Last of the Summer Tomatoes (7 page)

“I… I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you were speaking to me. I… I don’t know.” Kyle was still trying to get used to being given choices.

Walt blinked a few times. “You don’t know how you like to eat steak?”

“I’ve only had it a few times. It seemed… tough.”

Walt nodded. “Ah, I see. Well, let’s try medium rare; we can always cook it longer, can’t cook it shorter.”

“Oh… um, okay. Thanks.”

“We’ll be eating in about ten minutes. Meet us out back. We’ll eat al fresco tonight.”

Kyle nodded, turning back to the stairs to head inside. Once up in his room, he laid out all the clothes on the bed. He fingered the sleeve of his new jacket, wondering how in the world he was deserving of all this. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, looking at himself with the hair pulled back. He looked at his eye; yeah there was a small hint of yellow-green where it hadn’t healed all the way, but nothing that the average Joe would notice. But Glenda had. Glenda had because it’d happened to her. But if she could find happiness, he could too. He just had to get back to the city and into college to start his new life.

He headed outside to a wonderful smell. It reminded him of the alley outside Luigi’s Steakhouse; Billy’s older brother Glenn used to work there. He and Billy would wait for Glenn and walk him home, just to have an excuse to be out of the house. He found Glenda tossing a salad; Walt was next to a huge grill. On the picnic table was a plate of baked potatoes with all the trimmings of sour cream, chives, bacon bits, and that real butter Kyle knew he’d never get enough of.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Grab the salad dressing from the fridge, if you would, please.” Glenda moved the bowl of salad to the middle of the table then placed three plates on the table. Kyle went to the kitchen and grabbed the ranch dressing, going back out into the beautiful afternoon.

“Kyle, sit there, on the end.”

Kyle set the bottle down and sat where Glenda pointed. Next to his glass of iced tea was a Snickers candy bar.

“Now don’t spoil your dinner. Walt’s known for his steaks.”

Kyle smiled. “I won’t. I’m starving.”

Walt set a steak down on his plate. It didn’t look a thing like what he’d had at his grandmother’s house a couple years ago. This looked and smelled tantalizing; what his grandma had served was dry and tasteless. He waited for Walt and Glenda to sit down to their places, potatoes and salad passed, before he dug in. Flavor exploded on his tongue. Savory, a hint of seasoned salt and pepper, juicy, tender… didn’t even really need the knife to cut it. He’d never, ever in his life had something like it.

“Is it cooked to your liking? I can put it back on the grill if you want.”

“No, it’s… I can’t describe it. I… I’ve never tasted anything like it. It’s perfect.”

“Glad you like it. That’s one of the barters with Circle H. I’d say the Japanese have nothing on ol’ Hotch. He babies those cows until the end. I don’t see how he does it.”

“Does it?”

“Take them to slaughter. I have to send him our male calves; I just can’t do it.”

Kyle stopped eating, the realization of what he was eating hitting him.”

“Oh dear, did Walt put you off your meal?” Glenda placed her hand over his. He was beginning to like the little contacts she made with him.

“Um, maybe a little. I guess just getting used to knowing where everything comes from. Big Macs seem so far away from the animal, you know?”

“Big Macs have nothing in common with an animal, just so you know.” Walt dug into his baked potato.

“What?”

“I guess there’s some beef in there, but it’s so full of preservatives and additives. You want a real hamburger? I can make you one.”

Kyle looked back down at his meat. The taste came back to him, and he took another bite. Even the realization it was part of the actual animals he milked this morning didn’t make it any less tasty. “Um, no, I’m okay. It just took me by surprise. It still tastes… amazing.”

“Circle of life, son, circle of life. We thank nature for providing food of all types and in return, we respect nature and give back ourselves.”

“How do you give back?”

“We move the vegetable garden every couple of years, let the soil regain some nutrients. We recycle everything we can. We burn overgrown pastures.” Glenda passed the tea over to Walt.

“You really burn stuff? That helps?”

“You can’t let a pasture or field get too overgrown; the weeds will choke out the beneficial grasses. When you burn, you burn off the weeds, adding nutrients to the soil, and the grass grows back healthier. Before this land was settled, lightning strikes would spark fires, keeping the weeds at bay. Now we humans do it.”

“I… I had no idea.”

“I guess you wouldn’t. Not something that’s needed in the cities. More salad?” Walt gestured to the bowl in front of him.

“No, thank you. I’ve got plenty.” Kyle finished off his meal, internally giving thanks for the plants and animals that went in to feeding him. He felt more at home, more in tune with his world than he’d ever been.

“So, the steak was okay? I see you’ve cleaned your plate.” Glenda snapped the lid back on the salad dressing.

“Yes, it was… awesome.” Kyle smiled.

“And awesome is good. I was afraid Walt’s story might turn you vegetarian.”

“For a moment, it was weird, thinking about what I was eating. Knowing it used to be a breathing creature like those in the field. But I think I like meat a little too much. The taste… it tasted so good.”

“Well, I’m glad. I’d hate to have to monitor my recipes for meat.” Glenda stood up and started to stack the plates. Kyle started to help.

“No, why don’t you have some time to yourself. Take a walk, grab your art stuff, go draw. I told you, we weren’t going to work you night and day. I think Walt and I are going to curl up on the couch together. I understand they’re showing a bunch of the Universal horror movies tonight. Dracula is my favorite.”

“You like horror movies?”

“Only the classics. Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, Lon Chaney Jr.… now those are horror movies. Not those slasher, blood and gore-filled abominations that call themselves movies. If I want to see that, I’ll go over to the slaughter house.”

Kyle gave a little laugh.

“Oh my, the boy can laugh!” Walt gave Glenda a peck on the cheek. “Enjoy your evening, son. I’m going to do a round and have an evening with my best gal.” He headed off to the barn.

“As he said, get. You’ve got about an hour until sunset. Not that you have a curfew, but it gets mighty dark around here once the sun goes down. I don’t want you getting lost.”

“I won’t go far. The creek okay? There’s a great view of the valley to the west. I think it would make a great picture.”

“And I agree. Enjoy yourself.” Glenda reached over and kissed Kyle on the cheek. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so familiar.”

Kyle felt his cheeks get hot. “It’s okay. Really. Kinda reminds me of my mom, when I was younger. She used to… yeah well. It’s okay.”

“Then have a good time. We’ll see you before dark.”

“Will do.” Kyle bounded up the stairs. He grabbed his sketchpad and pencils, holding them close but knowing he didn’t have to hide them, not any longer. Heck, he might even show Glenda some of his work… that is, if she wanted to see. It was nowhere near as good as Walt’s brother’s work, but he was proud of what he could do. Poor Billy couldn’t even draw stick people very well.

He flew down the stairs and down the drive, down the little gully to the creek he’d spied on the drive to the farm. He followed it for a few minutes until he found the perfect view. He could just still see the farmhouse, so he knew he wouldn’t get lost going back… but it was far enough that he felt totally alone. Alone with his art, for the first time.

He had finished the outline and had started to fill in when he noticed headlights going up the drive. He wondered who could be visiting this late and noting he was at a good stopping point, he packed everything up and headed back to… home, yes, home. It was home, a place where he really felt cared for. And there, in the drive, being hugged tight by Glenda, was… him.

Six

K
YLE
stopped in his tracks. It was him, it had to be. He quickly thumbed through his sketchpad, going back to some of the earlier ones, ones of portraits. And yep, staring right back at him was the same man that was in the driveway in front of him. The guy he’d seen in his dream, the one he saw so clearly he had to draw him the next day. It unnerved him, seeing the living, breathing embodiment of the one dream that had awakened any sexuality in him whatsoever.

All he could do was stare. Walt was pulling luggage from the backseat of the extended cab pickup, a couple of the dogs were jumping up and down barking, and Glenda was laughing along with… this had to be Sam. The son returning for the summer. Glenda turned her head and saw Kyle at the edge of drive.

“Kyle! Come on up, meet Sam. He got home early!” Her voice carried across the lawn. It took a couple more breaths for his brain to send a command to his legs. He closed the sketchpad before he reached them, not wanting to explain how he had a picture of Sam in his sketchbook. He sized Sam up, noting every detail, noting it matched his dream in almost every facet save one—the color of his eyes. His dream had vivid blue eyes. Sam’s were definitely green.

“I’m Sam. Mom’s told me about you. Welcome to the farm!” He held out his hand.

Kyle stared at the hand, his brain knowing he should do something, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what to do. He was dumbfounded to say the least.

Sam withdrew his hand. “Okay, um, just, um, welcome. How do you like the place so far?”

Kyle continued to stare.

Glenda put her hand on Kyle’s arm. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure Kyle could use some sleep. Maybe he’ll be a bit more talkative tomorrow.”

Kyle looked at Glenda, realizing they all were staring at him. He cleared his throat. “Um, uh, yeah, hi. I… I’m….”

“No worries. It always takes me a couple of days to settle into a farming routine, and I grew up here. Having an 8 a.m. class seems like sleeping in after being home.”

“I… I’d like to go in now, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Get some rest. We’ll be up before dawn again.”

Kyle nodded, not daring to look back toward Sam again. It was just too weird, his dream coming to life.

He got upstairs and stowed his art supplies, keeping the sketchpad out. He noticed there was a slip of paper on his laptop with a user ID and password for their Wi-Fi. He was tempted to log in and e-mail Billy, but what would he say? That a guy from his dream had come to life? Hell, Billy knew Kyle wasn’t into girls, but he wasn’t really into finding dates with guys either. He figured it had a lot to do with keeping his emotions under wraps; not even love or lust could emerge. He stripped down to his boxers, lay down, and tried to sleep. It was quite warm in his room; he opened the window. A cacophony of sound filtered in. He’d have to ask what all the sounds were in the morning, but for now, they were soothing. He picked up the sketchpad and stared at the picture he’d drawn so long ago.

The dream had woken him during the earliest morning hours in the dead of winter. His body had actually tingled; in his dream, he had been touched so gently, with so much love and tenderness. The loss of that feeling made him want to cry. And since that day, he’d longed for that touch in his dream because he sure as hell wasn’t going to feel that in reality. But his dream lover never returned. All he had was the picture he’d drawn and guarded with his life.

He had never felt that strongly about anyone. He knew he was gay from a young age. It wasn’t that girls would give you cooties; he just didn’t like them at all. Junior high, with all its rampant hormones drove home his sexuality when he began to notice the football players and not the cheerleaders. A couple of wrong glances and black eyes later, he learned to keep his eyes to himself. Billy didn’t care and could actually relate a little; one of his brothers, Lawrence, was gay and had thankfully escaped their homophobic neighborhood before he was beaten or, worse, killed.

Unrequited crushes, never to have that special touch or kiss, he’d been through it all. The music, his art, they were his escape from reality, from the pain, hurt, loneliness. He figured art school would be… no, had to be different. Around people like him, maybe he’d find that special someone. But now, being confronted with his dream come to life, living in a home where people cared about him, it was overwhelming. He fell asleep with Sam staring back at him.

Seven