Trailer Trash (38 page)

Nate had waited to call Cody until he had everything in place—the job, the apartment, his new address and phone number. And then he perched on the metal stool with the tractor seat in Cora’s kitchen, and watched the clock, waiting for eight o’clock. Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed the number. He held the handset to his ear, his heart pounding.

He felt like everything in the world could be made right, if only Cody would answer.

“Hello?”

It was Cody’s voice, although there was a hollowness to that one word that made Nate pause. “It’s me.”

He heard nothing but the
shhhhh
of the Wyoming wind against the mouthpiece. Nothing else. No answer at all.

“Are you there?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Nate laughed, shaking his head, picturing Cody at the gas station where they’d first met, trying so hard to be tough. “I’ve been counting the minutes until I’d hear your voice, and you’re going to make me work for every word, aren’t you?”

Cody took a shaky breath. “It’s not that. It’s just, I have no idea what to say. And I think maybe I need to hear your voice more than you need to hear mine.”

And Nate could believe it. Cody sounded so small and so fragile that Nate feared the wind would carry him farther away like some metaphorical tumbleweed.

“I have good news. I found a job, and a place to live. The landlord’s nice. He says the whole complex is ‘gay friendly,’ which sounds stupid as hell, but it’s good to know, right? My aunt’s going to drive me out there tomorrow. I won’t be able to afford long-distance service, which is why I had to call tonight. And I can’t talk long, because it’d be rude to run up her bill. But I wanted to tell you in person. Or, you know—” He laughed. “Not in a letter, at least.”

“I understand.”

“You’re still planning on meeting me there, right?”

“If I can.”

And then, more silence.

“I know something’s wrong. I can tell. And for some reason, you don’t want to tell me. You think you have to handle it all yourself, but you don’t.”

No answer except the wind.

“Cody,” Nate said, feeling like he was pleading, like he was trying to urge a scared kitten down from a tree, “talk to me. Please.”

For a second, he thought it hadn’t worked. He was almost starting to feel angry that he’d gone to such lengths to call Cody only to listen to the wind, but then Cody took a deep breath and started to talk.

“The Tomahawk closed back in April. My mom lost her job a week later. All the bills are past due, and my mom still owes money to the state, but there’s nothing here. No jobs at all. We’ve tried all over town, but there’s nothing. I put my name on a list at the unemployment office—they say there are usually house-painting jobs in the summer, but there are at least twenty names ahead of mine, and I might be able to mow a lawn or two, but that won’t be more than a few dollars, and the phone’s been shut off, and the electricity will be next, and I could pay part of them, but not all, and if I do, I won’t have any money left at all. As it is, I have just enough for a bus fare, but it’s a thirty-hour walk to Rawlins, and we don’t have a car anymore, and, Jesus, of course I want to meet you there. You have no idea how much I miss you, or how bad I want to get away from this godforsaken town, but I can’t, Nate. I just— I have no idea what to do. I don’t think I can get there, no matter how much I want to. It’s just like I’ve always said. There’s no escape from Warren.”

He finally stopped, as if he’d run out of gas, or run out of words and hope at the same time, and Nate leaned his head back against the wall, twirling the cord around his finger. He’d used a big chunk of his cash putting down a deposit and first month’s rent on the apartment. He couldn’t afford to use any more of his savings now, and he wouldn’t get money from his dad until fall, and even then he’d have to use it for school, but he refused to give up hope. Graduation money was still trickling in, and he could work full-time over the summer. Somehow, he’d make it work.

“Cody, listen to me: we’ll find a way. It may not be by July first like we’d hoped. But as long as you still love me—”

“I do.” It wasn’t much more than a whisper, but Nate thought he could hear Cody’s whole heart beating in those two words. “I do.”

“Then we’ll figure it out, okay? I promise you we’ll find an answer.”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I want to.”

Nate sighed. “I guess that’ll have to do.”

They talked a few more minutes, long enough for Nate to give Cody the address and phone number for the apartment in Iowa City. They hung up, and Nate sat there, staring at the empty space on his finger, debating.

He wouldn’t have to ask for much. Certainly not for money.

All Cody needed was a ride to Rawlins.

Nate took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and picked up the phone one more time.

Cody wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse after talking to Nate. It’d been good to hear his voice, and his promises, and to hear him say “I love you” a couple more times. At the end of the call, he’d made Cody write down the address and phone number of the apartment in Iowa City. Cody had left the receiver hanging from the cord while he’d run into the gas station to borrow a pen and a bit of paper from Vera. He looked at it as he walked home, trying to imagine how it would feel to know that address and phone number belonged to him.

“Well, he must have called tonight,” his mom said when he got home. “You were gone longer than usual.”

“He did.”

“And?”

She was on the couch, and he sank into their threadbare armchair. “He found a job in Iowa City, and an apartment, and . . .”

“And all you have to do is get there?”

“Yes. But that’s easier said than done.” But even as he said it, an idea came to him.

The truck stop.

It made his stomach do terrible, twisting things, but it was an option he hadn’t considered.

The truck stop was only about thirty miles away. A long walk, for sure, but he could do it in a day. And once he got there, he could find a ride to Rawlins. It might mean hitchhiking, or begging. It might mean . . .

It might mean doing other things.

Even if he made it to Rawlins, he barely had enough for the bus ticket, let alone food along the way. He needed the money, and the truck stop provided a scary yet very real possibility. His mom had done it, from time to time. He could do it too, if he had to.

Maybe.

He thought about it, his heart heavy with dread.

Handjobs wouldn’t be so bad, but did men ever pay for those? Blowjobs seemed more likely. He’d only ever done that for two people in his life. Giving one to a stranger would be scary, but probably only the first few times.

And if they wanted more?

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes, trying to imagine it. It probably hurt the first time. Just the thought was enough to turn his stomach. But the potential pain wasn’t the worst part. The worst part would be the risk. He and Nate were both safe as long as they only fooled around with each other, but if he did what he was considering, he’d be opening himself up to all kinds of horrible possibilities. He could insist on condoms, but even those weren’t foolproof, and anything he ended up with—AIDS or herpes or who knew what else—would be passed on to Nate.

He’d be playing Russian roulette with both their lives in exchange for . . . what? A few dollars? How much did one charge for things like that anyway?

His mom watched TV while Cody went back and forth in his head for nearly an hour about the wisdom of his plan. Part of him believed he might be able to find a truck driver heading east who wouldn’t mind driving him the few miles from the truck stop to Rawlins with nothing asked in return. But the more realistic part of him knew it might be a lot more complicated than that.

He couldn’t quite decide if he was that desperate yet or not.

He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of tires on the gravel as a car passed under the train tracks and into the Hole.

Not just any car, either. As the car braked to a stop outside their trailer, Cody’s heart burst into speed.

That was Nate’s Mustang. He was sure of it.

Some stupid part of him lit up, wishing it was Nate, but knowing it wasn’t. Still, he rushed to the front door and opened it to find Nate’s dad looking back at him, his hand raised and ready to knock.

Not dressed as a cop, though. He was wearing regular clothes.

Cody was uncomfortably aware of the cluttered trailer behind him, reeking of cigarette smoke, and of his ratty jeans and rattier shirt, and his messy hair. He tried to smooth it down.

Nate’s dad gave him a nervous smile, and despite his bushy mustache, he looked so much like Nate when he smiled that Cody almost found himself smiling back.

“Can I come in?” Mr. Bradford asked.

Cody looked behind himself at the dirty dishes and laundry and his mom, who was watching them with a scowl, obviously expecting the worst. “How ’bout if I come out instead?”

“Fair enough.”

Cody followed him down the rickety steps and over to the Mustang. It was a warm evening, even with the sun beginning to set. Nate’s dad leaned back against the driver’s door and crossed his arms as he studied Cody. Cody waited, while the wind whistled across the plain and gusted between the crumbling trailers of the Hole.

Finally, Nate’s dad sighed and dropped his arms. “I guess we’ve never quite met. Not on civil terms, at any rate.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bruce.”

Cody blinked, hoping he didn’t look as surprised as he felt. “Cody,” he said, shaking Bruce’s hand. “But you know that already.”

Bruce let him go and returned to leaning against the Mustang. “Are you going to Iowa City to be with Nate?”

“I want to.”

“When?”

“As soon as I can, I guess.”

“Nate said you might need a ride to Rawlins.”

Nate had said that? Nate had talked to his father? Not only that, he’d sent his father to give Cody a ride? “Uh . . . yeah. To the bus station. That’s the closest one, other than Rock Springs, but the ticket’s a bit less from Rawlins since it’s closer to Iowa.”

“Do you have money?”

Cody hesitated. “A bit.”

“How much?”

Cody tried not to bristle at the question. “Enough for the bus fare.” Barely.

“And after that?” Bruce asked. “Enough to eat?”

“I figured I’d take a couple of sandwiches with me.” Plus, he was used to being hungry. He just had to get to Nate. After that, he’d figure it out.

Bruce sighed scuffed the toe of his loafer in the dirt. “You’re all he talks about. It drove me crazy at first, but now . . .” He shook his head, studying Cody like he couldn’t quite figure him out. “It’s like he lights up every time he says your name. I don’t even have to see him to know it. I can hear it in his voice.”

It made Cody smile. He didn’t care that it was Nate’s dad saying it. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed. All he could feel was incredible joy at those words. “I know exactly how that feels.” And he knew he sounded like a damn fool saying it, but he didn’t care.

Bruce sighed again, staring up at the sky as if it held answers, and Cody realized he was fighting tears. Bruce took a deep, shaky breath before he met Cody’s gaze again. “This disease. AIDS. It’s rampant, and it’s a death sentence. You know that, right?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been paying attention? You know how it’s spread?”

“I do.”

“You understand that you’ll be putting yourself at risk? Both of you?”

“No.” Because it wouldn’t be like that—the bathhouses and the anonymous sex and the hustlers. It wouldn’t be like that at all. It would be him and Nate. “Not as long as it’s just us. We’ll be fine.”

Bruce nodded, looking away from Cody again to wipe his eyes. “Promise me.” His voice strained against the tears he refused to let Cody see. “Promise me that you’ll both be very,
very
careful. Promise me you won’t take risks or get carried away and do something reckless. Because I can get used to the two of you being together. I really can. But I can’t face watching my boy die because one of you did something stupid.”

Cody couldn’t believe it. Bruce didn’t hate him. He didn’t want to keep them apart. He just wanted them to be safe, and with AIDS tearing like wildfire through the gay communities, who could blame him for worrying?

He wanted Cody to promise they’d be safe. That they wouldn’t take risks. For himself, it was easy to commit, but could he make that promise for Nate? Could he tell Nate’s dad with a straight face that he and Nate would be together forever, for the rest of their lives, with nobody else ever coming between them?

No. He couldn’t promise him a lifetime. But he could promise it for now.

“We’ll be safe,” he said. “I promise.”

Bruce nodded, still refusing to meet Cody’s eyes. “There are maps in the glove compartment. I marked out the best route. Don’t speed. Pull over when you get tired. Don’t sleep overnight at rest stops unless you have to, and if you do, park under a light and lock your doors. Do you understand?”

No, he didn’t. He didn’t understand what was happening at all, but Bruce didn’t wait for Cody to answer. He reached out and took Cody’s hand, and he placed the car keys in Cody’s palm.