Page 38 of The Liar in Room 5

“They’re very Midwestern. My dad says things like, ‘You betcha.’” Drew paused, but I could hear the smile in his voice when he continued. “My mom is the canning queen. Every year, she puts up a ton of corn, green beans, and everything else.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Not very.”

“Can I ask why, or is that being too nosy? You can tell me to shut up. I won’t be offended.”

Drew snuggled in closer and threw a leg over mine. It was like he wanted to burrow inside my skin, and I was happy to let him if that was what he wanted, especially if it kept him talking.

“I don’t know. There’s not really a reason, but no one I dated ever wanted to go to Carnarvon, Iowa. There’s a feed store, a little grocery store, a graveyard, and a Presbyterian church, and that’s about it. Oh, wait, there’s a grain silo too. I forgot about that.”

“Well, it can’t be that small if there’s a VA, right?”

“The VA is in Carroll.”

Drew paused before asking, “How did your parents take finding out you were gay?”

“It was so anticlimactic. I got a shrug and was told to take out the trash. I didn’t expect a rainbow parade, but something would’ve been nice,” I groused.

“Not even a handful of confetti?”

“Nope. What about yours?”

“It took them a little while to accept it. It wasn’t dramatic or anything, but they worried about what their friends would say, or people at church. I’m not sure everyone was thrilled about it, but as far as I know, they didn’t lose any friends.”

“Do you miss Iowa?”

When I glanced at Drew, his brow was furrowed in concentration. I used my thumb to smooth the skin there, then traced along the bone of his brow until I reached his cheek. With his eyes shining brightly, I leaned down and replaced my thumb with my mouth. It was little more than the brush of our lips, but late at night, in the quiet of my bedroom, it took on an outsized importance.

“I miss parts of it.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like diner food because it always tastes better at eight o’clock in the morning, served with coffee in those thick stoneware mugs. Or going to the grocery store, and they already know what your favorite whatever is, so they set it aside until you get there. Or having people wave when you’re walking down the road because they know who you are.”

“I’m sure there are places like that in California.”

“I’m sure there are,” Drew agreed, “but I don’t live there. I live here, where I’m completely useless. I don’t really have much to offer.”

“What did you think was going to happen when you came out here?”

“I told my folks I was just coming out for a vacation while I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I knew if I could find a job and a place to stay during those couple of weeks, I would stay. And I did. Then I met my first boyfriend, moved in with him, and the rest is history.”

I hated hearing the sadness in Drew’s voice. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong. He hadn’t cheated on anyone or hurt anybody. He’d simply lived his life by making himself smaller, smoothing away all the parts that were really him.

Those were the parts I liked best.

I could see this man from Iowa, who hated my convertible and thought wine was disgusting, staying permanently in my life.

I just didn’t know if he could see the same thing.

10

Drew

3 for 3 on breakfast so far this week. Go me.

Great job, sweetheart.