Trailer Trash (26 page)

The belief that Santa could perform miracles.

He didn’t want to open his eyes when he awoke the next morning.

The house was silent. He sat on the edge of his bed for several long minutes, steeling himself for what he knew he’d find. It took only a glance out the window to see that his mom’s rusty Duster hadn’t appeared. There was no tree in the living room, no stocking stuffed with candy, no presents to unwrap at all. There was no Santa, and no magic, and no reason to even get out of bed.

Not until later, at least, when Nate would show up.

He spent the morning looking through the bills again. It had become his primary pastime when Nate wasn’t around to see. He’d taken care of the most urgent ones, but more were due each day, and the late fees on a few were as much as the original bill. He counted the hours he’d worked since his last payday and tried to figure out exactly how much would be deducted before he even saw the check.

He wouldn’t have enough to cover them all. That much was clear. He’d have to prioritize, pay what he could, knowing the others would have past-due notices by January. Was this why his mother had left? Because she’d finally gotten tired of staring at that pile of paper on the counter, knowing she’d never be able to make ends meet?

He showered and dressed, not wanting to be in sweats when Nate showed up, then made himself breakfast. He’d used the last of his money two days earlier to buy bread, peanut butter, a box of off-brand cereal, and a half gallon of milk. He hadn’t wanted Nate to know, so he’d gone to the gas station after Nate was gone. He knew it was stupid—the food there cost more than it did at the grocery store—but the grocery store was two miles away, and the gas station offered a certain amount of comfort. Vera hadn’t said anything when he put the food on the counter, but when he’d come up seventy-two cents short, she’d frowned. Cody had eyed the groceries, trying to decide which thing to put back, but she’d taken his money and started putting the food in a bag before he could choose.

“But, I don’t have enough—”

“I’m sure I got that much in my purse, and if don’t, then it won’t matter none if the drawer’s a few cents short. Sometimes my countin’ ain’t so good anyway. What’ll they do? Fire me?”

He swallowed, torn between embarrassment and gratitude. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I think you got enough troubles of your own, kid. Don’t worry none about mine.”

He hadn’t argued, and he said a silent thank-you to her again as he ate a bowl of cereal on Christmas morning. He stashed the bills out of sight, turned on the TV, spent a good fifteen minutes adjusting the antenna to get the picture as clear as it could be without cable, and waited for Nate to arrive.

He came shortly after noon, as promised. He was smiling ear to ear, his cheeks red from the cold, a big basket wrapped in plastic tucked under his arm.

“It’s snowing!” he said as Cody let him in. “Everything’s white and clean, and it sparkles in the sunlight. It’s amazing. It’s just like Christmas in a movie.”

Cody forced a smile, thinking how his dank, dusty living room was about as unpicturesque as could be. “Not like Texas, huh?”

“Not even close. Here.” Nate shoved a giant gift basket into Cody’s hands. “Hang on. There’s more.”

He disappeared back outside, and Cody stood, staring at the gift. It was crammed full of oranges and grapefruit, half a dozen tiny bricks of cheese, and a summer sausage, with little bags of candy and nuts stuffed in between. He set the gift on the kitchen counter, his hands shaking. He heard Nate come back inside, but he didn’t turn to face him.

“I can’t take this.”

“Sure you can. It’s from the station. All the cops got one. My dad said I could have it.”

That made him feel better. It would certainly be nice to have something other than peanut butter to eat, and at least Nate hadn’t spent any money on it. “Oh. Okay.”

But then he turned to find Nate holding four more boxes, each one wrapped in bright-colored paper with smiling Santas and dancing reindeer. Nate shoved the stack into Cody’s hands and turned to shed his coat.

Cody’s heart sank. He felt like an idiot. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that Nate might buy him a gift, and now here he was with a stack of them, and Cody had nothing at all to give in return. He put the boxes on the counter, next to the shrink-wrapped food that rightfully belonged to Nate’s dad.

“Nate.” He hated the way his voice shook. He hated the way his throat burned. He almost hated Nate for putting him in such a stupid position. “You shouldn’t have bought me anything.”

“Why not? It’s Christmas.”

“I know, but . . .” Cody eyed the presents again. Some childish part of him wanted to tear them open and see what was inside. If only he’d thought to buy Nate a gift. Of course, that would have meant losing electricity or telephone service. “I didn’t have enough money—”

“I know.” The way he said it reminded Cody of Logan—no pity or disgust in his voice—just matter-of-fact acceptance. “It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you to buy me anything.”

“I feel terrible.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But Nate—”

Nate stepped closer, backing Cody up against the counter. “I’ll make you a deal.” He took the top box off the stack and laid it in Cody’s hands. It was small and easily identifiable based on its size and shape—a cassette tape. “Just open this one. I’ll take all the others back if you want. But this one, I really want you to have.” His voice sounded as shaky as Cody’s had, and Cody glanced up to find Nate watching him, his eyes unreadable, his cheeks slowly turning red. He moved a bit closer. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Cody nodded, his resolve weakening. “Okay.” It was only a cassette, after all. It wouldn’t have cost much. What kind of tape would Nate have picked for him anyway? He was pretty sure they had zero in common when it came to music. He wondered if he could sufficiently fake gratitude if it was Pet Shop Boys or some weird European band he’d never heard of.

He unwrapped it slowly, wanting to make this one stupid gift last all day.

It wasn’t an album. That much was clear immediately. It was a tape Nate had obviously made himself. The spine was decorated only with Cody’s name, and a little red heart. The song list was printed down the front part of the insert in Nate’s small, perfect penmanship. Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Mr. Mister, Pat Benatar, plus a bunch of bands Cody had never heard of—Crowded House, Yazoo, Modern English. But the song titles jumped out at him, somehow saying everything: “Something About You,” “Against All Odds,” “We Belong,” “Crazy for You,” “Time After Time.”

Cody’s heart seemed to patter out several extra beats in a single breath. His hands started to shake again. Jesus, did this mean what he thought it meant? He didn’t know most of the songs on the list. Maybe it wasn’t what he thought.

Or maybe it was.

“Say something,” Nate said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You made me a tape.”

“I did.”

“I, uh . . .” Cody stumbled, afraid if he said much more, he’d start crying after all. “I didn’t get you anything.”

Nate moved closer, the distance between them matched exactly by the tape in Cody’s hands, as if it were the only thing keeping them apart. He touched Cody’s arm, his hand warm and gentle and wonderfully familiar. “You should know by now there’s only one thing in the world I want anyway.”

Cody finally looking up at Nate, wanting to know if this was really what it felt like.

And before Cody could say a word, Nate kissed him.

It was awkward at first, their lips not quite lining up, Cody’s arms pinned between them. Only for a second, though. Only long enough for Cody to catch his breath, and then he dropped the wrapping paper and wiggled his arms around Nate’s neck, the cassette still tight in his hand. He relaxed into Nate’s embrace, parting his lips to let Nate kiss him deeper, and the next thing he knew, Nate was pushing him back against the counter, leaning against him, kissing him harder, his hands seeming to be everywhere—under Cody’s shirt, in his hair, his fingers warm and soft on the back of Cody’s neck—and Cody found himself suddenly balking, shocked at the sudden onslaught and the urgency in Nate’s touch.

“Wait,” he said, trying to pull away even though he had nowhere to go. Nate had him trapped, and Cody wasn’t all that sure he wanted to escape anyway. “Nate, hang on.”

Nate didn’t stop kissing him. He just moved away from Cody’s lips to kiss his neck instead, pulling Cody tight against him. “What?” he asked, his breath warming Cody’s ear, making him shiver. “What’s wrong?”

“I, um . . .” Jesus, would he ever have a moment with Nate where he didn’t feel like he was about to cry? Cody’s throat was tight, his eyes welling up. Nate’s caresses were becoming difficult to resist, the hard bulge in Nate’s pants making everything seem far too real. “I don’t want it to be like last time.” And damn it, now his tears were coming faster, and he didn’t even have a graceful way to wipe his cheeks with Nate holding him so tight. “I can’t have you walk out of here and ignore me again. I can’t do that again. I can’t— God, I can’t—”

“That’s never going to happen.” Nate cupped Cody’s cheek in his hand, wiping at Cody’s tears with his thumb. “I told you before: I won’t abandon you like that again.”

“You will, though. We’ll graduate, and you’ll move away. You’ll go live in that apartment in Chicago and have a brand-new life, and I’ll still be here, only I’ll be more alone than ever.”

But Nate was already shaking his head. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“No.” Cody blinked, his tears forgotten as he tried to interpret exactly what that meant. “You don’t want to stay in Warren. Nobody wants to stay in Warren.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to leave with me.”

“Wh-what?”

“There’s no reason you have to stay here either. You can come with me. We can share the apartment there. We can live there together.”

Cody gulped, trying to imagine it how it would feel to wake up next to Nate every day in a brand-new place so far from Wyoming that even the wind couldn’t find them.

God, it couldn’t be that simple, could it?

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it.”

“But it’s Chicago!”

“So what?”

“I can’t live in Chicago! The biggest city I’ve ever been to was Casper, and I was ten! Chicago’s
huge
. Chicago’s—”

“Then
not
Chicago,” Nate said, laughing. “We’ll find someplace else. I don’t really care where we go. I just want to be able to kiss you without worrying about who sees.”

“Oh God,” Cody whispered, suddenly not sure his knees were even working. It was possible Nate was the only thing keeping him on his feet. “You can’t want that. Jesus, why would you want that? It doesn’t make any sense! Why would you want this? Why would you want
me
?”

“Because I think love you.”

“No.”

“I mean, I
know
I love you.”

“Stop.”

“But I think—”

“No!”

“I think I’m
in
love with you.”

“
No
!” Cody covered his ears, despite still holding the cassette, trying to block the sound of that word. Nobody said that word. Not here. The inside of his crumbling trailer had never heard it uttered.

Love
.

He had the irrational urge to run, to put as much distance between them as he could, but Nate was still holding him. Still smiling at him. Still standing here after saying he loved him, and Cody had no idea what to do or what to say. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his pounding heart, trying to find his focus. His eyes fell on the cassette tape, still clutched tight in his hand.

“I don’t have a tape player.”

It was such a stupid thing to say, after Nate had laid his heart on the line, but Nate just laughed. “I got you one of those too. Come on.” He stepped away, turning to grab the last three presents on the table. “You may as well open them.”

He sat down at the kitchen table, and Cody followed, his feet heavy, feeling like he was still in one of last night’s dreams. He sank slowly into a chair. “It isn’t fair for you to buy me all this stuff.”

“For crying out loud,” Nate groaned in exasperation. “Look, Cody. I know things are different for me than they are for you. I live in the Grove. You live here. I get a weekly allowance, and money from my grandparents for Christmas, and money from my mom just because she feels guilty about running off with some new guy, and I know you don’t get any of that, and it sucks. It isn’t fair at all.”

Cody thought he’d realized the full extent of his envy, but hearing Nate lay it all out like that made his anger feel somewhat justified. And yet, he also knew it wasn’t Nate’s fault.

“The thing is,” Nate went on, his voice quieter now, “none of that matters to me. You can’t afford to spend money on stupid shit. I know that. But I can.” He pushed the stack of presents a bit closer to Cody. “And I wanted you to have presents on Christmas.”

Cody turned the tape over in his hands. A tape Nate had made, just because the songs made him think of Cody.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it made things between them even more lopsided than before, but he wanted to listen to it.

He eyed the presents again, his resistance crumbling. It was Christmas, after all, and Nate had gone to the trouble of wrapping them and everything. Would it really be so bad to accept a couple of presents?

“Jesus,” Nate chuckled, shaking his head. “And I finally get a smile out of you.” He picked up the top box and held it out to Cody. “Open the damn thing, already.”

Cody laughed and set the tape aside in order to take the second present.

The tape player wasn’t much of a surprise, since Nate had already told him about it, but that didn’t mean he was any less happy to receive it. It was smaller than a boom box, but with a handle and a built-in radio. Not that there were many stations to pick up in Warren, but still.

“I debated a Walkman instead, but this seemed more versatile.”

“It’s fantastic.”

The next gift was a pair of headphones, and the last box held a pair of ski gloves.