Something Like Winter

  Krista was crazier about him than ever, clinging to him like her life depended on it. But in a way, that felt nice. The only time it got weird was when she kissed him, because for a second he felt like he was cheating on Ben… but then he reminded himself that Krista was his girlfriend. If anything, he should feel guilty about what he had done behind her back. But he didn’t.

  Tuesday wasn’t quite as good. The excitement about his return had died down, and he had cross country practice after school, so no partying. Tim could only sit on the sidelines and watch, but being part of the team was more than just competing. He watched the other guys, asking himself if he found them attractive, trying to see them in a new light. But it wasn’t the same. He knew which ones were handsome and who had the nicest body, but he didn’t feel that connection like he had with Ben—or that desperate need to kiss any of them. If he was gay, wouldn’t he want them too? Tim began to wonder if he had been the victim of hormones and two weeks of cabin fever.

  On Wednesday, while strolling to class with Bryce at his side, Tim noticed Ben walking down the other side of the hallway, head forward but eyes watching him. And it was funny, because a whole team of athletic runners didn’t do much for him, but seeing Ben for one brief second called up all those feelings of home, of being cared for. Tim brought a quick finger and thumb to his face, signaling that Ben should call him. Ben gave a hint of a smile and a nod before they broke eye contact.

  Tim felt strangely elated by this small interaction, his good mood lasting until he got home in the afternoon. His mother was there, which wasn’t surprising since she did much of her translation work from the house. But his father was home early too, and that was rarely a good omen.

  “Your school called,” his mom said, after asking him to sit down at the kitchen table.

  “What did they want?”

  Ella’s face was strained, bringing out the lines and making her appear older. “They said the reason for your absence wasn’t reported.”

  “Oh. I had a friend of mine pick up homework for me, but not from all my classes. One of the teachers made a big deal about it on Monday, but I explained everything.”

  “Including that we were out of town and couldn’t call?” his father chimed in. “You’ve made us look incompetent.”

  “Sorry!” Tim said, getting his back up. “I’ll go into school tomorrow and tell them I kept you in the dark. God forbid anyone think ill of you.”

  “Don’t get smart!” Thomas growled. “A counselor wants to meet with us, which I sure as hell don’t have time for!”

  “We know the school called while we were gone,” his mother said in gentler tones. “All you had to do was pick up the phone and explain the situation. And really, a sprain isn’t a good enough reason to miss two weeks.”

  Now his father chimed in again. “The counselor asked if we felt you should be punished for skipping, since you were capable of attending.”

  Tim gritted his teeth. “I had a lot to deal with, okay? I didn’t want to ruin your stupid trip, and it’s a class three sprain, by the way, which is pretty damn close to being broken.”

  His father’s face turned red. “Don’t use language like that in front of your mother!”

  Tim looked to his mom, whose eyebrows were raised. Tim couldn’t believe it! Out of everything he had said, all they heard was a cuss word? “I’ll take care of it. I’ll talk to the school counselor tomorrow and get it all cleared up. I promise.”

  But this wasn’t enough. His father was still angry, and worse, his mother appeared hurt.

  Tim’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

  That satisfied them enough that they let him escape to his room. Once he got there, his phone rang. His parents had splurged for a private line—for their convenience more than his—and if he had been smart, he would have given the school that number instead.

  Tim picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”

  “Hey.”

  Benjamin, like a lifeline from another world, one that Tim was eager to escape into. “Hey. You have to come get me. I’m totally sick of it here.”

  “I don’t have a car,” Ben reminded him.

  “I think you’ve driven mine more than I have. Get over here.”

  And Ben came, lightning fast. Tim met him in the driveway, and before long, he had relaxed again. He wasn’t sure if Ben would be able to recreate the magic, to make Tim feel good outside the bubble they had existed in for two weeks, but once again, Ben knew just what to do. Commandeering his vehicle and taking him hostage, Ben brought him to the city of Galveston, where the beaches overlooked the Gulf of Mexico. Tim had never seen the ocean before, and even though he technically still hadn’t, the waves and sand sure looked like the real thing.

  Together they sat on the beach, talking until the sun went down. Ben was easy to be around, like he always was. There was nothing weird. Tim didn’t have to hold his hand or constantly fend off his advances. When a group of college girls spotted them and offered to share their beer, Ben grew a little quiet, but that could have been because the girls were so loud. Of course they flirted with Tim, which he couldn’t help but enjoy. One of them even followed him down the beach when he went to relieve himself. She kissed him, the fumes on her breath much stronger than his, and he kissed her back, curious if his body would react. A kiss was a kiss, it would seem, because Tim began to get turned on and started to feel her body. But it seemed empty. Like masturbation, it felt good, but it didn’t mean a damn thing. Then the girl tried groping him, which only reminded Tim how much he had to pee. He untangled himself from her so he could go.

  He swayed a little as he relieved himself, trying to force Krista and Ben out of his mind. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t have room for himself anymore. He glanced over his shoulder to see another ghost. The girl waiting for him, the evening shadows obscuring her features, could have been Carla, back from the past to ruin the one good thing that had just begun. And Tim realized that good thing wasn’t Krista.

  “I have to get my friend home,” Tim said.

  “Why? Does he need to be tucked into bed by a certain time?”

  “Something like that,” Tim replied.

  The girls wanted them to come back to their hotel, but Tim managed to bluff their way out. The relief at breaking free of them, of being alone with Ben in the car, weighed heavily on him. If Bryce or Darryl had been in the same situation, they would be in that hotel right now, living a story worthy of Penthouse Letters. Instead, Tim was happier cruising along with his new gay buddy. What did that imply?

  Tim put on a CD to avoid conversation so he could sort through these thoughts. Ben sang along to a few of the songs, making up lyrics once he caught the rhythm of the chorus. Every time Tim looked over at him, he seemed happy. Unpopular, scrawny, and about as uncool as you could get, but happy. Tim wanted to be like that too, to not give a shit about what anyone else thought, to not need so much from every stranger he met. To the untrained eye, Ben had nothing, at least by the bizarre rules that governed high school. But really, Ben was one of the few who wasn’t pretending, one of the few who was free.

  * * * * *

  The school counselor was an older woman with short gray hair. Tim supposed she looked wise, like a frumpy old owl. He just hoped she wasn’t so shrewd that she saw through him. He smiled, which helped like it always did. People put an amazing amount of stock in beauty. A handsome face could open doors, inspire confidence, and most of all, deceive. Tim’s mother had once said—the palm of her hand on his cheek—that he was beautiful because he had been touched by God. Sometimes Tim wondered if the other guy down below hadn’t touched him instead.

  “Mr. Wyman,” the counselor said, “I was hoping to meet with your parents soon.”

  Tim glanced at the nameplate on her desk. “That’s why I’m here, Mrs. Hewitt.” Tim leaned on his crutches like a beggar from a Charles Dickens novel. God this was humiliating, even if he was playing a role.

  “Sit down,” Mrs. Hewitt said. r />
  Tim thanked her and sat. “I wanted to tell you the truth. My parents were out of town when I got hurt, and even though I could have called their hotel, I didn’t.”

  Mrs. Hewitt nodded. “That’s exactly what your parents told me, but I also feel that leaving someone your age alone for two weeks isn’t appropriate.”

  “Oh. Well, I talked them into that. Argued, is more like it. I kept saying it was time they treat me more like an adult, but I guess I let them down.”

  Mrs. Hewitt considered this. He was halfway there.

  “We just moved here from Kansas. Usually I stay with my aunt when my parents aren’t home. Everything is kind of new for us, and I guess I took advantage of that.”

  Now Mrs. Hewitt looked at him more sternly, no doubt seeing a rich spoiled brat who tricked his parents. Maybe that’s all he was.

  “Well, Mr. Wyman, what do you feel a suitable outcome to this would be?”

  Ugh. She wanted to know who was going to get the blame so she could cross his name off her list. “I didn’t show up for two weeks, so two weeks of detention, I guess?”

  “Your parents have at least raised you to admit your mistakes.” Mrs. Hewitt made some notes. Tim watched her and wondered if she really did have a list of names. “I trust you’ll convey the details of this conversation to your parents?”

  “Yeah,” Tim said.

  Mrs. Hewitt raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. You’ll report to room 2W26 today after sixth period for your detention.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tim slunk out of the room. He may have pulled the wool over an adult’s eyes, but he felt anything but victorious.

  * * * * *

  Tim opened the front door before Ben could ring the bell, hobbling out to the front porch. The afternoon was cooling off, the fresh air welcome after being cooped up inside. Days like today made Tim feel like he could break into a sprint, running past the neighborhoods, into the wild, and away from the world he knew. Maybe he’d throw Ben over his shoulder and bring him along. Of course with his ankle, he wouldn’t be running anywhere just yet.

  “Take me for a walk,” he said instead.

  “I left Wilford’s leash at home,” Ben replied, “but I can run back and get it.”

  “Ha ha. Seriously. I need some exercise.”

  Ben looked him over. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, doctor’s orders.” The cast had come off last night, a removable plastic brace taking its place. His ankle was a little stiff and the pain came and went, but mostly he was okay walking on it.

  “Okay,” Ben said. “Where do you want to go?”

  Tim gazed at him. They hadn’t had sex since those first tumbles on the couch. Since then, Ben hadn’t made a move. Tim had been glad for that, but now he wouldn’t mind a relapse. If you had to go to confession, you might as well enjoy the sin.

  “Somewhere private,” Tim suggested.

  “Ah!” Ben fought down a smile. “Well, we could walk to my place.”

  “Are your parents there?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tim shook his head. “No way.”

  “Okay—” Ben turned this way and that, as if to get his bearings. “Follow me.”

  Tim followed him down the street and to one of the bike paths, enjoying the physical exertion. He hoped he could start jogging again soon. He needed the release, although Ben might have a different sort for him, depending on where they were headed.

  “Think you can handle going off road?” Ben asked.

  The bike path ran ahead, the backs of houses to the left and trees on the right. It wouldn’t be easy, but Tim thought he could manage. He nodded, and Ben led him into the woods. They walked a fair distance, following a small winding dirt path before abandoning it. Not much farther ahead was a tree with low branches, each thick and long, some burdened with a wooden construct of some sort.

  “My tree house,” Ben declared.

  “How many rooms does it have?” Tim asked.

  “One,” Ben said proudly.

  “More like a tree shack then.”

  Ben laughed, then scurried up a couple of wooden boards hammered into the trunk to form a ladder.

  “Unless you’re going to carry me up there,” Tim said, “I don’t think I’ll be able to join you.”

  But he tried anyway, using his good foot to get on the second rung and pulling himself up so he could at least see over the edge. Forget tree shack! A hobo would turn up his nose at this place. It didn’t even have a proper floor, just a bunch of criss-crossed boards. What passed for a roof strained where rain water had collected. Of Ben’s many talents, carpentry wasn’t included.

  “Very nice,” he lied. Then he lowered himself back down, his ankle twinging, so he took pressure off it by sitting and stretching out on a bed of fallen leaves.

  “I’ve gotten a lot of good thinking done here,” Ben said, his legs dangling over the edge.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. This is where I figured out I was gay.” Ben watched him from above, waiting for him to ask more.

  Tim bit. “How did you know?”

  “I fell in love. Well, sort of. I thought it was love at the time. Really it was probably just a crush, but there were feelings nonetheless.”

  “Who was the lucky guy?”

  “Kevin, a friend of mine. When he moved away I was heartbroken. I was just twelve at the time. I guess there had always been guys I liked, but with him, I took it to a whole new level. I tried to catch a bus to Utah just to see him, and when that failed, I wrote him a love letter.”

  “So did you two ever hook up?”

  “I was twelve!” Ben brushed some leaves down on Tim’s head.

  “So? I lost my virginity when I was thirteen.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Ben was quiet a moment. “You’re ruining my story.”

  “Sorry.”

  “So anyway, shortly afterwards, a girl in school asked me out. Not like on a date, but to be her boyfriend or whatever. That was the missing puzzle piece. The idea of being with a girl that way, of being romantic, had never occurred to me. I mean, it was fine for other people, just not for me. But when I thought of Kevin, it felt right.”

  Tim shook his head. “That’s not me, Benjamin. I like girls. They turn me on.”

  “But you like guys too,” Ben pointed out.

  “Maybe.”

  Ben lowered himself over the edge and hopped down. He got on the ground with Tim, crawling over him like an animal, bringing their faces close together. He was so damn ballsy! They hadn’t done a thing since last weekend, and Ben acted certain Tim would still be willing. Of course he was right. Ben kissed him, and Tim kissed back, reaching to stroke his hair when Ben moved away.

  “Maybe?” Ben said with a smirk. Then he sat back, pulling his legs up in front of him.

  Tim sat up too. “You sure know how to make a point!”

  Ben grinned. “What I’m trying to say is that it’s not just physical. I’ve messed around with a lot of straight guys before.”

  “What? How does that work?”

  “Well, it was mostly in junior high when guys are a little more experimental. Or desperate. So there were a handful I would do stuff for.”

  Tim wasn’t sure if he should be turned on or jealous. “What sort of stuff?”

  “You know firsthand,” Ben said pointedly. “Anyway, I thought there were a lot of other guys like me. I’d already sat in this very tree and put a name to it. I even said it out loud. ‘I’m gay.’ You have to come out to yourself first, so I did. I thought these other guys hadn’t done that yet, so I started talking to them about it.”

  “And?”

  “And it got around the school. I lost all my friends except for Allison, and most of those guys I thought were like me now have girlfriends.”

  Tim watched Ben’s face closely, trying to imagine how that must have felt. In Kansas, the school had turned against Tim
because of a lie. But for Ben, they turned their backs because of who he was.

  “Sorry, man.” The words were far from sufficient, but they were all Tim could manage.

  “It’s okay. I keep getting sidetracked, really. My point is that just because these guys messed around with me, doesn’t make them gay. We all do crazy things when we’re horny. So you sleeping with girls doesn’t mean you’re straight.”

  Tim stared at him. Then he laughed. “You think I’m just a very experimental gay guy? I’ve had sex with women enough times that it’s gone way past the experimental stage. Is there an expert phase? Because that’s where I’m at.”

  Ben tried a new tactic. “Did you love any of them?”

  That shut Tim up. The longest relationship he ever had was with Carla, and half the time they were together he didn’t even like her. But part of him cared enough to stick with her. Sort of like he was doing with Krista. He would never be her friend, but as a girlfriend it somehow worked.

  “I’ve never been in love with a guy either,” Tim said.

  Ben shrugged. “So the jury is still out. At least until you fall in love.”

  Tim shook his head ruefully. “Whatever makes you happy.” He glanced up at the tree. “Speaking of love, who is A.C.?”

  Ben looked embarrassed and followed his gaze. Carved into the tree were two sets of initials. The B.B. could only belong to Ben Bentley.

  “Allison Cross.”

  “So Benjamin has had a girlfriend before?” Tim said with a cackle. “How experimental of you!”

  “Shut up!” Ben laughed. “We were young and dumb. Allison and I thought it would make a good best friends oath. You know, like how people cut their thumbs and press them together or whatever. We carved our initials on this tree.”

  “And then carved a heart around them,” Tim pointed out.

  “Young and dumb,” Ben repeated. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”