Page 83 of Best Wrong Thing

I continue my walk until I come upon an intricately carved cross that has weathered over time. Across the road, tables and chairs beneath white parasols beckon me. I sit and order some water, soaking up the busy atmosphere until it’s time to return to the coach.

“We were worried you wouldn’t make it,” Dad says.

The coach doors are closed, and there’s no sign of the driver.

“Did you get something for Molly?” I ask.

“Yes, no thanks to you. Where did you go?”

“I explored.” I bite my tongue before I add a glib comment.

“I’d have liked to have seen more of the town. Did you find anything interesting?” Archer asks.

I show him the pictures I took of the cross.

“Oh, that was in the guidebook. I bet it looked better in person. Wait. Is that a skull at Christ’s feet?” He uses his fingers to zoom into the photo.

“It was impressive,” I say.

“It’s nice to see you two getting along,” Dad says.

Archer and I move apart, careful not to meet each other’s gaze. We’re saved by the driver returning and opening the doors, allowing us to get on.

“Why don’t you sit with me, Barry?” Archer asks.

I throw Archer a ‘thank you’ look.

As I’m about to climb onboard, someone touches my arm. I startle.

The chatty mum gives me a sad smile. “I just wanted to say you and your boyfriend are a very sweet couple. I’m sorry you don’t feel you can come out to your dad.”

I gape at her. What do I say? I hadn’t even realised she or her family had registered Archer and I were part of the group. But she has. Fuck. Is she going to say something to Dad?

She taps the side of her nose. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with us. Hopefully, one day, you’ll feel able to let him know you’re gay and that you and that young man are more than friends.” She squeezes my arm and gets on the coach.

She’s got it wrong, but I understand why she thinks I’m in the closet. After all, we’ve been on two trips together where Archer and I have behaved like a couple. But now Dad’s here, we’re cold and distant.

“Are you getting on?” The driver’s English is halting but a thousand times better than my feeble attempts at speaking Spanish would be.

“Uh, yeah.”

I get on board. All the seats are taken, but I spot an empty one towards the back of the bus, a few rows behind Dad and Archer. Archer is sitting in the aisle seat. I walk past him, and even though I shouldn’t, I whisper my fingers over his shoulder. The brief, fragile contact is enough to make my heart sing. How can something that feels so right be wrong?

Chapter 20

Archer

After lunch, we travel to Parque Rural del Nublo, a park named after Roque Nublo, one of the towering rocks that stand proudly against a brilliant blue sky. Its sister rocks, El Fraile and La Rana, are just as impressive. The sun glares so intensely I have to shade my eyes. I’m a little apart from the others, who are listening to the guide. Normally, I’d be fascinated by the history of a place like this, but now I’m happy to soak up the majesty of the volcanic monoliths.

Jacob detaches himself from the group and joins me. “Amazing, aren’t they?” He stands close, but not too close.

“I’m feeling small and insignificant.”

He chuckles. “Me too. The guide said Roque Nublo means ‘cloud rock’. You can hike to the base.”

“Do we have time?”

“No.”