Chapter Twenty-Four
Simon stayed. They didn’t talk about their future or his family or even Mike fucking Burgess and his library-ruining ways. They watched movies and petted the dog and ate popcorn, and then, when the rain had subsided to a drizzle, they climbed into bed. They didn’t make love—Elliott didn’t have the energy for it. But they held each other all night, and in some ways that was even better.
On Tuesday morning, Simon woke up early and, while Elliott was still meandering blearily around the kitchen, cleaned up the mess in the front yard. When Simon came inside, he kissed Elliott on the cheek and told him to relax. “I’m taking Ishtar for a walk. We’ll stop by my house so I can grab a change of clothes.”
Ishtar, of course, started dancing as soon as she heard the w word, and she pranced out the front door with Simon, not even sparing a glance for the abandoned Elliott.
Actually, Elliott didn’t mind staying home. He felt as if he were recovering from an illness—weak and wobbly, his brain unreliable in its focus. Nevertheless, he managed to clean up the breakfast dishes and shower and shave and then grade a few student assignments. Accurately, he hoped. He didn’t like looking out the front window at the absence of his library—the jagged stump like a rotten tooth—so he sat in the kitchen and looked out back instead. The sky was steel colored, but the ground had dried.
He was beginning to wonder whether Simon had abandoned him and kidnapped his dog when the two of them returned. Ishtar tracked muddy footprints over the wood floors, but Simon remained in the entryway, smiling. “Get your shoes and coat.”
“Why?”
Simon didn’t answer. He just stood there with a sneaky, slightly infuriating little grin that somehow felt like a warm embrace. Because of that, Elliott didn’t put much effort into his glare, and he obeyed quickly.
Wherever they were going, it involved Ishtar. She got to ride in the back seat of Simon’s truck, which clearly made this a red-letter day for her. She lounged across the bench seat happily, sometimes moving forward to poke her nose at Simon’s or Elliott’s shoulder. “We need to get her a doggy seat belt,” said Simon after they’d gone a few blocks. “Safer.”
“Is that where we’re going? The pet store?” Elliott wouldn’t mind that. It would be a fun little outing.
“Nope.”
Since Simon was obviously not going to divulge his plans—and he looked damn smug about it too—Elliott changed his conversational tack. “You’re growing your beard back.” He’d noticed at some point the previous day but hadn’t mentioned it.
Simon ran a palm over the stubble. “Yeah. You mind?”
“I like your beard. I like you clean-shaven. I like you any way I can get you.”
“Yeah?” Simon glanced away from the road long enough to flash him a smile. “That’s a good thing to know.”
“You handled that thing yesterday really well. Handled me, I mean. Burgess too.”
“That used to be my job. Someone took a shot at me only once, so that’s a pretty good track record.”
Elliott shuddered. “What if that bullet had hit you somewhere else? What if—”
“What if, what if. Look, if I hadn’t been shot, I wouldn’t have been walking past your house. I wouldn’t have known about your library, and we would’ve never met. I’d take a bullet a dozen times over if it meant meeting you.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Elliott muttered. He took Simon’s hand in his.
After several minutes of driving, it became clear they were heading for the foothills. “Columbia?” asked Elliott.
“Nope.”
The fall had been wet enough that the rolling hills past Oakdale were beginning to turn green. They made a pretty sight beneath the sky, which had lightened to an ashy shade. If Elliott had possessed any artistic talent, he might have painted this landscape. Or hell, sap that he was, he’d paint Simon standing tall and strong with happiness shining from his eyes.
“Babb and Calvillo didn’t freak out,” said Simon as he rounded a curve. Oak trees grew here, branches now mostly bare, cows standing around their trunks.
“Well, I probably wasn’t the scariest bad guy they’ve ever faced.”
Simon poked Elliott’s leg. “About me, I mean. About us.”
“Did you expect them to?”
“I don’t know. Neither of them ever struck me as a bigot, but I guess at some level I sort of expect everyone to reject me. Except you.”
“Not everyone will.”
“Yeah.” Then Simon’s expression brightened. “Miri’s been texting me a lot. I guess she’s been doing covert efforts on my behalf. A lot of our cousins are on my side, she says. She’s working on my parents.”
“Will she win them over?”
Simon shrugged. “One of those books I borrowed from you had advice on coming out to family. I’ve known for a long time that I’m gay, but Mom and Dad had to suddenly confront it head-on. I’m supposed to give them time.”
“Sounds like good advice.” It was consistent with Elliott’s own experiences, in fact.
“Probably. Of course, that author doesn’t know my parents.”
Elliott squeezed Simon’s leg. “But your parents seem like fundamentally good people. And they love you.”
“Yeah,” Simon responded with a sigh.
They reached Jamestown, another former gold rush town that now boasted a few thousand residents and a small main street with historic buildings. But Simon bypassed downtown—apparently antiquing was not on the agenda—and instead turned onto a side street a few blocks away. Elliott laughed when he became aware of their destination. “Railtown?”
Simon pulled the truck into a parking spot in front of the park. “We had fun with the trains in Sacramento, so I thought we could visit these too. It’s okay?”
“Sure.”
Ishtar also liked the idea. They took turns holding her leash, and she tugged them around the park, sniffing at everything. She was especially taken with some of the greasier chunks of old metal that had once been train parts. Elliott and Simon let her explore freely. They had the place almost to themselves, and the couple of volunteers on site just gave them friendly waves.
“Too bad it’s not a weekend,” Simon said. “Then we could do a train ride. They even allow dogs—I checked. I wonder if Ish has ever ridden behind a steam locomotive before.”
“Seems doubtful.”
A while later, they stopped to read a sign about the movies and TV shows that had been filmed at this location. “High Noon,” Elliott said. “I could go for that. Want to watch it when we get back? Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly.”
“The lawman resigns and runs off with his true love. Sure—I’m up for it.”
Elliott hadn’t thought of it that way.
They sat on a bench near the roundhouse, where Ishtar nosed at anthills before lying down at their feet. She perked her ears whenever a crow called from a tree nearby. Elliott cleared his throat. “You were mad at me. Before Burgess pulled this shit, I mean.”
“I don’t know if ‘mad’ is the right word for it. Frustrated?”
“No, you were angry at me, and that was justifiable. I’d made things fall out of balance between us.”
Shaking his head, Simon stroked Ishtar’s flank with his shoe. “It wasn’t really your fault. It was just life. We make choices and sometimes shit happens. I needed some space to remind myself of that, you know?”
“What would you have done if I hadn’t texted you yesterday? Would you have stayed away?”
“No.” Simon’s deep chuckle warmed Elliott. “I’d already almost come over about a thousand times.”
“But nothing’s changed, has it? We’re still imbalanced.”
“I guess so. But when my stupid knee fucks with my balance, I keep on walking. I might be slower, but I get where I intended to go.”
Elliott joined him in petting Ishtar. Keep on walking. Sounded simple enough. The real question was where he wanted to end up. Maybe instead of limping along to nowhere, he ought to change the destination.
They spent a couple of hours at Railtown, wandering slowly and chatting aimlessly, until Elliott noticed that Simon’s limp was getting more pronounced. “Want me to fetch your cane?” he asked, hoping Simon had thought to bring it.
“How about if we take off and find something to eat instead?”
They drove a few miles farther uphill into Sonora and parked downtown. Since Ishtar was with them, they couldn’t eat inside a restaurant, so Elliott and Ishtar sat on a bench outside a burger place while Simon went in to order. Fifteen minutes later, they had a bag full of food. After rejecting the idea of eating in a little city park, they returned to the truck and ate there. The meal was messy and delicious, and Ishtar got more than her share.
After they collected all the napkins and wrappers and shoved them in the bag, Simon hopped out of the truck to throw the bag away in a nearby trash can. He checked his phone and texted someone, it looked like.
“Ready to head back to the valley?” he asked once he was inside.
“Yeah. Thanks, Si. This outing was a good thing.”
Simon leaned in close and they kissed, onion breath and all.
As they drove downhill, Elliott felt oddly at peace. What if his life could be like this forever? Spending some time with online classes, a little more time with his books and research, and then hanging out with Simon. Day trips to the mountains or the coast, maybe a long weekend now and then somewhere farther away. That wasn’t what he’d dreamed of when he’d been laboring over his dissertation, and it certainly wasn’t the existence John used to promise him.
Perhaps this dream was better. It certainly offered a new destination.
They held hands most of the way home, like high school sweethearts or newlyweds, and Simon tuned the radio to NPR because he knew Elliott preferred it to music. Far to the west, on the other side of the valley, the sun was breaking through the clouds, sending beams of light like messages from the heavens. Elliott hadn’t made any decisions, yet he felt as drowsy and content as Ishtar, who was fast asleep on the back seat.
An hour or so of light remained as they reached their neighborhood. Elliott hadn’t run that day; maybe he’d get in a quick jog before night fell.
Then Simon turned the corner onto Elliott’s street, and Elliott’s breath caught in his chest.
A crowd covered his front lawn. Anna and Ladd stood there in matching blue jackets, and Kyle was next to them. Miri was there too, and her brother Ashur, along with a gaggle of younger Odishos Elliott recognized from Thanksgiving but couldn’t name. Melanie the Girl Scout was there, and her parents, and some of the neighbors who’d frequented the library. Probably close to thirty people in all, and every one of them was smiling and waving.
Right in the middle of the crowd was a new miniature neighborhood library. Only it wasn’t actually all that miniature. This one was mounted where the old one had been, but on a much broader base, which was good because the book enclosure was nearly three feet tall and similarly wide. It held three shelves, all of which were stuffed with books. The enclosure looked like a tiny version of Elliott’s house, except it was painted in rainbow colors.
When Simon stopped the truck in the driveway, Ishtar woke up and began wagging her tail wildly, almost frantic to greet everyone. Elliott, stunned, just sat. “Simon?” he whispered.
“Surprise.”
“But . . . how?”
“It was easy. Just a bit of research, a few texts. Man, these people were so on top of it, you’re lucky they didn’t build a book skyscraper while we were gone.”
“I don’t . . .” Elliott swallowed hard. “Why?”
“With a little help, we can rebuild after any disaster. It’s called community. These are your people, El. Well, with a few recent recruits from Miri.”
“My people?”
Simon squeezed his shoulder. “Yours.”
Everyone started clapping as soon as Elliott got out of the truck. He would have felt horribly awkward, except Ishtar started tearing around, demanding pets from everyone and making them laugh. People dragged him over to admire the library, and then everyone wanted to point out which books they’d contributed and explain why. People were happy. Complete strangers talked to each other about books and dogs and how they knew Elliott, and somehow cookies and pizza materialized and the whole crowd was eating. Simon kept close to Elliott’s side, holding his hand and beaming.
Community. It was a hell of a lot more beautiful and valuable than tenure and academic acclaim.
“Your people,” Simon whispered in Elliott’s ear.
Elliott whispered back. “Yours too.”
Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in a number. He was shunted to voice mail, which he’d expected.
“Hi, Ginny? This is Elliott Thompson. I want to say how much I appreciate that you were willing to give me a chance. Something’s come up, however. Actually, I’ve fallen in love. So best of luck with your search—but I’ll be staying in Modesto.”
He ended the call, tucked the phone away, and fell into Simon’s fierce embrace.