I stare at the side of his face for a while, studying the whiskers of hair that now form something of a wispy beard across his cheek and chin and upper lip. That’s new as of this past semester, since he’d always been clean-shaven since I’ve known him. At first, I was certain a sad attempt at growing a beard was going to make him—at long last—look like an unkempt college bum, and the spell he had over me would finally be broken.
I was wrong. So wrong. That boyish beard has done nothing but make him appear stronger, more confident, and sexy in that messy sort of mysterious way.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
Jimmy, with one of his toned arms up, fist gripping the wheel, flinches at my one word, heard even through the blast of radio. He squints, eyes still on the road, when he returns, “For what?”
“For bein’ that kind of dude who don’t care one bit if it’s a guy or a gal lookin’ your way.”
He gives my comment all of two seconds’ thought. “Bobby, why you gotta go botherin’ me with this feely shit right now? I’m tryin’ to enjoy the countryside here.”
“Boy, you’re gonna get enough countryside when we’re back in Spruce. All there is for miles and miles is corn and wheat and cow dung. Can’t you just take the compliment and keep driving?”
He shoots me half a look. “There’s a helluvalot more than cow dung on the Strong ranch.”
We ride awhile longer, the rock music blasting from the radio.
“And it isn’t a compliment,” he adds.
I look at him. “Huh?”
“It’s called being a decent, healthy human being. The ‘kind of dude I am’ shouldn’t be anything special. It should just be the way every dude is.” Then, for the first time since we left the gas station, he takes his eyes off the road to give me a sincere look of his stunning, warm brown eyes. “I love ya, Bobby. You’re my best bud and my man. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.”
My heart melts and falls to the floor every time he says that.
I am the luckiest motherfucker in the world, to have a best friend like Jimmy Strong.
He returns his eyes to the road. “Now can we stop with all this feely shit? We got two hundred miles more before we hit Fairview, and then Spruce is just on the other side.”
“Feely shit? Pfft. You’re the one who just told your gay buddy you’re in love with him.”
Jimmy rolls his eyes. “I said I love ya, I didn’t say I’m in—”
I crank up the radio, cutting him off with a superior smirk on my lips. Jimmy shoots me a look, then laughs and shakes his head.
The next song comes on, and it’s one we both know. In just a few seconds, we’re bobbing our heads in sync. Then Jimmy, out of nowhere, starts singing along to it. I join him halfway through the first verse—badly—and by the big chorus, we’re singing so dang loud, I’m sure even the coyotes in the prairie are howling back.
1
BOBBY
The door to my screened-in back patio slaps shut harder than I intended, pulled by the wind. Out here in the dusty east suburb of Spruce, the wind’s got a bossy little mind of its own.
My mom rushes into the hall from the kitchen, her pink apron covered in flour, her round face red, her mouth agape. “Bobby, my darlin’!” Then she’s on me in seconds, her soft and squishy arms around my neck. “I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow!”
“Ma, I sent you a text yesterday, and another Wednesday,” I say over her shoulder. “What’re you makin’? Smells like farts.”
“It’s fried cauliflower, silly!” Her voice is always so soft and light, like she speaks on half a breath with every word, and her tone is high like a song and fragile as porcelain. “And you know darned well I don’t check my phone but once a month.”
I manage a laugh and a sigh at the same time. “I got you that iPhone for your birthday so you’d be out of the dark ages.”
She pulls back and gets a look at my face. Her eyes are shiny with innocence. “Of course, but you haven’t shown me how to use it yet, my sweet darlin’.”
I’ll get her up with the times one of these days. “Where’s Pa?”
“He’s on a long job in Fairview. He won’t be home until nearly midnight, I reckon. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow. Aw, shoot, I bet I got the date wrong and this is all my fault.”
“Yep. And the world’s gonna end now as a result of it.” I give my ma a kiss on the forehead. Seems like just a couple years ago I was looking up at her. Now I’m taller by three inches at least. “As you weren’t expectin’ me until tomorrow anyway, do we have any dinner plans? I was thinkin’ I might go over later to—”