Page 27 of Something Like Winter

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Tim opened the front door before Ben could ring the bell, hobbling out to the front porch. The afternoon was cooling off, the fresh air welcome after being cooped up inside. Days like today made Tim feel like he could break into a sprint, running past the neighborhoods, into the wild, and away from the world he knew. Maybe he’d throw Ben over his shoulder and bring him along. Of course with his ankle, he wouldn’t be running anywhere just yet.

“Take me for a walk,” he said instead.

“I left Wilford’s leash at home,” Ben replied, “but I can run back and get it.”

“Ha ha. Seriously. I need some exercise.”

Ben looked him over. “You sure?”

“Yeah, doctor’s orders.” The cast had come off last night, a removable plastic brace taking its place. His ankle was a little stiff and the pain came and went, but mostly he was okay walking on it.

“Okay,” Ben said. “Where do you want to go?”

Tim gazed at him. They hadn’t had sex since those first tumbles on the couch. Since then, Ben hadn’t made a move. Tim had been glad for that, but now he wouldn’t mind a relapse. If you had to go to confession, you might as well enjoy the sin.

“Somewhere private,” Tim suggested.

“Ah!” Ben fought down a smile. “Well, we could walk to my place.”

“Are your parents there?”

“Yeah.”

Tim shook his head. “No way.”

“Okay—” Ben turned this way and that, as if to get his bearings. “Follow me.”

Tim followed him down the street and to one of the bike paths, enjoying the physical exertion. He hoped he could start jogging again soon. He needed the release, although Ben might have a different sort for him, depending on where they were headed.

“Think you can handle going off road?” Ben asked.

The bike path ran ahead, the backs of houses to the left and trees on the right. It wouldn’t be easy, but Tim thought he could manage. He nodded, and Ben led him into the woods. They walked a fair distance, following a small winding dirt path before abandoning it. Not much farther ahead was a tree with low branches, each thick and long, some burdened with a wooden construct of some sort.

“My tree house,” Ben declared.

“How many rooms does it have?” Tim asked.

“One,” Ben said proudly.

“More like a tree shack then.”

Ben laughed, then scurried up a couple of wooden boards hammered into the trunk to form a ladder.

“Unless you’re going to carry me up there,” Tim said, “I don’t think I’ll be able to join you.”

But he tried anyway, using his good foot to get on the second rung and pulling himself up so he could at least see over the edge. Forget tree shack! A hobo would turn up his nose at this place. It didn’t even have a proper floor, just a bunch of criss-crossed boards. What passed for a roof strained where rain water had collected. Of Ben’s many talents, carpentry wasn’t included.

“Very nice,” he lied. Then he lowered himself back down, his ankle twinging, so he took pressure off it by sitting and stretching out on a bed of fallen leaves.

“I’ve gotten a lot of good thinking done here,” Ben said, his legs dangling over the edge.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. This is where I figured out I was gay.” Ben watched him from above, waiting for him to ask more.

Tim bit. “How did you know?”