Welcome back to "Old Flame(s)" -- a tale of Wyatt, a paramedic in the PNW, travelling home for his brother's wedding. Follow along with this story of reconnection in the summer heat of the South.
Feel free to email me with your thoughts! -Weston
Chapter 2
The Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport in Little Rock, Arkansas isn't large by any means, with just 12 gates it takes less than 10 minutes to get from my plane to the escalator leading to baggage claim. As I step on the escalator to the ground level, I spot Casey; he's there, not with flower but with a blinding yellow sign. A sign that read "WELCOME HOME FROM PRISON WYATT" in large red letters.
"Subtly has never been your strong suit" I call down to him, the initial flush of embarrassment fading into a smile.
He shrugged with a smug look on his face and said, "There's never any fun in that, now is there?"
His accent was as thick as the humidity, which was more stifling than it was in Atlanta. Or maybe I was just conflating it with the mild sense of claustrophobia I get whenever I come back. Regardless, I was soon distracted by the changes that Casey had made since we'd last seen each other two years ago. Then, he'd been deep in a western phase and wore a cowboy hat everywhere he went. Now, the deep brown hair he'd usually kept clipped short and hidden away was cropped close on the sides with the top grown into artfully tousled curls. Gone was the beard he'd shaped obsessively, and in its place was stubble and a thick mustache tinged with red. His faded jeans, left over from the cowboy chapter, and olive-green button down fit snugly in all the right places, hinting at the muscles developed over years of competitive weightlifting. It all worked a little too well in his favor, which was something I had no doubt he already knew because he began a slow circle as I closed the few feet left between us.
I let out a whistle and said, "Now that's an ass." before pulling him in for a hug.
"It sure as hell better be." Casey replied, throwing his arms around me. "It feels like I spend more time working out than working these days."
Standing just 5'9" to my 5'11', he hit at the perfect level for me to smell the shampoo he'd used that morning.
"Sandalwood?" I asked, raising my eyebrow questioningly as I pulled out of the embrace.
"Yea. Vanessa grabbed it for me before we broke up," he said, avoiding my eyes. "Something about needing to use actual shampoo instead of a 3-in-1?"
"She's not wrong about. But shit, man; what happened?"
Casey didn't immediately answer and let the click of his cowboy boots on the tile, another wardrobe item held over, fill the silence between us.
"I just didn't work out. Shit happens." There was an air of practiced nonchalance, but he quickly pivoted to my love life. "What about you and what's his face? Y'all still together?"
"He has a name, Casey." I said as I grabbed my bag from the carousel.
"I know, but you cycle through `em so damn fast it's not worth remembering this week's hole."
"Record time," I said defensively, stopping our walk to the parking lot. "Not off the plane for an hour and we're already on how I'm not settling down. Can you do me a favor and leave that disappointment for my mother?"
Casey turned to face me and put his hands on my shoulders. "You need to calm down. I'm only doing it so you can get that attitude out before she brings it up. You know I don't care who you're fuckin'."
He was right, and I knew it. I needed to get it out now and relax so when it happens at her house, at the rehearsal dinner, and at the wedding I don't make a scene. And thinking back over my last few boyfriends -- well, flings would be a better word for them -- I realized that Casey wasn't wrong about that either. Most of them had lasted a few weeks at most, and even those were barely more than regular hook ups between work and whatever else was going on in life. It was easier that way, no need for complicated labels and the accompanying drama; have fun until you don't anymore, and then move on.
"Regardless. His name's Bennett, and we're doing just fine. Better than you are anyway." I quip.
"Ouch." Casey said and pretended to pull a knife from his chest. "You want this back?"
"Keep it. I have plenty more." I winked and gave him a light shove on the shoulder. "Come on. The faster we get into your truck, the faster I can get into some A/C."
Once outside, I see why the humidity was so much worse than Atlanta -- puddles shine on road and sidewalk, and my aisle seat on the flight kept me pleasantly in the dark on this unfortunate reality. Within seconds I felt the uncomfortably damp layer of sweat coat my skin and my thin t-shirt sticking to my torso.
Never one to pass up the opportunity for a joke, I clutched my throat with one hand and grabbed at Casey's shirt with the other. "Gills." I gasped. "I...need...gills."
"What you need is better joke," he retorts. "And longer shorts. It ain't that bad, and no one needs to see all that leg."
"Says the one who came back right after college." I reply with a laugh. "Come visit me more and this will feel like the hell it is, not just another day. And leave my shorts out of this; they're barely above my knee." I pulled the hem up a few more inches. "I gotta earn my keep and give you a show."
"Hard pass. On the location and the show. I like it here enough. Besides. If we both left, then our moms wou-"
"Fuck!" I cut him off and started scrambling for my phone.
"You forgot again, didn't you."
"Can you get out of my head for one damn minute?"
Casey laughed to himself while I fended her off with countless "yes ma'ams" and gave a very repetitive explanation of why I was staying at his place instead of at my childhood phone. He was closer to the airport, she had the wedding to focus on, he had more room, and so on until we'd finally reached a point in the conversation where I couldn't take it any longer.
"Because I wanted to, mom. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Her silence was both peaceful and anxiety-inducing.
"I see how you feel, Wyatt. I'll see you in a few days." She hung up without a goodbye.
I let out a frustrated sigh and climbed into the passenger seat of Casey's dark blue 4Runner, cranking the A/C as high as it would go as soon as I could. Thankfully, the sweet release of cold air came quickly; I closed my eyes and laid my head back on the headrest to enjoy the chill flowing over my sweat-soaked skin.
"I take it she didn't enjoy your sleeping arrangements?"
Keeping my eyes closed I respond "What? You couldn't hear her?"
Normally, anyone unfortunate enough to be near me while she was talking could hear the entire conversation clearly. It was convenient at home because I could sit the phone down and do something else, but a phone call in public usually warranted eye rolls and mouthed apologies.
"Oh, I heard her just fine. I just figured you need to bitch."
I groaned and sat up straight. "She's just been so overbearing lately. More than usual. It's probably something to do with Jessie's wedding, but still. I need room to breathe."
"Then why did you come back so early?" Casey asked, not one to let me wallow in self-pity. "Not that I don't like seeing you, but the wedding isn't for another week and you always make it clear you don't intend to stay for long on the rare occasion you do come around."
I let his question hang there while I tried to come up with a decent explanation. He was right, there wasn't any reason for me to come so far in advance. Especially given my vocal distaste for the area. What I hadn't told him, or anyone that asked, was that I was beginning to feel...something. It wasn't unhappiness, exactly, but I didn't know what else it could be described as. I'd just felt off lately and thought that getting out of town for a bit would help. Even if it meant coming here.
"Would you accept `I don't know.'?"
He barked a laugh. "No because I already know that's bullshit."
"Fine, but can we talk about it later?" I asked, hoping to avoid it all together. I knew I could tell Casey the reason, but I also knew that if I did then we wouldn't stop until we'd found the root of the issue. And I didn't have it in me now.
Giving me the same grace that I gave him about Vanessa, he changed the subject. "So, what did Bennett say about you coming?"
"Not much, honestly. He just told me to have fun and not to fall too hard for anyone from home." I rolled my eyes. "Like that's a possibility."
"So, you can fall a little? Just not too much?"
"Mhmm." I reply while texting Bennett an update on the trip.
"What exactly does that mean?"
"It means we're adults."
A hesitation, and then "Adults..."
The confusion in his voice was apparent, so I turned toward him and explained it bluntly.
"Meaning we aren't exclusive and do what we want. If he's out with his friends and sees someone he wants to hook up with, then he does. Same for me. Or, if we're out together and start connecting with a guy, we see if they're interested in one or both of us. We just have fun."
"I see." Casey said, staring out at the interstate ahead of us. "And there's no...jealousy or, or anything?"
"None that we've discussed. I haven't had any issues, and I assume Bennett hasn't either since he hasn't said anything."
"Ok." He paused. "How?"
I can feel my face scrunch when I turn back toward him. "How what?"
"How do you not have any issues? Don't you guys feel, I don't know, anything like a normal relationship?"
"By normal you mean what exactly?"
"Hell, I don't know. Like. How do you not feel that-"
"Possession? Connection? Ownership?" I interrupt.
"Hey," he said firmly. "Don't go putting words in my mouth. I'm just trying to find a way to ask how you two don't feel a bond or something. Just between you and him. Does that make sense?"
"It does and we do. Opening things up to have a good time isn't crazy. There's no point in staying locked in the same bed your whole life when there's so much to experience. We met at a bathhouse, after all." I explained. "I'm not saying it's not without possible problems if either of us ever started developing feelings for someone else, but until then we just want to have fun. It relies on something called communication. Heard of it?"
"Naw, I don't think I have heard of that." Casey said back, drawing out his words and overly stressing his accent. "We don't really get any of you big city folks in these parts to do any of that -- what did you call it -- communimicatin' with." By the time he finishes, he's barely able to speak a word or two without laughing.
"Communicating. Asshole."
Still laughing, Casey flips on his blinker to exit and says, "Oh come on now. What did you expect?"
"Not a damn thing different." I conceded while trying to figure out where we were going; he'd had taken an exit I wasn't familiar with. "Where are you living now anyway?"
"Outside Sheridan. Bought a few acres and finished building about a month ago?"
"I don't think I've ever gone this way. Why not just take the interstate down to White Hall?"
Casey laughed lightly to himself and looked over at me. "Because it's about twenty minutes faster. Does anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?"
"Yes, actually. Your dad." I replied matter-of-factly as I watched the trees speed by.
After a few miles of silence, Casey cleared his throat and asked, "So, a bathhouse. Mind sharing what that is?"
"How detailed of an explanation are you looking for?"
"Enough to get the picture but not enough to leave me scared?"
"It's a place where all the guys are naked, there's porn playing everywhere, pitch black sauna, and swings." I described. "They have private rooms, but there's plenty of action out in the open too."
Casey sat up a little straighter in his seat. "That's uh...that's something."
"Us big city folks know how to have a good time. You should try it some time." I said with a wink.
"Hard pass." He focused intently on the road. "I'll keep it in the bedroom."