Chapter 1
Whatever possessed him to do such a thing, he never would know. But he did it. And for that he would be forever grateful to the brave soul who wrote that letter.
With his poor eyesight he had no use for newspapers. Instead, he got all the news he needed from the radio in his truck, when it worked, and talking with the guys at work and at the feedstore, and from watching TV. But that Wednesday afternoon arriving home after work at the ranch, he found a newspaper stuck in the battered round newspaper holder that hung tenuously onto to his weathered mailbox post. He figured it was a mistake, but couldn't leave it there to blow away, so he brought it into the house intending to use it to pack up the garbage from the kitchen sink after dinner.
Instead, he dropped it on the couch with his coat and hat, and forgot all about it until later, after dinner, when he sat down and turned on the TV. He looked over and could make out the headline, "MASSIVE PILEUP CLOSES HIGHWAY," and the line under it, "Horse Trailer Overturns, 3 Killed," and the city, "Gillette." He thought of all those years and miles Jack had driven just to see him, and then heading up to see his folks, often driving through Gillette. Without warning that niggling ever-present tamped-down fear, that Jack may someday be part of headlines like that, flooded unwanted into the front of his mind.
He shivered despite the May heat-wave, not hearing the TV, watching the imagined scene flash before him in spurts, like flipping through pictures one after the other. Those scenes had come unwanted and unbidden more often in the past few days, since their fight at the trailhead on Sunday, the last day of their always-too-short time together. Jack had said he was driving up to his folks' place as usual. Did Jack get… get… Was he…?
He reached over to the sidetable next to the couch and grasped the reading glasses Francine had brought him two weekends ago, before his trip. She had insisted that he use them, so he could read her name in the Riverton High School Class of 1983 graduation program next month, and read her letters from college in the Fall. College! His little baby girl was heading off to the University in Laramie in September, and then to God knows where! But he understood where, to a better life than he or his folks ever had.
The rerun of the Grand Ol' Opry played on in the background as he read the full story, relieved not to find Jack's name anywhere, then he idly flipped through the rest of the paper. In Section 3 he found two pages of the funnies, and smiled, sort of, when he read "Peanuts" but couldn't understand "Doonesbury." Maybe if I read it more often… like that was ever going to happen.
Then he found the horoscopes. Lemme see… September… Virgo… What the…?! He read, "There's a lot of good that can be said of being on autopilot. It gets you to the destination with little effort. The problem with it arises when you want to go somewhere other than where you're programmed to go."
There's somewhere I wanta go, somewhere I ought a be, not here, but goin there would be dangerous, could get me… us… hurt, even… He shivered in the warm stifling air of the room.
He shook off those dark thoughts and flipped to the back page of Section 3, where he saw the crossword puzzle and a double-column called "Dear Emmaline." People asked her for advice about all sorts of stuff, things he would never write down, let alone want printed in a newspaper for everyone to read, even if they did change the names just in case. 'My sister is more popular than me, but I get better grades, what should I do?' 'My in-laws hate me, my wife ignores me, what should I do?' 'My neighbor keeps trying to sell me Tupperware I don't want, what should I do?' 'My girlfriend left me for my brother, then he dumped her, now she wants to get back together, what should I do?' 'My husband quit his job three times, won't look for work, I had to get a job to make ends meet, my best girlfriend understands and listens to me, now I have feelings for my best friend, she's a lesbian, she wants our friendship to be more than what it is, I do too, but I'm not sure, my family won't accept homosexuality, I'm scared about being seen in public with her, I'm scared about what might happen to her, what should I do?'
He stared in disbelief at her words printed in the afternoon paper, for all to read in their living rooms and office waiting rooms and barber shops. A woman wrote a letter to a stranger, revealing what could get her killed. She has feelings for another woman, but is scared. Scared! "What should I do?" What should I do?
Reading on he found Emmaline's terse advice. The issue was her fear of disapproval and embarrassment, it was her choice to ignore or follow her feelings, either way she would pay a price, she should be true to herself, but think long and hard before acting.
What should I do?
There's somewhere I want a go, somewhere I ought a be, but going there would be dangerous, could get me… us… hurt, even… What should I do?
The words echoed in his mind. He no longer could see the words or feel the paper grasped in his now trembling hands or hear Minnie Pearl's singing coming from the TV. All he could see, feel and hear were four important little words repeating over and over, forming a life-determining mantra: What should I do? What should I do?
He crumpled the offending paper savagely and flung it across the room. It bounced off the wall and came to rest on the dusty hardwood floor under the front porch window. The curtains fluttering from stray puffs of warm wind covered it and pulled it close to the wall, as if protecting it from further violence.
He got off the couch, and started pacing, chain smoking until he couldn't stand it. Each time he got close to the rumpled ball of offending newspaper, the curtains fluttered, telling him to back off, no answers here, only more questions.
There's somewhere I want a go, somewhere I ought a be.
Met my best friend in the whole world for sex in the mountains for 16 years, almost twenty, really, countin that first summer, he wants us to live together, always has, I do too, but I've refused, I'm afraid of what might happen to him, to us, if we do, I'm afraid of what might happen to him, to us, if we don't, I'm scared about being seen with him, I'm no queer, my father hated queers, maybe killed one, but my father's dead, been dead for over twenty years, why am I still afraid of him, what should I do?
But he already knew. He had known since that first year after marrying Alma, laying beside her in the dark, listening to her measured breathing in sleep, watching her belly grow larger with each passing day. He never should have let Jack go. But by then it was too late.
He knew. He had known since that first time seeing Jack after four long years, laying beside him in the dark in the Siesta Motel, spooned up against him, arm around him, feeling his measured breathing in sleep. He never should have let Jack go. But he did again, over and over, again and again.
He knew. He had known since that time Jack showed up at his house, unexpectedly, ten years ago, after his divorce from Alma, turning Jack away, glimpsing his crestfallen face in the rear view mirror of his truck as he pulled away. He never should have let Jack go. But he did again, over and over, again and again.
He knew. He had known since last Sunday, running away after arguing over not meeting in August, really arguing over twenty years of hurt and denial and lost lives and lost hope, watching Jack in the rear view mirror of his own truck this time as he fled the scene that was littered with the naked truths laid bare between them. He never should have let Jack go. But he did, again. Maybe for the last time.
It's my fears that've stood in the way, my "maybes" and "mights", I can follow my true feelins or not, it's my choice, either way I'll pay a price, but we've both paid a big price already over the past 20 years, it's been long enough, I don't got a think hard about it any more, I got a be true to myself, face down those fears, face down my dead father, do something.
What should I do?
He knew. He had to fix this, right now, because he couldn't stand it any more and he knew Jack wouldn't.