Cody
Nate breathed a sigh of relief. Cody still loved him, then, but something was obviously wrong. It was time Nate found out what it was.
For two wonderful weeks after Nate’s departure, Cody thought maybe the world was finally cutting him some slack.
He had a plan. Shortly after Nate’s dad shipped him off to Chicago, Cody fed the gas station pay phone two dollars and called the Greyhound depot in Rawlins to check on prices and schedules.
He almost had enough for the ticket. All he had to do was keep saving money, finish high school, then have his mom drive him to the bus depot.
It seemed so simple.
He quit smoking altogether, even though the cravings at lunch were almost enough to drive him mad. He picked up every shift the Tomahawk could give him, and even started working a few hours in the kitchen, plating up salads and chopping vegetables. The staff dwindled as more people moved away from Warren. Business waned. The entire establishment felt doomed, but Cody only had to make it to June.
People at school had mostly gone back to ignoring him, with the exception of Jimmy, Amy, and Christine, but he didn’t mind that one bit. Christine asked about the ring on his finger once, but if anybody else noticed, they kept their opinions to themselves.
Cody was counting the days to May thirtieth, keeping his eye on the prize. Several times a week, he dreamed that he showed up at graduation in his cap and gown, only to be told there’d been a mistake and he had to do his senior year all over again. The anxiety made him more dedicated to his schoolwork than he’d ever been in the past.
He wasn’t about to let a bad grade in English come between him and Nate.
But for better or worse, he was still in Warren, Wyoming, where nothing good could last.
Early in April, as a warm wind from the south brought promise of summer, the Tomahawk closed its doors for good. Logan’s uncle explained in a quiet monotone what they’d all known: business had been waning for too long. Cody knew it was true, but he was also pretty sure the real issue was that Logan’s parents couldn’t bear to stay in Warren now that both of their children were gone. Five days later, they’d already packed up and left. A For Sale sign in the front yard of their Orange Grove home was the only thing left to prove Logan and Shelley Robertson had ever lived there.
And just like that, Cody was out of a job.
Four days later, as his mom drove home from the truck stop in the wee hours of the morning, her car sputtered to a stop on the shoulder of I-80. She walked half of the fifteen miles back to Warren before somebody from town recognized her and gave her a ride the rest of the way, at which point she plopped down on the couch, looking tired and wrinkled and far older than she had when she’d left.
“What the hell are we going to do?” she asked. “I can’t afford to have it towed, let alone fixed, and I sure as hell can’t afford to buy a new one.”
She didn’t say the rest, but Cody didn’t need her to. Without a car, she had no job. The pile of bills on the counter grew a bit each day, her fine for solicitation still needed to be paid, and they now had zero income between them.
They scoured the town in search of work, but there were simply no jobs to be had. The oil and coal booms were long gone, leaving vacant houses and empty businesses. Sometimes it felt like half the town was unemployed, and while Cody knew the numbers couldn’t be quite that high, he also knew there were several people sleeping on benches in the park. No work and no money meant plenty of discontent. The bar on the edge of town seemed to be the only place still making money, and the police were the only people who stayed busy.
Warren was dying, and Cody had no desire to go down with the ship, but he needed to leave in order to make money, and he needed money in order to leave.
“If the world didn’t suck, we’d fall off,” his mom said to him one night.
Cody was beginning to think falling off wouldn’t be so bad.
Nate sent letters full of light and sunshine and love, promising that once they made it to Iowa City, everything would be okay, but Cody felt his hope drying up like the grass on the wind-blown plains. He’d promised himself when he said good-bye to Nate that he’d walk to Iowa if he had to, but that was easier said than done. Rawlins was a hundred miles away. It’d take him more than twenty-four hours to walk to the bus station. He’d need food and water, and a place to stay along the way. There were probably rest stops, but did he really want to sleep on a picnic table, with the last of his cash in his pocket and using all his worldly possessions as a pillow?
And what about his mom? That was the other question that haunted him as he lay awake in the night. Without him, she’d have nobody to help her pay the bills. Then again, without him, she’d have one less mouth to feed. Was he helping her by staying, or only making things worse?
He didn’t want to tell Nate how bad things had become. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was wrong. But Nate’s letters were so bright and full of promise, and all Cody had to send back was confirmation that he and his mother were both trash, unable even to pay their bills.
He quit writing to Nate altogether.
Graduation arrived, although Cody didn’t participate. Renting the cap and gown cost money, and there was nobody to cheer for him but his mom. He told himself it didn’t matter. He’d graduated. He had a diploma. Walking down the aisle didn’t actually mean anything.
Except, of course, it did. Somehow, even with his diploma in his hand, he still felt like a failure.
On June first, the phone company discontinued their service due to lack of payment. Although Nate had only called him once since leaving, Cody felt the loss like a hole in his chest. The phone line had been a tenuous connection to his future, and now it was gone. He wrote down the number for the pay phone at the gas station and sent it to Nate in a letter, promising that he’d be there every night at seven o’clock, just in case Nate was able to call.
It felt stupid, but what else could he do?
He and his mom pooled their money to pay the more urgent of the bills. He still had enough for the bus fare, but only barely. On June tenth, he worked up the nerve to knock on Christine Lucero’s door and ask her for a ride to Rawlins.
“I would if I could,” she said, sounding sincere, “but my car broke down last week.” And a few more minutes talking to her was all it took to find out that Jimmy Riordan and Amy Prescott had already left town, headed for new jobs and a new life in Montana.
Cody wasn’t the only one desperate to leave Warren. He wished he’d thought to ask them for a ride earlier. Now, there was nobody left for him to ask.
On June twelfth, he stood by the pay phone at the gas station, wanting a cigarette so badly he could hardly stand it. He hated to spend the money, but at this point, what was the point in saving it? He had no hope of getting to Rawlins, let alone Iowa City.
And then, the phone rang.
Nate had waited to call Cody until he had everything in place—the job, the apartment, his new address and phone number. And then he perched on the metal stool with the tractor seat in Cora’s kitchen, and watched the clock, waiting for eight o’clock. Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed the number. He held the handset to his ear, his heart pounding.
He felt like everything in the world could be made right, if only Cody would answer.
“Hello?”
It was Cody’s voice, although there was a hollowness to that one word that made Nate pause. “It’s me.”
He heard nothing but the shhhhh of the Wyoming wind against the mouthpiece. Nothing else. No answer at all.
“Are you there?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Nate laughed, shaking his head, picturing Cody at the gas station where they’d first met, trying so hard to be tough. “I’ve been counting the minutes until I’d hear your voice, and you’re going to make me work for every word, aren’t you?”
Cody took a shaky breath. “It’s not that. It’s just, I have no idea what to say. And I think maybe I need to
hear your voice more than you need to hear mine.”
And Nate could believe it. Cody sounded so small and so fragile that Nate feared the wind would carry him farther away like some metaphorical tumbleweed.
“I have good news. I found a job, and a place to live. The landlord’s nice. He says the whole complex is ‘gay friendly,’ which sounds stupid as hell, but it’s good to know, right? My aunt’s going to drive me out there tomorrow. I won’t be able to afford long-distance service, which is why I had to call tonight. And I can’t talk long, because it’d be rude to run up her bill. But I wanted to tell you in person. Or, you know—” He laughed. “Not in a letter, at least.”
“I understand.”
“You’re still planning on meeting me there, right?”
“If I can.”
And then, more silence.
“I know something’s wrong. I can tell. And for some reason, you don’t want to tell me. You think you have to handle it all yourself, but you don’t.”
No answer except the wind.
“Cody,” Nate said, feeling like he was pleading, like he was trying to urge a scared kitten down from a tree, “talk to me. Please.”
For a second, he thought it hadn’t worked. He was almost starting to feel angry that he’d gone to such lengths to call Cody only to listen to the wind, but then Cody took a deep breath and started to talk.
“The Tomahawk closed back in April. My mom lost her job a week later. All the bills are past due, and my mom still owes money to the state, but there’s nothing here. No jobs at all. We’ve tried all over town, but there’s nothing. I put my name on a list at the unemployment office—they say there are usually house-painting jobs in the summer, but there are at least twenty names ahead of mine, and I might be able to mow a lawn or two, but that won’t be more than a few dollars, and the phone’s been shut off, and the electricity will be next, and I could pay part of them, but not all, and if I do, I won’t have any money left at all. As it is, I have just enough for a bus fare, but it’s a thirty-hour walk to Rawlins, and we don’t have a car anymore, and, Jesus, of course I want to meet you there. You have no idea how much I miss you, or how bad I want to get away from this godforsaken town, but I can’t, Nate. I just— I have no idea what to do. I don’t think I can get there, no matter how much I want to. It’s just like I’ve always said. There’s no escape from Warren.”
He finally stopped, as if he’d run out of gas, or run out of words and hope at the same time, and Nate leaned his head back against the wall, twirling the cord around his finger. He’d used a big chunk of his cash putting down a deposit and first month’s rent on the apartment. He couldn’t afford to use any more of his savings now, and he wouldn’t get money from his dad until fall, and even then he’d have to use it for school, but he refused to give up hope. Graduation money was still trickling in, and he could work full-time over the summer. Somehow, he’d make it work.
“Cody, listen to me: we’ll find a way. It may not be by July first like we’d hoped. But as long as you still love me—”
“I do.” It wasn’t much more than a whisper, but Nate thought he could hear Cody’s whole heart beating in those two words. “I do.”
“Then we’ll figure it out, okay? I promise you we’ll find an answer.”
“Okay.”
“Do you believe me?”
“I want to.”
Nate sighed. “I guess that’ll have to do.”
They talked a few more minutes, long enough for Nate to give Cody the address and phone number for the apartment in Iowa City. They hung up, and Nate sat there, staring at the empty space on his finger, debating.
He wouldn’t have to ask for much. Certainly not for money.
All Cody needed was a ride to Rawlins.
Nate took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and picked up the phone one more time.
Cody wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse after talking to Nate. It’d been good to hear his voice, and his promises, and to hear him say “I love you” a couple more times. At the end of the call, he’d made Cody write down the address and phone number of the apartment in Iowa City. Cody had left the receiver hanging from the cord while he’d run into the gas station to borrow a pen and a bit of paper from Vera. He looked at it as he walked home, trying to imagine how it would feel to know that address and phone number belonged to him.
“Well, he must have called tonight,” his mom said when he got home. “You were gone longer than usual.”
“He did.”
“And?”
She was on the couch, and he sank into their threadbare armchair. “He found a job in Iowa City, and an apartment, and . . .”
“And all you have to do is get there?”
“Yes. But that’s easier said than done.” But even as he said it, an idea came to him.
The truck stop.
It made his stomach do terrible, twisting things, but it was an option he hadn’t considered.
The truck stop was only about thirty miles away. A long walk, for sure, but he could do it in a day. And once he got there, he could find a ride to Rawlins. It might mean hitchhiking, or begging. It might mean . . .
It might mean doing other things.
Even if he made it to Rawlins, he barely had enough for the bus ticket, let alone food along the way. He needed the money, and the truck stop provided a scary yet very real possibility. His mom had done it, from time to time. He could do it too, if he had to.
Maybe.
He thought about it, his heart heavy with dread.
Handjobs wouldn’t be so bad, but did men ever pay for those? Blowjobs seemed more likely. He’d only ever done that for two people in his life. Giving one to a stranger would be scary, but probably only the first few times.
And if they wanted more?
He swallowed hard, closing his eyes, trying to imagine it. It probably hurt the first time. Just the thought was enough to turn his stomach. But the potential pain wasn’t the worst part. The worst part would be the risk. He and Nate were both safe as long as they only fooled around with each other, but if he did what he was considering, he’d be opening himself up to all kinds of horrible possibilities. He could insist on condoms, but even those weren’t foolproof, and anything he ended up with—AIDS or herpes or who knew what else—would be passed on to Nate.
He’d be playing Russian roulette with both their lives in exchange for . . . what? A few dollars? How much did one charge for things like that anyway?
His mom watched TV while Cody went back and forth in his head for nearly an hour about the wisdom of his plan. Part of him believed he might be able to find a truck driver heading east who wouldn’t mind driving him the few miles from the truck stop to Rawlins with nothing asked in return. But the more realistic part of him knew it might be a lot more complicated than that.
He couldn’t quite decide if he was that desperate yet or not.
He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of tires on the gravel as a car passed under the train tracks and into the Hole.
Not just any car, either. As the car braked to a stop outside their trailer, Cody’s heart burst into speed.
That was Nate’s Mustang. He was sure of it.
Some stupid part of him lit up, wishing it was Nate, but knowing it wasn’t. Still, he rushed to the front door and opened it to find Nate’s dad looking back at him, his hand raised and ready to knock.
Not dressed as a cop, though. He was wearing regular clothes.
Cody was uncomfortably aware of the cluttered trailer behind him, reeking of cigarette smoke, and of his ratty jeans and rattier shirt, and his messy hair. He tried to smooth it down.
Nate’s dad gave him a nervous smile, and despite his bushy mustache, he looked so much like Nate when he smiled that Cody almost found himself smiling back.
“Can I come in?” Mr. Bradford asked.
Cody looked behind himself at the dirty dishes and laundry and his mom, who was watching them with a scowl, obviously
expecting the worst. “How ’bout if I come out instead?”
“Fair enough.”
Cody followed him down the rickety steps and over to the Mustang. It was a warm evening, even with the sun beginning to set. Nate’s dad leaned back against the driver’s door and crossed his arms as he studied Cody. Cody waited, while the wind whistled across the plain and gusted between the crumbling trailers of the Hole.
Finally, Nate’s dad sighed and dropped his arms. “I guess we’ve never quite met. Not on civil terms, at any rate.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bruce.”
Cody blinked, hoping he didn’t look as surprised as he felt. “Cody,” he said, shaking Bruce’s hand. “But you know that already.”
Bruce let him go and returned to leaning against the Mustang. “Are you going to Iowa City to be with Nate?”
“I want to.”
“When?”
“As soon as I can, I guess.”
“Nate said you might need a ride to Rawlins.”
Nate had said that? Nate had talked to his father? Not only that, he’d sent his father to give Cody a ride? “Uh . . . yeah. To the bus station. That’s the closest one, other than Rock Springs, but the ticket’s a bit less from Rawlins since it’s closer to Iowa.”
“Do you have money?”
Cody hesitated. “A bit.”
“How much?”
Cody tried not to bristle at the question. “Enough for the bus fare.” Barely.
“And after that?” Bruce asked. “Enough to eat?”
“I figured I’d take a couple of sandwiches with me.” Plus, he was used to being hungry. He just had to get to Nate. After that, he’d figure it out.
Bruce sighed scuffed the toe of his loafer in the dirt. “You’re all he talks about. It drove me crazy at first, but now . . .” He shook his head, studying Cody like he couldn’t quite figure him out. “It’s like he lights up every time he says your name. I don’t even have to see him to know it. I can hear it in his voice.”
It made Cody smile. He didn’t care that it was Nate’s dad saying it. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed. All he could feel was incredible joy at those words. “I know exactly how that feels.” And he knew he sounded like a damn fool saying it, but he didn’t care.