The Last Exit to Normal (6 page)

She looked at me, confused. “Like how?”

I shook my head, suddenly embarrassed. “It just seems like everybody around here is always
doing something.”

“Not always. Just regular stuff.”

I thought about her baling hay. “Like baling?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“What if we went on a baling date?”

She narrowed her eyes, looking confused. “What?”

“Well, if you won’t go on a regular date with me, take me baling. I can
work.”

She thought about it for a moment. “My uncle can always use a hand, and it’s twelve
dollars an hour.”

“Deal. Count me in.” I smiled. “When are you going again?”

“Tonight.”

Every muscle in my body ached, and my hands were shot. I could barely unzip to take a leak.
“Okay. I’ll come by. What time?”

“Four-thirty. When it cools down.” She smiled. “You can meet my
dad.”

CHAPTER 8

B
efore my first-ever date with my first-ever girlfriend, Hailee Comstock,
Edward sat me down and gave me the skinny on date etiquette. Edward knew everything about fashion, manners, date
planning, what to do, what to say, how to treat a woman, and what they appreciate. In fact, Ed is the closest thing to a
woman I know who’s not a woman.

Now the test for him would really come. An hour after I talked to Kimberly, I found him watering squash
in the garden. “Hey, Edward,” I said. He gave me a foul look, then squirted me with the hose. I
remembered the squat I’d taken out here. “Miss Mae told you about my gift to the
garden?”

He gave me a sideways glance. “You’re lucky I don’t relieve myself in your bed,
young delinquent.”

I shrugged. “Come on, Ed. It makes good fertilizer.”

He threatened me with the hose. “Yes, but the spite and retribution make it stink more. And my
name is Edward.”

“Sorry.”

He smiled. “Come to help me tend the squash, or is that a bit too feminine for
you?”

I groaned, knowing Edward was talking about Ms. Pierce. Not a good situation when you wanted
something. I knew I couldn’t blow it off. “Dad talked to you?”

“He certainly did, and as a woman of the new millennium, I’ve got to say I’m
deeply offended.”

“Edward . . .”

He laughed. “You know it’s not my style to get offended by the likes of you, Ben, so
calm down. You got a little pissy about us flamers pattering about you in front of a good-looking woman in a tight
skirt, and I don’t blame you.”

“
You
didn’t do it. And I didn’t mean it that way.”

His smile was still there, but there was that look in his eyes where I knew he’d been upset by it.
He nodded. “I know, but sometimes what it means to you isn’t what it means to other
people.”

“I don’t hate fags.”

He laughed like I was the most hopeless person in the world. “‘I don’t hate
fags.’ Isn’t that statement sort of oxymoronic?”

Edward liked doing those things. He could point out the truth
and
call me a moron at the same
time. He could also let me know I’d hurt him without saying so. “Okay, fine. I don’t hate
persons of a homosexual nature.” I looked at him. “And I don’t hate you.”

He sighed. “Well, I don’t hate you, either.”

“Thanks.”

He paused. “Your father thinks you don’t approve of him.”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets.

“Do you?”

I looked around, wishing we could just forget the whole episode. “I didn’t know this
was the Garden of Inquisition.”

“It isn’t. Just having conversation. You know, light stuff.”

“I don’t know if I approve of him.”

“Why?”

“For a lot of reasons.”

“Usually, when somebody says ‘for a lot of reasons,’ they really mean one or
two good reasons they don’t want to talk about.”

I thought about it. “You know why. We’ve been through this before.”

He nodded. “Sure. But I’m not talking about him getting married, having you, then
dropping the bomb fourteen years later even though he knew all along he was gay. I don’t approve of that,
either. It’s unfair to you, your mother, and himself. I’m talking about
being
gay.”

I shifted on my feet. “Well then, no, I don’t approve.”

He nodded. “Tell me why.”

“Because I don’t want a gay father. That’s why.”

“Why not?”

I gave him my best “you’re out of your frickin’ mind” look.
“Planet Earth to Edward. You’re not
supposed
to have a gay dad. It goes against the whole
having-kids thing in the first place, and besides that, it’s not cool knowing the only reason you exist is because
your dad was lying to himself about shit.”

Edward shrugged. “True. So what you’re saying is that because he’s your dad,
that’s why you don’t approve?”

“I guess. Does that make me devil spawn or something?”

He laughed. “Well, you are devil spawn, but not for that reason.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“Because I didn’t want to wake up one morning with an ice pick speared through my
eye.”

“I don’t have a problem with you or anybody else, Edward. At least no more than I
usually do.”

He smiled. “Well, we’ll try to act more macho in mixed company.” He held up a
skinny arm and flexed. “Should I work out, you think? Build some guns?”

“I don’t think anything will help you, Edward.”

He sighed. “Good, because I detest anything that makes me sweat.”

We stood for a moment while he watered the squash. I lit a smoke. “I need help.”

He looked at the smoke and smirked his displeasure. “I just helped you. My good deed is done
for the day, and I’ll get a fever if I continue.”

“No, I mean with something else.”

“Oh God, what did you do now?” He paused, studying me. “That thing about
sheep and lonely men in Montana was a joke. You know that, right?”

“I need to fit in.”

He raised his eyebrows for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. “This has to do with breasts,
doesn’t it?”

I smiled. “Nice ones, too.”

He shrugged, then sighed. “And who is the intended victim?”

“A girl down the street. Kimberly Johan. We’re going out tonight.”

He turned the hose off. “And what, pray tell, are you going to do on this date?”

“Bale hay.”

“Baling hay on your first date?”

“Yeah.”

He glanced at my hands. “Well, I would ask you how you intend to bale hay with blisters all over
your hands, but that might be considered gay, so I won’t.”

I smiled. “Okay, payback. My hands are fine.”

He laughed. “I don’t know about you, but baling hay has always been on the top of my
best-first-date list. Very romantic.”

I shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“Sounds like the desperation of a young man in love.”

“Whatever.” I stuck my hands in my pockets. “She has a dad.”

He nodded, looking down at his feet dramatically. “I know this might sound odd, but some
heterosexual families actually do have fathers. It’s sort of old-fashioned, but every once in a while
you’ll come across one.” He tapped his chin. “In fact, I think you have a father, too. He could
talk to you about the birds and the bees and other such things.”

Edward always tried to get me to talk to my dad. Edward was a big fan of
“communication.” I shook my head. “He wears socks with sandals, Edward, and I know about
the birds and the bees. That’s why I’m going on a date. I need real help.”

“This is true. How may I be of assistance?”

“I need new clothes.”

He smiled. “Am I hearing Benjamin Campbell say that he actually wants to blend into
something?” He leaned close, peering into my eyes. “Are you turning into a conformist?”

I sighed. “What about her dad? Miss Mae said he wouldn’t like me, and I’m sure
there’s all kinds of secret rules and regulations about dating farm girls.”

“Ahhh. You must be talking about the proper way to do things when dealing with old-fashioned
farm folk, which, I might add, is exactly what Mr. and Mrs. Johan are. If I remember correctly, he’s a very harsh
man, and one not to cross.” He thought for a moment. “Yes sir, no sir, thank you, please, nice to meet
you, Mr. Johan, firm handshake, look him in the eye, and for God’s sake don’t eye her boobs, even
accidentally, unless you’re at least a mile from the house. Men have shotguns for a reason around
here.”

I nodded, soaking it all in. Fear gripped me, but love would climb any mountain. “One more
thing.”

“What?”

“What is baling hay, anyway?”

He laughed. “And you thought you worked hard yesterday. Poor child.”

“Crap.”

“Shall we go shopping now?”

“Cowboy me up.”

He laughed. “You know I’m the last person you should ask to dress you, Benjamin. My
taste in clothing fits in around here like the San Francisco Symphony.”

We drove into town, stopping in front of the Saddleman, the local clothes place. I looked at Edward in
his linen shorts and polo shirt. “There’s got to be some redneck left under that sophisticated
GQ
metrosexual veneer. Besides, you know everything about being a fashionista, right? We can do country with
class.”

He eyed me. “Are you secretly trying to pay me a compliment?”

I laughed. “No, but I want to look right when I’m drinking tea in their
parlor.”

He rolled his eyes. “One has to know how to drink from a cup to do that,
Benjamin.”

“Whatever.”

He unbuckled his seat belt. “Come on. We’ve got some outfitting to do.”

A man stood behind the counter of the Saddleman, resplendent in Wranglers tight enough to petrify
testicles, a colorful cowboy shirt, a handlebar mustache, a cowboy hat, and cowboy boots. You could eat from his belt
buckle, it was so big. He looked like every rodeo rider in the history of mankind. Edward knew him. “Hello,
Jack. Long time.”

The man eyed us, then nodded. “Didn’t think you’d be back.”

“Some things change.”

“That they do.” He cleared his throat. “Doing some shopping?”

Edward nodded. “For Benjamin. Ben, this is Jack Galladay. We went to school
together.”

Jack nodded to me, and I remembered, for once, to be polite. I held my hand out. “Nice to meet
you, Mr. Galladay.”

Jack hesitated, then shook my hand. Hard. The dried blisters on my hand screamed. “You, too,
Ben.” Then he smiled. “You need any help finding what you want, I’ll be around.”

Edward looked at him. “Still doing the rodeo?”

Jack shook his head. “Broke my hip five years ago at finals. Three titanium pins holding me
together.” He gestured to the store. “Bought this place and here I am. Denise runs the back
end.”

“Denise Reese?”

He looked at Edward for a moment before answering. “Denise Galladay now. We married two
years out of school. Four kids.”

“Say hello for me,” Edward said, and we started looking at the racks of clothes. Jack
wandered to the back room.

I lowered my voice. “Was he cool to you in school?”

Edward smiled. “Let’s just say some things aren’t as they seem.”

I glanced at where Jack had gone, then back to Edward. “You mean . . . ?”

He nodded. “Some people question their sexuality a bit more than others.”

I couldn’t believe it. My dad is a straight gay. He didn’t look gay, and you’d
never know it until you got to know him. Jack Galladay looked the farthest from a gay dude that I’d ever seen.
“No way.”

Edward sighed. “I’m not saying what he is now, Ben, and what we did really has nothing
to do with anything now. He was a good friend, and I’m sure he’s a good husband and
father.”

Behind all of Edward’s sarcastic humor and quick wit, I realized he was good. He didn’t
hold it over Mr. Galladay’s head one single bit. “That’s why he looked nervous when we
walked in.”

“Probably. We were stupid kids, finding out what we were. That’s all.” Then he
smiled, his eyes meeting mine. “I mean, after all, we both became family men.”

“Spare me, Mom.”

Edward looked at a rack of shirts. “Okay, here’s the rules. No gaudy colors, no big belt
buckles, and no cowboy hats.”

I frowned. “I wanted a hubcap for a belt buckle, man.”

He shook his head. “You can’t wear a belt buckle like Jack unless you won it in the
rodeo. Unspoken cowboy rule.”

“Fine. Why no hat?”

“Because you’ll look like a complete goof in one.”

I shrugged. “Listen, Ed, if I’m going to do this, I’m going all the way. Do they
have spurs here? I want spurs. And I want a rope, too. Like a lasso thing.”

“Okay, we’re leaving. I’m getting stomach cramps just thinking about you
walking down the street dressed like Howdy Doody.”

I smiled. “Hey, if I’m going to lasso me a mare, I’ve got to be able to stay in the
saddle.”

He gave me a disgusted look. “You watch yourself around her father. And it might do you a
small bit of good to lift yourself out of the gutter sometimes.”

“I was kidding. Lighten up.”

He looked at me, a serious question in his eyes. “Did you have sex with Hailee?”

The difference between my dad and Edward was right here, right now. He wasn’t afraid to talk
about anything. “Of course we did. No woman can resist my touch.”

He held up a shirt, grimaced, then put it back. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, Ben will return
to reality.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine. No, but almost. Like a rounding-third-and-heading-home kind of
deal. We
were
going to be married, you know.”

He nodded. “Just do me a favor and make sure you’re ready. It’s an important
thing, not just a feel-good thing.”

“This coming from a guy who fooled around with his buddy in the woodshed.”

He sighed. “Everybody makes mistakes, and everybody has regrets. Just keep it in mind that
women aren’t the only ones who can lose their self-respect.”

“Will do.”

“You should talk about things like this with your father.”

I shook my head. “Tell that to him. Every time I do, he wants to turn it into some kind of lesson
on life.” I looked at him. “Sort of like you’re doing now.”

“I’m not your father, and because I’m not, I can say whatever I want. And
don’t go around thinking that I actually care about you or anything, because you’re nothing more than a
nuisance to me.”

“Blah blah blah.” I looked around. “Am I going country, or are you going to
keep preaching?”

An hour later, I walked out of the Saddleman wearing tan ropers, which are lace-up cowboy-type work
boots (you can’t work in regular cowboy boots, apparently), a pair of straight-leg Wranglers that made me feel
like my nuts were wrapped in duct tape, and a neutral-colored button-up work shirt that gathered the heat like a
blowtorch in my waistband. Three pairs of regular Levi’s, leather work gloves, and three shirts bulged in the
Saddleman bag I carried.

At my insistence, I had also picked out a cowboy hat. Edward smirked disgustedly every time he looked
at it. I felt like I should be trick-or-treating, but I also thought it was sort of cool. Like a uniform or something. Maybe
Edward was right. Maybe I was conforming. He told me I was conforming to lust.