The Last Exit to Normal (10 page)

CHAPTER 13

E
dward hadn’t cooked a thing since we’d gotten to Rough
Butte, because Miss Mae wouldn’t let him. Women cooked. But that night, Dad and Edward got home with
news, and Edward insisted on cooking a celebratory dinner before they told us. I sat in the kitchen, watching them, just
like I had back home. Miss Mae stomped around the house, dusting and grumbling about her kitchen being overtaken.
“If I wanted my son to be a girl, I woulda had a daughter,” she snipped as she walked by. My mood
matched hers because of the Ronald episode.

I smiled, watching Edward. He was an excellent cook. “So, what’s the
news?”

Dad was simmering some tomato sauce on the stove. “You’ll learn soon
enough.”

“Let me guess. You guys are having a baby.”

Edward laughed. “I’ll look fabulous in maternity clothes, Paul. Don’t you
think? I was thinking of Franklin as the name.” He looked at me. “You think, Ben? Then we can
introduce you two as Benjamin Franklin.”

I rolled my eyes. “How about Brownie?”

Dad frowned. “Enough of the crude stuff, Ben.”

Edward turned and mimicked him, shaking his cutting knife at me. I laughed. “Sorry. It just slid
out. A no-wiper.”

Edward burst out laughing. Dad wasn’t impressed. He still got uncomfortable when Edward and
I started with the rude jokes, and I liked the disgusting ones. “Knock it off, Ben.”

“Sorry. Sometimes I forget to be bland and politically correct about everything. Happy shiny,
right?”

He looked at me, and I was surprised he was angry. He held the wooden spoon out, pointing it at me.
“Let’s not get into that whole thing, okay? What you said was crude and disgusting, and this
doesn’t have anything to do with political correctness.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a prude, Dad.”

My humor didn’t take his anger away. “No, I just expect my son to rise out of that gutter
he likes to live in every once in a while and be civil. You push every button you know how to push with me, and
I’m getting tired of it.” He looked at Edward, who was quiet now. Dad went on. “Is it crazy to
expect civility from my son, Edward? Am I a nut? Am I just grasping at straws here?”

Edward smiled. “Paul, it’s like buying a cute little puppy that ends up eating its poo. Ben
was just born to have a potty mouth.”

Dad wasn’t in the mood. “Not funny.”

Edward laughed, trying desperately to prevent the fight he knew was coming between us. “I know
this homophobic issue has been on your mind lately, Paul, but Ben’s not homophobic, he’s
world
ophobic. He hates everything equally.” He glanced at me, a glimmer in his eye. “Right,
Ben?”

“Absolutely.” I shrugged, looking at Dad. “Are you two done talking about me
like I’m not here? I mean, I don’t want to get in the way of things or anything, but every once in a while
I enjoy my existence being noticed.”

Edward smiled. “Get me a beer, then.”

I sat back. “You know, I’ve been thinking. . . .”

Edward slumped his shoulders. “Oh, no, here he goes with that thinking thing again.” He
looked at me. “How many times have I told you that you’re just not meant to do that, Ben?
You’ll hurt yourself.”

“No, really. I think I should be able to have a beer on the porch with you guys.”

Dad turned around, and there was an edge to his voice. “I’ve given you the smoking, but
only because of the no-pot issue. No beer until you’re twenty-one.”

“I’ll be eighteen next year, which is probably legal age here, and besides that, I work
now. A cold brewski sounds good after being ordered around by Miss Mae all day.” I went on before he could
say no, thinking that if I could get them to agree, Miss Mae wouldn’t have something else to blackmail me
about. “Kimberly told me she has a glass of wine at the dinner table with her parents, and she’s
definitely not out getting blasted every weekend and having sex with boys. At least not with me, anyway.”

Edward laughed. “Comparing Kimberly Johan to you is like comparing an angel food cake to a
pile of vomit.”

I smirked.

Dad contemplated. “Edward? Your thoughts?”

He shrugged. “I think he’s earned it. I mean, he is working just about all day, every day
now. Besides, Mom wants a new shed built after he’s done with the fence.” He twirled a utensil.
“Not like the labor is going to dry up around here, that’s for sure.”

I raised my eyebrows at that one, but kept my mouth shut.

Dad faced me. “Fine, then. One beer, but only with me, only here, and only when I say
so.”

“Deal.” I stood and walked to the fridge. “You want one, right,
Ed?”

“Sure. The pale ale. And it’s Edward.”

I scrounged around in the fridge. “Got any Coors? I’m a Coors guy.”

Dad warned me: “I can rescind it, Ben. Don’t smart off.”

I zipped it, grabbed two beers, handed one to Edward, and popped the cap on mine. I took a swig, leaning
against the counter. “Ahhh. Nothing like a brew after sweating your butt off all day. I feel like a real
man.”

Edward laughed. “That’s the good thing about feelings. They don’t have to be
accurate.”

I ignored him. “So are you going to tell me what the gig is?”

Dad turned around, nodded to Edward, and spoke. “We’re starting a business in town. A
restaurant.”

“Eddie and Paul’s Fried Chicken and Gizzards?”

Edward shook his head. “Foolish boy. A steakhouse. A
gourmet
steakhouse. Your father
and I figured that since Montana has the best beef in the entire world and nobody would hire two gay cowpokes anyway,
these people should learn how to eat correctly.” He waved his spatula. “I’ll be the
chef.”

Edward could cook better than anybody I’d ever known, but that didn’t make him a chef.
“You’re not a chef, though.”

He waved the spatula in the air, bowing. “In that way, you are somewhat correct. I did study
culinary arts for nearly two years, though. In California. I can hold my own, and besides that, Montanans aren’t
big on official titles.”

“Awesome. If you need a slacker to wash dishes, just ask.”

Dad cut in. “We leased the building last week, and we’ll start decorating tomorrow.
It’s sort of small, but sixteen tables should be enough.”

“And I suppose you’ll need me to help get it ready?”

He shook his head. “You’ve got your own work.”

“What did you name it?”

“Benjamin’s”

I raised my eyebrows.

Dad nodded. “We thought it would be a tribute to us coming here.”

Edward whisked something in a skillet. “Yeah, since the only reason we moved was to get your
butt out of trouble.”

I took a gulp of beer. “Benjamin’s. I like that. Reminds me of a guy I know.
He’s amazing.”

Dad cleared his throat. “Edward and I were at the bank this morning. Seems the news of the town
was about Mr. Hinks getting his antlers stolen.” He glanced at me. “Know anything about that,
son?”

“Well, when I was out last night stealing all those antlers, I thought I heard something. I could be
wrong, though.”

Dad turned, an edge to his voice. “Dammit, son. I thought we could start over here.
Why?”

I shrugged. “You called the sheriff, I took antlers. Same diff.”

“No. Not the same. You broke the law.”

I stood. “So did he. Go talk to him if you’re concerned about it.”

He shook his head. “No dice, Ben. I did what was right, and if the sheriff decides not to do
anything about it, I can’t help that. I’m not even sure it’s legal for a child that age to shoot a
rifle.”

I rolled my eyes. “Story of your life, Pops. Just blow it off on somebody else so you
don’t have to worry about it.”

Dad stopped stirring. “That’s enough with the mouth. I said that’s enough, and
that
is
enough.”

“Yeah, everything is enough. Always enough.”

He pointed at me. “Stay away from Mr. Hinks.”

Edward wasn’t smiling anymore. He’d been around long enough to know when a storm
was brewing. “He’s right. We did what we were supposed to, and that’s enough.”

I grunted, sick of it all. “You know what? Both of you are such . . .”

Dad was across the kitchen in a heartbeat, grabbing my shirt and shoving me against the cupboard. Hard.
He raised his fist, winding back and ready to hit. “What, Ben? What are we?” His eyes were locked on
mine, and I’d never seen that look in them. This wasn’t about antlers at all. This was about my hands
and the bank lady and what I’d said before.

His fist landed hard against my chest. Edward gaped, standing stock-still with the spatula in his hand.
This had never happened before. Miss Mae walked into the kitchen, probably wondering what the ruckus was, saw Dad
pinning me against the cupboard, nodded, then walked back out.

I met his stare. “Go ahead, Dad. Do it. I don’t care.”

He jammed his fist farther into my chest. “Answer me.”

I knew right then that we weren’t having a debate about this. This was no learning lesson for Ben
Campbell, it was a test. I’d pushed him too far, but he could go to hell. He’d pushed me too far for
three years. “Fine. I
will
answer you. You’re a pussy.”

Dad tensed, then Edward spoke: “Paul, please . . .”

Dad’s arm flew toward me and I flinched. His hand slammed into my chest again, and the next
thing I knew, my beer was sailing across the kitchen as he jerked me to the back door, pinning me again while he opened
it. He yanked me outside and threw me to the ground, his breathing ragged as he raised his fist to me. “Make
one more comment and I will, Ben. On my mother’s grave, I will not stand for this anymore.”

I lay there, looking up at him. “Stand for what? The truth?”

His eyes seared into me as he pointed down the driveway. “Get out.”

I stood, screaming as it all spilled out: “To where? You brought me here! You’re so full
of shit I can’t believe it! Oh, we have to go to bumfuck nowhere so Ben doesn’t ruin his life? Guess
what, Dad, I didn’t ruin my life, you did! I’m your lie, man! I’m the big seventeen-year-old
reminder that you couldn’t stop with screwing up just your own life. No, no, no, you had to have me.” I
shook my head. “How would you like it, huh? How would you like to know the only reason you exist is
because your dad is a selfish rotten bastard who didn’t have the balls to face himself! Yeah, sure, I’ll
go, and you’ll never see me again.” I turned and had started walking down the driveway along the side
of the house when Miss Mae came around the corner from the front porch, blocking my way. Fire lit her narrowed
eyes.

I tried walking around her, but she whipped her hand out and cuffed me. Then she grabbed my ear and
yanked down, bending me over. Her fingers were like a vise as she dragged me back to my dad, who stood there staring.
I was still bent over, looking at the ground, with her pincers on my just-about-ripped-off ear. She growled at Dad,
“You need to learn one thing around here, Mr. Paul. You’re the man of this house, and I’ll be
damned to hell if a seventeen-year-old boy will speak to you in this manner in my presence.” She yanked me up,
her fingers still clamped on my ear. “You two will finish what you started, and you won’t come in my
home until you come to terms with what got your spines all stiff. Blood don’t treat blood with this
nastiness.”

She walked to the back door, then faced us. Her flowered dress fluttered in the evening breeze. Her eyes
glinted. “Maybe you
should
beat the hell out of each other. Teach you both a lesson in
manners.” Then she was gone, through the door and to whatever sulfur pit she lived in.

Dad and I stared at each other. My ear burned. “I meant every word I said.”

Dad didn’t back down. His voice was low. “Then you’ve got to decide if you
can live with it.”

We stared at each other for several minutes, thinking about what to do. The breeze blew, and dusk fell
deeper into itself. Silence, neither of us budging. I shook my head, sitting on a metal drum next to the shed.
“It’s not that bad out here, really. You can use the garden if you have to take a dump.”

He sat on the porch steps. “What’s going on here, Ben?”

“You tell me.”

“I’ve explained to you what I did and why I did it. I can’t make excuses.
We’ve been through this before.”

I shrugged, rubbing my ear. “See, that’s it. If it’s over for you, it’s over
for everybody, right? Well, it won’t go away for me. I’ve tried.”

“Being gay doesn’t mean . . .”

“Dad, it’s not all about being gay. You’re so caught up in
what
you are
that you can’t see
who
you are, and it pisses me off. This isn’t happening because you love a
guy or like men or whatever. You go around on this high horse, saying what’s right and wrong for me all the
time, but when it comes to you, you do whatever you want.”

He shook his head. “No. Let’s back up. You think I don’t wish my son was
different? That he got good grades and played sports and didn’t have this huge chip on his shoulder about the
whole world? Have you ever wondered if I’m ever embarrassed about you? That’s life, Ben, and I do
know who I am. Maybe I get wound up and defensive about being gay, but I don’t do whatever I want when I
want.” He gestured around him. “You think I wasn’t afraid to come here? That I didn’t
wonder what would happen to me? To us? You think I’ve spent my whole life being selfish, and that’s
fine. But I spent the first fourteen years of your life doing what’s best for you, not me, and it’s why
we’re in Rough Butte right now.” He studied me. “Ben, you can hate me for it if you want, but
it is what it is, and I will not have you or anybody else speak to me the way you did. You may think I deserve it, but
Edward doesn’t.”

“Well, that’s the way I feel.” I threw a pebble, frustrated. Apparently my dad
thought that being a parent stopped after the fourteen-year mark. Then you could do whatever the hell you wanted. I
didn’t say that, though, because that would be useless. “Maybe we just shouldn’t talk about
it.”