Page 30 of Something Like Hail

Their stories were similar. Ryan’s parentshad also cast him out, refusing to accept that their son was gay.Ryan had been dealing with the fallout for years, whereas Noah hadjust begun that struggle. Being with someone who knew the ropes,who could guide him and stop him from making mistakes, wascomforting. At first. Later it had been Noah who did all thecaretaking. Getting money for drugs, watching over Ryan when he washigh and unresponsive, and then toward the end, when it got reallycrazy… He didn’t like thinking about that part, but today it wasimpossible to ignore.

The prison was in view. Noah pulled over tothe side of the road and stared. Did he really want to go? This wasonly the second time he’d been there. He studied the soullesscomplex, which was surrounded by watchtowers and barbwire fences,and tried to imagine what it would mean to call that place home.Three square meals every day, a bed, and a roof, but Noah wouldstill rather be out on the streets. At least there he could enjoythe sun, sit by a river, window shop, or splurge on an ice cream.His life wasn’t joyless. Prisoners probably managed to findhappiness too, but it must be in shorter supply.

Noah put the car back in drive. The least hecould do is brighten one of Ryan’s days, even if it darkened hisown.

Previous experience prepared him for theprocedure of prison visits. His car was searched, Noah worryingbriefly that Harold had weed stashed away somewhere. Then heparked, leaving everything behind except for his ID and a Ziplocbag full of quarters. He was patted down, had to fill out a form,and then waited. Eventually he and some other visitors were herdedinto a room that resembled a cafeteria. Only little details, suchas the bolted-down tables and chairs, and the walkways full ofguards, gave away that this environment didn’t belong to a schoolor hospital.

Noah went to the assigned table, thenwaited, feeling nothing but apprehension until he saw Ryan’s smile.The expression summoned tender memories of intimate moments. Morethan he could count. Noah stood, seeing only the guy he had fallenin love with—sassy and sexy, too good to be true. Then he noticedthe guard escorting him, and noticed how skinny Ryan had become,the dark half-moons beneath his eyes suggesting he wasn’t gettingenough sleep. When they hugged, Noah attempted to find the familiarscent he had once known, but it was drowned out beneath genericbody soap and cheap laundry detergent. God he felt boney!

“I’m so glad you’re here,”Ryan said, wiping tears from his eyes. “I thought I’d never see youagain.”

“I know.” They sat at thetable, Noah choosing a chair across from him until Ryan insisted hemove closer. “I got your letter. I don’t like what you wrote.Suicide?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Hey, that got me intothe psych ward for a week. I know that sounds bad, but trust me,it’s better than…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Noah wasscared to ask him to, not wanting to know what atrocities Ryan wassubjected to while stuck here.

“So you were justpretending to be suicidal?”

Ryan pursed his lips. “I didn’t saythat.”

“Don’t,” Noah pleaded withhim. “I know things are bad—”

“You don’t know! And youdon’t care. It took me wanting to kill myself for you tovisit!”

Were they doing this already? “I do care!Making the trip out here isn’t easy! If you’ll remember, I sold thecar to pay for your lawyer. Last time I visited, I hitchhikedhalfway and had to walk—”

“But you madeit.”

“Barely. I’d come visit allthe time if I could, but—”

“You could live inWaco.”

“I’m homeless!” Noahsnapped. “I tried staying there and the cops were jerks. It’s notlike Austin.”

Ryan sighed. “Then how’d you get here thistime?”

“A friend loaned me hiscar.”

Ryan studied him. “A guy friend?”

He thought of easy-going Harold, who seemeda million miles away from this sort of world. “Yeah.”

“You’re seeing someoneelse? Are you here to break up?”

“No!” He only addressed thefirst question. The second was too loaded. “He’s just afriend.”

“Good.” Ryan’s hand was onthe table. It moved closer to him, but it looked different than theone that had slid across the couch all those years ago. The skinwas paler, and four of the fingers had horrible prison tattoos,shaky letters that spelled outlove. They had argued over thatduring the previous visit, Noah feeling that it marked Ryanforever. His boyfriend—if that was even the right term anymore—haddefended his choice. The hand that now declared love was the sameone that had held the gun. Ryan had sworn to never again raise itin anger, thus the tattoos.

Noah tried to ignore this history as theirfingers intertwined. “I’m worried about you,” he said. “You don’tlook so good.”

“Gee, thanks!” Ryan said,attempting to pull away.

Noah didn’t let him. “I don’t mean it likethat. You’re still gorgeous, but are you getting enough toeat?”

Ryan grimaced. “The food here isterrible.”

“Maybe I can help withthat.” Noah pulled the baggie full of quarters from his pocket.Twenty bucks’ worth, which was the maximum amountallowed.