Percival Everett - Wounded

“That’s good,” I said.

As we walked back to the truck, I asked Gus why he didn’t like Bucky.

“He gives me the willies,” he said. “Can’t say why. It’s in my gut. I don’t like him.”

“Fair enough.”

Once in the truck and rolling out of town, I asked, “Won’t you tell me what the doctor told you?”

“Same stuff.”

“That might mean something to me if I heard the first stuff,” I said. “What kind of tests are you going to have?”

“The usual crap. A tube here, a tube there. He wants to check out my colon again. He seems to like that.”

“But they did that at the hospital here last time,” I said.

“I think it’s a scheduling thing, I don’t know.”

I didn’t press. Gus was going to the doctor, taking care of things. My knowing wasn’t going to change what he would or wouldn’t do. It was his business and I would let him see to it.

“Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m here,” I said.

“I know, John.”

THE BIG SILVER GREYHOUNDfrom Laramie was on time in spite of the foul weather, mainly because the trip did not involve the interstate freeway. When the highway was being planned in the sixties, the ranchers told the highway folks that the chosen route was a bad one. The ranchers suggested the old road. The completed freeway came to be called the Snow Chi Minh Trail and was closed quite a bit during the winter. The old road became the alternate and always-open route. Twenty minutes after greeting David, I was saying good-bye to Gus as he boarded another bus for Casper. The old man would arrive that evening, check into the Motel 6 next door to the hospital, not eat or drink anything after six, and be ready for his exams the next morning. Gus had refused my driving him, saying one, “I ain’t no baby and I can take care of myself,” and two, “Besides, you’ve got a guest coming into town.” So, David and I waved good-bye to the bus. Gus didn’t really notice and seemed older to me.

David and I wandered down the street toward the restaurant where we had first met. The snow was dirty and a bit more charming because of it. We walked in and were seated at the same table by the same young woman, who took the same interest in David.

“You came back for the good weather, I see,” she said.

“I guess so,” David said.

“How are you, today?” I asked her.

“I’m fine. As long as I’m inside, I’m fine. What would you two gentlemen like to drink?”

“Coffee,” David said.

“Tea for me,” I said. “Earl Grey and some milk with that?”

“Coming up,” she said and walked away.

“How are you, my friend?” I asked.

David shrugged.

“Relationships,” I sighed. “They’re always difficult. Things don’t always go the way we plan. Blah, blah, blah, and all the other inane platitudes that you’ve already heard fifty times.”

David laughed.

“What I meant to say was, doesn’t life suck?”

He laughed again, fell quiet for a few seconds. Then, “I really trusted Robert. I think I’m one of the those people who’s too quick to fall in love.”

I nodded. “Could be. Personally, I thought Robert was an asshole.”

“Really?”

“Big-time,” I said. “And I’m not just saying that because it’s true.”

“He was a little older, sure of himself, cute. I just missed all the signals.” He looked out the window.

“Signals?” I asked.

“They seem obvious now. Going out and not telling me where he was, late-night phone calls, the phone would ring and if I answered no one was there. His own narcissism should have tipped me off.”

“Hindsight,” I said.

“I should never have moved in with him,” David said.

“It’s never a good idea to rush things,” I said.

The waitress delivered our coffee and tea, smiled admiringly at David, took our food orders, and left again.

“Have you talked to your parents?”

“I called my mother and we sort of talked, you know what I mean. What’s there to say?”

“Listen, I need to tell you that I let your father know you were going to be here,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I guess not.”

“I should have talked to you first. I’m sorry.”

“No,” David said, “really, it’s all right. What’s it matter anyway? It’s no secret.”

I poured some milk in my tea. “I don’t mean to sound stupid,” I said. “I just kind of do that naturally, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“When did you realize you were gay?”

“That’s not stupid,” David said, generously.

“My experience is limited and I’m just curious.”

“When I was ten I knew I was different and when I was thirteen I knew I was gay.” David sipped his coffee. “I don’t know how, but I knew it. I kept it to myself until I was out of the house because of the way I’d hear my father talk about fags and queers. He scared me.”

“I can imagine. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” I said.

“I know. So, what’s new with you?”

“I’m getting married.”

David didn’t say anything, but he set his mug down.

“You remember Morgan? Well, she’s the victim. She’s living at the ranch now.”

“That’s great,” he said, though I doubted he meant it.

“Kind of living there. We have her ranch as well. We’re going to put it on the market.”

“What does Morgan do?” David asked.

“She has taught some courses at the community college, literature and composition, but not for a while. For several years she was mostly caring for her mother who just died.”

“That’s great. About your getting married, I mean.”

We stopped by Morgan’s ranch on the way home. She had built a fire, and smoke was coming from the chimney; the place looked postcard pretty in the late afternoon.

“We’ve moved her horses to my place,” I said as I killed the engine. “This is a sweet place. It’s going to be hard for her to let it go.”

Morgan met us at the door. Zoe was standing behind her and behind Zoe was the coyote, well formed, still with three legs and fuzzy. She was redder than I thought she would be.

“Morgan, you remember David,” I said.

“Of course I do,” she said. She gave David a hug, then kissed me.

“The puppy’s really gotten bigger,” David said. He kneeled down and stroked both dogs. The coyote was not nippy, I liked that, and appreciated the attention.

“Gus get off okay?” Morgan asked.

“Yep.”

“What’s the puppy’s name?” David asked.

“Gus named him after my mother,” Morgan said. “Her name is Emily.”

“She’s really strong,” David said.

“So, how’s it going here?” I asked.

“Getting there,” she said. “Mother had a lot of papers.”

“We all do,” I said.

“What do you say we kill the fire and head home?” Zoe came and pushed her nose under my hand. “Have I been ignoring you, girl?” I said to the dog. “I’m sorry.” I rubbed behind her ear. “We’ll all ride together. We’ll come back for your truck tomorrow.”

“I just want to grab a few things,” Morgan said. Then to David, “How was your trip? Was the bus cold?”

“If anything it was too hot,” David said. “The flight into Denver was bumpy. I’m not a fan of flying.”

“Who is?” Morgan asked.

“Get your stuff,” I said. “I’ll kill the fire. David, would you walk outside with the dogs and make sure the pup stays close?”

“Sure.” David left with the dogs.

“How’s he doing?” Morgan asked.

“Fine, I guess.” I put my arms around Morgan. “I missed you.”