Last of the Summer Tomatoes (17 page)

“We should probably head back, feels like a storm coming.” Sam gave Kyle’s hand a squeeze as he got up. He untied Mike. “Hey, I was thinking, there’s this new Italian place in Saratoga Springs. You wanna try it this Saturday?”

Kyle looked over his shoulder at Sam. Bess gave him a nudge as he stopped adjusting the saddle. “I… I guess.”

“We don’t have to, you know. We can hang out here.”

“No, I… it’s okay for us to go there?”

“Well, I will clear it with Mom and Pops, but I’m certain it’s okay with them. Just need to keep them in the loop if we’re going to be out for a long time.”

“No, I mean, it’s okay for guys like us to go there?”

“You mean is it gay-friendly?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, but really, I don’t plan on accosting you in the restaurant.”

Kyle turned back around and tugged on the billet strap.

“Kyle?”

“What?” Kyle didn’t turn back around, taking a little too-special care of the leather knot.

“You want me to accost you in a restaurant?”

“What, huh?” Okay, that got his attention. “No… I… I want to be comfortable with… you know, us. And going into a homophobic restaurant isn’t going to help, is it?”

Sam led Mike over to where Kyle and Bess were. “First, unless we’re talking Chick-fil-A or Cracker Barrel, I don’t think there are any homophobic restaurants, especially ones in large cities who want to garner interest and clientele. Second, we are going out to eat, not finding a by-the-hour hotel room. Third, yeah, I may kiss you in the restaurant, if you are comfortable enough, and I’m probably going to hold your hand. We may get stares, we may not. But it’s been my experience that no one does or says anything in a nice place. We hit a redneck bar, then yeah, I’d probably expect someone to make a scene. But I promise we aren’t going anywhere near rednecks.”

“I’m… sorry.”

Sam leaned over Kyle’s shoulder, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Please, no more ‘sorries’; I promised I would help you, make you more comfortable in your own skin, but you have to let go just a little. Meet me halfway. The farm is your safe place, but you can’t live here forever. No matter how much you want to.”

“Why do you bother?”

“Bother?”

“With me. I seem to be a basket case.”

Sam snorted. “Don’t think I’d call you a basket case. You’re scared, and yeah, it’s a scary world out there for those like us that have a harder time fitting in. But the world is changing, slowly. More of us are out of the closet, getting married, having families, being normal. And that’s what it is, normal. We need to show that what we are is normal, that two boys or two girls kissing isn’t something to be stared at. Be brave for me, for us, for the rest of the Kyles out there that need reassurance.”

Kyle turned around, finding himself within inches of Sam’s face. He had never felt brave in his life, never felt like he could be anything more than a punching bag for a homophobic alcoholic. Sam wanted him to be brave. Sam believed in him. The least he could do is try. He took a deep breath. “Sam, I’d love to go out to that Italian place with you on Saturday.”

Sam bridged the little distance between them and kissed him, long and hard. And it didn’t even matter when it started to rain.

Fourteen

M
ONDAY
brought a new project for Sam and Kyle. Walt wanted to tear down an old shed that was rotting away and replace it with a new one.

“So, you boys think you can build a shed from scratch? I got some plans from the Internet: lumber, wood, shingles, square room. We can use the concrete foundation that’s already there. It’s in good shape.” Walt handed Sam a printout.

“Sure, Pops, this looks easy enough. Easier than that tree house I tried to build with scraps when I was eleven. Remember that?”

Walt laughed long and hard. “You were so determined. Too bad the tree wasn’t more understanding. Ended up taking out what, six, seven of its main branches?”

“Something like that. I like that this is going to be firmly on the ground.”

Kyle looked over Sam’s shoulder. “You understand all that technical stuff? All those measurements?”

“Yep. Even before I went off to college, I understood basic blueprints. And Pops is right, as long as we don’t have to worry about pouring a foundation, framing and drywall is easy. Being a shed, we’ll just have to run one electrical line for a light bulb and easy-peasy, done. Probably have it done by the end of the week if we get started right away. You wanna head into town for some lumber?”

Kyle cocked his head. “Don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

“You push the cart.”

“Oh great, I get to be the pack mule.”

“Yep.” Sam turned to his father. “You want us to go now or weed the garden first?”

Walt got out his wallet and handed Sam a credit card. “Go ahead and get going. I’ll start on the garden. Maybe pull Mom out of the kitchen, and we’ll make an afternoon of mud and weeds.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You two are just so romantic.”

“Aren’t we though?” Walt winked at his son. “I’m going to go check on the goats first. You two be careful. You want to take the ol’ beater?”

“Nah, my truck can handle that small of a load of lumber. The ol’ beater doesn’t have air conditioning.”

Walt shook his head. “Spoiled I tell you, spoiled.”

“We’ll be back soon.” Sam turned to Kyle. “Come on, Mr. Pack Mule, let’s get going.”

The trip to the lumberyard was fairly uneventful, Sam singing off-key to a popular song on the radio. Kyle suffered in silence, thinking his boyfriend was nuts. Then it hit him; he actually thought of Sam as his boyfriend. “Sam?”

Sam stopped singing and turned down the radio. “Yeah?”

“Are you… am I your boyfriend?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I was just… wondering.”

“I told you, I don’t do casual.” He reached across the seat and grasped Kyle’s hand, bringing it to his lips.

Kyle sat dumbfounded, watching Sam kiss his hand. Sam took a glance at Kyle.

“What?”

“That’s… weird. It’s only done in romance movies, and I ain’t no girl.”

“What, you think there are displays of affection that are only for girls?”

“Well, yeah.” Kyle made it sound like it was a “duh” question.

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that, just, I’m not a girl, even if I do have long hair.”

“Believe me, I know you aren’t a girl. But I like holding your hand, and I like showing you how much I care about you. And leaning over to kiss you proper isn’t conducive to staying on the road, now is it?”

“I guess not, but….”

“If it bothers you, I won’t do it again.”

“Would you think I was girlie if I said I did like it?”

“Not in the least. Kyle, you are so far from girlie it’s like pink doesn’t exist around you.”

“I just don’t want to be the girl.”

“What do you mean?”

Kyle shrugged. “Doesn’t one of us have to be the girl?”

“
Huh?
”

“You know, the girl.”

“Are you talking sex?”

“Well, kinda. Isn’t a relationship based on opposites? Even without the sex?”

“Oh. Boy.”

“What?”

“Kyle, we are in a gay relationship. No one has to be the ‘girl’ in regards to anything. We have to be us. There’s no changing who you are, and there’s no changing who I am. And if you don’t like something I do, you tell me and I won’t do it. Gender roles get very blurred with gay couples, but in the end, they make it work. Like gay married couples; sure, one may cook, the other may change the oil in the car, but that doesn’t mean the one in the kitchen is the girl and the one in the garage is the boy. They just…
are.
We just…
are.
We are Sam and Kyle.”

“And what about sex?”

“What about it?”

“Come on, I’m not dumb. Gay sex. One is definitely the—”

“If you say girl—”

“Okay, one has to be the receiver.” Kyle used air quotes for ‘receiver’.

“And they can’t switch back and forth?”

“Gay couples do that?”

“Well, yeah.” Now it was Sam’s turn for a “duh” voice.

“Really, they both….”

“As I said, gender roles can get blurred. I haven’t done it and won’t until I’m more committed to someone, but I’ve been around gay couples and a lot of them, yeah, they switch.”

“Because it’s only fair, right?”

“Fair?”

“One person gets off, the other just takes it. Then they can switch, right?”

“Why would you put it like that?”

“The receiver”—again with the air quotes—“just deals with it knowing he can get off later.”

“I have
got
to give you my copy of
Gay Sex
. There is no ‘dealing’ with it. Gay sex is very pleasurable for both people.”

“Okay, I can see it being very intimate, but pleasurable? You’re exaggerating or something.”

“No, I’m not. If it’s done right… look, it’s not like having sex with a girl. There has to be a lot more… uh, preparation, but it is pleasurable.” Sam paused as he pulled up to the lumberyard. He cut the engine and turned to look at Kyle. “Please, when you’re ready, please make sure you’re with someone you trust, who knows what they are doing, and that you’ll be safe.”

Kyle looked at Sam from the corner of his eye. “I don’t think I could ever trust anyone to do… that.”

Sam intertwined their fingers. “I hope you’re wrong, I hope you can develop trust… with someone. But know this, there are gay couples out there who don’t engage in anal sex. And that’s perfectly fine too. There is a whole spectrum of ‘normal’ when it comes to gay couples. Now, you ready to play pack mule?” Sam glanced out the window, then gave Kyle a quick kiss.

Kyle leaned in to the kiss, surprised at himself for liking this semipublic display. Even though he knew no one was near enough to see, the thought that someone could walk by any moment didn’t seem to bother him as much as he thought. Sam made him feel… normal.

T
HEY
got the building materials they needed and headed back home. They rode in relative silence, listening to the radio while holding hands. Kyle was liking this new “normal” that his life had become.

The old shed came down easily; Walt inspected the wood and what was left of the paint job and deemed it okay to burn for a bonfire.

“You boys want to roast hot dogs and marshmallows? Make sure everything has burned down to embers first, don’t want to contaminate any of the food with what might still be in the wood.”

Kyle hauled the last bit of wood to the pile. “I’ve never roasted anything. Does it taste good?”

Sam whipped his head around, nearly dropping his own stack of wood. “You’ve never had a s’more?”

“What’s a ‘s’more’?”

“Damn, the city needs to get more Boy Scouts.”

Walt walked by them on the way to the barn. “Sam, tell your Mom we’re eating alfresco tonight; I don’t think she’s started dinner yet.”

“Will do, Pops.” Sam dropped his load onto the pile. “Come on, let’s tell Mom what’s going on, and I’ll fill you in on roasting food over a fire.” Sam placed his arm around Kyle’s shoulders. “You are in for a treat. More sugar than on Halloween.”

“And why doesn’t it surprise me that Halloween is one of your favorite holidays?”

“You know me too well.”

T
HE
rest of the week was filled with sawing, framing, nailing, painting, along with the usual chores of milking, weeding, watering, gathering, and other various nouns that go along with running a farm. All too soon it was Saturday afternoon, and Kyle stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at himself.

He hadn’t shaved that morning, not really needing it each day, not quite yet. He rubbed his jaw, felt a little stubble and figured why not. He had butterflies in his stomach; he didn’t know if he’d actually be able to eat, let alone anything else. But if he was able to sneak a kiss or two in the car, he so didn’t want to give Sam stubble burn.

He got back to his room, clean-shaven, with the day’s dirt and grime washed off. He opened the door to see a nice pair of slacks and oxford shirt on the bed. He turned, but didn’t see anyone around. Sam was in the downstairs bathroom getting ready. He saw Walt out next to the barn and heard Glenda in the kitchen. He picked up the slacks, noticing they were new and his size. He didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like they’d fit Walt or Sam, so they had to be for him, but… who? And why? He had planned on wearing the jeans Glenda had bought for him, along with one of the nicer shirts, but this? He hadn’t owned anything other than sweats, jeans, and t-shirts for as long as he could remember. He looked around the room once more, looking for a note or something. Finding everything else in its place, he shrugged and put the new clothes on.

After tying his hair back and giving himself another look in the mirror, he deemed himself as ready as he’d ever be. He took a good long look at the figure he saw staring back at him. Gone were the circles around the eyes, either from lack of sleep or from Hank. Gone was the gaunt, pale look, replaced by fuller cheeks and a little more glow to his skin. With his long limbs and absence of decent muscle, Kyle would always be skinny, and really, if he wasn’t an artist, he’d probably be a geeky gamer. He certainly wasn’t athletic, even after working on the farm for a month, nor was he very balanced, feeling he had no control over his limbs sometimes.