You're Always in the Last Place You Look (11 page)

Zane had been reserved, almost standoffish, scrunched against the window drawing all through first period. I had wanted to grab him, and shake him, and make him tell me what I had said or done wrong. But I hadn’t dared, afraid of drawing undo attention to us. I hadn’t seen him the rest of the day, and spent the walk home alone, and wondering if Tye had undone us before we had even really had a chance to begin. I turned my attention back to Gary, and my eyes must have been all kinds of confused.

“It’s okay, bro.” He grinned at me. “I’ve known for a long time. Gavin says I have like a sixth sense or something.”

“Good gaydar...” I pulled the expression out of the proverbial rainbow hat, a goodly part of my attention on the black-haired boy sauntering up my driveway with his head down. I wanted to run to him, apologize for whatever I had done, and it took everything I had not to do just that. This had me even more perplexed, since we weren’t really dating, more like hanging out—a lot.

“Yeah. So, does Tye know?” Gary asked, drawing part of my attention back to him.

I nodded. “He does. But listen, my folks—”

“No worries. I dated Gavin secretly for over a year before I got up the nerve to tell mine.” His big hand engulfed my shoulder. “And
my
dad’s not the town pastor.”

Breathing deeply, I nodded again, not really sure what he meant by that last part.

“He’s cool. Your dad I mean, and, well, maybe I helped break the ice, you know?”

My father was cool, but that didn’t mean I was ready to find out whether his acceptance was real, or a well-intended illusion.

“I need to go talk to him,” I said, gesturing my chin to where Zane had stopped near AJ, unsure whether he should approach the big red horse or not.

“Go, and Gabe? He’s...,” he fanned himself dramatically, “hot!”

Reaching up, I cuffed the back of his head. “Hey, check yourself...!” Regardless of the ball of worry sitting in my gut, I found myself biting off what I was sure was a silly grin. “But, ah...yeah, I know.”

I wasn’t sure about having a three-hundred pound linebacker calling my boyfri—Zane hot. That was just way past weird. What was even stranger was Gavin, Gary’s boyfriend. He was a bitty thing, even shorter than I was. Yet, for some reason, they fit together, maybe because I’d never seen Gary with anyone else. And I definitely couldn’t picture him and Zane together. Despite only knowing Zane for a few weeks, I was already having a hard time seeing myself without him. I tried not to think about whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Hey,” I stopped near AJ’s hip, shoving my hands in my front pockets, unsure how to apologize for something I had no idea I’d done.

“Hey.” He bounced on the balls of his feet as he gazed out over the arena. “I’m sorry for being a dick this morning. I just, um—anyway, I’m going back to Chicago after graduation, so I really had no right to be upset. You should be able to see whoever you want.”

My hands whipped out of my pockets, palms out. “Wait a minute. You’re going back to Chicago? When were you planning on telling me?” Everything in me twitched defiantly. I felt as if he had just slapped me, hard.

He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “I just did.”

“That’s bullshit, Zane, and you know it. So, what? After drawing me out of myself you’re going to walk away, just like that?” Already I could feel myself stepping back into that place where I had only ever been an observer. I didn’t want to live there again.

“You think I fell—you think I did this on purpose?” He growled in frustration. “I’d always planned on going back. It’s my home, it’s where I belong.” He turned and I thought he was going to walk away.
Please don’t leave, when you’ve only just found me
. I almost latched onto him like some withering leech, but then he flipped back around before I had a chance to make a spectacle of myself. “This morning I really was. Jealous, I mean. And that was when I realized I liked you too much, and I couldn’t keep you anymore.”

“Keep me?” I yelled, forgetting there might be an audience. I lowered my voice. “I’m not a puppy you can just give away.”

He smiled solemnly. “No, you’re so much more than a puppy. That’s why it’s so hard to let you go.”

“Why? Why let me go? There’s still five weeks until graduation. A lot can happen in five weeks. Maybe you’ll decide to stay. Or maybe we’ll discover we’re not meant for each other.” It was just a wisp of a straw, but I was holding on to it tenaciously. It might be more painful to watch him go later, but I just couldn’t live with the ‘
what if
’ his walking away now would generate.

I stepped closer. “This is all new to me, and I don’t know why, but I’m really comfortable with you. If you leave me now, I’m afraid...I don’t know if...how I’ll ever find someone—God, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” I pressed my palms to my eyes and stood there, feeling stupid and inadequate for not being able to tell him how I felt. In truth I was terrified. Scared of losing him, of never finding another person who made me feel normal—made me feel desired, loved, wanted. God, was I a mess or what? I sighed, and it broke right in the middle. Definitely a mess.

“Gabriel...” He drew me into his arms, and I clung to him not caring who saw.

“Don’t. I want those five weeks, Zane, please. Can you give them to me?” I couldn’t ask him not to go. That was too selfish, and we hadn’t known each other long enough to make such a demand. But if he’d just give me the time—he’d give me some hope, and I think I needed that.

He nodded, his chin pushing into my shoulder. “All right. But, Gabe?”

“Yeah?”

“I will leave.”

I held him tighter as I nodded. I had him now though.

Chapter Thirteen

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with that boy,” Dad commented while carefully de-boning his chicken with a knife and fork.

I knew he meant Zane, but I chose to play dumb. “Which boy?”

“The Cormley’s nephew.” He glanced up. “Zane.”

“Oh, well, yeah, you know, I’m helping him with his schoolwork.”

“Mmm. That’s what you said.” He swallowed, and sucked on his teeth. “Is he clean?”

I choked on a bite of mash potatoes, and grabbed my water. “Wha...What do you mean?” I asked behind my napkin.

Dad set his fork down. “Well, I’ve heard—now it’s only a rumor so get upset—that he smokes a little.”

“Oh...” I felt my body trying to ooze onto the floor in relief, and straightened. “I think I heard that too. He’s never done it around me though.” It wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t purposefully smoked dope around me.

“I don’t like you spending time with a boy who does drugs,” Mom chimed in, mooshing her potatoes against her plate. “I seem to have missed some lumps.”

“They’re perfect, not lumpy at all,” Dad complimented, eliciting an unconvinced “
mmm
” from Mom. “The reason I asked”—he sat back, folding his hands across his stomach—“if the weather holds, Sam’s going to cut Sunday and Monday. That means he’ll start baling Wednesday, and with his new irrigation system he expects another five-hundred or so bales. He asked if I knew of a reliable sort he could add to the crew. Zane came to mind, but as you know Sam doesn’t tolerate any funny business. No drugs, no alcohol.”

I refrained from mentioning the fact Chuck bucked hay for Sam Winter. Better to keep my mouth shut on that one. Lily would be proud to know I could, in fact, learn from prior mistakes. Instead I defended Zane, and the prospect of spending more time with him.

“He’d be fine. Sam wouldn’t have any qualms with him." I figured as long as I was there, he wouldn’t anyway. If Zane had any problems, I was fairly certain I could get him through them.

“I still wish you wouldn’t hang out with him,” Mom said as she collected our plates.

“Hush, Margaret. We talked about this.”

Her face turned sour as she bobbled her head at Dad.

“Talked about what?” I asked carefully.

Dad stood. “That you’re old enough to decide who you want to befriend. We raised you the best we could, and, all-in-all, I think we did a pretty fair job.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze before heading to the bunker he called an office.

After doing the dishes so Mom could make her book group on time, I called Zane.

“Hey, I got you a job, if you want it anyway.” Pulling my boots off, I flopped back onto my bed, throwing an arm behind my head.

He chuckled. “Your dad called my uncle about five minutes ago. And guess what? I have a job tossing hay!”

“Bucking hay,” I corrected, giggling at his droll enthusiasm.

“Whatever, cowboy. At least it pays cash.”

“It does, and you earn every penny. Expect to sweat, a lot.”

“Mmm, shirtless, sweaty cowboy. That sounds promising.”

“Not really, since you need to wear a long sleeve shirt so you don’t get scratched to heck.” Right then my mind stole Zane’s imagery, and my body bolted to attention. Zane’s pale skin, angel-wing tattoo, sweat rolling down him...
Jesus, why is that sexy
? But it so was. I tried to push it from my mind, yet it became an exercise in futility. My hormones had already invaded, and refused to relinquish any part of me. I groaned into my pillow.

“Why’d you have to say that?”

He chuckled roughly, and my body reacted as if it was the most seductive thing it had ever heard. “Damn, did I manage to finally get a rise out of you?”

“It’s not the first time.” I sighed, feeling lighter for having admitting that. As if knowing Zane thought about me too, released me from the guilt I had over thinking about him, dreaming about him, wanting him in a way that was still beyond my realm of comfort.

“It’s a relief to hear that. I was beginning to think this was one-sided, and I had, in fact, corrupted a straight boy.”

Did he really think that
? I knew I wasn’t some sex crazed teen, but I didn’t think I had been
that
uptight. Had I? I smoothed the wrinkles from my cow print pillowcase. “Is...Is that why you said you were going back to Chicago?”

“No. Gabe, I need to go back. I grew up there, I belong there, its home for me.”

“Yeah, yeah...” I said, having heard it all earlier. “I’m going to go.”

“Gabe, plea—”

“I understand, Zane, I do. It doesn’t mean I have to like it though. Maybe...I don’t know, maybe we could try to forget about your leaving for now?”

“I guess if that’s what you want. Hey,” he exclaimed. “I haven’t gone to the movies since I got here. You wanna catch a movie this weekend? That is if you’re not going to prom.”

He was really asking me on a date. “Not doing prom.” Given the choice, I’d pick time with Zane over dancing with a girl any day. “Hm, a real date? Are you sure you’re up for that, city boy?”

“Hell yeah. How about you, cowboy? I’ll even take you to dinner. I think I can manage McDonalds
and
popcorn.”

I laughed, his enthusiasm infectious. “It’s a date then. Good night, Zane. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Dream about me, Gabe.”

“I always do.” I hung up, feeling at odds with myself. I wanted to fall into him, feel all the things I had never known, yet I was afraid of becoming lost in the short time we had together. And if that happened, what if he wasn’t there to find me? God, why did I have to make things so complicated? Why couldn’t I be normal? Normal guys let their hormones control them, but I’d never been like that. My mind and heart had always controlled me. What if Zane wanted a guy he could have fun with, that wouldn’t attach strings? Someone just to fill the time before he went back to Chicago?
If that were the case
,
then why did he ask you on a date dummy
?

*

As I slept my reservations had fallen away, replaced by jittery anticipation of my date with Zane. I couldn’t stay still, and paced the end of my driveway, hoping to see the same excitement on Zane’s face as I knew shone on my own. I waited as long as I could, but Zane didn’t show. I called him while sprinting through the crooked oaks. His phone went right to voicemail. When I reached Harry’s field, I texted a quick;
where R U
?
Everything OK
?

I spent Science Lab in Zane’s seat, staring out the window onto the faculty parking lot, battling with myself.
What if he was avoiding me?
That didn’t seem his MO though.
What if he left
? He would have called, said goodbye. No way would he just leave me.
Maybe he’s sick
. But he’d sounded perfectly fine last night. What if he had been stung, or worse bit by a rattler? They were always out in the morning, catching the first rays of warmth. All he’d have to do is step wrong.
God, I wish he’d at least text back
!

By lunch I had determined his phone was off, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was floating between worried, scared, and pissed off, and to say it was taxing would be an understatement. I had to find out if he was okay, or I wouldn’t be any good for the rest of the day.

I swung by the office in a last ditch effort.

“Gabriel, what can I do for you?”

“Hi, Mrs. Nelson. I need to find out if Mr. or Mrs. Cormley called in for Zane Zimmerman this morning.”

She tisked. “You know I can’t tell you that. It’s against school policy.”

“I figured. But he was supposed to meet me this morning, and he didn’t even call. I’m worried because he walks along the creek, and he’s allergic to bees, snake venom, and who knows what else. Please, just this once?” I gave her my most solicitous expression, the same one I used at funerals.

Pulling her glasses down, she stared at me for a moment, then sighed and pulled a sheet out of a cubby on her desk before reseating her glasses.

“No, no one called.”

“Thank you.”

As I flew out the back door leading to the sports field, I texted Lily telling her I had something I needed to do. She’d call tonight and demand to know what was more important than lunch with her, and I hoped to have a favorable answer by then.

I checked every spot along the creek I thought he could be. Hoping to find anything that might lead me to him; broken branches, torn earth, bent-over grass, but I found nothing out of the ordinary other than a speckled toad that scared the heck out of me when he leapt onto my arm, and a few garter snakes I spooked.

Arriving at the Cormley’s, the rambler was dark, appearing devoid of life. The driveway sat empty, save for an oil spot where Mrs. Cormley’s Honda usually resided. Knocking, I listened for any stirrings, and heard none. I didn’t know the layout of the house, so I had no idea which window was Zane’s. I rung the bell, then tried the door, and found it locked.

I turned, fully intending on calling the rectory where Dad kept emergency numbers of every one of his parishioners, when a feeling came over me. Something wasn’t right.

“
Zane
!” I yelled. “Answer the door.” I pounded on the door, even though somehow I knew he wouldn’t answer.

Around the side of the house, I slipped through the gate into the back. The slider was secure, but God save country folks, the garage door was unlocked. I stepped into the dimness thinking this was my first crime, and now being an adult, I would be tried as such.
How much time does one serve for breaking and entering anyway
?

The empty garage wasn’t so empty. Racks of canned food in huge mason jars, useless furniture, and long unused tools, all coated in a thick layer of grey fuzz, cluttered the area.
What we find behind locked doors
—only this one hadn’t been locked.

Heading towards the door to the house, I hoped upon hope it wasn’t locked either.
Glory be
,
thank you
! I entered the pristine kitchen, and headed straight towards the entry. “Zane?” I called, only just louder than a whisper. I guess breaking and entering, regardless the circumstance, warranted a quieter voice. Whisper-yelling his name I continued through the entry, and down the only hall. An obvious choice, unless they kept Zane in a shed I didn’t know about.

Linen, bathroom,
whoa
—definitely a junk room. The room across the hall was so dark a shadow cast beneath the door onto the tan carpet. I turned the brass knob.

“Zane?” The light from the hall illuminated his form on a single bed, divulging the self-inflicted massacre hidden beneath a blood splotched sheet. “
Oh God
. Zane...” Crouching down, I flicked on a small brass lamp sitting on the nightstand. If his fingers hadn’t been shaking, the razor blade stuck to them trembling, I would have assumed he was dead. His eyes stared ahead, unwavering, and at nothing. Similar to how I had found him that day at Creeksbend. Laying my hand on his cheek didn’t elicit any response. But he felt normal, warm even, which I took as a good sign. He wasn’t sweating or clammy or cold.

“Zane, you have to wake up.” His hand twitched, and I peeled the blood-sticky razor blade off his fingers, laying it carefully on the nightstand. “You need to talk to me...say something, show me you’re still here, or I’ll have to call for help.” I might have to call anyway. Cringing, unsure if I wanted to know, I gently drew the yellow blood splotched sheet back from his legs.

Oh
,
naked
—
not looking
. My eyes grazed over the wide scar along his abdomen, feeling again the miraculousness of his survival before I zeroed in on the slices. I tried not to gasp, but it escaped anyway. From his knees, all the way up to his hipbones, scars riddled his skin. The most recent thin, angry lines crossed from mid-thigh up over his hip. They were no longer oozing, save one, just under the soft jut of his right hipbone.

“Why do you do this?” I inspected the damage, noting none were deep enough to warrant stitches. However they would need to be cleaned and some antibiotic ointment applied. My thumb whispered over the pink lines across his right thigh. They were almost healed, and I couldn’t find any other cuts between then and now. I took in his slightly flushed face, his parted lips, and thought he looked relaxed, serene almost.
What set you off this time
? I pulled the sheet back up, draping it over his shoulder.

Straightening, I pulled my phone out to call my dad. He should have a cell number for one of the Cormleys on file, and I felt it best they decide whether to call 911. Hitting Dad’s number, I turned towards the hall. My pant leg was snared, and I screeched like a terrified child, tossing my hands up, and sending my phone flying. Stupid really, since Zane and I were the only ones there.

“Don’t.”

Catching the tail of my runaway breath, I glanced back at Zane, and found his eyes pleading. “You mean don’t call?”