Growing up with my mother, I knew what it was like when a person crossed lines they weren’t invited to cross.
A waning quarter moon climbed the sky, shimmering off what little I could see of the landscape. A sprinkle of stars showed through a thin veil of clouds overhead. The warmth from the day still lingered as I scanned the property, taking in the shape of a barn in the distance and fields that ended with a barely visible wall of silhouetted trees. Without streetlights and traffic, it was quiet and dark. Peaceful. Crickets chirped, and if I strained, I heard the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze.
Lights shone from several windows in the house. Feeling ten kinds of awkward, I approached the front door and knocked. I hadn’t figured out what I would say, but I had to say something.
A man in his late forties answered. He wore a day’s worth of scruff on his chin, and his clothes suited farm life. I assumed the gentleman was Gale and Olivia’s dad, but I couldn’t remember having ever seen him in town. I noted a few similarities, but the twins must have taken after their mother.
The man studied me through the screen door for a beat before propping it open with a sock-covered foot. “You’re Ozrik Devereaux. Am I right?”
I stuffed my hands into my pockets and shifted my weight. Thanks to my mother, everyone in town knew me. It was a burden I carried everywhere I went. “Yes, sir. I was wondering if Gale was around.”
A long pause ensued as the man microscopically analyzed me head to toe. It was hard not to feel judged when I’d been judging myself for three days. Would he find me unworthy? Did this man know what I’d done to his son? Was he outraged? Would he send me packing? I only wanted to apologize.
His expression remained neutral, so I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Finally, after what felt like a millennium, he nodded. “I’ll find him for you.”
It took far longer than it should have for Gale to come to the door. As I wondered if maybe I’d been forgotten and was debating a retreat, he appeared. He wore gray joggers, a plain T-shirt, and enough signs of mental distress to fill a psychology textbook.
He didn’t ask what I was doing at his house, nor did he say hello. He stood a distance from the storm door with a pinch in his brow and faded circles under his eyes from what I assumed was too many restless nights. Maybe I didn’t know Gale well, but he looked wrecked, and I couldn’t help feeling like it was all my fault.
“Hi.” I tried to smile but didn’t quite pull it off. “I was wondering if we could talk.”
Gale continued to stare. Guarded? Anxious? Afraid? I couldn’t read him.
“About the other day,” I elaborated unnecessarily, “and what happened.”
Still no response.
I blew out my cheeks. “Look, I shouldn’t have kissed you like—”
His hand shot up, halting my words. Tipping his head, he glanced over his shoulder before meeting my gaze again. Wetting his lips—an action I couldn’t help but notice—he spoke for the first time. “Not here. Give me a minute.”
He closed the heavy front door, and I half suspected I wouldn’t see him again, but less than two minutes passed before he emerged from the house wearing running shoes and a University of Oklahoma hoodie.
Gale motioned for me to follow, so I did. We rounded the house and crossed the yard to a split rail fence. He didn’t stop and climbed to the other side before trudging through brittle grass as high as my thighs. The ground underfoot was soft fromrecent rain, the faintest hint of ozone and earth wafting into the air.
About twenty yards from the fence, in the middle of nowhere in particular, Gale stopped and glanced at the house as though studying our proximity and determining if we were safe. We were well beyond the range of the porch light, and Gale seemed satisfied.
With his hands stuffed inside the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie and his shoulders near his ears, he faced me but said nothing. The haunted expression he wore when he answered the door remained.
I took his silence as my cue to speak, but before I opened my mouth to apologize for my behavior, the situation and Gale’s insistent precaution brought a thought to mind. Instead of expressing regret and asking for forgiveness, the words that came out were not the ones I planned.
“Your dad doesn’t know.”
It wasn’t a question, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when Gale dodged. “Why are you here, Ozrik?”
I raked my fingers through my hair. “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Gale to look more distressed, but he managed it. Hurt bloomed in his eyes, and I stumbled on, hoping to repair the damage I’d caused.
“It was… impulsive. I didn’t mean any harm. I was fucking around. You told me to back off, and I didn’t listen. I guess… I’m used to hanging with the guys, and they know what I’m like. We’re rarely serious. We tease each other all the time. I took it too far.”
Still, he said nothing.
“I’m sorry?” The apology came across as more of a question, since Gale wasn’t giving me any clues about what he was thinking or feeling.
I shifted my weight and glanced at the house. “Can you say something? I feel ten kinds of stupid right now, and I’ve spent the past three days kicking myself. We’ve got a system brewing over Tulsa, and I don’t know if you’ve heard the latest from Charles, but he wants us to… combine our resources.” I rolled my eyes at the audacity. “I don’t want things to be weird.”
