tell her. She is the man’s wife and she’ll be living here with my mother. If she’d divorce him, she’d then probably change her name back to her maiden name. If she did that, perhaps she’d ask Trace if he’d like to change his surname to match hers. Then they’d both be legally finished with that guy’s name, whatever it was. He’s abused both of them and they both despise and fear the man. But that’s all ahead. Right now, he can’t know where she is. Right now, she couldn’t divorce him without having contact with him, and she’s scared to death to do that.”
Rory had another thought he kept to himself. The man who’d lynched a 17-year-old boy and had threatened his aunt remained a threat, and there wasn’t much he could do to protect her when he was in L.A. That took some consideration.
« »
While Rory was spending time in Landale, Cary was entertaining Trace. It had been hard going.
Maud ate breakfast with Trace in their room. When Cary finished his, he invited Trace to come to his room, telling him that they should try to get to know each other better. Trace had accepted, and in Cary’s room, he looked him in the eye for a moment, then almost whispered, “I’d like to get to know you better,” and quickly looked down.
Cary didn’t think he’d ever met a boy as shy as he was. Well, maybe Evan in Huron. Evan seemed to have gotten over it a little just by talking to Cary. Cary hoped the same would happen with Trace. Trace probably hated being shy as much as he did. And the fact was, since Cary had spoken to Rory about his shyness, and since Rory had given him some tips, Cary thought maybe he was a little better now. Well, just slightly, but better.
So maybe the thing to do was to get Trace talking? It had worked with Evan. Worth a try.
“What’s it like living in a small town? I’ve lived my whole life in L.A. I can’t imagine living here. But it’s probably fine, isn’t it?”
“I hate it here.” For once, Trace wasn’t whispering, and he actually looked at Cary when he said it. There was emotion in his voice.
Cary nodded. “There are things I don’t like about L.A., too, but mostly it’s all right. A lot of people there, though. You probably know everyone here if only by sight. That has to be pretty good, pretty comfortable isn’t it, recognizing everyone?” Cary thought that was a better way to lead the conversation than to ask Trace why he hated Briston. That would be too personal and might shut him up. Shy people don’t like answering questions that embarrass them.
“Not if you don’t like the people you see. Not if they like to bully you.”
“Are there a lot of those here?”
“Too many! Seems like most of them go to my school. It’s awful there.”
“That’s one thing about L.A., at least where I live. We don’t get much of that. I did have a problem a few days ago, but I had Morris with me. People don’t mess with me when I’m with Morris. Uh, is it okay to say they don’t fuck with me? I almost never use that word, but it seems to fit better than ‘mess’ here. Anyway, those kids would have beaten me up if Morris hadn’t been there and encouraged them to leave.”
Trace’s eyes opened wider. “What did he do?”
“He growled at them, then chased them out of the park. His growl is pretty ferocious. He’s highly trained, and I’d swear sometimes he understands English. He sure can tell when there’s trouble brewing. Hey! Did you hear that? I said ‘trouble brewing’! That’s something you read, not say.” He laughed.
To his surprise, Trace giggled. “I read a lot. I’ve read that expression, too.”
“You read? I love to read. Sci-fi and fantasy mostly.”
“Yeah, me too.” Trace wasn’t whispering now, and he seemed more alive. He’d almost seemed drugged before.
“I loved The Maze Runner and The Hunger Games,” Cary said, happy to have found common ground with Trace.
“I read those recently. I read all the Artemis Fowl books a couple of years ago, too. More than once. Now I’m reading The Sword’s Choice series. It’s great!” Trace seemed to have forgotten his shyness for the moment, too.
Cary nodded and, wanting to keep the conversation going, gushed. “I started reading when younger to avoid other kids and to escape a world that didn’t make much sense to me. Still read as much as I can, but I have to work a lot.”
As soon as he said that, Cary wished he hadn’t. It was dangerous to just open up and talk, he realized; you forget to be careful. Trace had sounded enthusiastic, and Cary had caught the bug and just stopped being cautious. This was the result.
“You work? Doing what?”
Cary had a decision to make. Lie, tell the truth, or try to divert the conversation. Damn. This was hard. But, he did want to get to know Trace better. It was possible that Rory would decide to take him back to L.A. If Trace really was thinking of killing himself, Rory might do that. Rory was into helping people, and that would be the best way to help Trace. Now that he’d seen him, he didn’t know if Trace would want to go or not. He might well hate Briston, but leaving would mean leaving his mother. Cary wasn’t sure he’d be willing to do that.
Telling the truth would be the best way to be friends, and Cary wanted that. He didn’t have a friend his age. This way he would. And a gay friend, too, though he had to be careful not to show he knew that. He didn’t feel any sparks with Trace. But being friends would be easier if there were no sparks. Sparks would mean flirting and uncertainty and the possibility of someone being hurt, and he didn’t want to deal with all that. He just wanted a friend. So, telling the truth might be best.
“There’s something I don’t tell anyone. I don’t really want them knowing. They all treat me differently if they do. If I tell you that something, something private, will you not treat me differently, not think I’m different from how you see me now? Will you keep it to yourself?”
Trace looked at him and frowned. “How can I answer that? Tell me you’ve murdered
six people, and I’m supposed to say, ‘Oh, that’s nice’? I can’t
say how I’ll react because I don’t know how I’ll react. Maybe it would be
best if you just didn’t tell me.”
“Yeah, I could do that, or lie to you. But I’d like us to be friends. And friends don’t lie to each other. Not if they’re real friends. And not answering your question feels sort of like lying.”
“Okay, then tell me.”
“All right. I’m going to do this. Against my best judgment!” He stopped to grin. Trace just stared back at him. “It’s this: I work in Hollywood. I’m an actor. I started a few years ago on TV on a Disney show. I was the cute kid. I’ve now been in other TV series, and I’ve made a couple of movies.”
He stopped and waited for Trace’s response. The typical one for kids his age was to go apeshit.
Trace was different. “Oh.”
“Oh? That’s it?”
“We don’t get many movies out here. The ones we do get, the censors, which is a group of church people in town, ban almost everything. I’m sure I’ve never seen you in anything.”
“Well, actually, that’s good. Then you won’t treat me like some idol. You won’t ask for an autograph or tell me you have a crush on me from a show I was on four years ago. I hate that. I’m just a kid like you are, and that’s how I want people to see me. They should base their opinions on who I am and how they see me behave. Not on some role I played. Oh, and now that you know my secret, here’s another: my name’s not Wyatt. It’s Cary. You can call me that. I’m just a normal kid, one your age who’s just like you.”
Trace stared at him, not saying a word. Cary met his eyes and held them. Then Trace looked down. He mumbled, “Not just like me. I’m gay.”
Cary nodded. “Just like me.”