Mile Marker 84, Pt. 2
Author's Note: This story is a work of furry fiction containing sexual acts between two male characters. If this squicks you, you're free to leave. Otherwise, enjoy to your heart's content.
Feedback welcome to [email protected]
Mile Marker 84 ©MMIII Whyte Yoté
PART TWO OF TWO: GIVEN
It always seems like the people with the most interesting lives never seem to know just how interesting they are, until someone else tells them so. One person's opinion of their life is relative to all else; you go through what you go through, and you accept it as normal. But sometimes it shocks me the reactions I get when the topic comes up in conversation, which is fortunately rare.
I never thought of my life, until now at least, as more than a series of events (and a lot of bullshit) through which I had to struggle. And I certainly didn't think I would be on the road, with less than ten dollars in my pocket, trying to thumb a ride to the Pacific coast. Personally, I'd rather be sunning myself on Miami Beach, but it's just not an option right now. Life can suck sometimes, but the good times outweigh the bad.
I like to hold on to the good stuff. Some of it I take with me on my back, but most of it I carry in my head-the memories, bits and pieces of pictures and feelings no camera could ever reproduce. I think over them while I walk, when I have to. They keep me occupied, but more importantly, they keep me young. Granted, I'm only 20, but I intend to get old as slowly as possible.
There's been plenty of time to think since my Walkman died just outside of Nashville. As soon as I get to the coast and make some money, the first thing I'll buy will be a new Walkman. Music fuels the soul: go too long without it, and you start to fade. I was so excited to hear my favorite song in that truck I literally couldn't help myself. But, I'm skipping ahead.
I've been en route for about four months now. Four months since that sun-soaked morning when I kicked back the Egyptian-cotton sheets on our bed and knew something was terribly wrong. I have the uncanny ability to sense doom, and that day I wished to God I was wrong. It wasn't until two weeks later, when the last of my cash ran dry, that I finally realized I had to make a plan. Where was I going, how would I get there, and would I get there at all?
I was pretty bummed out when I got to Missouri. Rides had been plentiful but short, and it seemed people just stopped caring once I crossed the Mississippi. Going on three weeks without a single ride, autumn was coming on fast and I wasn't about to be caught in the middle of the country homeless. At least in California you don't have to worry about freezing your tail off.
It's not as safe as it used to be to ride the roads in this country. But the fact still remains that if you meet enough people, you'll click with them, be it striking up a conversation or sharing past relationships. Oddly enough, I hadn't hitched with a single trucker until the 21st day, when a certain ursine screeched to a halt just past me.
What they say about other people's lives being interesting is true, for the most part. Even if the life is relatively "boring" by normal standards, it's the sharing and comparing that make it interesting. In fact, that very act of sharing turned out to mean more than just an exchange of words. Sometimes words just don't cut it, you know? Actions speak louder.
* * *
In East St. Louis, it's easy to lose yourself, and all you are. Very few places have the distinct ability to suck the energy from your mind and body, and literally make you drunk with dullness. I had settled into the same routine every day for 20 days-get up, try to hitch, hit the market for a light (snatched) lunch, try to hitch, saunter over to the shelter for a handout dinner, come back to try hitching until I could no longer stand. Then I would climb up into the nearest overpass and hunker down for the night, always listening for the gangs. In the morning I would move one exit further down the road.
On the 21st day I almost didn't try to hitch. The night before I had been cornered by a group of teenagers, who figured me out and decided to beat me up for being queer. I'm lucky I hid my backpack, or else I would have absolutely nothing left of Carter. Except the ring, of course.
I made a short day of it, and was just sitting on the edge of the triangle of grass formed by the interstate and an off ramp, not able to muster the energy to thumb at cars but making a feeble attempt anyway. I really didn't want to move at all. It would just serve to further grind the road dust into my fur. Laying with my head propped up on my backpack, I could see the oncoming traffic as it sped by me, creating gusts of wind and exhaust.
I didn't even see the truck approaching. I heard it first as a new sound rising from the din, a giant gush of air followed by the screech of 18 tires at once. At first it didn't register, but then I rolled onto my knees facing backwards just in time to see the semi trailer grind to a stop, skidding sideways a little onto the grassy shoulder just before the overpass. Then just silence and the heavy idle of the diesel engine as he waited.
"Holy shit. Holy shit!" I murmured as I grabbed my backpack and sprinted the 300 feet or so to the cab, walking the length of the truck to catch my breath. I don't know how long I stood, staring in disbelief at the running board, but a booming voice dragged me to reality.
"It's open!" Came through the window.
Reaching on my tiptoes, I managed to flip the door handle and swung the door open. I could barely see above the passenger's seat. All I saw was the top of the trucker's shaggy brown head. "Did you stop for me?" I pulled myself up onto the running board, to see the trucker's face. He smiled broadly.
"Do you see anybody else in this slum wanting a ride, buddy? Hop in, I don't want to sit too long."
Unbelievable. All of a sudden it didn't seem like I had been in this town for three weeks, and there was a split-second there when I wanted to look back over my shoulder, as if to say goodbye. That didn't last long. I had my ticket out, and I wasn't about to give it up. "Wow! Thanks, man! I thought nobody would stop." I had no sooner plopped myself down into the huge leather chair when those brakes whooshed again and we jolted forward. That's all there was, until I was settled and comfortable.
"So, kid, what's your name? Can't have a decent conversation without knowin' your name." I sighed and rolled my eyes. Why did every conversation have to begin with names? Are they so important that speech somehow can't continue without them having been stated? The last time someone asked my name, I ended up getting kicked out of my own house. Well, he was giving me ride. If that's what it took...
"Name's Tain. And I'm not a kid, either. I'm 20. What's your name, Pops?" I looked over at him, really seeing him for the first time. He didn't look too old, I guess not the "Pops" type. Too late. He was pretty big, but not fat-big. More of the husky/bouncer type, with a plain black T-shirt and jeans, and a big leather belt with an even bigger silver buckle. Two bands on his left ring finger, one slightly more tarnished than the other, but I didn't get a married vibe from him.
"You can call me Sam. And I'm not a father. I'm 43." He does look young, I thought. "Are we even with the insults now? I don't mean to pry, but it's just something you ask a guy you're giving a free ride to. Nothing personal."
Here I was, 15 minutes into the ride, and already blowing it for myself. Stupid! "I'm sorry, sir. I don't mean to be snappy, it's just that I've been in St. Louis too long and...well...things happen to you to make you bitter, you know? I really am happy you picked me up, though. Where are you headed?" I asked, not really caring as long as it was west.
Sam turned back to the road and said, "Well, right now we're headed to Denver. At least that's where I plan to spend tonight. Ultimately, I'll end up in San Francisco. When I heard those words, my jaw practically went through the floor. "That's when I-what?" The bear turned to face me, with an eyebrow raised.
I couldn't believe my pure luck. It was all I could do to keep from screaming at him. "Really? Oh my God, you're going to Frisco? This-this is great! I can't be-I can't-wow!" I would have hugged him if I hadn't been buckled in. My happiness waned a little when I saw his face, though. He was going to tell me something I didn't want to hear.
"Look, Tain. I can only take you as far as Denver. It's a rule I have, and I need to enforce it. I don't sleep with my riders. I mean, I don't take them into motels with me. Long story, but I can't get you to San Francisco. You understand."
But I didn't. This was going to be just like all the other hitches, except just a little longer than most of the others. They always had to drop me off too soon, like too long with me would make them uncomfortable. My only ticket straight to the coast, and I couldn't get there. I tried my line: "Oh. Maybe-maybe I could help you do stuff, like checking tires or getting gas. I don't want to be a freeloader, but I don't have much cash. I can't pay you, but I can work for it. Why won't you take me to California?" I was honestly afraid of what his answer might be.
"It's not that. It's just that this one time, when I first got this job, I took a rider who was in exactly the same situation as you are in right now. She asked to stay the night, and I agreed. I got us a room with one bed, to save a little cash, and I slept on the floor. There was nothing intimate about it, but the motel manager called the police and reported me as a rapist or something. The cops came, arrested me and found out the girl was underage. Better yet, she had been raped the night before, just not by me. I was in jail for eight weeks, until the forensics spoke for themselves and I was let go. So you see, I just don't do it anymore, as a matter of principle. Not that you would sleep with me, and you're not a minor, but rules are rules."
Well, at least it was a good reason. I've been kicked out of cars for worse things. Still, what could I do to make him know where I was coming from? "Yeah, I understand. I don't know why I freaked out so much anyway. Sometimes I want to get there so fast, but I still have time to spare before-well, I just have time."
"Time before what?"
I realized I had almost blurted out something I shouldn't have. Sam already knew about Carter, but he didn't know about me. Even I wasn't sure yet, but until I could get some money I couldn't get tested. Either way, I had enough time, but the trucker didn't need to worry any more than necessary. People always worry too much. "Oh, nothing. Never mind." I changed the subject by surfing through the radio stations until I found one I liked. I sat back and relaxed, and so did Sam.
I didn't realize how tired I was until the music from the tinny speakers began to melt together into a smooth cacophony of sound. It was nice, like falling into a bunch of blankets made out of different materials.
My mind drifted back to the past, like it always does when I have time to think. Of Carter, the first and only love of my life, so far. He had acting talent, and he made a pretty good drag queen. He was a wolf, but shorter than most others, which made him all the more convincing. He spent almost all his money on custom-made outfits, in bright colors with thousands of sequins and huge feathered headdresses. The gaudier, the better, he would say.
He kept telling me I had what it takes too, but I never believed him or tried it. One time, he made me practice one of his favorites with him, just to see how I did. He would stand behind me, guiding my arms and head in the delicate, sensual motions of his performance, all the while whispering encouragement into my ears.
At first I was afraid, I was petrified...
Brought each hand up to my face and floated them away, as if on waves...
...kept thinking I could never live without you by my side...
Raised both arms behind and around to the front, palms out, fingers spread...
...but then I spent so many nights thinking how you done me wrong, and I grew strong...
Balled my hands into fists at my hips and brought them, shaking, up to my shoulders...
...and I learned how to get along, and so your back...
The rest came easily, once the first beat was laid down on the floor. We would sashay around the living room, mimicking each other, seeing who could pull it off better. Carter almost always won, but sometimes I did. I'm still not sure he didn't let me, though.
Now, that wonderful song, full of nostalgia and sweet memories, drifted into my unconscious mind and I complied, raising my arms out in front of me, twirling them, bringing them back in like Carter showed me. I could practically feel his warmth behind me, wrapped around my back and guiding my every step. Eventually I realized the song was ending, much faster than I wanted it to. Gloria swept into the last refrain and began to fade, taking the music with her. So did Carter, and I came down to rest back into a light slumber, smiling to myself. That's when it all fell apart.
"Bravo. How long have you practiced that?" The words registered in my head, but it took me the better part of a second to figure out who had said them and why. All at once I stiffened, my heart having sunk into the pit of my gut. I opened my eyes and looked out at the road, zooming by outside the glass. How could I have been so stupid as to let myself slide like that? He had to know now, as if that would make things better. I tried to hide my slipping emotions from Sam, but that was strike two.
"Where'd you get the ring?" Something I also had forgotten was my commitment ring from Carter, left on my middle finger out of habit and (more likely) love. I couldn't breathe. Feeling sick and claustrophobic, I had to put my hand down and give myself some room. The damage was already done.
"I just want to know where you got it. At a store somewhere? Or maybe a boy...boyfriend? Just asking." I had to choke back tears, but I wasn't succeeding. I figured it wouldn't hurt, being as he would pull over within the next 10 miles or so to let me hitch with some other straight sap.
"Yes. It-it was a boyfriend who gave this to me. He was my first crush. We went together for three years. He was positive, and he died of AIDS. No one knew that he had it, not even me. He left it to me in his will, as a memory of himself. Goddamn bastard could've at least told me he was sick. Nice sob story, huh? That's why I'm on the road. You can just, uh...let me off anytime, at the nearest town so I can get something to eat."
Sam just looked at me, his brow furrowed. "Like I told you, kid, I'll take you a day's journey closer to Frisco. Why would I throw you out now, after you've been such good company to me? Maybe, after all, I could use some interesting conversation, all the way to the coast even."
Well, that threw me completely off. This was definitely a first: a driver who didn't want to convert, kill, or lecture to me but just wanted some company. Suddenly it dawned on me that the fact I was gay had no effect on him at all. It was overwhelming, to finally see someone who didn't give a shit. All I could do was stare forward. But then, I had to make sure: "So, you know I'm gay?"
"I'm surprised it took me as long as it did to figure out you're a fag-oh, jeez, I'm sorry. Stupid outdated family values that won't go away. Please don't be offended. I'm not as closed-minded as you think." I didn't think he was closed-minded at all, just not used to being so close to "one of us".
"I've had worse. Besides, just because you call me names doesn't mean you're a bigot. I like hearing about people's pasts. What makes them, them. Just being the way I am requires an open mind. Otherwise, I'm no better than the Jerry Falwells of this world." Sam looked over at me and our eyes met. I knew we were coming from the same place.
"Well spoken. You sound like you've had a time of it. Care to share? You tell your story, I'll tell mine. Whaddya say?"
* * *
"Like I said, it was about four years ago that I met Carter. My boyfriend, I mean. I was sixteen, he was eighteen, and we hit it off right away. Up until then I had been going to clubs every Friday night for a long time. After we met, neither of us had interest in that anymore, so we both focused on our careers and each other and concentrated on getting a place to stay together.
"We were in Ohio for about a year and a half. Carter got transferred to Key West, of all places. So we took the opportunity and bought a little cottage on the Keys along the highway. It was so perfect. We both had jobs, although he probably made three times as much as I did.
"Another year passed without a hitch, and on the third anniversary of our first date, he proposed to me. Jesus Christ, I was only 19, but I accepted. I later learned he wanted to seal our bond before he died, for legal purposes. We never got to do that, because six months later he just...he just died in his sleep. I woke up one morning and he wasn't in the room. He was on the lanai, curled up in blankets, just silent." I took a breath. I always hate reliving that, always will.
"You know I called the ambulance and everything, but of course there was nothing anyone could do. That was a bad day. Carter's family came down to pick up his stuff, and I couldn't afford the rent by myself. The kicker was, none of them knew about us. None of 'em even knew Carter was gay! Needless to say, they were horrified and wouldn't let me even come close to the property, even though it was half-mine. They were the ones with the money and the lawyers.
"What followed was a financial and legal mess that I couldn't win. I had no representation, no extra cash, and no place to live. Basically, I had to just pick up what little belonged to me and start hitching. I decided to head to San Francisco to see if I could shack up with someone, anyone there for a while. Four months later, I'm trying to get out of East St. Louis and you pick me up. That's kind of an extremely abbreviated story of my life, at least the part that matters. What about you?"
Sam just sat driving, his mouth hung open like he didn't know what to say. This is where everybody says they're so sorry, they know how I must feel, and don't mean it. People are so transparent. Yeah, my life's had a few more twists and turns than normal, but it's become so much a part of me that I don't notice anymore.
"I'm afraid I'm a pretty boring person," the big bear began. "Born in Nebraska, married my high school sweetheart at 18, divorced at 20, started driving the truck, married again at 27, wife wanted to have kids and I didn't, divorced at 34, been on the road ever since. I've always been happier as a single, alone on the road, with my radio and CB to keep me company. But my life pales in comparison to yours. If I may get a little personal...do all gay people lead such unpredictable, complex, unstable lives? Probably a stupid question, but it's all I know."
I had to laugh out loud a little at this: "No, of course not. Carter and I were an exception. I said before that our relationship was near-perfect for the most part. I just still don't know why he didn't tell me he was sick. He made a journal of his private thoughts, so I could read them after he was gone. That was another thing he willed to me. That's too long a story to tell, but I know he wasn't doing cocktails for it."
"I'm sorry, cocktails?"
"Oh." I had forgotten that not everyone is savvy in AIDS-speak. "Well, that's a term for the bunches of pills positive people have to take to keep themselves healthy and lengthen their lifespan. It's a virtual chemical cocktail, ranging from seven to more than 20 pills a day. Really expensive, too. Carter knew the pharmacist bills and doctor visits would tip me off, but he didn't want to worry me. I just wonder how many years we could have had if he were taking medication."
The trucker put a big hand on my shoulder. "You know kid, you can play the 'what if' game all you want, but all you're gonna come back to are the same things you left. The facts won't change, and hindsight is always 20/20."
I knew he spoke from experience; all I had to do was look at that weathered face, the speckles of grey beginning to show at the end of his muzzle. "Yeah, you're right. I am moving on, it's just taking a lot longer than I want it to. I'll be better when I'm better, I guess."
"That's right. After a while you just stop trying to control every aspect of your own life and just let things flow by themselves. It feels more natural."
"Hmm..."
"I'm sure you'll find something and someone in San Fran. It's a big city. I can see a lot of possibilities, especially with the strong community over there. You guys look out for each other, don't you?"
I smiled, prouder than ever. "That we do. It's just weird, you know? What if I do find someone? What if we hook up? I could stand the company, but I don't know if I'll be able to rebound. I don't use people, never will. Not on purpose, at least." I started to wonder who I would meet, and if I would be able feel the same way with him as I had with Carter. Boy, could that wolf give head...
"...look. People need people. It's just a natural thing to want to be with someone else. Give yourself some credit, Tain. You know yourself better than anyone. You can determine if you're right with somebody." All of a sudden, I was being prodded away from my dream. "What was that all about?"
"Oh, um...I was just thinking of Carter. I do that a lot. I was thinking about how he used to-" WHOA! What had I almost done? Just the thought of another long, hot Florida night with him got me so excited I couldn't stop talking about it. Well, if Sam was okay with everything up until now, he wouldn't care about a little more. "Carter...he had the best tongue, to be perfectly honest. It was so long, and he really knew how to use it. He gave the best oral I've ever had in my life. We sixty-nined a lot, but I could never match his pace. I never lasted long." I squirmed in my seat, feeling nasty and good at the same time for having shared something so personal with an almost complete stranger.
Sam, in the meantime, was having a hard time taking in all that I'd said. I could see he wasn't used to hearing about gay sex all the time, but he relaxed a bit. "I think I know what you mean. When I was married to my first wife, I had this little affair on the side. It started innocently enough. She was my waitress at a bar one night, she started flirting, and I wanted to see how far it got. In a nutshell, we ended up fucking at her house like wild animals. This girl knew how to use her mouth, too. She could take me in all the way to the sheath without gagging, and I still don't know how that's possible."
I huffed, remembering the countless times I had given head in my life thus far. Any chick can deep-throat, but it takes a special man to learn the same. "I can do that too." Oops. Me and my big mouth, no pun intended.
"You can do what, again?"
I had already gotten myself in too deep, not to mention horny as hell. I shifted in my seat and readjusted. Clearing my throat, I said, "After a while, you lose your gag reflex, so you can take a cock all the way down your throat without feeling like throwing up. It takes practice, but eventually it's possible." I decided to push my luck even further, fearing the result but nonetheless the words came. "I...I can show you, uh...if you want."
I could tell Sam was uncomfortable, but whether it was from my offer to blow him or the obvious bulge in his jeans I didn't know. I stared forward, my own coonhood pulsing between my legs. It seemed like forever the cab was silent, save for the sound of the wind rushing outside. When the bear spoke, it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself: "Look, Tain. I don't do that, alright? If that's all you want, then maybe I shouldn't take you to the coast. Maybe this was all a mistake, some huge mess in the making. How long did it take you to think this up, anyway? And what possessed you to think someone like me would fall for it?" He could never be the "Pops" type.
"It's not made up. You asked me to tell you my story, and I did. I'm sorry about bringing up Carter, but I like to think about all the things we did together. How I felt so close to him. How he made me feel more alive, and wanted. It's just that I'm horny, you're horny, and we both need to get off. Simple: you have the dick, I have the mouth, and don't you tell me you've never gotten hard around a hitchhiker. In this part of the country, I imagine it's common. I can smell the arousal on you. Another gay trick of mine."
"Shit." Sam looked older than ever as he sagged in his chair. I felt a little sorry for him, but I was only trying to help. If he didn't want me to, I wouldn't do it. But both of us would be more uncomfortable for the rest of the trip if I didn't. "You're right. I've had more chicks on my lap than I can count, and none of them got me as hard as I am right now."
"I know, the forbidden factor. It's so risqué, so taboo, it makes it all the more stimulating." He was having a difficult time dealing with it. "Come on, Sam. Since you're taking me all the way to California, it's the least I can do. Besides, we're just about halfway to Denver. This will get us over the hump. I'm hard too, you know. With or without you, I'm going to get my release, even if I have to go in the back and shoot out the window. But that's the high road. Do it for me, if not for yourself."
Sam shook his big head, smiling a little, like he couldn't believe what he was doing. "Alright, kid. Do what you have to do, but don't expect me to reciprocate. I told you, I don't do that."
"I don't expect shit. I can take care of myself. Now just keep driving." The trucker sighed jaggedly, building himself some courage. It looked so silly. I couldn't wait to get free. I unbelted myself and slid over between the chairs. I had to let myself go, and it felt wonderful to have my semi-erection out in the open. "Oh, God. Much better."
The arousal coming from Sam's crotch was almost overpowering. Propping myself up a little more, I took a long smell. That was something I hadn't had in a while. Nothing like the scent of male. I went full force, opening his jeans and encasing his cotton-covered sheath in my mouth, licking at it through his briefs. Already his chest was moving faster, and I knew he was liking this even though he was straight.
The formalities were over. In a matter of seconds the pants came down, and the ursine member lay inches from my mouth, dripping in anticipation. I'd had bigger, but this would do just fine.
"What's wrong?" asked Sam. He looked hurt.
"Oh, nothing. It's very nice, very big. This will be a piece of cake. Just don't kill us when you come, okay?"
"I'll try not to," he chuckled, then gasped again when I took his bearhood in my hand and squeezed it up and down, then started stroking. This wouldn't take long, and I intended to make the most of it. After a few minutes, his cock was hard enough, so I took a breath and dived into his crotch. I took most of it into my muzzle on the first try, and smiled to myself when I heard Sam moan helplessly above my head. His heart beat crazily through his member, and I traced a vein with the tip of my tongue.
The bear's legs rose and reluctantly kept his eyes on the road. My free hand wandered over his thigh for a moment, then found its way back into the tight jeans. Massaging his balls with the palm, my fingers reached further down under the sac towards his tailhole. I thought as long as this was a new experience for him, I might as well add a little bit extra. I felt a weight on my neck, and knew it was his hand, gentle at first but increasingly forceful, petting and rubbing behind my ears, urging me to finish him off. I was more than happy to.
"Fuck, just do it, just fuckin' do it kid..." It becomes unclear at this point exactly what happened when, because we were both sweating and my eyes were closed. The only thing I could hear were Sam's heavy breathing above me and the small, wet noises coming from my own muzzle. My finger slid easily into his furnace of a tailhole, and the resulting jerk of his cock told me he was ready to come.
A second finger joined the first and I hooked both around his prostate and held still, knowing I didn't have anything more to do. Sam humped weakly into my mouth, letting out ragged gasps of air. Eventually he swelled against my teeth and several copious shots of bearcome slid down my throat. I let my tongue push the rest out like a tube of toothpaste and slowly lifted my head from his crotch. I licked my lips and detected a strong aftertaste of coffee and greasy-spoon Americana in his seed. It was kind of like walking into somebody's house and knowing everything about that person by the aroma permeated into their life.
I looked over at Sam. He looked like a train wreck, sweat-soaked and ruffled. "So, was that as good as some of your girls?"
He stared incredulously back. "Are you kidding me? None of my female passengers could take me all the way in, let alone shove their fingers up my ass! That thing you did just now is unparalleled in my book."
I knew he wouldn't be disappointed. "Like I told you, it's a developed skill. Glad to be of service, at least." I had almost forgotten my own aching member, which by now was painfully screaming from my shorts. "Sam, do you have a towel?
"Sure, in the back. What do you need it for?"
"Oh, nothing. Just have to take care of this." Grabbing the towel from the back bench, I reclined and started pawing myself right in front of him. I've always been kind of an exhibitionist, and letting Sam watch me was just the fuel I needed. All too soon I had shot all over myself, and I cleaned it up as best I could. One bad thing about cum on fur: it's hard to wash out.
"Looks like you've gotten a lot of practice," said Sam.
"Twice a day, every day since I was eight. That's...four thousand six hundred forty-seven times." Wow. It was the first time I had taken the time to count. "It's a lot when you think about it that way, I guess."
"Christ, I think you would be pretty sore from that."
"You get used to it. Moderation is the key," I joked. Sam paused for a moment, a huge smile forming on his face. All of a sudden he was giggling like a little boy, something that seemed so out of place with the truck, the situation, everything. I couldn't help but laugh too. It was one of those moments when you find a real connection, on so many levels, with someone, and all the differences between us faded away with the setting sun on the west horizon.
* * *
Conversation was, weirdly enough, much easier once we had both cooled off. What I had done, somehow, had brought Sam out into the open much more than he had been before. The fatherly nature of his voice was gone, as was the underlying tension I always knew was there, lying just behind his eyes. He asked me what I planned to do when I got to California, but I couldn't tell him much. In fact, I really had no plans at all. Just get off on some street and make my way. He seemed concerned when I told him that, and it made me feel better to be looked after a little.
That lasted an hour or so, then we both felt too pooped to keep it going. Once again I drifted off to sleep, fortunately with no radio to make me do embarrassing things. It was a light sleep, the kind where you can still hear all the noises in the vehicle, but you're still out, and how just a slight deceleration will pull you back into reality. When I opened my eyes, it was dark out and the truck was pulling off the interstate. A couple tight turns later and we were in front of a small motel, looking run-down but clean.
"Is this it?"
"That's it. Had the same room every week for the past 20 years or so. Kind of like a second home. Wait here, I'll go get the keys." He slid out of the cab, and I did the same, walking the numbness out of my legs. After a couple of minutes, I went back for my backpack and decided to lug Sam's heavy suitcase in with me as long as I could reach it. It had to weigh 40 pounds or more, and the wheels didn't roll on the coarse gravel lot, but I pulled it hard and thrust it into the lobby in front of me with a low grunt.
"Where's our room? Hopefully on the first floor?" I said, looking at the trucker and the heavyset woman behind the counter. She looked me up and down, and her eyes widened. She looked back at Sam, who was trying not to look exasperated. Clearly, I had missed some important conversation, but their faces told me all I needed to know.
"Just give me the damn keys," the bear said. The woman complied quickly, giggling the whole time.
The room was just down the hall, thankfully on the ground floor, and once the door was opened I jumped onto the bed, enjoying the comfort of a real mattress for once in a long while. Sam was still in the doorway. "I'll have to go out and get some blankets. You do whatever you want."
"Blankets? What for? It's like 80 degrees in here!"
"Well, you can take the bed, and I'll sleep on the floor. Done it a million times in the truck," he said matter-of-factly. I couldn't believe what he was saying. It was very graceful, sure, but he deserved the bed.
"Nonsense. I'm the hitcher, so I'll take the floor. Better yet, why don't we both sleep in the bed? I don't take up much room, and I don't snore."
"Tain, I-that is, er..." Sam hesitated, head lowered. He was deep in thought for a moment, and when he looked up, grinning, the light had come back into his eyes. He was glad for me, I could see, and I was flattered. "You win, Tain. I get the bathroom first, since I'm the dirtiest." Dusty as I felt, I couldn't disagree with him on that point.
"Fine with me. I'll turn the bed down and find something on TV. Sam-" One final check "Are you fine with this? I mean, I don't want to impose." Don't want to make you think I'm in love with you was what I wanted to say, but how bad would that have sounded? Besides, it wasn't true.
"Don't mention it. What's the worst that could happen?" he said lightheartedly, and turned back into the bathroom without locking the door. For a split-second I felt just like I had when Carter was alive, how we knew so much about each other and trusted each other to the point we didn't even lock the bathroom door. I found myself achingly alone, and as I lay on the bed tears ran down the sides of my face, up into my ears. I sat up and shook them off.
I was certain sure that nothing could ever come of this relationship, simply because of the fact Sam was still attracted to women. And I, of all people, know you can't convert a straight guy any more than the other way around. Then why did I feel so good? I couldn't think about it, not too hard.
Suddenly I remembered something Carter had said to me shortly before we had moved to Florida. After the initial mad celebration when he told me he had been transferred, I kept asking him how it was possible, because the week before he had almost been fired.
How coincidental is that, Carter?
Not coincidence, love. Providence, maybe, but never coincidence. If you try to figure it out, you'll hurt your head. Just take things as they come, and don't look a gift-horse in the mouth. Not ever.
He was right. That uppity, opinionated, gorgeous wolf was right. I looked back at the TV, where a meteorologist was blabbing something about some hurricane somewhere. It all seemed trivial now, and I turned it off. I lay back again, listening to the water running in the bathroom and counting the little mounds of spackle on the ceiling. They were like stars, or blessings. How many different forces had conspired to bring us together, on this day, at that interchange? I caught myself, and quit trying to justify it realistically.
Because in the end, nothing ever happens without a reason.
Not ever.
~FIN~pt. 2
9-13-03