Looking for Trouble(54)
“Of course.” Clay put his hand on Dylan’s knee and squeezed.
He talked about how they would get together in April’s cul-de-sac and play games late into the night on the weekend—hide-and-go-seek, tag, kick the can. It was the one time they were allowed to stay out past when the streetlights came on. He told Dylan how they’d gotten suspended from school for smoking on campus.
“What?” Dylan asked. “No way.”
“Seriously.” Clay laughed. “I take it he never picked up the habit later in life? It didn’t stick when we were younger. We were trying to be cool.”
“Well, shit. I didn’t see that coming.” Dylan remembered when he’d gotten suspended, his dad never told him he’d gotten the same punishment in his youth.
“He loved bikes,” Clay continued. “During the summertime, we would ride bikes until our legs ached.”
Dylan looked out at the water, thinking about that, thinking about his father and his own childhood.
“Did I say something wrong?” Clay asked, obviously sensing Dylan’s melancholy.
“No, I just… He wanted that for me. These stories you have about him. But I was never able to give them to him. I didn’t have friendships like the two of you did. I had too much energy and got in trouble in class. I couldn’t sit still, and tried to make people laugh when we were supposed to be working to the point that I annoyed the shit out of everyone. I thought they were laughing with me, but they were laughing at me. People hated me because I was weird.”
“Then those people had the issue, not you. There’s nothing wrong with you. There never was. So what if you had a hard time with a few things? That doesn’t say anything bad about you.”
It wasn’t something Dylan hadn’t heard before. Logically, it wasn’t something he didn’t know, but it sure as shit was hard to make himself see it sometimes.
Clay was quiet, and Dylan knew he was giving him time to decide what he wanted to share and how. “He was all I had, Clay. No matter how much trouble I got into in school, he believed in me. When they told him I would never amount to anything, he told them I would. When I was finally diagnosed, he researched and tried to practice different techniques with me. When I couldn’t learn the way other kids did and felt dumb, he fought them to adjust how they taught me and always told me I was smart. When I failed my senior year, he inspired me to keep trying. And what have I done?”
“Don’t do that. You’ve accomplished a lot. You’re a responsible adult who takes care of himself. You work at a job you enjoy. You went back and got your GED. I sure as shit know you don’t give up easily or you probably never would have made it here, or if you had, you would have turned away when I was so damned stubborn. You’re smart, and people adore you, and you make people feel loved and accepted in a way I’ve never seen. You’ve got a whole lot more grit to go after what you want than I do.”
Dylan’s eyes snapped up toward Clay’s at that. “Do you really think so?”
“Hell yes. I’m damn thankful for your determination. We wouldn’t be where we are without it… I wouldn’t know I have Mike’s forgiveness… I wouldn’t have you.”
“That would be a tragedy.”
“Yes, it would,” Clay confirmed.
“I’ve done a lot of stupid things, Clay. By the time I hit high school, I was convinced I was too dumb to ever accomplish much, even though I was steady with my meds. There was a lot of sex…a lot of letting guys use me. I was fucking a guy once for six months before I found out he was married. Guys used me and walked away from me, and I always went back. I got fired from jobs, and I got caught shoplifting once when I was seventeen. My dad had to bail me out of more shit than I can tell you about. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true.”
“Hey,” Clay called to him. “So your past isn’t pretty. Whose is? It doesn’t matter what mistakes we’ve made, it doesn’t matter who we were, what matters is who we are now. And you’re a kind, sexy, smart man, with a big heart. One who dropped everything to drive across the country in honor of his father. The man who didn’t give up on me when I was angry or when I pushed you away. The man who got me to dance, and the one who’s going to work toward making his dreams come true, whether it’s becoming the best damn barista Bailey Springs has seen or having his own underwear brand in stores across the country.” Clay’s voice was strong, steady, his words spoken with so much conviction, Dylan believed them.
“Do you think he’s proud of me?” Dylan asked. His dad always told him he was.
“I know he is.”
The pole jerked, was almost pulled out of Dylan’s hand before he tightened his grip. It happened a second time, the pole bending the line, pulling, when Clay shouted, “Holy shit. You’ve got something! Reel it in. Nice and steady.”
Holy fucking shit. He’d caught a fish! Or a shoe or some trash, but he’d caught something!
Dylan shoved to his feet, followed Clay’s directions as he told him what to do and when. Suddenly he pulled the line out of the water to see what had to be a ten-inch…fuck, he didn’t know what kind it was, but it sure as shit was a fish. “Oh my God. I did it!”
It flopped around on the ground as Clay wrapped his arms around Dylan from behind. “I think your dad just gave you his answer right there.”