Trailer Trash

“I, uh . . .” Cody stumbled, afraid if he said much more, he’d start crying after all. “I didn’t get you anything.”

  Nate moved closer, the distance between them matched exactly by the tape in Cody’s hands, as if it were the only thing keeping them apart. He touched Cody’s arm, his hand warm and gentle and wonderfully familiar. “You should know by now there’s only one thing in the world I want anyway.”

  Cody finally looking up at Nate, wanting to know if this was really what it felt like.

  And before Cody could say a word, Nate kissed him.

  It was awkward at first, their lips not quite lining up, Cody’s arms pinned between them. Only for a second, though. Only long enough for Cody to catch his breath, and then he dropped the wrapping paper and wiggled his arms around Nate’s neck, the cassette still tight in his hand. He relaxed into Nate’s embrace, parting his lips to let Nate kiss him deeper, and the next thing he knew, Nate was pushing him back against the counter, leaning against him, kissing him harder, his hands seeming to be everywhere—under Cody’s shirt, in his hair, his fingers warm and soft on the back of Cody’s neck—and Cody found himself suddenly balking, shocked at the sudden onslaught and the urgency in Nate’s touch.

  “Wait,” he said, trying to pull away even though he had nowhere to go. Nate had him trapped, and Cody wasn’t all that sure he wanted to escape anyway. “Nate, hang on.”

  Nate didn’t stop kissing him. He just moved away from Cody’s lips to kiss his neck instead, pulling Cody tight against him. “What?” he asked, his breath warming Cody’s ear, making him shiver. “What’s wrong?”

  “I, um . . .” Jesus, would he ever have a moment with Nate where he didn’t feel like he was about to cry? Cody’s throat was tight, his eyes welling up. Nate’s caresses were becoming difficult to resist, the hard bulge in Nate’s pants making everything seem far too real. “I don’t want it to be like last time.” And damn it, now his tears were coming faster, and he didn’t even have a graceful way to wipe his cheeks with Nate holding him so tight. “I can’t have you walk out of here and ignore me again. I can’t do that again. I can’t— God, I can’t—”

  “That’s never going to happen.” Nate cupped Cody’s cheek in his hand, wiping at Cody’s tears with his thumb. “I told you before: I won’t abandon you like that again.”

  “You will, though. We’ll graduate, and you’ll move away. You’ll go live in that apartment in Chicago and have a brand-new life, and I’ll still be here, only I’ll be more alone than ever.”

  But Nate was already shaking his head. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  “No.” Cody blinked, his tears forgotten as he tried to interpret exactly what that meant. “You don’t want to stay in Warren. Nobody wants to stay in Warren.”

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to leave with me.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “There’s no reason you have to stay here either. You can come with me. We can share the apartment there. We can live there together.”

  Cody gulped, trying to imagine it how it would feel to wake up next to Nate every day in a brand-new place so far from Wyoming that even the wind couldn’t find them.

  God, it couldn’t be that simple, could it?

  “Do you mean it?”

  “Of course I mean it.”

  “But it’s Chicago!”

  “So what?”

  “I can’t live in Chicago! The biggest city I’ve ever been to was Casper, and I was ten! Chicago’s huge. Chicago’s—”

  “Then not Chicago,” Nate said, laughing. “We’ll find someplace else. I don’t really care where we go. I just want to be able to kiss you without worrying about who sees.”

  “Oh God,” Cody whispered, suddenly not sure his knees were even working. It was possible Nate was the only thing keeping him on his feet. “You can’t want that. Jesus, why would you want that? It doesn’t make any sense! Why would you want this? Why would you want me?”

  “Because I think love you.”

  “No.”

  “I mean, I know I love you.”

  “Stop.”

  “But I think—”

  “No!”

  “I think I’m in love with you.”

  “No!” Cody covered his ears, despite still holding the cassette, trying to block the sound of that word. Nobody said that word. Not here. The inside of his crumbling trailer had never heard it uttered.

  Love.

  He had the irrational urge to run, to put as much distance between them as he could, but Nate was still holding him. Still smiling at him. Still standing here after saying he loved him, and Cody had no idea what to do or what to say. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his pounding heart, trying to find his focus. His eyes fell on the cassette tape, still clutched tight in his hand.

  “I don’t have a tape player.”

  It was such a stupid thing to say, after Nate had laid his heart on the line, but Nate just laughed. “I got you one of those too. Come on.” He stepped away, turning to grab the last three presents on the table. “You may as well open them.”

  He sat down at the kitchen table, and Cody followed, his feet heavy, feeling like he was still in one of last night’s dreams. He sank slowly into a chair. “It isn’t fair for you to buy me all this stuff.”

  “For crying out loud,” Nate groaned in exasperation. “Look, Cody. I know things are different for me than they are for you. I live in the Grove. You live here. I get a weekly allowance, and money from my grandparents for Christmas, and money from my mom just because she feels guilty about running off with some new guy, and I know you don’t get any of that, and it sucks. It isn’t fair at all.”

  Cody thought he’d realized the full extent of his envy, but hearing Nate lay it all out like that made his anger feel somewhat justified. And yet, he also knew it wasn’t Nate’s fault.

  “The thing is,” Nate went on, his voice quieter now, “none of that matters to me. You can’t afford to spend money on stupid shit. I know that. But I can.” He pushed the stack of presents a bit closer to Cody. “And I wanted you to have presents on Christmas.”

  Cody turned the tape over in his hands. A tape Nate had made, just because the songs made him think of Cody.

  Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it made things between them even more lopsided than before, but he wanted to listen to it.

  He eyed the presents again, his resistance crumbling. It was Christmas, after all, and Nate had gone to the trouble of wrapping them and everything. Would it really be so bad to accept a couple of presents?

  “Jesus,” Nate chuckled, shaking his head. “And I finally get a smile out of you.” He picked up the top box and held it out to Cody. “Open the damn thing, already.”

  Cody laughed and set the tape aside in order to take the second present.

  The tape player wasn’t much of a surprise, since Nate had already told him about it, but that didn’t mean he was any less happy to receive it. It was smaller than a boom box, but with a handle and a built-in radio. Not that there were many stations to pick up in Warren, but still.

  “I debated a Walkman instead, but this seemed more versatile.”

  “It’s fantastic.”

  The next gift was a pair of headphones, and the last box held a pair of ski gloves.

  “I’ve never been skiing in my life,” Cody said.

  Nate laughed. “It’s not like they only keep your hands warm on the slopes, you know.”

  Cody pulled one on, thinking how much better his walks to and from the Tomahawk would be now.

  “I wanted to get you that leather jacket we talked about, but they were a bit out of my price range.”

  “It’s okay. I like the coat I have anyway.” He set the gloves aside and put his hand on Nate’s knee, narrowing the distance between them. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Cody hesitated, feeling like he should say more. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and he still wasn’t entirely su
re what to believe. He was afraid to put too much faith in Nate, but he was pretty damn tired of being alone.

  And God, at that moment, he loved Nate with a fierceness that took his breath away. He’d tried for so long to tell himself his feelings were a mistake, but now . . .

  “We’ll have to be careful. Maybe it’s okay in other places, but not here. Not in Warren—”

  “I know. But it’s only for five months. Once we graduate, we don’t have to spend another minute in this damn town.”

  Cody chewed his lip, considering. “But what if—”

  “Stop.” Nate leaned forward in his seat, bringing them closer together. Only a few inches kept his lips from Cody’s. He ran his hand up Cody’s arm and over his shoulder to brush his fingers along the curve of his neck. “I feel like this is the only thing I’ve thought about for months. You’re going to ask me if I’m sure, and I’m telling you once and for all: I am. If you don’t feel the same way—”

  Cody put his fingers over Nate’s lips, stopping the words. It was hard to speak, but he made himself say, “I do.” Saying it out loud made his chest ache. It made him feel like he’d been given a magical Christmas after all. He found himself grinning, suddenly almost giddy. “I do.”

  Nate’s answering smile was the most amazing thing Cody had ever seen. “That’s the only thing that matters to me.”

  He pulled Cody forward and kissed him. It felt more natural than before, like Cody had been made for this one simple moment. Forget his mom and Warren and the Grove and everything about the world that seemed to keep him from being happy. Warren had done its worst, and it hadn’t been enough to keep Nate away.

  It hadn’t beaten them.

  The kiss started out sweet, but quickly grew in urgency. He wanted to undress Nate. To touch every bit of him. To feel Nate touch him back. Before long, there was no more room for thought. There was only the simple joy of pushing Nate down the hall, into the bedroom, onto Cody’s bed. Climbing on top of him, not daring to look into his eyes, because he wasn’t ready yet for what he might see there.

  It was easier to let their bodies take over. To let clothes disappear. To burrow under the covers together, making their own heat as the snow fell outside. There was nothing but them pushing closer, sharing breath and space, letting their frantic moans be their only form of communication as their passion grew. They were naked, skin to skin, but Cody was suddenly afraid to ask for more. It was left to Nate to finally take Cody’s hand. To guide it between them. He moaned deep in his throat when Cody’s fingers finally closed around him, and then it was Cody’s turn to moan as Nate returned the favor, and they found a new level of bliss.

  Nate used his free hand to grab a handful of Cody’s hair, pulling his head back so he could look into Cody’s eyes as they caressed each other. It may not have been the first time Cody’d had another boy in his bed, but it was the first time it’d felt this intimate. What he’d shared with Dusty had never been so intense, or so terrifying. Nate had stripped him bare in more ways than one, torn him open in some new, exquisite way. The pleasure was overwhelming, the knowledge that Nate was as lost as he was somehow humbling, and Cody tried to hold back. Tried to hold on.

  As if there were any chance of succeeding.

  Even after it was over, Nate didn’t pull away. He rolled them so he was on top, but he never stopped touching Cody, or kissing him, despite the mess between them. His voice was hushed, his tone reverent and sweet.

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this. Or how long I’ve wanted it to happen, but I never knew what to say. I never knew how to make things right between us again. And then Logan— God, Cody, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about Logan, and I’m sorry I was such an ass.”

  Cody shook his head. Maybe it was wrong, but he didn’t want to think about Logan right now. “It’s okay.”

  “It isn’t, though. I was so afraid, but I’m not now, I promise. I don’t care what else happens, as long as you’re with me. If Chicago’s too big, we’ll pick someplace else. I don’t care. Wherever you want to go—”

  Cody held Nate close, shivering for no reason he could explain. “Don’t, Nate. Don’t make promises you might not want to keep.”

  Nate chuckled in Cody’s ear. “To hell with that. I’ll make whatever promises I want. I love you. God, I love you so much. It feels good to finally say it.”

  The truth of those words seemed to sink into Cody’s heart, warming him from the inside out. He couldn’t quite say them back—not because he didn’t feel the same way, but because it scared him too much. Instead, he said, “I think I understand your mom’s saying.”

  Nate pulled back to look down into his eyes. “What?”

  “It makes sense now. I know exactly what it means.” He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “‘When it’s dark enough, you can see the stars.’ And I think I do.”

  Nate shook his head and kissed Cody again. “I only see you.”

  Those four words were the best Christmas gift anybody had ever given him.

  Cody worked on December thirtieth, but Nate picked him up at the end of his shift.

  “I promised my dad I wouldn’t go out tomorrow night,” Nate told him. “But he’ll be working all night, so you could come to my house, if you want.”

  They were a lot more careful about fooling around at Nate’s than they were at Cody’s, because there was no telling when his dad might come walking in. But Nate had cable, and a huge TV to watch it on, and a pantry full of snacks. The limit on sexual activities aside, Nate’s house was a much better place to pass the time.

  “Sounds good,” Cody said.

  Nate pulled out of the Tomahawk’s parking lot, heading for Cody’s house. They’d have a couple of hours together before Nate had to be home for curfew, and the warm cab of the truck seemed thick with possibility as Nate drove. They’d spent a great deal of time since Christmas exploring all the ways they could use their hands and their mouths to make each other feel good, and Cody knew they were both thinking a lot more about the time they’d have alone in Cody’s bedroom tonight than about New Year’s Eve.

  But any excitement Cody felt about the evening died when they drove under the train tracks. There, parked in front of his trailer as if it had never left, was his mom’s car.

  Nate braked to a stop next to it, glancing Cody’s way. He’d never asked about her absence. Cody wasn’t sure if Nate realized she’d been gone, or if he simply assumed she was always at work.

  “Do you still want me to come in?” Nate asked as he put the truck in park.

  Cody’s heart was racing, his stomach queasy with nerves. The shifting light against their thin curtains told him his mom was in the living room, watching TV. “Maybe tonight’s not so good.”

  “Okay.” Nate reached over and took his hand. They wouldn’t kiss here—even inside the truck, chances of being seen by the neighbors was too great—but their hands were low enough to be out of sight. Cody took comfort in the gentle pressure on his fingers. “You can call, if you want. Just not after ten.”

  Cody nodded, hesitating, wanting to stay hidden in Nate’s truck forever. Maybe they could just turn around and leave. Head for the interstate and drive until they passed the state line. At that moment, he didn’t care which direction they went. It didn’t matter if they ended up in Utah or Colorado or Nebraska, just as long as it wasn’t Warren, Wyoming.

  Yeah, Cody. You’ll get real far with five bucks in your pocket and half a tank of gas in Nate’s truck.

  He squeezed Nate’s hand one last time before stepping out of the truck. He climbed the front steps slowly, trying to decide what he felt. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved to have her home, or just really angry that she’d been gone at all.

  She didn’t turn when he came in. She must have showered as soon as she’d come home, because her hair was still half-wet. She was watching Simon & Simon, an open can of beer on the coffee table, a cigarette burning between her fingers.

&nbs
p; “You’re home,” Cody said. Stating the obvious was the only thing he could manage.

  She nodded, the motion seeming jerky and abrupt. “Yeah.” Her voice was tight, her shoulders tense, but whether she was angry or embarrassed or just didn’t want to talk to him, Cody could only guess. She leaned forward to ash her cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. “I was worried, but . . .” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “You did okay?”

  Anger won out over relief, his calm snapping all at once. “‘Okay’? Yeah, if you mean having the power turned off and having to pay all the bills and running out of money and barely being able to afford some damn peanut butter doing ‘okay,’ then I guess I did. No thanks to you.”

  She nodded again, the same abrupt motion as before. “Good.” Her voice was still strangely off. She took a final drag of her cigarette before grinding it out in the ashtray. “I didn’t mean for you to be left alone like that.”

  He was tired of staring at the back of her head. He moved to the armchair, watching her carefully as he sat down. Her face was drawn and pale, the bags under her eyes more pronounced than usual. She didn’t look at him. She took out another cigarette and lit it. The quiver of the Bic’s flame gave away the shaking of her hands.

  Cody gripped his knees, trying to keep his voice calm and level. “Where were you?”

  “Forget it, all right? I just couldn’t get home and—”

  “And you couldn’t call?”

  “I did. A couple of times, actually, but you weren’t here.” She cleared her throat nervously. “Look, I’m sorry—”

  “I don’t care if you’re sorry. I want to know why you couldn’t come home? Were you with a guy or something? Do you have a new boyfriend? You met somebody who was more important? What?”

  She shook her head. Cleared her throat again. Scanned the ceiling as if searching for a way out. Finally said, “I, uh . . . I got picked up.”

  “Picked up?” There were two possible meanings to that phrase, and Cody’s stomach clenched. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. “You mean you went somewhere with somebody you met? Is that what you mean? Climbed in with some trucker and decided to take off for a month?”