and tried to hear over the rushing of the surf out beyond the reef if anyone
else hid in the dark. No sounds. Fortunately, no big water hit this beach, so
he didn’t have to worry about getting swamped. Actually, between the lapping
waves and the brilliant moonlight, the scene resembled some fairy-tale romance.
the dry sand verged on the wet, he flopped on his butt. What she’d said—that he
settled for a good-enough life. That he wasn’t happy. Don’t I get to decide that?
back on his elbows. Yeah, but she’s
right. I created a whole life—as if I was somebody else. Most people find “the
one” and build a future so it suits them both. I imagined a cowboy and slid
into his boots—Rand McIntyre. Say that with a drawl, son. Just one problem. I’m
gay—always have been—and cowboys don’t come out. Where does that leave me?
A-fucking-lone, pardner. Always will be.
You’re not the only gay cowboy.
Have you seen Brokeback
sparkled on the tops of the waves farther out. Pretty. Guess there could be all kinds of weird man-eating shit in that water.
Do you think more sharks and barracudas swim at night than during
He sprang up,
stripped his Hawaiian shirt off and tossed it on the sand, then pulled off the
shorts his mom had given him. Commando. What would it feel like to have fishes
nibbling at his balls? Not like anybody else was doing any nibbling. He strode
into the water. Whoa! Not cold, just
When he waded
out past his thighs, his penis and balls started to float. He chuckled. Kind of
like being a kid in the bathtub. Endless hours of fun playing with your own
built-in toys. A few more steps, and he submerged to his shoulders. He gave a
tiny shiver. Weird being sunk in inky blackness. Still, the water felt good. He
kicked off and swam a few yards out, turned, and stroked back towards shore. He
wasn’t a good enough swimmer to push his luck alone at night.
treading water a couple of minutes, he pulled himself back into the shallows
and sat on the hard wet beach. He glanced down. Some shrinkage, but his balls
still lay on the sand. Remember to rinse
them off or you’ll itch. Slowly he released his breath. What was he going
to do? Answer? Same as always. Nothing. He couldn’t risk all the great shit
he’d made to try to make it better.