Branson
Growing up in Bellingham,I got used to the rain and how short summer always felt.
I can easily say one of my favorite things about living in Pullman is the summer weather. Western Washington rains for the majority of the year, and it’s fucking depressing, while Eastern Washington is sunny for the most part.
I could have gone to Western Washington University instead of coming all the way down here for college. I would have been able to live at home and save money on housing, but where me and my pal seasonal depression stand, the choice between sun and rain was an easy one.
These are my exact thoughts as I find myself chilling out back with the guys, an ice-cold beer in hand. It’s barely noon, and it’s already high 90s, with the sun shining bright and not a cloud in sight.
Literal perfection.
Knox is working the grill, while Cash and Weston are going on and on about some chicks they met at the beach yesterday.
While technically only Knox, Weston, and I live here, Cash is always here too. We are such a tightknit group, having all grown up together. There is something to be said about friends who survive it all together and have years of solid friendship under their belt.
I honestly don’t know where I’d be without the three of them.
Watching your dad die at age eleven would be hard on any kid. It fucks with your head and makes you feel all kinds of things no child should be feeling.
Guilt.
Sadness.
Anger.
Relief.
The last one fucked me up the most, if I’m being honest. I remember the massive guilt I felt for actually feeling relieved that I would never have to deal with my dad anymore.
Drugs change people, and not for the better.
I remember being little and looking up to my dad so much. He was the strongest man I knew. My hero. He was kind and patient and was always my favorite person to spend Sunday mornings with.
And then he got laid off when I was eight and everything changed.
Shaking those thoughts out of my head, refusing to reminisce on the worst years of my life, I bring the cold beer bottle up to my lips and take a long pull, bringing myself back to the here and now.
Damn, there is really nothing better than an ice-cold beer on a hot day.
Just then, I feel my phone vibrate in my lap, indicating a new text message.
Luca: Hey, man, I’m getting into town. I’ll be there in like 20 minutes.
Me: Right on. Come in when you get here. The guys and I are all out back.
Luca: *thumbs up emoji*
Luca: Need me to pick anything up for lunch? I’m fucking starving.
Me: Nah. We got you covered. We’re grilling burgers and drinking beer.
Luca: Fuck yeah. See you soon.
I’m feeling pretty excited about Luca moving in here. I know things have been weird with us since the incident in high school, but I think the awkward new incident that happened a few months ago canceled out those previous feelings.
It makes sense if you think about it. The way I see it, all the weird tension on my end started because I saw him in a way I shouldn’t have.
It obviously made me uncomfortable.
My reaction as a healthy, sexually active, gay man was totally normal. Anyone would have felt turned on at the sight of someone attractive having sex.
And Luca is attractive.
It’s not weird for me to admit that. I do have eyes.
Now, the tables have turned, and he has walked in on me and saw me in a way he shouldn’t have. So, we’re even.
We even talked about it the next morning and cleared the air. Things can be normal again, and I’m happy about that.
When Andrew, my stepdad, suggested Luca move in here a few weeks ago, when his housing fell through, I couldn’t think of a better idea.
“Hey, asshole, Luca just texted. He’ll be here soon. Can you throw on another burger or two?”
“Sure thing.”
Knox is our resident grill master.
Despite being a bunch of college guys, we do make somewhat of an effort to make homecooked meals as often as possible. Family dinners and all that sentimental shit.
Knox genuinely enjoys grilling too, and who are we to deny him?
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