7 Days in November, Friday, Part 5

Bourbon folded his arms and rested them on his knees. He sat on the steps of the porch behind TJ’s house, looking out over the lawns of the houses that backed up to it. It was too dark to see anything, aside from the lit-up kitchens windows and family rooms. People moved in the houses, floating from room to room. Bourbon watched the lights turn on and off around them. He closed his eyes and turned away, resting his head on the railing next to him.

The back door opened and closed noisily. Farly sat down next to Bourbon, mug in hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m fine,” Bourbon mumbled. He opened his eyes and went back to staring out over the back yard.

“Bourbon…” Farly said. He set down the mug between his feet and looked down at it. He stretched his hands down between his legs. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bourbon narrowed his eyes. “It was going to happen. I got so tired of all this, this hate and fear and just…”

Farly nodded. He didn’t know what else to do.

“I got tired of being dragged to church so that some guy that doesn’t know me can tell me and everyone else how queers are destroying this country. Destroying! Who the fuck believes that?”

Farly nodded again. He watched Bourbon closely. Bourbon, like Farly, was a mutt, although Bourbon’s ancestry strayed far outside the canine family, so much so that Bourbon really didn’t know what he was. He could guess there was some canine in him: his large tail and point ears were a dead give away. But everything else, his fur color, his muzzle, his messy head-fur, which he and Ty had dyed cobalt-blue over the summer, it was all guesswork. It didn’t help that Bourbon, like Farly, didn’t remember his own parents.

Farly sighed and leaned into Bourbon, nuzzling into his neck. Bourbon looked over and nudged Farly with his nose.

“Farly?”

“I’m listening.”

Bourbon took Farly’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m tired of hearing about “God’s plan” for me. If God hates homosexuals so much, why did He let it exist in the first place? I don’t understand how God can be all-loving and hate at the same time.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling.”

Farly looked up at him. “It’s OK. Ramble as much as you need to.”

Bourbon put his arm around Farly. “How was your day?”

“Awful.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean. Tell me.”

“I just… you know. I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen to you when you got home. I shouldn’t have been there last night. I should have gone home.”

“Bourbon pulled Farly closer. “It’s not your fault.” He nudged the mutt with his muzzle. “It’s their problem.”

Farly shifted nervously. “So, I guess they know?”

“Yeah,” Bourbon said. “They know. They made me tell them everything. I made Linda cry.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bourbon shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about them and I’m nothing to them, despite what they tell everybody. I’m their accessory, another charm on the bracelet they show everyone at church. They were going to save me, you know. They’re on some holy mission. And this is good for them. They’re going to cure me.”

Farly picked up the mug of hot chocolate at his feet and took a sip. The heat rushed up and twisted around his face. He offered the mug to Bourbon, who gladly took it.

“I’m just fucking glad this is all over.”

Farly nodded. “So, now what?”

Bourbon shook his head. “I dunno.”

“You can stay here if you need to.”

“I’m going to go home, I guess. And then, we’ll see.”

Farly sighed. “I’m sorry, Bourbon.”

Bourbon pulled Farly close again, and kissed him on the top of his head. Across the yard, someone floated through their house, and disappeared into darkness.