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Crossroads--Chapter 13--The Cabin

Although it wasn't the cabin on Lake Huron that Chance remembered from his youth (that cabin was too far away and Lake Michigan was no less beautiful), when they got out of the car, Chance was happy nonetheless. As they got out of the car and approached the small, simple building, Chance could see the expanse of water behind it, beautifully reflecting the sunlight in a display of shimmering natural glory.

If anything, this cabin was even nicer than the last one.

"Like it?" his father asked behind him, a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"I do," Chance replied. "Ours for the whole weekend, right?"

"Yep, cost a pretty penny too," David said and Chance wasn't sure if he heard regret in his father's voice. While his father was certainly no cheapskate, he was leery about spending too much at once.

"So, what're we going to do?" Chance asked happily, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder as he followed David up to the door. David pulled the key from his jacket pocket and unlocked the door. The cabin's interior was homey and warm and the cabin itself smelled inviting. The first floor had the living room, kitchen and bathroom while the bedroom was in a loft upstairs. Chance plopped down on the couch--so soft...

"Well, we've got all weekend," David said. "Why don't you go put your stuff upstairs and then we'll go fishing?"

"Okay," Chance said excitedly, beaming. "Want me to take your stuff up too?"

"No, there's only one bed," David answered. "You take it."

Chance hesitated, frowning. "I don't mind sleeping on the couch. You can take the bed."

"It's fine, Chance."

"But seriously, I can stay down here," Chance said. "I'm sure the bed's more comfortable."

"Which is why you can take it."

"But sleeping on the couch is bad for your back, isn't it? Didn't you say your back was hurting earlier?"

"Charles!" David interjected severely. "Please don't argue with me this weekend. Let's have a nice time together. Leave all the negativity in the city."

Chance nodded and did his best to put on a comforting (if lopsided) smile. "Okay."

The upstairs bedroom was no less nice than the downstairs and Chance sat on the bed. Within seconds, he was lying backwards, sighing at the comfy mattress and the nice quilt over it. He stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought.

_ He must really want this weekend to go well_, Chance realized.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. He stared at it in surprise. He hadn't checked it at all when he'd woken up and he'd fallen asleep on the way here. Zack had texted him three times, asking if he'd arrived safely, and Chance hurriedly sent him an affirming message. But what caught his eye even more was a voicemail... from Junior of all people. Somehow, he had missed it entirely.

He considered ignoring it, deleting it. Curiosity made him pause just before deleting the message. What exactly could Junior have to say that was so important? Doesn't he hate me now? Or maybe he's just calling to bash Zack some more.

_ _ No, Junior's not that kind of person, is he? It must be important if he called me and left a voicemail. I probably should listen to it. But what if I don't like what he has to say? I should at least hear him out, right?

"Charles!"

Chance paused and looked over. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten to his feet or when his father had come up the steps. He had been so focused on his phone that he hadn't even realized that he'd started pacing.

"Who're you talking to?" David wondered worriedly.

"I was talking?"

"Mumbling, more like," David explained. "Are you okay? Something happen back home?"

"No, it's--Dad, it's nothing," Chance said simply. "Let's just enjoy the lake!"

"Chance, we came up here so that we could talk and spend time together," David said and Chance could see that his father looked uncomfortable, out of his element. "Sit. Let's talk." Chance sat back down on the bed and David sat beside him in awkward silence. David patted his knees for a moment before speaking again. "So... who're you texting?"

"I wasn't texting," Chance answered. "Actually, I got a voicemail from someone back home."

"Zane?"

"You mean Zack," Chance corrected, although he noted that his father didn't say 'that jackal'.

"Right, Zack," David affirmed. "What'd he say?"

"Just wanted to know we got here okay," Chance answered. "Told you it was--What?"

"What else is there?" David inquired, eying his son suspiciously. "If it was just that, you wouldn't look so upset."

"Well, there's this fox at school," Chance said. "We used to be friends. He was the one that told me about the art club. He called me, left a voicemail."

"What'd he say?"

"Don't know. I haven't listened to it yet."

"Why not?" David asked. "Maybe it's important."

"I don't know," Chance said sadly. "I mean, we used to be friends. He was the first person to be nice to me at Briarwood. But recently, he's had some issues with me being with Zack."

"Is he homophobic?" David asked. His tone had changed. He sounded strangely concerned, upset. Chance wasn't sure, but was that a touch of anger? "Is he bullying you?"

"What? No!" Chance said defensively. "Nobody's bullying me. Nobody would bully me. They're all too scared of Zack."

"And why's that? Is Zack a bully?"

"No, he's just a bit of a loner," Chance said. "Kind of temperamental sometimes."

"You're not doing a good job of talking up your friend."

"He isn't my friend."

"Aren't you dating?"

"No, I'm dating Zack."

"I know, isn't that who we're talking about?"

"I thought we were talking about Junior."

"Who's Junior?!"

Chance rubbed his head; this conversation was deteriorating. "Let me start over. Junior was my first friend at Briarwood. He was the one who told me about the art club. He's upset at me for being with Zack because they had some kind of falling out. I don't know the full story and--"

"Slow down and breathe," David said. Chance took a deep breath. "So it was Junior who left the voicemail?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to listen to it?"

"Not right now," Chance said. "I'm kind of upset with him to be honest. I get that he and Zack had their issues in the past but why can't they just apologize and make up? I get that just saying sorry isn't always enough but I bet neither of them have even tried."

"Why aren't you holding this same grudge against Zack?"

"I'm upset with him too, but at least he doesn't talk bad about Junior. He doesn't say anything about Junior," Chance said. "Nothing good but nothing bad that I've heard. Junior does nothing but bash Zack and that's what irritates me. And nobody's telling me what really happened between the two of them."

"Not everybody can make up," David said simply. "Think of it like what happened with your mother and me. We had our issues but no couple's perfect. So why didn't we last forever? Because one of us made a mistake and some mistakes aren't easily forgiven."

"But did you at least try?"

"We had a son that we wanted to be there for. Of course we tried our hardest," David said. "But that's not the point I'm trying to make. When you make a small mistake, like bumping into someone, it's something that happens everyday to millions around the world. You can forgive those. But then there are mistakes that you can't come back from. You can't come back from a mistake like cheating or violence. You can't take back really hurting someone. And maybe that's why the two of them can't make up. Maybe the hurt's still fresh and it's too soon for them to try to make up."

"But I just want them to be friends so that I can be friends with both of them." Chance sniffled. "I mean, it's like I have to pick between one or the other. And I hate that I have to choose. I like them both but I can't be friends with both of them."

"Real friends wouldn't make you choose," David remarked darkly. "I won't say that I fully understand your situation but it's not healthy for them to be pulling on you like this." He exhaled. "I feel like I'm giving crappy advice right now."

"It's okay, it's just nice to be able to vent. At least Sylvia's still nice to me," Chance stated. He grinned.

"She's a sweet girl, you ought to give her a chance."

"Dad--"

"I know, you're gay," David sighed dejectedly. "I just don't get why." He stood up and stretched. "I'm going to go get our fishing stuff so we can head out on the lake, catch dinner."

"Can I bring my sketchbook?"

"If you don't mind getting it wet."

"I'll be careful."

"Alright. Meet me downstairs and we'll head out onto the water."

David patted his shoulder and made his way downstairs. Chance hesitated for a moment before calling Junior. He waited and waited before getting an automated message.

_ _ "The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail box that is not set up yet."

Silently cursing at Junior's lack of a voicemail box, he sent a quick text: Got your message. Sorry I missed your call. Let's talk Monday. I'm out of town right now.

He was halfway down the stairs when he got the reply.

_ ** ** _ _ Okay. Have fun wherever you are. _

Chance smiled. At least they were being cordial again.

---

"So," David began as the boat came to a calm stop in the shimmering water. David took hold of his fishing rod and was about to hand the other to Chance when he saw that Chance had pulled out his sketchbook. "Not fishing today?"

"I actually wanted to do a drawing, if you don't mind," Chance said shyly.

"Okay, no problem," David said, slightly put out. "What're you going to be drawing?"

"Well... can I draw you?"

David paused for a moment. "Why me? Why not the landscape? Or the lake?"

"Because I still want to have somebody in the picture," Chance explained. "And I haven't done a good drawing of you recently. It'll be a nice little memory for us both."

"Okay," David said as he baited his hook. "Watch your head." Chance leaned over slightly as his father cast his rod, the line spinning audibly as the hook flew out into the water. His father smirked proudly. "A perfect cast, if I do say so myself."

Chance grinned but said nothing as he began to draw.

"So, Chance, I want to talk to you about your relationship with Zack," David said. "I got it right this time," he added with a grin.

"What about him?"

"Are you happy dating him?"

"Yeah..."

David sighed. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Yes, sir."

"How'd you... figure out that you're gay?" David asked. "What made you think you are?"

"Well, I've never been attracted to girls," Chance answered honestly. "I tried to be, but I always liked the way guys looked, the way they sound, especially when they have a... I mean, I think I just like guys more."

"Go on, say what you were going to say."

"Well, I like guys with strong voices and... muscles..."

"So, is that your type?" David questioned.

Chance nodded, feeling uncomfortable. "Y-yeah."

"Guess that explains why you're so attracted to Zack," David mentioned. "So, you're sure you're gay?"

"Yes, I am," Chance said sadly. "Dad, I'm sorry, but I don't think I can--"

"You know," David interrupted, "I remember when you were a little cub, barely old enough to talk. There was one time you made a drawing for me. It was awful, but you ran up to me and gave it to me. Said 'happy daddy day, daddy' and I've never forgotten it." He grinned. "Looking at you now, you've really grown up from that little cub, but you're still my boy. I'm still so proud of you. And I still love you so much." He turned slightly, smiling at his son. "I might not fully understand you and we'll probably never see eye-to-eye. But I love seeing you happy. And if... If your art makes you happy, I'll get you art supplies. If that jackal--if Zack--makes you happy... Then I'll let you be with him. I hope that we can get to know him better..."

"T-thanks," Chance said, truly at a loss for words. His jaw hung open as his father turned back around.

"Close your mouth or you'll catch flies," David said. Chance closed his mouth. "Just be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Yes, sir."

"Char... Chance, I really am proud of you," David said. "And I can't wait to see your finished drawing."

His father smiled at him and for a moment Chance was caught off-guard. Perhaps it was the way the sunlight was hitting him, making his pristine white fur seem to glow. Or maybe it was the way his father was smiling at him, so purely and lovingly. Maybe it was the natural scenery and solitude that surrounded them. But somehow, Chance knew that this was it.

This was his utopia...

He flipped to a new page and began to draw.

---

"Hey, Charlie, what's going on?" Zack asked happily when he answered the phone. "How're things going with your dad?"

"Really good," Chance answered, shifting awkwardly on the couch. "How're you?"

"Doing good. Just cleaning up after dinner," Zack said. "What're you up to?"

"Just relaxing," Chance explained. "I just wondered if you were really serious about coming over for dinner on Friday."

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Okay, just need to warn you," Chance said, "that Dad's probably going to give you the third degree. Probably give you a nice, long interrogation... Just be nice, respectful and try not to get angry."

"Why would I get angry?"

"You're always angry," Chance said jokingly.

"Oh..." Zack murmured dejectedly. "I don't mean to be."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it seriously," Chance said hurriedly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"It's okay. I get it," Zack said. "I do have some... problems, I guess."

"Zack, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it."

"Don't worry about it," Zack assured him warmly.

"So, how're you doing?" Chance asked nervously. "How're your brothers doing?"

Zack hesitated. "Tristan's fine. But Seth's kind of..."

"Kind of what?"

"He's just being difficult," Zack grumbled irritably. "Something's going on with him and he won't tell me about it."

"Maybe I can talk to him," Chance offered. "Might be easier than having his big brother breathing down his neck."

"Okay," Zack said uncertainly. "Maybe I'll let you try tomorrow."

"Why not now?" Chance asked.

"He's not here," Zack explained sounding worried. "I'm actually going to go pick him up from his friend's house."

"Oh. Okay," Chance murmured. He glanced upward; David had come upstairs. "I gotta go anyway. I think Dad wants to talk to me. I'll talk to you later. Love you." The words had tumbled out before Chance had thought about them and he quickly wished he could take them back. "I mean"--he looked away from his father's intrigued and suspicious look--"well, I mean... Well, I'll catch you later."

"Don't worry about it, Charlie," Zack said with a laugh. "I'll talk to you later. Bye."

"Bye."

Chance hung up and stuffed his phone into his pocket. He looked downward as his father waited for him to speak.

"I... uh..."

"You love him?" David wondered, eyes narrowed.

"Dad, I didn't mean to say it!"

"Then why did you?" David asked. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

"No," Chance thought. Why can't you just drop it?

"You're barely sixteen," David snarled. "You don't know anything about love."

Indignation swelled in Chance and he scowled up at his father. "And you do?" Chance countered. _Stop talking, _his brain ordered.

David's face contorted in anger and rage. "What's that supposed to mean, Charles?"

"I... I didn't--" Chance stammered, eyes wide with fear.

"No, go ahead. You've got the gall to speak up, you might as well tell me what you're thinking."

"Dad, I'm sorry," Chance insisted. "I didn't mean to say that."

"You need to learn how to control your mouth," David remarked, turning. "It's going to get you in trouble one day. Your hot chocolate's downstairs."

"Okay. Dad, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, fine," David said, returning downstairs.

_ _ And everything was going so well, Chance thought miserably.

---

"Dad?" Chance murmured, joining his father downstairs. On the living room table were two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. His father was relaxing on the couch, looking into the lit fireplace, the dancing flames radiating a comforting heat into the room. David glanced over at him before pointing to the two mugs.

"Pick one."

Chance picked one and seated himself in the armchair perpendicular to the couch; it wasn't as comfortable as the couch. "Dad, I'm sorry about what I said upstairs."

"You really didn't say much of anything," David said, taking his one cup. "I'm just concerned that you might be... rushing things with Zack."

"Well, I didn't mean to say it," Chance continued on. "It was an accident. It slipped out."

David sipped from his cup. "A lot of things tend to 'slip out' of your mouth. And you never seem to mean any of them."

"I'm sorry."

"And you're always apologizing. You need to stop that," David admonished.

Chance nodded and took a sip from his mug. The drink certainly was hot and he was worried briefly that it would scald his tongue and throat, but the taste was certainly enjoyable. "This is good."

"Glad you like it," David answered. "Chance, what do you think about Zack? Do you love him?"

"I don't know," Chance confessed. "I might but I don't know. How'd you know you loved Mom?" Then, hurriedly, Chance added, "I meant Michelle."

"No you didn't," David chortled. "I knew I loved her when she and I were in college. She was a hospitality major, you know. And I was a lame business major."

"I know. And business isn't exactly lame."

David shrugged. "But we met up at a job fair. We both were looking at the same booth for a hotel that needed some new employees. We both applied, but she got the job. She certainly was charming." David grinned as he started to drift into nostalgia. "We kept in touch all through college. Eventually, she asked me out on a date to one her favorite restaurants. So, naturally, I made an ass of myself and she found it cute. At that point, I had a crush on her. But a crush isn't love."

"So, what I have is just a crush?"

"A crush, infatuation... maybe a sort of honeymoon phase where you're just happy to be in a new relationship," David noted. "Don't think it's any different for homosexual couples than it is for straight couples, is it?"

Chance shook his head and mentally noted how uncomfortable his father looked. Without a doubt, it'd take a while before he warmed up to the idea of his son being in a gay relationship. Even as David posed the question, his smile had faded slightly and his body had tensed, his grip on his cup tightening ever-so-slightly.

"Well, Elaine and I went through our honeymoon phase pretty fast," David continued. "We saw everything, did everything, went everywhere we could on our dates and we ran out of new ideas. Then again, neither of us were particularly imaginative. For a while, we had stopped going out. We weren't enemies, but we did get tired of each other after spending almost every day being around each other. But then I realized that I missed her and she missed me. And then I learned that she had to go to her father's funeral." Chance nodded, noting a new and pained tone to David's voice.

"And you went?" Chance ventured.

"I did. She told me that she was happier seeing me there than her mother," David explained, "because I knew her better. And I realized that she knew me better than anyone had. I realized I loved her when we could spend a night together, just sit beside each other, and be content. That night, we didn't say much to each other. She was grieving and I was trying to be there for her. We didn't speak much other than a small discussion about watching a movie. We watched some God-awful comedy that was so bad it was good. But we were content just being beside each other. And that's how I knew I loved her."

Chance nodded, his mind registering the word 'content'. It sounded satisfying to be in a situation like that where he could be happy just to be beside someone. Do I feel that way about Zack? About anyone?

"If you loved her so much, why'd you two break up?"

"I still loved your mother dearly," David explained. "But then she got that job on the cruise line and she was never around. I missed her and when you were born, it just made everything so difficult and strained on us both. It's not your fault," he added rapidly when Chance looked downward. "Chance, listen to me carefully. You were not at fault for us breaking up. Our marriage was strained when she took that job on that cruise. She was never around and I felt like a single parent. And then there was the crash."

Chance reached up to touch his cheek. Another scar ran across his chest and yet another over his muzzle. The scars had been there for years and he had never really thought much of them. They had become a part of him that he hardly ever thought of.

"You remember it?"

"Not really," Chance confessed.

"I'm not surprised. By the time I found out, you were already in the hospital and out of surgery," David said, sniffling. "It was the final straw. I wasn't angry at her for the accident--I knew it wasn't her fault when I heard the story. I was angry that she hadn't told me. She said she didn't want me to worry while I was at work, that I should focus on my job. When she said that, I lost it. I couldn't love her the same way anymore. I was too angry. And she was hurt. I said several things I wish I could take back. I don't regret getting angry, but I wish I had managed my anger better."

"You didn't hit her, did you?"

"Of course not!" David countered, offended. "I'd never hit her or anyone!" He thought for a moment. "Nobody that wasn't trying to hit me first."

It took a moment for Chance to realize that David was joking.

"Within two months, we divorced," David said when he realized the joke fell flat. "And the next year, you and I moved to Michigan."

"I see," Chance murmured sadly.

"Chance, you weren't responsible for our divorce," David said. "She and I were drifting apart already."

"Okay."

"Chance, the reason I want you to be careful when you say you love someone is because it's a very dangerous thing to say," David explained. "Perhaps you do love him on some level but you better be very sure you do before you say it again. If he doesn't love you back or you two break up, it'll hurt like hell. You need to be careful."

"Yes, sir."

"Drink up," David said. "And then you can show me the drawing you did on the lake." David beamed warmly at his son.

Chance nodded and smiled back, hoping it didn't look forced. He downed the his now-lukewarm drink and rushed upstairs. Nearly tripping over himself on his way back down, he sat on the couch beside his father. He flipped through his sketchbook before ending on the drawing he'd done on the lake. The lines weren't yet perfected and he still wanted to add more, but his father gently eased the sketchbook out of his son's paws, jaw dropping at what he saw.

"Is that me and you?" he mused.

Chance nodded. "You know, there's going to be an art show at school. And the theme is utopia."

David nodded. "Is this your utopia?"

"I think it might be."