“Are you there?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Nate laughed, shaking his head, picturing Cody at the gas station where they’d first met, trying so hard to be tough. “I’ve been counting the minutes until I’d hear your voice, and you’re going to make me work for every word, aren’t you?”
Cody took a shaky breath. “It’s not that. It’s just, I have no idea what to say. And I think maybe I need to hear your voice more than you need to hear mine.”
And Nate could believe it. Cody sounded so small and so fragile that Nate feared the wind would carry him farther away like some metaphorical tumbleweed.
“I have good news. I found a job, and a place to live. The landlord’s nice. He says the whole complex is ‘gay friendly,’ which sounds stupid as hell, but it’s good to know, right? My aunt’s going to drive me out there tomorrow. I won’t be able to afford long-distance service, which is why I had to call tonight. And I can’t talk long, because it’d be rude to run up her bill. But I wanted to tell you in person. Or, you know—” He laughed. “Not in a letter, at least.”
“I understand.”
“You’re still planning on meeting me there, right?”
“If I can.”
And then, more silence.
“I know something’s wrong. I can tell. And for some reason, you don’t want to tell me. You think you have to handle it all yourself, but you don’t.”
No answer except the wind.
“Cody,” Nate said, feeling like he was pleading, like he was trying to urge a scared kitten down from a tree, “talk to me. Please.”
For a second, he thought it hadn’t worked. He was almost starting to feel angry that he’d gone to such lengths to call Cody only to listen to the wind, but then Cody took a deep breath and started to talk.
“The Tomahawk closed back in April. My mom lost her job a week later. All the bills are past due, and my mom still owes money to the state, but there’s nothing here. No jobs at all. We’ve tried all over town, but there’s nothing. I put my name on a list at the unemployment office—they say there are usually house-painting jobs in the summer, but there are at least twenty names ahead of mine, and I might be able to mow a lawn or two, but that won’t be more than a few dollars, and the phone’s been shut off, and the electricity will be next, and I could pay part of them, but not all, and if I do, I won’t have any money left at all. As it is, I have just enough for a bus fare, but it’s a thirty-hour walk to Rawlins, and we don’t have a car anymore, and, Jesus, of course I want to meet you there. You have no idea how much I miss you, or how bad I want to get away from this godforsaken town, but I can’t, Nate. I just— I have no idea what to do. I don’t think I can get there, no matter how much I want to. It’s just like I’ve always said. There’s no escape from Warren.”
He finally stopped, as if he’d run out of gas, or run out of words and hope at the same time, and Nate leaned his head back against the wall, twirling the cord around his finger. He’d used a big chunk of his cash putting down a deposit and first month’s rent on the apartment. He couldn’t afford to use any more of his savings now, and he wouldn’t get money from his dad until fall, and even then he’d have to use it for school, but he refused to give up hope. Graduation money was still trickling in, and he could work full-time over the summer. Somehow, he’d make it work.
“Cody, listen to me: we’ll find a way. It may not be by July first like we’d hoped. But as long as you still love me—”
“I do.” It wasn’t much more than a whisper, but Nate thought he could hear Cody’s whole heart beating in those two words. “I do.”
“Then we’ll figure it out, okay? I promise you we’ll find an answer.”
“Okay.”
“Do you believe me?”
“I want to.”
Nate sighed. “I guess that’ll have to do.”
They talked a few more minutes, long enough for Nate to give Cody the address and phone number for the apartment in Iowa City. They hung up, and Nate sat there, staring at the empty space on his finger, debating.
He wouldn’t have to ask for much. Certainly not for money.
All Cody needed was a ride to Rawlins.
Nate took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and picked up the phone one more time.
Cody wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse after talking to Nate. It’d been good to hear his voice, and his promises, and to hear him say “I love you” a couple more times. At the end of the call, he’d made Cody write down the address and phone number of the apartment in Iowa City. Cody had left the receiver hanging from the cord while he’d run into the gas station to borrow a pen and a bit of paper from Vera. He looked at it as he walked home, trying to imagine how it would feel to know that address and phone number belonged to him.