When Aaron Hotchner came into my life, there were no thunderworks, no certainty that he was the one. My mum had been committed (yet again!) and I had come to stay over the summer with my grandfather on his ranch. Truth be told, I had never even considered a relationship with another man until I reached the age of seventeen and met him. I even had a girlfriend, J.J., a beautiful blond with blue eyes who was as sexy as I was awkward, someone who could fuck my brains out and I thought I loved.
I must admit, that to begin with, all I felt for Aaron Hotchner was blind, madding lust, the kind that makes a man loose himself and find himself again. I can remember the morning when he rode up to us in the fields as we were stacking the bales, and asked for a job. He tilted his feodora upwards to look at me and his horse pranced as he winked at me where I stood on a cart when I asked his name. "Aaron Hotchner," was the prompt reply. "My friends call me Hotch."
I sent him to my grandfather who must have hired him because he joined us in the fields after lunch. I never saw someone who could toss a bale like he could. After the day was done, we went home and when I looked for him to tell him dinner was on the table, I found him by the stables washing himself of the dirt which had accumulated during the day. He was not wearing a shirt and droplets of water sparkled on his brown, smooth skin and in his dark locks. I couldn´t help but notice how his muscles flexed underneath his skin as he moved. I barely remember what we talked about, as soon as I could I made my escape, but I was sure I could see him smile as I made a hasty exit.
Being an avid watcher of mankind, even at that age, something about Hotch intrigued me to no end. He never spoke much, went about his job and did it well. Soon enough, my grandfather made him second foreman. Even as he settled more and more at Lightfields, I learned nothing about his past or where he came from and that was annoying as hell.
He was a mystery I was intent on solving.
One night, I watched him as he sat on the porch, looking up at the hot July moon and smoking a cigarette. Nothing broke the silence, except one of the stableboys was playing guitar in the barn and some of the workers who were sitting there sang along.
Hotch soon arose from his seat and walked down a barren country road with me in pursuit. Once he got a good distance away from the farm, he stopped suddenly to throw his cigarette away and stomp it underneath his boot. "What do you want, boy?"
He then turned to face me.
I had no response.
He smiled knowingly and began walking closer to me. "I know what you want."
By this time, he was standing in front of me, and he easily reached out and kissed me. I returned the gesture but he soon pulled away. "Don´t fall in love with me, kid. I don´t do love."
I could only nod before he pulled me down onto the road. What happened that incredible night will be between that hot July moon that saw everything, Hotch and myself. I keep it in my heart.
What followed was the best month of my life. At night we would sneak off to have sex in the barn or in my bedroom since I kept one in the house while the workers lived in shacks on the property itself. Hotch had a roomate, a dark African-American called Morgan, so it was not feasible to have our encounters in his room. In the mornings, we would go to the watering hole a mile away, riding like the devils of Satan were on our heels and bathe there before we had to begin work. Sometimes in the evenings, we would walk into the fields, light a fire and Hotch would sing me a song his mother taught him when he was little. Those evenings were my favourites because I could sleep in his arms undisturbed. He even kissed my forehead every single time. Never before or since have I felt so safe.
Trouble began early in September when my grandfather´s foreman, Dave Rossi, found us in the barn in a compromising position. My grandfather was immediately informed, and all hell broke loose. After all, my gramps was of the old persuasion, held traditional views, and did not like the idea of having a queer for a grandson, particularly as nothing in my character had indicated that I was gay. Being a man of honour, however, and the fact that he had promised Hotch work until the end of September and my flaky father to take care of me, he couldn´t turn either one of us away. Instead, he made me promise that I would stay away from Hotch until he left in September.
I had no problem keeping that promise because a few days after making it, my gramps fell down in the fields. It was a heart attack and even though we managed to get him back to the house, he was dead by the time the local doctor arrived, drunk as a skunk and smelling worse then an outhouse.
The night after we buried him, I found Aaron on the porch where he had been sitting that night we first made love. He pulled me into his arms and held me through the night as I cried more then I ever had before in my life.
When I awoke the next morning before everyone else, I walked outside. It was a beautiful autumn day, heralding the passing of summer and also my doom. She arrived in the form of a raven-haired woman with black eyes who walked up to the porch and introduced herself as Emily. When I queried as to how I might help it, she revealed that she was looking for her husband, a man named Aaron. All I could do was watch him kiss his wife, pack his things and embrace him when he said goodbye.
Now, fifteen years later, I cannot say I am angry at Aaron for misleading me since in truth, he never did. He had warned me not to fall in love with him, but I couldn´t help myself. After we parted, he sent me a few postcards and called me long-distance once, from California. I slammed down the phone without allowing him to explain.
After he left, I found out my grandfather had willed me the ranch. I had never been a farmer, and thus, I sold it and used to finance my higher education. I now work for the FBI as a Behavioural Analyst.
Once every year, however, I take a week off and fly down to Texas. The fields on the farm are now overgrown, since the person I sold the ranch to gave up quickly and nobody has lived there for ten years. Time has touched everything, except for when I close my eyes. Then I can see his smile, as if I was the only man in the world, can feel his sun-baked skin beneath mine, hear the stories he used to tell me about his travels all over the world making me laugh so much that my insides hurt.
Despite the ring on my finger I´ve never forgotten him. He still lives inside me and always will. Instead of mourning his loss, I am happy for the time we were allowed to share together. The moments we shared are like pearls, I keep them safe in my heart and whenever I feel sad or betrayed, I take them out and look at them. Once again, I can smile. Thus, in a sense, what we had is immortal and will never be lost. Long after I am gone, our songs will be heard on the wind, our reflection will be seen in the water on a clear summer afternoon and if you are really lucky, you might see the two shadows coming together once more.