David nodded.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you,” I said, “but what a long time. So, you’re in college now?”
“University of Illinois,” David said.
“Me, too,” from Robert.
“How’s your mother?” I asked.
“I suppose Dad told you.”
“Yes, he did. I was sorry to hear about that. Is she okay?” I felt somehow caught, having attempted to play dumb.
David nodded, again.
“So, what brings you to the outskirts of no place?” I asked. I hated working at conversation, but he was my friend’s kid and I wanted him to feel comfortable.
“We’re here for a rally.” David said.
“Rally? What kind of rally?”
The waitress came. She was obviously intrigued with the young men and she admired them while she named the specials. “The tortilla soup is real good,” she said at the end of the list. “Well, I’ll give you guys a few minutes.”
David and Robert laughed a little.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Robert said.
“What kind of rally?” I asked again.
“It’s a gay pride rally,” Robert said.
“I see.” I took a sip of water.
“Because of the killing that took place here last week,” David said.
I nodded. “Awful thing. When is this rally?”
“Tomorrow at noon.” David ran a hand over his hair. “It’s going to be in front of the city hall building. Tell me, what is this place like?”
“Place?” I asked.
“This town,” Robert said.
I shrugged. “It’s a little town. It’s okay. Mostly white. Indians get treated like shit. You know, America. The murder hit everybody pretty hard.”
Robert might have smirked. I felt it as much as I saw it.
“My father’s a bastard,” David said. It came out of nowhere and not.
I studied his eyes.
“He screwed around and hurt my mother. He had an affair. He didn’t think about her or me or anything.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
David was staring at me, as if somehow I was representing his father at that moment. “He’s a real bastard,” he said again.
Robert leaned in, perhaps to break the tension. “So, what do you do here?”
“I raise and train horses,” I told him. “I’ve got a ranch about thirty miles from town. I used to run cattle, but not anymore.”
“How do you know David’s father?” Robert asked.
I glanced at David. “We were at college together. Berkeley.”
“Berkeley?” Robert asked.
“You find that odd?”
“John studied art history,” David said. “Right?”
I nodded, a bit surprised that David knew and remembered that fact.
“So, why are you here?” Robert asked.
I looked out the window, then to Robert. As my father would have said, there was a tone to his question. “Did you notice the landscape when you drove in?” I asked. “This is a beautiful place.” I pulled back some. “I love horses. This is where I grew up. Well, down in Colorado.” I shrugged. “Where are you from?”
“Vermont,” Robert said.
“Pretty state,” I said. “I went to school in New Hampshire.”
“I thought you went to Berkeley.”
“I went to prep school in New Hampshire. Phillips Exeter.” I felt bad for enjoying the confusion and disappointed assumptions reflected in Robert’s face. “Sometimes they let us country boys out. Anyway, it’s too green back there in New England for me.”
“How big is your ranch?” David asked.
“I’ve sold half of it and the BLM leases since I don’t run cattle anymore. So, there’s about fifteen hundred acres. Not so big.”
Robert asked, “How many black people live out here?”
I was a little startled by the question. “Good question. I don’t know. How many black people live in Chicago?”
Robert stumbled.
“I’ve never counted people around here, Robert. Black or white. A whole bunch of Indians live over that way.”
“Ever have any problems?” Robert asked. “With race, I mean.”
“Of course I have, son. This is America. I’ve run into bigotry here. Of course, the only place anybody ever called me nigger to my face was in Cambridge, Mass.” I let that sink in. “There are plenty of stupid, narrow-minded people around. They’re not hard to find. There are a lot of ignorant people, a lot of good, smart people. Is it different where you come from?”
Robert laughed nervously, but avoided my question by drinking some water.
I felt a little like a bully and I didn’t like it. I was a bit on the defensive and I liked that even less. I made myself relax, as when on a nervous horse. I viewed it as good practice.
“I’m here because I like the West,” I said.
The waitress returned.
“I’ll just have the burger,” David said.
“Same for me,” from Robert. He dropped his hand on top of David’s on the table.
The waitress couldn’t help but see this and it registered slightly on her young face. “Cheese on those?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” David said.
Robert shook his head.
“Becky, I’ll have the BLT without the B and with avocado,” I said. “And I’ll have cottage cheese instead of the fries.”
“Be right up,” Becky said.
“Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian,” Robert said.
“Okay,” I said. “So, what do you think of our little town?”
“Not much to it,” David said.
“That’s for damn sure,” I agreed. I looked out the window and saw that the SUV was gone from in front of the sporting goods store.
“So, why did you study art history?” Robert asked.
“I like art.” I emptied my water glass and set it back down. “What are the two of you studying?”
“Undecided,” Robert said, somewhat sheepishly.
“There’s plenty of time,” I told him.
“I’m majoring in English right now,” David said. “So, how did you and my father get together? He was a business major.”
“I don’t remember. Probably some anti-war protest or something.” I leaned back. I felt slightly sleepy. “You two should come out to my place. I’ll put you on a couple horses and you can really see this country.” I considered that I was forgetting why they were there and I felt a little stupid. “So, when is the rally again?”
“Tomorrow at noon,” David said.
“You think folks would mind if some straight cowboys showed up?”
“I don’t think so,” David said.
The waitress brought the food and we began to eat.
I looked at the two young men together. They were handsome, bright. I thought about Howard.
“How does your father feel about your being gay?” I asked.
The directness of my question caused David to glance at Robert. “He doesn’t like it.”
“He hates it,” Robert said.
“Sorry to hear that,” I said.
“How do you feel about it?” David asked me.
“I don’t feel one way or the other about it,” I said. “Should I?”
“No,” David admitted.
“I hope I didn’t offend you,” I said.
“You didn’t.” David fiddled with his napkin.
“Would you like to come to my place for dinner tomorrow? It’s a bit of a ride. I’ll drive you out and you can stay over if you like.”
David questioned Robert with a look.
“Listen, no rush,” I said. “You can let me know tomorrow.”
“Okay,” David said.
We finished lunch, which turned out to be a dragging, boring affair. Still, I liked Howard’s son. I tried not to dislike Robert. I wasn’t put off by the men’s homosexuality, but Robert’s display for the benefit of the waitress seemed mean-spirited. I didn’t feel bad for thinking that, as I considered I would have been as put off by a heterosexual man or woman similarly marking territory.