Trailer Trash

  Nate put his hand against Cody’s cheek and leaned closer, almost kissing him. “I mean it, Cody. July first, I’ll be there. And I’ll wait for you, either until you arrive, or until you tell me you don’t want me anymore.”

  “No. That won’t happen.”

  “Then you’ll come?”

  It didn’t matter what Cody said because by then, Nate wouldn’t want him anymore. He was positive. Nate would get to Chicago and meet somebody else, and by the time July first rolled around, Cody would be nothing but a memory.

  “Cody?”

  “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. I’m not giving up on us. I want you to tell me you aren’t either.”

  Cody just shook his head, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Nate was leaving. That was the only thing he knew. Nate was leaving him behind to die in Warren, just like Logan.

  “Tell me you believe me.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then tell me how to convince you.”

  “I wish I knew.”

  Nate laughed—a strained, sad sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “I swear, you’re as impossible now as the day I met you behind the stupid ICE cooler.”

  Cody almost smiled, remembering that moment. Remembering how he’d envied Nate’s car and his house in the Grove and his ridiculous class ring.

  And suddenly, he knew.

  He took Nate’s hand, glancing up to judge his reaction as he slid the ring off Nate’s finger.

  Nate shook his head. “Now I feel like an idiot. I probably should have thought of that ages ago.”

  Cody held it tight, not ready to put it on yet, but somehow feeling better, simply holding that piece of Nate in his hand.

  Beeeep, beeeep.

  The car horn cut into the moment, wiping the smiles from both their faces at once.

  “I have to go.”

  Cody managed to whisper, “Okay.”

  “Tell me you’ll be there. Tell me you’ll meet me.”

  “I will.” He’d walk all the way to Iowa if he had to. “I’ll be there.”

  Nate pulled him close and kissed him, somehow putting all his sorrow and all his hope into that one simple gesture. And when he broke the kiss, Cody spoke quickly, wanting to finally be the one to say it first.

  “I love you.”

  Nate’s smile actually reached his eyes this time. “When it’s dark enough, you really can see the stars.” He touched Cody’s cheek, kissed him one more time as the horn blared again outside. “I’ll see you in July.”

  Cody waited until he was gone—until the taillights of the Jeep could no longer be seen—before slipping the ring on his finger. The fact that it fit perfectly seemed like a sign, and he was happy to find that his eyes were dry.

  “Do you believe him?” his mom asked quietly from behind him.

  “I believe he means it right now.” He didn’t look up from that sparkling blue stone. “But once he gets to Chicago . . .” He shook his head. There were just too many things that could go wrong. He was afraid to hope for too much.

  “Better to stay skeptical and be pleasantly surprised than to get your hopes up and have him break your heart.”

  It seemed wise enough, but staring at Nate’s ring, Cody realized one simple thing:

  He wanted to believe.

  The nearest airport was in Salt Lake City, approximately 270 miles away. At six o’clock on Saturday morning, Nate climbed into the passenger seat of his dad’s Jeep, pulled out his Walkman, put on his headphones, and did his best to pretend his father didn’t exist. His clothes and his most valued possessions—namely, his cassette collection—were in suitcases he’d take with him. His father would ship the rest once Nate arrived.

  It wasn’t until somewhere around Evanston that his dad took a deep breath and said, loud enough to be heard over Nate’s music, “I’ll keep sending your allowance, as long as you’re still in high school.”

  Nate turned the volume down, in case his dad had more to say, but otherwise didn’t answer.

  “This isn’t punishment, Nate.”

  “You said that.”

  “So, why the silent treatment?”

  “Because no matter what you say, it still feels like punishment to me.”

  “Look, you don’t want to be stuck with a kid like Cody anyway. He’s a bad egg. He’s—”

  Nate cranked the volume on his Walkman, loud enough that it was a bit uncomfortable, although he’d never admit it. Loud enough that his dad could undoubtedly hear it from the driver’s seat.

  “All right!” his dad yelled. “Point taken.”

  Nate hit the Stop button and took off the headphones, letting them hang around his neck. “I wish you’d quit judging him based on who his parents are.”

  His dad grimaced, gripping the steering wheel and twisting it like he thought strangling it would help. They spent ten minutes like that—his dad glowering and Nate simply waiting—before his father spoke again.

  “I have money set aside for you for school. Your mom and I have been saving it for years. Once you figure out which college in Chicago you’re going to—”

  “I’m not staying in Chicago.”

  His dad turned his head so fast, the car veered a bit to the right. “What?”

  “I’ll go there to finish high school, like we agreed. But that’s it. I’m eighteen now, and once I have my diploma, I’m moving to Iowa City.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? What’s in Iowa City?”

  “Cody.” At least, he would be. Eventually. Nate looked at the empty space where his class ring used to be. He’d had it on since his sophomore year. He hadn’t realized how much he fidgeted with it until it wasn’t there. He didn’t mind, though. He hoped he never got used to having it gone.

  “So you’re just going to throw your entire future away over some boy?”

  “They have schools in Iowa too.”

  “And how do you intend to pay for them?”

  Nate swallowed, telling himself he shouldn’t have been surprised. His dad had always said he’d pay for as much of Nate’s schooling as possible. Now, it seemed that help was dependent upon him staying in Chicago. Or, more likely, dependent upon him not dating Cody. “I’ll get a job and work my way through, if I have to.” It’d take longer, but if other people could do it, so could he.

  They checked in at the airport, and his father walked him to the gate. They still had half an hour before the flight boarded, but all the seats were taken, so they stood.

  People milled past them, most of them excited about their travel. The smell of burning tobacco reached them from the smoking section. One couple who couldn’t have been much older than Nate stood embracing each other, the woman openly crying, obviously counting down the minutes before they had to say good-bye. The overhead system was a constant loop of messages.

  “Mr. Preston. Mr. Paul Preston. Please pick up a courtesy telephone . . .”

  Nate wondered if his father was going to speak to him again at all, but he finally did.

  “Why Iowa? Why can’t he just meet you in Chicago?”

  “Cody’s lived his entire life in Warren. He’s never even been out of the state. I think Iowa feels safer.”

  His dad pushed his hands into his jean pockets and rocked on his heels, staring down at the floor. “I want you to go to school. You’ll do better if you have at least an associate’s degree.”

  “I know, Dad. And I will. I’ll just do it in Iowa instead.”

  “You won’t get any help from me. If you insist on throwing away your future for a kid like Cody—”

  Nate put his headphones back on and tuned out his father. When they called his boarding group, he picked up his carry-on bag and got in line. His father walked away without saying good-bye.

  The flight was a little over three hours long. Three hours, with the man next to him chain-smoking and the lady on the other side telling him about her grandkids. Nate smiled and nodded and tried not to think about whether or not either
of his parents would ever speak to him again.

  He grew nervous as they landed and taxied to the gate at O’Hare. He hadn’t seen his Aunt Cora in almost three years, but he was relieved to find he still recognized her on sight. She smiled and waved, and when he finally reached her, she hugged him warmly. She was far shorter than he remembered, and as if reading his mind, she laughed and said, “Boy, you’ve gotten tall.”

  “I guess.”

  Cora was several years older than his dad, with a petite build and shoulder-length blonde hair that hadn’t yet started to gray. She’d been married once, but she’d been divorced for as long as Nate could remember.

  “I’m sure you’re hungry,” she said, as they waited for his bags. “What do you want for dinner? We could order pizza, or I can cook. Anything you’ve craving?”

  “Fried okra and collard greens.”

  She laughed. “You can take the boy out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the boy.”

  “If it’s too much trouble—”

  “I haven’t cooked collard greens in years, but Army & Lou’s isn’t too far out of the way. We’ll grab some takeout.”

  The restaurant smelled like heaven, and Nate’s stomach grumbled as they waited for their food. His mouth watered all the way back to Cora’s house, his lap warm from the contents of the takeout bag. Cora kept up a constant stream of chatter, pointing out landmarks. But it wasn’t until they were sitting across the kitchen table from each other, with the remains of the best Southern feast Nate had eaten in months laid out between them, that she finally said, “Okay, Nate. I know what your dad has planned for you. Now why don’t you tell me what you have planned for you.”

  Nate debated, popping another piece of fried okra in his mouth and chewing it slowly. His father had said Cora was open-minded. Still . . .

  “Okay,” she said. “How about you tell me about Cody.”

  There was no judgment in her voice, and her expression remained open and friendly. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “What did my dad say?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I don’t know. Something about bad eggs and foolish boys and reckless decisions.” Nate’s cheeks began to burn, but Cora smiled and leaned her elbows on the table. “Did you ever hear the story of Mr. Spangler’s station wagon?”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Spangler. He was our parents’ neighbor when your dad was in high school. He was friends with our parents. They lived in Bossier City at the time, not far from the base. Most of the neighborhood was Air Force families, and they all knew each other. They’d get together for cocktails or whatever. Anyway, when your dad was eighteen, he didn’t have his own car, but Mr. Spangler had this old station wagon he didn’t use much, and sometimes, he’d let your dad borrow it.”

  “I think I remember him mentioning it.”

  “Well, I was off at college, but your dad was a senior at Barksdale High, and the drinking age was eighteen there, of course. So for spring break, your dad asked to borrow Mr. Spangler’s car for the night. Said he and his friends were just going out for a few hours. But instead, they loaded up a bag of peanut butter sandwiches and a cooler full of beer and . . .” she leaned forward conspiratorially, grinning, “they drove to Mardi Gras for the entire week.”

  Nate sat back, stunned. “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “But Bossier isn’t all that close to New Orleans, is it?”

  “It’s about a five-hour drive.”

  Nate laughed. “I take it he missed curfew.”

  “By a long shot. At first, my parents were freaked. They thought he’d just gone out and not made it home, like maybe he’d wrecked the car or something. But then they found a note he’d left saying he’d be back the next weekend.”

  “Did they have a place to stay or anything?”

  “Nope. Not a thing. They slept in the car and drank like fish and ran out of peanut butter sandwiches before the end of the week, and came home smelling like vomit and stale beer, but they survived.”

  “I can’t believe that! Dad’s always so . . . I don’t know, so serious and responsible.”

  She laughed and reached for her glass of Coke. “Maybe now, but not when he was eighteen, no matter what he tries to tell you.” She took a sip of her drink and set it back down. “I have a feeling your plan isn’t anywhere near as reckless as that. So tell me, Nate.”

  He did. And when he was done, his aunt smiled. “Okay. First thing’s first. You start school on Monday, but once you get home, you can call information. Get the number for the Iowa City newspaper, then call and request a subscription for the next month or two. That way, you can start looking for jobs. I have plenty of real estate connections there. I’ll make some calls, see if I can’t find you a place where the landlord won’t freak about two boys in a one-bedroom place.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Sure. You can take the car on my days off and drive out there. Maybe I’ll even go with you. It’s only three and a half hours. We can check out the schools and see what you need to enroll. Eventually, you’ll need a car. Or a bike, at the very least, depending on how far it ends up being from your apartment to work and school. But for now: graduation, job, apartment, college, in that order.” She held her hands up, smiling. “I don’t see any reason it can’t work.”

  “Really?” It was funny how hearing those words from an adult seemed to make a world of difference. “What about my dad?”

  She leaned across the table and patted his hand. “Don’t you worry. All he needs is a bit of time.”

  Nate wished he could believe her.

  Nate found a job working evenings and weekends at a Baskin-Robbins within walking distance of Cora’s house. Each weekday, he caught the city bus to school, grateful that it ran on time, and that a student pass was cheap. His new high school was enormous—bigger even than the one he’d attended in Austin—and Nate loved it. With a student body almost as big as the entire town of Warren, nobody cared about one new kid. He kept his head down, did his work, and walked away with a diploma. He didn’t bother to attend the ceremony—his dad couldn’t get the time off work, his mom wasn’t talking to him, and it seemed silly to expect anybody else to travel that far just to hear his name called—but he sent out announcements at Cora’s insistence, and to his surprise, money began flooding in. Relatives he barely remembered sent him five-, twenty-, and fifty-dollar bills.

  Cora just smiled and said, “Told you the announcements would pay off.”

  He talked to his dad weekly. The conversations started out awkward, but gradually began to feel normal. Graduation weekend, his dad surprised him by telling him he’d try to bring his truck to him before winter. Nate would have preferred his Mustang, but his dad insisted he’d need four-wheel drive in Iowa as much as he had in Wyoming. He also told Nate he’d still help pay for school.

  “That’s what the money was always supposed to be for,” he said. “I guess it doesn’t matter if the school’s in Iowa or Chicago, as long as you go.”

  Nate increased his hours at the ice-cream shop, saving as much of his pay as he could. The Iowa City newspaper arrived daily, and Nate carefully went through the want ads, circling any job that looked promising.

  Eventually, he drove there with Cora. They scoped out the community college and picked up an application package, along with a map of the town, and she introduced him to the man who would eventually be his landlord. He was thin and slightly effeminate, but his smile was warm and friendly.

  “I think half the gay men in town live in this apartment complex,” he told Nate. “It’s not quite Boystown, but nobody’ll give you trouble.”

  Nate filled out job applications, feeling like each one he handed in was a little ray of hope.

  The pieces began to fall into place. The only thing missing was Cody.

  Nate mailed letters at least twice a week, pouring his excitement into them, hoping to infuse Cody with the same bright
optimism. At first, Cody answered, but it wasn’t long before the letters stopped completely. Nate’s heart grew heavy every time he checked the mail. He called Cody once, with his aunt’s permission, since the call was long-distance. Cora had a bright-orange metal stool next to the phone made from an old tractor seat, and he perched on it, his heart in his throat as he waited for Cody to answer, sure that Cody had changed his mind about everything.

  Cody said all the right things, but the words sounded false. Nate knew he was lying. He knew something was wrong. The only part of the conversation that rang true was at the end.

  “I love you,” Cody said, his voice so quiet, Nate assumed he was trying to keep his mom from hearing. “I really do.”

  Nate closed his eyes, hanging on the words, glad to know that this at least hadn’t changed. “I’ll see you in July, right?”

  “I hope so,” was the only answer he got.

  Any time he had a day off and Cora didn’t need her car, he drove to Iowa City, and finally, early in June, it all paid off. He found a job at a video store, and put down a deposit on a one-bedroom apartment. He worried he was doing it all for nothing—that Cody would never join him after all—but he tried to hang on to hope.

  And that very same day, he received a letter from Cody.

  It was the first one in two months, and Nate’s heart burst into gear. His hands shook as he tore open the envelope. He was thrilled to finally hear from Cody, but he dreaded reading what he said. He had a sinking feeling it contained bad news.

  Nate,

  I suck at this long-distance thing, I know. I’m sorry. I think about you all the time, but every time I try to write, I realize I have nothing good to say. You send me happiness, and I hate the idea of sending you anything less than that, but there isn’t much of it here to go around.

  Our phone doesn’t work anymore. I thought you should know that. The number for the pay phone at the gas station is 307-798-6543. I know you can’t call very often, but I’ll be there every night at seven just in case. Seven my time, I mean. I think that’s eight for you.

  I know you’re probably mad at me for not writing more often, but keep sending the letters, please. I miss you like crazy. It’s just hard to hang on to hope in a place like this.