Far from Xanadu (21 page)

That’s what I figured. “Seriously. Do you have a plan? Because if we’re just going to drive around, you need to give me more gas money.”

Jamie flipped me his version of the finger — a stiff right pinkie. “Assuming he doesn’t require immediate medical attention, I thought we’d go where gays hang out in Denver.”

“To a bar?” I cried.

“No.” Jamie clucked his tongue. “Capitol Hill. That area. I found out online that’s where the queer action is. If it was a nice day, I thought we’d have a picnic in Cheesman Park. I printed out a map from the Internet. We could stop at a grocery store and buy sandwiches or something.”

Yeah, that was romantic.

“Then we’ll go to the Motel 6.”

I threw a fry at him.

Every flight arrived in Denver at exactly ten-thirty. No kidding. As Jamie and I wedged through the swarm of incoming passengers, I thought, We’ll never find Shane in this mob — if he’s here. I had my doubts. We stood off to the side of the escalator that was bringing people up from the concourse trains, comparing faces to the picture Shane had sent Jamie. There were so many people. Too many. No one remotely familiar.

The crowd began to thin. I sneaked a peek at Jamie and my heart sank. Shane had lied. I hated him.

One last time, I craned my neck down the escalator shaft. “Jamie?” a deep voice sounded behind us.

I wheeled around.

“Shane?” Jamie said. This guy about Jamie’s height with a backpack slung over his shoulder raised a videocam to one eye. “Saturday, May fifth,” he spoke into the camera. “We finally meet. First impression...?” Shane took a step backward and panned the camera down the length of Jamie. “Wow.”

I expected Jamie to strike a pose, crack a joke, giggle like a girl. But he just stood there, rigid.

“And Jamie. What is your first impression of Shane?” Shane asked. He lowered the cam and gazed into Jamie’s eyes. His voice softened. “I hope he’s everything you were hoping he’d be.”

Beside me, Jamie melted. “And more,” he breathed.

They embraced, eyes welling with tears. Oh brother. Choke me with a camera strap.

They stayed like that forever. I cleared my throat. Jamie finally detached from Shane and said, “Oh, this is Mike.” He flipped a limp wrist in my direction. “She’s my fairy butch.”

I slugged him on the arm. He howled.

Shane stepped back and raised the camera. If he thought he was going to include me in this little biopic, he was sadly mistaken. I covered the lens with my hand and said, “I’m not all that photogenic.”

Shane grinned. Not mean or anything. More amused. Okay, he was cute. Sort of boyish-looking with bleached blond hair like Jamie’s. Jeans, a long-sleeved tee. Big brown eyes. Wire-rimmed glasses. His cheeks were all flushed, as if he’d run the whole way to get here.

In unison Jamie and Shane said to each other, “I can’t believe you’re here.” They laughed. They hugged again.

A second wave of passengers surged up the escalator and jostled us. Shane took Jamie’s arm and led him off to the side. Never mind that I was almost swept away in the crowd. They took off toward the parking lot, both of them jabbering away a million miles a minute. I straggled behind.

At the truck, Jamie opened the passenger door and let Shane in. He caught my eye and smiled so wide I thought his face would fissure. “Mike’s our chauffeur,” he said to Shane. “She’ll take us anywhere we want to go.”

“You think.” I inserted the key into the ignition.

Shane said, “I really appreciate it, Mike. Thanks.”

He had manners. Score him a point.

As I backed out of the parking space, Jamie added, “I don’t drive. I’m scared to death of speed.”

Shane said, “That’s fine with me.” He pronounced it “fawn.” “A good friend of mawn from high school just died in a car accident.”

“Oh my God,” Jamie pressed fingers to his lips. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“A speeding drunk ran him off the road.”

Jamie reached over and took Shane’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” He held it. Easy, natural. Why couldn’t I do that with Xanadu?

As we headed for the city, the two of them talked about other things: music, movies, family. Shane’s parents were divorced. He had two brothers and a sister, a cat named Russell. He’d come out at fourteen. His dad was still dealing.

We found Capitol Hill, finally, after wandering around downtown Denver for an hour. It freaked me, all the tall buildings and one-way streets and traffic and pedestrians. This was Saturday too. Imagine a workday.

Jamie and Shane consulted the map and directed me east toward Cheesman Park. I spotted what looked like a grocery store. “You guys want to buy your picnic here?”

“Wild Oats,” Shane read the grocery name out loud. “Yes, ma’am. I do believe I’ll be sowing myself some of those today.”

Jamie laughed hysterically. It wasn’t that funny. Shane’s accent was sexy though.

As we clambered out of the truck, I asked Shane, “What time does your flight leave?”

“One-thirty,” he said.

“In the morning?” We wouldn’t get back to Coalton until dawn.

“Um, no.” He eyed Jamie.

Jamie said real fast, “Onethirtytomorrowafternoon.”

I stopped dead in the doorway. “Jamie!”

He scurried ahead of me and snagged a shopping cart. Over his shoulder, he shot me a grin.

Damn him. He might’ve mentioned we were staying overnight.

I heard him say to Shane, “What shall we get? A jug of wine? A loaf of bread?” They ended in unison, “Thou?” And giggled.

Couple of girls.

I sidled up beside them at the cheese case. “You owe me,” I seethed at Jamie. “You’re going to pay.”

“Put it on my tab.” He opened the glass door and selected a round of cheese. Shane must’ve felt my fire. “Um, I’ll go pick out the bread,” he said, scuttling off toward the bakery.

“Who’s paying for the motel?” I asked Jamie.

“Don’t worry about it,” he sniped.

He sounded annoyed with me.
He
was annoyed?

“Have you ever had Camembert? Is it stinky?” He sniffed the cheese. “Look who I’m asking.” He dropped the round into the basket.

“You’re dead. You know that.”

He turned to meet my eyes. “No, Mike. I’m alive. For the first time in my life, I am truly and fully alive.” He strutted off, leaving me standing there alone. A guy in a ponytail, who’d obviously overhead, grinned like a serial killer.

I hustled after Jamie and Shane. They bought bread and cheese and deli meat and strawberries and chocolate dip and fake champagne and I don’t know what all. I tossed in a bran muffin and a bottle of this weird ginseng tea. Shane paid for everything.

We found Cheesman Park not too far from the grocery. There were clots of people sitting under trees or playing Frisbee or walking their dogs. A couple of women strolled by with a baby buggy. Were they gay? I watched them continue down the sidewalk, talking and laughing together. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

Shane paused under a huge silver maple and said, “How’s this?” The grass was still moist from the rain. Not too soggy.

“Perfect,” Jamie said. “Don’t you have a tarp in the truck?”

“Huh?”

Jamie repeated, “Isn’t there a tarp in your truck?”

“Yeah.”

We stared at each other.

“Well?” he said.

“Well, what?”

He let out an irritated breath. “Do you mind?”

What was I now, his service dog? I huffed and stomped back to retrieve the tarp.

We spread our picnic out under the tree. Jamie made a big production of opening all the cheese packages and breaking the bread and uncorking the champagne. He squealed when it bubbled. Shane recorded the event live for CNN. As Jamie linked his arm in Shane’s to drink a toast, Shane shook his head and said, “You are so gay.”

Jamie grinned. “I know. Ain’t it grand?”

Shane blinked over to me, actually noticing I was there, and said, “So, Mike. Do you have a girlfriend?”

Jamie choked on champagne. Flapping a hand over his mouth as he swallowed, he answered for me, “Mike has an imaginary girlfriend.”

Shane looked interested, or confused.

Jamie explained, “She’s straight.”

I pushed to my feet. Grabbing my tea bottle, I started away. Jamie called at my back, “Mike’s holding out for a miracle.”

No, I wasn’t. Miracles don’t happen. Like birthday wishes, they never come true. I wandered over to a group of girls — women — who were stretching a volleyball net between two poles. I leaned against a tree trunk, drinking my tea.

They split into teams. Ten, eleven of them, I counted. Were they all gay? There were more gay women here than I knew existed in the world. The ball came flying at me and I shagged it with one arm.

“Nice save.” One of the girls jogged over. I handed her the ball. She said, “You want to play?”

“Sure.” I set my tea on the ground.

“Oh look,” someone called. “Marty found herself a baby dyke.”

Marty answered, “I’m a chicklet magnet. What can I say?” She handed me the ball. “Your serve.”

I stepped behind the imaginary line and gave the ball a fister. It streaked over the net. Two players dove for it and missed. The taller one said, “Could I have her, Marty? You promised to share.” They all laughed.

I didn’t feel offended or anything. More like proud of my skills.

Our team won the first game fifteen to six, then we mixed up players. They were fun, these girls. Women. A blast. Even though I was probably the shortest one, I had enough spring in my legs to spike the net. I was low to the ground so I could scoop serves. I think I earned their respect. I hoped so.

Marty said, “Okay, whoever wins the next game gets the baby dyke as a trophy.”

They laughed. So did I. I wouldn’t mind being their trophy.

“Mike, come on. We’re leaving.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Jamie and Shane stood by the tree, Jamie holding my tea and the tarp, Shane the leftover food. “What if I’m not ready to go?” I wanted to say. But I didn’t. This was Jamie’s day. I’d have mine.

“Thanks, guys,” I told everyone, tossing the ball to Marty.

“We play most Saturdays if the weather’s decent,” she said. “You’re welcome to join us.”

I wanted to. I wanted to stay forever and play with these girls.

Jamie and Shane decided they
had
to see this movie, a French flick with subtitles, so we drove around wasting gas until we found the theater. I think they expected me to wait for them in the parking lot. Get real. I made Jamie pay for my ticket. I made him buy me popcorn.

About five minutes into the film, I wished I’d stayed in the truck. Jamie and Shane began making out. Not subtle either. They were really into it. I moved to a seat up front by myself. Imaginary girl-friend. Right. She was real, Jamie. Warm and alive. Imagine her here with me now, kissing me. It wouldn’t take a miracle. She needed a break from Bailey. She said so. Here I was, whenever she was ready.

How about when
I
was ready? I was ready now.

After the movie we drove around until we found a motel. Not a Motel 6, but close. The Swiss Chalet. Cheap, but quaint. Shane said, “I’ll get us a room.”

I reached across Jamie to catch Shane’s sleeve. “Two rooms. I’m not going to spend the night with you guys.”

They looked at me like, That wasn’t exactly in our plan either. Did they expect me to sleep in the truck? Apparently. “Two rooms,” I repeated.

Shane nodded. He, at least, had a credit card.

I’d never spent the night in a motel room. It was weird knowing that a stranger had slept in my bed. More than one stranger, probably. The sink dripped. I couldn’t stand listening to that all night. I retrieved Dad’s toolbox from the truck and got busy. The faucets were washerless, so I dug out Dad’s groove-joint pliers and replaced the cartridges.

There wasn’t much to do. What do you do in a motel room, alone?

Watch TV? There was cable, and pay-per-view porn, mostly, which Jamie and Shane were no doubt taking advantage of. I couldn’t hear anything through the wall. I should call home, I thought. Darryl might be worried.

Yeah, right. He’d be worried about the truck. I picked up the phone and got a dial tone. Then realized it was long-distance and plunked it back in the receiver.

Forget it, I decided. If Darryl or Ma even noticed I was gone, they could send Reese out looking for me. Give the law enforcement something to do besides harass the local youth.

I stripped and took a shower. Weird shower head. No water pressure. I hadn’t even brought a toothbrush.

As I lay in bed, staring at the flocked wallpaper, I wondered what Jamie and Shane were doing. Were they kissing? Undressing each other? Were they lying together naked in bed? Doing it? I closed my eyes and thought about her. Xanadu. Doing it. With me. Us. Together.

The world floated away and I drifted.

They had a teary farewell. Shane asked me to capture it on film, if I didn’t mind. I got creative. Later on he’d enjoy the close-up footage of crotch. He almost missed his plane, lingering so long to say goodbye to Jamie. Holding him, touching his face. He took back his cam and kissed me on the cheek before sprinting off.

Jamie was quiet on the way home. He kicked off his shoes and huddled on the seat, hugging his knees and gazing out the side window. I glanced over once to see a tear streak down his cheek.

“What’s the matter?” I turned down the volume on
America’s Country Countdown
. “Aren’t you glad he came?”

Jamie didn’t answer for a long minute. “I love him,” he finally said. “I don’t know when I’ll ever get to see him again. Maybe never.”

“Don’t say that.”

Jamie scraped a tear off his face with a knuckle and added, “It’s hard. This is so fucking hard.”

The ache spread through me. The distance between them, the uncertainty of ever being together. I understood. Same with me and Xanadu. But we were going to be together. I felt it in my soul. It was only hard now.

I wanted to joke around with Jamie, tease him about last night. But he seemed detached, sad. Not the right time.

I dropped in behind a Sysco Food truck and rode his tail all the way to Kansas. When we crossed the state line, I said aloud what I’d been thinking — dwelling on — for the last hundred miles. “I’m telling her.”