Page 94 of Zero Confusion

Zach accepted the foil-wrapped package. He already knew what it was. A few years ago, frustrated by the muscle spasms in his wrists after a full week of weeding, Zach did all of five minutes of internet research before demanding more potassium in his diet. Ever since, his mom had made peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch whenever he was on vegetable duty. It didn’t matter if she was busy or making something else for the rest of the family, Zach always got the lovingly assembled, perfectly toasted bread with generous layers of smooth peanut butter and mushed banana.

One of the many small ways she showed how much she loved him.

Zach shot up and grabbed her in a hug. Holding back the emotions threatening to crack his voice, he whispered, “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Zachie. I’ll always love you, no matter what.” She squeezed him tightly, kissing his temple before letting go. “Promise me you’ll come visit every once in a while. Even if it’s only for a few days.”

“I will. I promise.”

He chewed on his sandwich while watching her walk back toward the house, wishing he didn’t have to go so soon.

That sentiment didn’t last long. By the time dinner rolled around, he was glad to be leaving again. Everything ached. Muscles he’d forgotten about protested with every movement, and experience told him it would only get worse over the next week.

Taking a long, hot shower and eating two giant slices of apple pie for dessert improved his mood but didn’t do much for his physical state. He was sprawled across the couch in the living room, watching Jerry and Abe make the zombie apocalypse look embarrassingly easy to survive, when his phone vibrated with a text message.

MILES: Want to meet by the trees for dessert? I have chocolate muffins.

It was his last night in Montana, and he should have been doing everything he could to see Miles again, but he couldn’t move. And not only because his muscles refused to cooperate. Zach was afraid. As the excitement from the wedding faded, real life was starting to rear its ugly head. After tomorrow, it would be months before he would see Miles, and a year until they lived together. If Miles didn’t change his mind by then.

If he met Miles tonight, every moment they shared would be tinged with the sadness of their looming separation, and Zach didn’t think he could handle it. The two-hour drive to the airport tomorrow morning would be painful enough.

Besides, his muscles truly weren’t up for the task. Even the short walk to their secret spot sounded grueling.

ZACH: I want to see you, but I was on my knees all day and my body is filing a formal complaint. I can’t move. I might be moments away from full muscle failure.

MILES: On your knees all day and I didn’t get an invite? Rude.

ZACH: Don’t joke. Laughing hurts.

MILES: Copy that. Go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.

Zach was almost disappointed by how easy that was. He’d expected Miles to argue, to want to see him, to take advantage of their last night in the same zip code. A groan of frustration made its way out of him as he slammed his phone face down on the couch cushion.

“Everything okay?” Jerry asked, skillfully shooting a poor, hungry zombie in the head, causing a disturbingly realistic explosion of blood and bone.

“Yeah.” Zach sighed, no longer tired. “You got any easy multiplayer games?”

“Hell yeah!”

* * *

“Cheap tickets are always the worst,” Zach grumbled, slumped at the kitchen table. His brothers and dad were shoveling eggs and bacon into their mouths, even though it was barely four in the morning and Zach couldn’t imagine eating anything for hours. “You didn’t have to wake up so early.”

Jerry said something, impossible to interpret with the food in his mouth. He held up a finger and finished chewing before trying again. “It’s only an hour earlier than usual. You’re good.”

“You’re sure you don’t need a ride?” His mom placed a plate of toast in front of him and ruffled his hair.

Zach smiled and took a tiny bite, chasing it down with coffee.

“Miles will drive me,” he said, checking the time. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

One by one, everyone came up to him. His dad squeezed him in a brief one-armed hug and slapped him on the shoulder, Jerry tried to muss up his hair, Abe murmured a soft “We’ll miss you,” and his mom lingered in the embrace, her eyes glassy when they finally separated.

“I’ll come for Thanksgiving. I promise.” Four pairs of eyes watched as he picked up his bag, and he gave them a final smile.

They loved him. They accepted him. Even his dad, who’d clearly struggled with Zach’s revelation the most, hadn’t said a single derogatory thing about gay people or Portland the entire time. As Zach slipped out of the house, he noted how different this departure was. Last time, he’d rushed out with tears in his eyes, certain he’d never come back again. This time, he knew he’d be welcome here.

It made all the difference.