Mason of Light

The semi-trailer rig ahead of me was driving erratically, and I was debating whether to slow down and increase the distance between us. The downpour was so intense it was nearly dark outside. My attention wouldn't have drifted toward the roadside if the truck hadn't intentionally swerved to hit a massive puddle, drenching someone who leaped back but still got soaked. Without a second thought, I flipped on my hazard lights, eased off the accelerator, and applied the brakes. I had been about a hundred yards behind the other truck, but my stopping distance caused me to pass the stranded traveler. In my rearview mirror, I saw a figure tossing something over their shoulder and sprinting toward me. The person scrambled up the steep steps and slipped into the cab. It was a young man—barely more than a boy. He wore snug charcoal jeans that clung even tighter to his slender legs now that they were completely drenched, along with a black sweatshirt. His hair was also black, plastered against his hollow cheeks and falling over his eyes. He set a worn guitar case and an olive drab canvas backpack on the floor.
"Thanks for stopping, man," he said. He seemed reserved, as if half-expecting me to tell him to get out again.
"I saw that jerk splash you," I said.
The hitchhiker shrugged. "He wasn't the first. Doesn't make much difference in this weather."
I wondered why he was trying to catch a ride in such relentless rain. What could be so urgent that he couldn't wait for the storm to pass?
"Where are you headed?" I asked. "You're not underage, are you?" I still hadn't started moving again.
The young man looked at me. "I'm twenty-three."
"Really? Can I see some ID?"
The young man snorted but reached into his pocket for a slim black leather wallet and showed me a driver's license: Caleb Morgan. Based on the photo, it was probably the same person, though in the license picture his eyes were visible. He wasn't smiling in that one either. Calculating from the birth date, he was indeed twenty-three.
"Alright, Caleb," I said. I switched my signals to indicate I was pulling out, kept my eyes on the mirrors, and started to accelerate to merge with traffic again.
"Where are you headed?" Caleb shrugged. "West. Anything helps."
We were silent for a long moment. That awkwardness was why I usually didn't pick up hitchhikers. I don't mind being alone. I don't need someone constantly filling the silence with chatter. I'm perfectly content with my own thoughts and whatever's playing on the radio. The kid didn't talk, and I settled into my own quiet, following the light traffic through the heavy rain and half-listening to the radio. Occasionally, I glanced at the boy. I thought maybe I shouldn't think of him as a boy—he was an adult, after all. Maybe I should just call him Caleb. I wondered if he went by Cal. He probably had, growing up at least. How could he not? Now he looked so intense that "Cal" probably wasn't fitting enough. I guessed he had some cool nickname his friends used. Caleb kept staring straight ahead, shivering occasionally. I realized he was cold, being soaking wet like that.
"There's a towel in the sleeper compartment," I said. "It's on a hook on your side. See if you can reach it."
Caleb glanced at me, then back to the sleeper, and unbuckled his seat belt to kneel on the bench to reach for the towel. He dried his hair and wrapped the towel around his shoulders.
"Thanks, man."
"Want me to turn up the heat? You look like you're freezing."
Caleb shrugged, but after a moment he said, "That would be nice."
I cranked up the heat a notch, and we continued on our way. I had almost five hours left before my driving time was up for the day, and I had planned to stop at a truck stop north of New Orleans for the night. It had a decent diner and reasonably clean showers. The radio played on, and the cab gradually warmed up. The rain eased somewhat as we drove away from Tallahassee, and Caleb seemed to relax with each mile we put behind us.
Two hours later, I considered taking a bathroom break. There was a shopping center coming up, and I usually stopped there for that purpose. Maybe I was getting too attached to my routines. I hadn't driven this route that often, but it already felt like the hundredth time.
"Need a pit stop?" I asked Caleb. "I'll pull over at the shopping center to use the restroom. I'm heading to New Orleans after, so you can come along if you want."
Caleb turned his large, dark eyes toward me. His hair had dried a bit and didn't cover his eyes as completely as before. He had beautiful eyes: deep brown with long lashes.
"I could do some shopping, if that's okay with you," he said. "And I'd be glad to continue to New Orleans with you."
"Okay, just be quick about it," I said as I signaled to take the exit ramp.
"I'll be back in ten minutes," the kid promised.
I went to the restroom and bought a large coffee to go. Caleb had left his belongings in the truck, and I wondered if I'd have to wait a long time for him to return. I couldn't bring myself to just dump his stuff and drive off. I had barely finished the thought when he jogged toward me between the parked cars. He had a pharmacy bag and a bottle of water in hand. He looked somehow different, and it took me a moment to figure out why. The sweatshirt he was wearing was nearly identical to the one he'd had earlier, but this one was completely dry. I had a nagging suspicion the kid had shoplifted it.
We continued in silence. Caleb glanced at me occasionally but still said nothing. It took him half an hour of fidgeting before he asked, "So where are you stopping?"
"North of New Orleans. There's a truck stop there."
Caleb nodded. He fidgeted some more and added, "Did you want to talk about something?"
I glanced at him. He looked back expectantly.
"It's all the same," I said. "I don't usually pick up hitchhikers, so I typically drive alone. Not much talking gets done then either."
The kid chuckled. He didn't say anything more. He rummaged through his backpack, then produced a small notebook and started writing in it, his head bowed low. He was cute, curled up like that, holding the book against his knee as he wrote. I wondered if he was interested in men. I knew some truckers picked up hitchhikers hoping to benefit from their gratitude, but I'd never done that. I had enough trouble finding partners in less random environments, like gay bars.
It was dark when we pulled into the truck stop. A storm was gathering again, but it wasn't raining yet. I parked in the corner like I usually did, a creature of habit, and turned off the engine. I hesitated, as this really wasn't my style. For some reason, I had taken a liking to the quiet kid, so I asked, "Do you want to sleep in the truck tonight? It won't be easy to get a ride in the dark."
Caleb tilted his head. "I would like that," he said. His reply came so quickly I could tell he had been thinking about it before I even asked. I wondered what, if anything, it meant.
"Okay then," I said. "I'm going to grab dinner and take a shower. The facilities are decent here. Are you coming with me?"
I meant I wasn't going to leave Caleb in the truck by himself, and he seemed to understand as much. He nodded and climbed out with his backpack. He followed me into the diner tentatively but sat in the same booth. He studied the menu carefully, and I guessed he was comparing which would offer the best value for the price. He didn't look like he had much money-wise.
"The ribeye steak is good here," I offered.
The kid's eyes darted to it and then quickly away again, so I added, "Can I buy you one?"
Caleb looked at me and then back at the menu. There seemed to be some sort of internal debate going on, but when the server came to our table and I ordered my steak, Caleb said he'd have the same.
My phone rang in the middle of the slightly uncomfortable silence, after ordering and before receiving our drinks.
"Hi, Mom," I said, and turned to sit sideways. My mom is the mommiest mom of all time, the mother of all mothers. She calls me every day when I'm on the road, just to make sure I'm okay. I pretend to be annoyed that she would insist on coddling a thirty-year-old grown man like that, but honestly, it feels good. It's been a while since I've been in a steady relationship, and having Mom fuss over me makes me feel a little more grounded in the world. I spend so much time on the road alone that I tend to feel a bit detached, like I'm just floating around and don't really belong in the same society as everyone else. Sometimes I feel invisible, like nobody affects me and I affect no one. Mom tends to stop all that and pull me back to reality.
"Yeah," I said, "I'm in New Orleans. Just waiting for the food."
Mom's voice filled my ears, following her usual line of questions.
"Weather was bad, but the drive was okay, stayed on schedule. Picked up a hitchhiker. No, Mom, he's not an ax murderer."
I rolled my eyes in Caleb's direction. He gave me a slight smile. I had at least fifty pounds on him; all I would have to do to subdue him was sit on him, and he'd be helpless.
"Look, Mom, I have to go, the food's coming. Call you tomorrow, okay? Love you, too."
I put my phone back in my pocket and turned back to the table.
"Sorry about that. My Mom's the mother hen of all mother hens."
"Nothing wrong with that," Caleb said. There was something he left unsaid, but I didn't have the skill or inclination to probe further.
We ate in silence, except for Caleb admitting, after the first bite, that the steak was really good.
After eating, we went to the restroom. There were lockers for valuables, lockable cubicles for changing and showering, and a long row of sinks in front of a mirror. After showering, I was standing by the mirror, brushing my teeth, when the kid emerged from one of the cubicles. He wore a t-shirt that was sticking to the damp skin of his narrow chest. My gaze swept his skinny arms and noticed there weren't any needle marks. That was good, at least. Junkies had the tendency to turn into thieves if you were too nice to them.
"You don't have a towel?" I asked after spitting in the sink. "You should've said. I've got a spare, I could've loaned you."
"No need," Caleb mumbled. "You've been kind enough already."

I shrugged. It was raining by the time we exited the building, and we jogged between the other trucks and quickly climbed inside mine. My sleeper had a bed four feet wide, but I wasn't about to sleep next to the kid. The passenger's seat folded back enough that it was borderline comfortable, and I gave him a spare blanket and pillow. We settled down and listened to the rain hammering on the roof of the cab. It made a somewhat relaxing background noise, and after browsing my phone for a bit, I thought I'd give up and try to get a good night's sleep. I usually took a walk outside before turning in, but since the rain had made that impossible, I couldn't immediately get to sleep. I yawned and thought about my route. I was heading to Austin, Texas, where I would arrive tomorrow. I'd spend the required time unloading and hoped to drive back to Houston the same evening. I would reload in Houston the day after and take that load to Colorado Springs. From there, I was heading home to Las Vegas, where I would have two weeks off. I supposed I would spend most of that time with Mom. She lived only two blocks away from me. I had a circle of friends, but of course they had their own lives. Mom, being retired already, was my most reliable companion while having time off. I didn't mind. I guess I'm a momma's boy through and through. Besides, Mom usually has something around the house that needs taking care of, and I'm happy to help her. She was a single mom, and she used to be fiercely independent when me and my big sisters were kids. She's used to taking care of everything in her house, but now that she's getting older, she can't manage the more physical chores anymore.
A small sound interrupted my drifting thoughts. I laid on my side, the way I usually slept, my face toward the back wall of the cab. Hairs on my neck stood up, and I felt a twinge of uncertainty. What if Caleb really was an ax murderer? How would I know? I had just picked the kid up, and we had hardly exchanged two words during the whole day. I knew nothing about him. Had it been stupid to ask him to spend the night? I didn't know why he agreed. It felt like a good idea at the time. By the sound of it, Caleb was definitely moving in the dark. My neck prickled, and I wondered how I should react. I was thinking I would have to turn around at the least, so I could see what he was up to, when I felt a tentative touch on my arm.
"Mason?" Caleb whispered.
I turned to look up at him. He was a silhouette in the dusk, his eyes gleaming. He looked down at me, then sat at the edge of the bed and bent down to kiss me. I was so taken by surprise it took me a moment to respond to the kiss. Caleb was waiting for me, his lips polite and hesitant. The second I kissed him back, he heated up, got hungry and aggressive. I touched his hair tentatively. It was softer than it seemed. His neck was warm and fit my hand exactly when I pulled him closer. He felt fantastic.

Caleb pulled away to catch his breath. He was a pale shape in the near darkness. He didn't have his shirt on. I touched his arm, and my hand was like a wrap of darkness swallowing a part of him. His skin was smooth and cool. I traced the lines of his lithe muscles. Caleb pulled the covers off me. He still seemed a little wary of my reaction when he slowly pulled my boxer shorts down. I was holding my breath, still having trouble believing this was happening. I was embarrassed by my raging erection; it seemed overly eager, but it was beyond my control. My cock had sprung up as soon as Caleb's lips touched mine, and now that it was exposed, it just got harder. It had been some time since anyone had touched me but myself, and as unexpected as it was, it sure wasn't unwelcome.
Caleb kneeled beside the bed gracefully and wrapped his hand around my shaft. I looked down from the pale opal that was his face, and his hand was like a pale piece of heaven wrapped around my dark heat. His grip was firm but gentle, and I let out a low moan, unable to keep it inside. That seemed to be the sign the kid was waiting for. He dived in and started sucking me almost viciously. He was fierce, but his intensity stayed just short of hurting. He didn't slow down once he'd started. I fumbled for his hair, unable to decide whether to stroke him, pull him closer, or push him away. I ended up just sweeping his scalp with weak fingertips when he went up and down on my rigid cock. I arched up and moaned again, and when Caleb cupped my balls with his other hand, I came. Explosively. I moaned and shuddered with the release, tensing anew for each spasm, as he swallowed everything I gave him.
Caleb straightened his back and looked in the direction of my face, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. I reached for him, pulling him on the bed with me. I had the intention of pulling him in for a hug, but he turned so I was spooning him instead. I pressed against his slim back and kissed the side of his neck, searching for his pulse with my lips. My head felt too heavy to hold up, still shaky after the massive orgasm, so I put it down on the pillow beside Caleb and inhaled the scent of his hair. I let my hand slide on the smooth skin on Caleb's chest, finding the place where the trail of hair started toward his crotch and following it. I was slightly hesitant. Caleb had instigated this, and strongly, but there was a weird unresolved vibe about him. He was tense, and even when he didn't stop my hand, it didn't feel quite right. I reached down nonetheless. He was hard; I could feel the bulge of his dick straining the fabric of his underwear. I swept my hand over it, and it responded with a twitch.
"Can I touch you?" I whispered. I'm kinda particular with consent, after a few times misreading intentions that led to embarrassing scenes.
Caleb didn't say anything, but he put his hand over mine. He entangled our fingers together briefly before guiding my hand under the waistband of his boxer shorts, urging my hand to continue on its own. It felt like he was holding his breath, he was so tense against me. I kissed the back of his neck and stroked him slowly. He was rock hard, precum making the head slick for the touch. I loved the feel of his cock in my hand, so warm, so hard, so beautiful. I pushed the shorts down to free him, and stroked his smooth, straight cock against his stomach. Caleb let out a sigh. I thought I should ask permission to blow him like he'd blown me, but before I could get the words out, Caleb put his hand over mine again. He urged me to squeeze tighter, move a little longer, and faster, and faster. He tensed up some more, and I guessed it wasn't a time to alter anything anymore. He came, pulsing in my hand like a heart, and let out a shivering breath. I slowed down my strokes but kept a hold of him, kissing his neck once more. I didn't know what to say. Caleb said nothing either. We just lay close together, skin on skin, Caleb's dick growing softer in my grip.

I woke up to the sound of the truck door closing. It was usually noisy, slamming it shut, but this was more subdued. I stretched and turned to my other side. It wasn't time to get up yet: I glanced at my phone and saw it was two more hours until I was clear to continue driving. With waking came memory, and I found myself wide awake. I knew it had been the sound of Caleb leaving, and peering over the cab confirmed this. By the looks of it, he had taken his guitar and backpack with him, which probably meant he wasn't coming back. I leaned my head back into the pillow and had a moment of thought about why that made me moody. The kid had surprised me by initiating sex. I hadn't gotten that vibe from him at all. He had been quiet and subdued, sullen almost. He had the air of someone so deep in themselves they didn't come out much. He had asked if I wanted to talk, but that had felt like something out of obligation, not real interest. I had no idea how he had known I would be interested in having sex with him. I had offered to let him stay overnight, that much was true, but I was sure I hadn't done anything to suggest I would expect any kind of payment for the favor. There had been a surprising, burning passion in Caleb. Maybe the sex had been as much for his own benefit as mine. I hadn't minded holding him afterward, either. I remembered how his slim body felt against mine, how well we fit together when we spooned close. What his cock felt like in my hand when it slowly softened and I held it carefully, wanting to protect its delicate tenderness with my hand. The feel of his smooth thighs against mine. How our breathing synchronized to the same rhythm and made me feel like we were the same animal, curling to sleep in its nest in the darkness of the night, making itself comfortable. Now it was morning, and the kid had left. Left without saying a word. He probably wanted to get an early morning ride out and get on with his journey wherever he was going. I felt disappointed and let down—almost abandoned. I had no grounds for that sort of feeling. Whatever it had been, it had passed. As I wasn't sleeping anymore, I might as well get up and get started with my day. First, to the restroom to wash up and shave, then to the diner for breakfast. Coffee around here wasn't half bad, which was more than one could say of many truck stops. I got up and dressed slowly. I checked all my valuables were still intact, though I never expected the kid to rob me. Everything was as I'd left it. I grabbed my phone and wallet along with my stationary bag. I sighed and looked around the cab, and that's when I spotted the corner of the pharmacy bag peeking out from below the passenger seat. I pulled it out. It was the bag the kid had brought yesterday when we stopped to take a leak. It wasn't empty. He had left it by mistake. I looked inside. Flu medicine, painkillers, a small package of some prescription medicine unfamiliar to me, and a bottle of lube. Bottle of lube. The kid had bought lube. I stopped to consider the implications. Clearly Caleb had anticipated for something to happen between us. So it hadn't been just a spontaneous thing for him. I took the small package of prescription medicine and turned it around in my hands. The name wasn't familiar, so I read the small leaflet inside the package. It was an anti-psychotic. I googled it and came up with a Wikipedia page stating, "It is mainly used for schizophrenia that does not improve following the use of other anti-psychotic medications. In those with schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder, it may decrease the rate of suicidal behavior." I turned the package over in my hands again and frowned. Whatever the kid used this for, it sounded like he needed to keep using it. I took the pharmacy bag and left the truck. I checked the diner, then called out for Caleb in the restrooms. I checked the showers. I went outside and scouted the surroundings. The kid said he was going west, and the westward lane was on this side of the road, so if he was looking for a ride, he would probably station himself... Walking down the slope toward the highway in almost knee-high grass, I spotted him a little further along the road.
"Caleb!" I shouted. He turned to look at me, and I could see the struggle in his body language. He tensed up, glanced at the road, then at me, even down the road like he considered making a run for it. I walked toward him, and when I got closer, his eyes focused on the pharmacy bag, and I knew he understood. I stopped in front of him. He lifted his head to meet my eyes, a look of nervous apprehension on his face.
"You left your medicine," I said quietly and handed the bag to him. "I'm glad I caught up with you. It sounds like it's something you need to keep taking."
He bowed his head down and nodded.
"I would've liked to wake up with you," I said, with as little accusation as I could manage. "Are you in such a hurry to move on?"
The rain was gathering along with the wind. It caught Caleb's hair and blew it backward off his face. His cheekbones were high, and he had a beautiful narrow face. He was clenching his jaw. Well, this was about as much begging as I could manage without losing my self-respect. I touched his cheek; I couldn't stop myself—I had to have that one final chance to feel his skin.
"Okay, kiddo," I said. "Safe travels to you."
I turned to go. A few yards along the road and then back up the grassy slope. I was still on the pavement when he caught up with me.
"Wait, Mason," he said.
I stopped to look at him again.
"Can I come with you?" he asked.
"Sure you can," I answered. "I've got two more hours until I can continue, though. But we could grab breakfast together if you're willing to wait, then you could continue to Austin with me."
He nodded and followed me up the hill. At the edge of the truck parking lot, he stopped me with a hand on my arm.
"I'm sorry I left like that," he said quietly. "I thought it was for the best. I wasn't sure if you were gay."
"I didn't seem gay to you last night?" I asked, a smile breaking out on my face.
Caleb returned it with a small smile of his own. "Well, I wasn't sure," he repeated. "Because you didn't try anything. And... and sometimes I just need it. But many of the guys, at least the ones that are straight, or want to be straight, they... they don't take it well afterwards."
I sighed. It was the ugly truth, and I knew it well enough. In early mornings at the busier truck stops, it wasn't that unusual to stumble upon a hitchhiker, or a hooker, with a black eye or worse. Most drivers were decent men, but some had the illusion of invincibility brought on by never staying in one place for long. Sometimes they got rough with whoever they had been so nice with the night before. Sometimes they went too far, and police got involved, but many of the people who went with them just licked their wounds in private and didn't raise hell about it. I disapproved, but there wasn't much I could do about it, so usually I just pretended not to see.
We were between trucks, and I didn't see anyone around, so I pulled Caleb in for a hug. The kid leaned against me, and when I didn't let go immediately, he touched my back hesitantly with the hand not holding his guitar.
"I'm sorry it's like that," I said quietly to his hair. "But yes, I am gay. And no, I wasn't about to beat you up for being so unexpectedly nice to me."
I let go, and he looked a little happier. I supposed he felt better now that I knew some of his secrets. I turned to go, but he stopped me again.
"Thanks for bringing me my medicine," he said and looked me in the eyes intently. I had a feeling it took a lot from him to do that. "I would've been so fucked if you didn't. It's my last batch, and my prescription is up."
I just nodded, not sure how to respond. It felt bad he had been in such a hurry to escape from me he left something so essential behind. He didn't know me, and probably had some bad experiences in the past, but I felt offended anyway.
We ate breakfast at the diner. The kid accompanied me to the restroom and sat there waiting while I shaved, and then we went back to my truck. Caleb looked embarrassed but defiant when he got his medicine out and took one. I sat beside him at the edge of the bed.
"Is that all you're taking?" I asked, trying to be as neutral as possible.
Caleb sighed. "I should have one other one."
I waited, but he didn't continue. God, it was like squeezing water out of a rock talking to him.
"Listen: my cousin is on a similar type of medication," I said. "I know how important it is to not quit on your own."
"It's expensive," the kid said sullenly. "And now my prescription is over for this one. But that's not your problem."
"No," I said. "I suppose not. Look, there's still an hour before we can start, so just make yourself comfortable."
I lay down on the bed, beside the wall. I piled the pillows under my upper body and started to browse my phone. Rain was falling softly outside, sometimes audible on the roof or windows of the cab, and sometimes not. After a few minutes, the kid leaned back against my legs, startling me, but I managed not to jerk away. So we stayed, waiting for the time to pass.
When my mandatory resting period was finally over, we climbed over to the front, and I started the engine.
"Austin?" Caleb asked.
"Austin today. Then I'm heading back down to Houston for my next cargo."
Caleb didn't comment. I didn't really expect him to.
Near Beaumont, we had a pit stop at a shopping center beside the highway. I convinced Caleb to accompany me to a pharmacy and bought him the other medicine he was taking. He hadn't been lying—it was expensive, but I was getting attached to the kid and didn't want him to go without. I had some experience with mental disorders after following my cousin Leo's struggles with schizophrenia and was fully aware how perilous Caleb's position was. He was on his last package of the other medicine, his prescription was up, and it didn't sound like he had means or plans to obtain a new one. If he couldn't afford the other medicine now, how was he going to afford that? Granted, I didn't have a clue about his financial or employment status, but he sure looked and acted like he didn't have much except for what he was carrying.
I took him to the food court to have lunch, and he didn't object when I paid. The rain eased up somewhere between Beaumont and Houston. I nodded toward the guitar.
"You play that or just carry it around as an accessory?"
"I do, why?" the kid asked, my smile catching on to him. He seemed relieved and in a much better mood now that he had his other medicine. Maybe it wasn't the effect of the medicine, but just knowing he had what he needed. I had offered him security, for however short a time.
"I'd like to sing something, that's why," I said. "Come on, what songs do you know?"
Caleb took out the guitar and tuned it. I turned off the radio, and we searched for a song to share. The rain gave way to the brightest rainbow imaginable just as we settled on "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles. Our voices sounded nice together, and we had a few moments of genuine fun. Caleb came alive while he was playing, and I had trouble keeping my eyes on the road. It would've been good to just watch him happy like that.
When we neared Austin, I got more serious again. "So, Caleb," I said. "Can I call you Cal? We're getting close. Do you want me to drop you off somewhere? Maybe you can catch another ride before sundown."
Caleb looked at me and then out the side window. He fidgeted for a moment, and just when I contemplated asking if he wanted to come all the way to the city instead, he spoke up.
"I would like to ride with you for a while longer, if you don't mind," he said politely.
I had a feeling he was saying more than he was saying. There was so much between the lines with this one, and so few lines for it to go between. I felt out of my depth trying to interpret him.
"But I'm heading back to Houston next. You said you're going west."
"I was. I am," Caleb said. "But I have no schedules."
"Oh," I said. For all Caleb's quietness, I just had to pay back a little, and I stalled for a minute or so before I couldn't keep the grin from my face any longer. "Kiddo? You can stay with me for as long as you like," I said and smiled at him. "From Houston I'm heading up to Colorado Springs, and from there to Las Vegas. That's actually where I live, and I'll have some time off there. So if you want to keep going west, you'll need to find another ride from there. But if you don't mind the detour up north, you can come with me until then."
Caleb flashed a rare but radiant smile back at me. "Kiddo?" he said incredulously. "I can't be that much younger than you."
"No, no. I'm ages older," I said seriously. "Just turned a hundred and five, in fact."
"You're well-preserved," Caleb said. "And the way your mom keeps calling you, she must be even better preserved."
I laughed. "Alright, alright. I'm thirty."
"Have you been doing this for long?"
"About five years. Long routes. Before that, I drove trucks in the city, making daily deliveries. This is different, and I don't get to go home every night, but this has its perks."
I was so surprised by Caleb's sudden talkativity I kept rambling for a while, telling stories from my travels. Caleb listened. He put the guitar away and curled on his seat, lifting his skinny legs up against his chest. Even when I trailed off, the silence was a more comfortable one than before.
Austin kept me busy for a while, handling the paperwork while the cargo was unloaded. I would drive to Houston with only the cab where I would get another trailer to pull up north. I was under the clock and had to get back on the road as quickly as possible, so I was annoyed when I was ready to start, but Caleb wasn't around. He came back just when I was getting truly agitated.
"Where were you?" I snapped. "I need to get going. I'm almost at the end of my hours, and we still have to get to Houston."
"I needed to take a dump," he said defensively.
"Oh," I said. "Well, just so you know, that door back there is a toilet. Guess I forgot to mention it. I have to stop anyway when I need to go, so I don't use it all that much."
Caleb turned on his seat to locate the door, like there were enough doors in the cab to be mistaken, and nodded.
We started toward Houston and arrived with less than half an hour driving time to spare. I was glad we made it in time, and more glad to have Caleb with me. I didn't expect for him to have sex with me that night, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for it.
Mom called halfway through dinner, and I stepped outside the diner to talk with her.
"Yeah, I'm in Houston. What? Oh, just eating. It was raining during the day but not anymore. Saw the most amazing rainbow earlier. What? Aunt Violet? Well, what's she been up to now?"
Mom's gossiping about my aunt Violet's quirks didn't need much commenting. She was Mom's sister and Leo's mom. Mom and Violet were extremely close and had a way of gently making fun of each other's doings. I listened, switching my weight from one leg to another while watching Caleb through the window. He was so cute. So delicate somehow, with his willowy, skimpy body. I loved the way his hair settled on and around his face and the way he kept hiding behind it.
Mom's question shook me out of my adoring stare. "The hitchhiker? Yeah, I've still got him with me. No Mom, he's not an ax murderer. Yes, Mom. He is kind of good-looking. For a kid. Well, not like a kid kid! Ew, what do you think of me? He's twenty-three. I don't know. If he sticks around until Vegas, I'll introduce you to him. Yes. I hope he does."
Mom went on for a bit longer before I managed to end the call. It was nice of her to worry, but it got a bit tedious at times.
When we got back to the truck, I was nervous but expectant. I drew the curtains on the windows and sat on the bed to take my shoes off. Caleb sat beside me and rummaged through his backpack. I didn't know what he was searching for. I thought he was just making a show, trying to buy time, but then he got out the lube. His eyes met mine, and he offered the bottle to me.
"You know you don't have to?" I asked as I accepted it.
He nodded and put his bag away. "I know. Thank you for that."
"But you would want to?" I asked. "I mean, you bought this."
He blushed a little. "Yes," he said. "I bought that."
"You are so precious," I said and put the bottle down so I had both hands free to touch him. I took his face in my hands and kissed him. I could feel his pulse at the side of his neck, quivering like a bird. He touched me tentatively and started undressing me. I undressed him in turn, exposing his pale, slim body.
"Like coffee with cream," he said, spreading his fingers over my pecs. "I love your skin."
"I love yours," I said and pulled him closer. I pushed him over to lay on the bed and pulled off his jeans—easier said than done, they were so tight—and ended up pulling them inside out. Coins fell out of his pocket and scattered on the cab floor. Caleb laid back and looked up at me. I loved the way his penis laid semi-hard on his flat tummy, like a promise. I took off my own pants then kneeled to straddle his thighs and crouched down to kiss him again. He massaged my head lightly, keeping his hands light on my hair and my skin, tracing my shoulders and upper body. I let my cock touch his, both of us getting stiffer by the second, and his whole body shivered. I thought again of a bird or small animal—the way their whole body quivers with their life force. Caleb was so pale, so smooth, so flawless. I kissed his tight little nipples, and his chest rose sharply to meet me. I wanted to kiss his dick, but he tried to pull me back up. I lifted my head to see him. He licked his lips, his hand in my hair.
"I want you to fuck me," he whispered.
"I want to do this first," I whispered back and kissed his sternum. He whimpered, raking my scalp as I moved downward. I wondered why he didn't want me to, or rather, if he didn't want me to or just hadn't expected me to. All thoughts dissolved at the first contact with his cock. Oh, God, this feeling, this taste in my mouth. He was delicious, and his reactions were adorable. He got so hard I half expected him to cum right there and then. He kept a low whimpering voice and flexed upwards to my mouth, and I cupped his balls gently. I went slow. I wasn't trying to make him cum right away, but if he did, I wouldn't have minded. I paused to search for the lube then kneeled between his legs. His dark eyes were on me when I straightened to squeeze the lube on my hand. His mouth was slightly agape, his chest rising with his breath, and he was utterly beautiful. I let my hand find his shoulder, drawing his outline downward. Then I bent down to kiss his dick again and started to spread the lube on his ass. He was adorable, relaxing for me but tensing up the next second from the stimulation. He was so there, so expectant, so appreciative. So precious. My own cock had grown achingly hard; I didn't have it in me to wait any longer. I let go of his marvelous heated staff and straightened my back again. I spread lube on myself and looked down on him.
"Okay, I'll take it slow," I said, my voice low and husky. God, he turned me on. "Tell me if it doesn't feel good for you."
He nodded and relaxed obediently when I positioned myself. I started pushing into him, into his unbelievable tight heat, and held my breath for so long that my chest hurt when I remembered to inhale again. It was so good. So, so good. I sank into him slowly, grunting a little every time I went deeper. He was gasping, his dick hard and straight, twitching with my every inward motion. It didn't take me that long to get all in, and I stopped for a while to get a proper feel of him. Caleb made a small sound. It wasn't a word, yet was filled with meaning. I lowered myself to kiss him and started moving. His thighs tensed against mine as he received me. He searched for a place for his legs then, after some fidgeting, crossed his ankles behind my ass. I kissed him deeper, and his cock pressed against my belly, hard and hot. I perched myself on my elbows and reached between us. He arched his back when my fingers closed around his shaft. God, he was hard. I stroked him with the same rhythm I made inside him, and I could already feel the wave rising inside me. It was so perfect. He felt so incredible around me, under me, and in my hand. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and broke out of the kiss, his breathing irregular, his fingers scratching my skin for a hold.
"Mason-n-n," he said, a moan, a warning, but it was alright, I was right there with him. I had him. He had me. I ramped up the intensity for a few final thrusts, and his first spasm clamped up his sphincter so hard he tugged me along. We came together, me deep in his scorching insides, him sticky and warm between our sweaty bodies. I lowered my forehead against his head, near his ear, and reached to kiss his neck.
"You're incredible," I said quietly, my voice still unsteady.
He nudged me, and I pulled out slowly, both of us sighing when the contact broke. I moved to his side to hold him in my arms. He didn't turn his back on me this time but let me hold him. I tucked his head under my chin and pulled a cover over us then stroked his skin slowly. A small reading lamp was still on, but couldn't quite reach it from where we were, and didn't want to let go of him. Fucking him had been good—mind-blowing, in fact—but laying there together was even better. He was warm against me, relaxed, his hand gentle on my skin. I wanted to protect him from whatever horrors the night would bring. I wanted to keep him safe, and for now he was letting me do that. I felt a sort of deep fulfillment that I hadn't felt many times in my life. I was too satisfied to think about much of anything. Relaxation washed over me languidly like waves against the shore, and I just closed my eyes and went along with it.
When I woke, Caleb was gone. Again. And all his stuff was gone. Again. At least this time he hadn't left his medicine. I had been in so deep I hadn't even noticed and didn't wake up until my alarm went off. Usually I woke hours before the alarm, but now I had been in deep sleep until the last minute. There wasn't time to look for him. I had barely enough time for a quick breakfast and wash up. I doubted I would've found him if I tried. I had to get my next cargo, and grudgingly I started the truck and went about it. I thought about Caleb all through maneuvering the attachment of trailer and paperwork, so distracted the warehouse staff teased me about it. It felt really bad for him to leave like this. It felt even worse the second time. He had said he would ride with me, didn't he? He had even backtracked his westward route to stay with me. So where had he gone, and why? I was certain he had liked the sex as much as me, or at least he hadn't disliked it. I had been nice to him, or at least I hadn't been rude. I felt like he had rejected me, dumped me. I could hardly expect him to stay forever, but I at least expected a goodbye before he went. With a heavy heart, I started my way out of town. I didn't mind being alone, but suddenly alone felt more alone than it had only a few days before. My eyes kept sweeping the shoulder of the road, searching, and I kept pulling my focus back on the road. Soon I'd be moving on to the interstate where stopping wasn't allowed. Hitchhikers had to find their rides before that. I longed and dreaded to see the ramp come up.
No way. Yes way! My heart jumped when I saw a figure walking slowly along the road the same direction I was going. I had half a second of furious fight with my pride, lost miserably or maybe won gloriously, signaled to stop and started to slow down. I passed him, my stopping distance from even low velocity long, then waited. I didn't want to look in the mirror to see if he was approaching me or if he had turned the other way when he saw me stopping. I had my hands on the wheel and hung my head, my heart thumping in my ears. I was upset. I was angry with him and with myself. Mom always said anger wasn't a real emotion, that it was just hiding something underneath, but I had no fucking idea what that might be. I thought I should drive away before he got to the door, and then I thought what it would feel like if he never came to the door.
Caleb came to the door. He opened it and looked at me from under his hair. He looked so small, standing beside the truck, looking up at me. Like a fucking five-year-old.
"Are you coming in or not?" I asked grumpily.
He did, and the second he pulled the door shut, I took off, not waiting for him to sit or get his seatbelt on. I kept my eyes on the road and my mouth shut. A truck stop I usually stopped at was coming up in three hours, and I was prepared to be quiet all the way if necessary. I supposed Caleb was too. He never initiated conversations anyway.
Gradually, my anger faded, and after an hour I found myself glancing at him. Caleb looked miserable, the way he was slumped down and staring at his hands. I still didn't have a clue what to say. After an hour and a half, I couldn't take it anymore. I got off the interstate, up a ramp and into a parking lot of an unmanned gas station. It would be a pain in the ass to turn the truck around in there, but that couldn't be helped. At least there were no other cars.
Silence filled the cab of the truck when I shut off the engine. I turned to look at Caleb. He was still staring at his hands.
"Caleb?" I said softly.
He glanced at me then back at his hands.
"Why do you keep leaving?"
Something passed over his face. "You don't want to have me near you."
"Don't you think I should be the one to decide that? Don't you want to be near me? It's up to you if you leave, of course, but I'd appreciate it if you told me first."
He clenched his jaw so hard I expected his teeth to shatter. "You don't understand," he hissed through his teeth. "I'm not... it won't... I'm..."
I didn't let him off the hook that time. His eyes darted from his hands to the window then to me and back again. He looked like a rabbit ready to flee from a fox.
"I won't hold up," he whispered. "I'm hearing them again."
"Voices?" I asked.
He nodded, and I've never seen anyone look quite so miserable before or after. Or quite so terrified.
"Do you think it's because of the pause you had with your medication, or something else?" I asked.
He looked at me, surprised like he didn't expect this level of engagement. Maybe he didn't. I didn't know how often he had discussed his mental problems with anyone before, or what kind of conversations they'd been, but based on his reaction, I had a guess.
"Look, Caleb," I said. "My cousin is schizophrenic. So whether you've got that or something else, I know something about how it goes down. Or I don't know, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm not afraid of your condition."
He stared at me, full-on stare with wide eyes now. His eyes were very dark and very large and strangely glossy. I looked back, and the rest of my anger faded away.
"So, how long did you go without the other medicine?" I said. "Maybe it'll help in a bit if you just keep taking it again. Or do you think you need some medical assistance?"
He shrugged, then his shoulders trembled. After a moment, I realized he was trying not to cry.
"Hey," I said gently and touched his cheek. He flinched then looked down. He felt warm to the touch, warmer than he should be. I touched his neck and his forehead, and I was willing to bet a moderate sum of money he was running a fever.
"Hey, you," I said again, with more emphasis.
He looked at me, and I nodded toward the back of the cab.
"Come to the back for a sec, will ya?"
He moved over and sat on the bed. I followed, and he didn't resist when I pulled him into my arms. He let me hold him, then hugged me back—a little at first, then with growing force as he lost his struggle and let the tears come.
"Hush, kiddo," I murmured into his hair. "I know."
He didn't cry for long. I got the impression it didn't help him much, and he seemed embarrassed. I held him to my chest and rocked him a little, searching for words. I've never been good at speeches, especially when I don't know what I want to say in the first place. Eventually, I settled on practicalities.
"Do you wanna sleep for a while?" I asked. "I think you're coming down with a fever."
He didn't respond, but didn't protest when I laid him down on the bed and tucked him in. From my small fridge, I got him a bottle of water. I wanted to say he would be alright, but I didn't have it in me. He probably wouldn't, with his problems and no money, hitchhiking across the country. So I just kissed his forehead, went back to the front, and started the truck.
For the next few hours, Caleb slept while I drove. I was so deep in thought I drove past my designated truck stop and didn't even notice until fifty miles later. I was in murky waters with Caleb, and I had no idea what to do. I wasn't going to kick him out, especially if he was getting sick. All that hitchhiking in the rain couldn't have been good, and maybe the flu contributed to his condition. What about his voices? Should I hide all the sharp objects in the cabin? For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him, though I realized if he got psychotic, I probably should be. Based on Leo, I knew if he kept taking his medication, he would probably be okay, or at least that was what I hoped. I needed to call Mom, ask her for advice. I didn't stop until I had to pee so bad it felt like I was going to burst. Caleb didn't wake up when I stopped, nor when I came back to the truck. Houston to Colorado Springs was too far to drive in the working hours allowed for one day, not to mention the time I had spent fetching the cargo, so that night was spent at a truck stop. Even when I parked, Caleb still didn't wake up. I went to the diner, ordered, then called Mom.
"Hi, Mom," I said and turned the fork over on its axis on the napkin.
"Hi, Baby," she said. "What's up with the mystery man?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because you wouldn't call me if there wasn't some kind of trouble."
"Not fair, Mom. I do call you."
"No you don't. I call you every day but you never call your poor old mom! But it's alright, you're my baby boy after all, and I need to keep an eye on you. So tell me, what's up with your good-looking hitchhiking ax murderer? What was his name again?"
"Caleb," I said, mightily annoyed at her. "And he's not an ax murderer."
"He's still with you though?"
"Yes, but he's back at the truck, sleeping. He has the flu or something. But Mom, why I really called is I need your advice."
I didn't let her interrupt, out of fear that she would annoy me so much I couldn't get to the end. I described Caleb, his medication and how he left me once for the fear of me being homophobic and a second time for the fear of... what, exactly? My reaction to his mental problems or was it his mental problems themselves? By the time I had stumbled through all of it, I didn't even remember what I had wanted to ask in the first place. My food came, and I ordered a burrito to go in case Caleb would have some appetite later. I started picking on the potatoes as I listened to my mom.
"Well," said Mom, "maybe you don't need to do anything right now. It sounds like he's not going to run away again, being sick like that. So, what else can you do besides keep him with you? If he gets really sick, you need to take him to the ER. And if he's still with you when you get to Vegas, you take him home, right? Just see what happens. You don't need to solve everything."
Maybe she was right. At least she had a point in saying my options for action were limited. It was just my nature to overthink things. I washed up and went back to the truck. It would've been a perfect night to take my walk, but I wanted to get back to Caleb.
Caleb was sleeping but stirred when I sat beside him. He was hot and weak—no energy left in him. He drank what I gave him and ate a few bites of the burrito. I asked if he needed to take more of his medicine, but he didn't, and after using the toilet, he went back to bed. I pulled off his jeans, but he was so cold I didn't have the heart to get him to remove his hoodie. I stacked every blanket I had over him and settled beside him. The bed was wide enough for us both, but we gravitated closer together. Caleb didn't seem to move, but he kept pressing closer to me. I didn't intend to crowd him, but ended up spooning him and holding him to me. He was hot, and there was a strange but adorable contradiction between his thick hoodie and below that his skimpy legs with only the boxer shorts on. I must've felt cold against him, but he snuggled to me anyway. He did something to me. I couldn't fool myself into thinking I didn't have feelings for him. Holding him felt so important, and something warm and insistent flickered inside when I thought about him. He hadn't given me much to hold on to, but whatever he said, I kept playing around and around in my head. He wasn't exactly my type, not that I admitted having a type. I knew hardly anything about him, and maybe that was the reason. His silence made him mysterious, and my mind just couldn't stop circling the riddle he posed. I couldn't think of a realistic scenario for us to be together. My heart ached when I imagined the day he would leave and I would never see him again. It had been just over two days since I picked him up. It was difficult to understand how much he had affected me in such a little time. I held his hot body against mine and felt his heart fluttering in his narrow chest. It was no use pretending otherwise: I had a crush on the kid.
In the morning, Caleb was still sick. I helped him to take his medicine and asked what he wanted for breakfast. He said he didn't have appetite but ate the omelet I brought him from the diner. I didn't have to wait long before I could start driving, and as much as I wanted to spend the day just taking care of him, I just tucked him in and started toward Colorado Springs. It was a busy day. I waited for the unloading and reloading, dealt with paperwork, and completed route planning. When I stopped for the night, I was exhausted. It was good that I had the break coming on. I had been on the road for what felt like forever, and I felt the pull of home. Mom called while I was having dinner. We chatted for a while, but I didn't want to go into any specifics about anything today. I just wanted to get back to the truck and sleep. I bought tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich to go, and spent the next half an hour trying to convince Caleb to eat them. He tried, but he had no appetite whatsoever, so there was quite a lot left over. I half-forced him to take some painkillers. After his fever came down a notch, he was sweaty and annoyed, but hungry enough to finish his food. I wet the corner of a towel from the water bottle and wiped his sweaty forehead.
"It'll get better," I promised. "You just need to rest."
"Why are you so nice to me?" he asked, looking up at me with those big, brown eyes. "You want a blowjob?"
"No," I said, almost offended. "You're sick, I couldn't."
He just shrugged. "You don't need to repay me," I said and wiped his face again. "Just sleep. You'll be okay."
"What about tomorrow?" he asked. "We're going to Vegas tomorrow? Or the day after?"
"Tomorrow," I agreed. I had talked about this with my mom, but now, with Caleb, I felt shy. "I was thinking you could come home with me. Until you feel better, at least."
He just looked at me, so pale, so serious. "I can't just throw you out on the street," I said and met his eyes. "And I like you. I'm gonna have two weeks off, so that should give you plenty of time to get better. I'm guessing no one is waiting for you anywhere? And that you have no specific place to go."
He nodded and kept his eyes on me. I took his narrow, hot face in my hands and bowed down to kiss his forehead. "Don't worry," I said. "I'll help you if you let me. At least with this."
He pulled me closer and while he said nothing, I took it to mean "thank you."
We arrived in Las Vegas in the late afternoon. It took a while to unload and handle the paperwork of the cargo and driving logs and additional bureaucracy. To wrap it up, I cleaned the cabin, ditched the garbage, loaded my personal things to my car, and emptied the fridge. Caleb was a bit perkier but by no means lively, and I almost carried him down from the cabin. He walked to my car himself, but he was sweating and pale when we got there.
"Are you alright?" I asked, worried. "Think we should go to the hospital or something?"
He shook his head. "Nah, it's just the flu."
Mom was sitting on my porch, waiting for us. Should've guessed. Curious old bat. She got up when I helped Caleb out of the car, although with her, it was sometimes hard to tell; she had gotten almost as wide as she was tall with her old age. She smiled from ear to ear, her face a web of wrinkles, when I walked up to her with my arm around Caleb to support him.
"Caleb, this is my mom, Rhonda," I said. "Mom, this is Caleb."
My mom drew Caleb in for the kind of jiggly, smothering hug she gives. For all I can tell, she never let go. It was instant affection. Caleb, who I had anticipated to be reserved and uncomfortable for the attention, was anything but. He melted into her embrace, and it went on for a very, very long time. It was all I could do not to have my mouth gape open.
"Well then," I said. "I'll carry the things inside."
I walked to the car and back, gathering Caleb's things and my own. Only towards the end of my second round trip did Mom release Caleb.
"He's cute, but he stinks," she said to me, still smiling. "I think you should wash him while I make supper."
"I don't have anything," I said. "I thought I'd order in."
She pointed to the basket on the porch. I should've guessed she'd bring something.
"Thanks, Mom," I said and bowed down to give her a quick hug and kiss her temple. "You're the best."
"I know, I know," she said smugly as she climbed the stairs and took the basket. "It's hard being perfect, but someone's gotta do it."
I chortled and helped Caleb inside. My house wasn't large. One bedroom, kitchen that combined with the living room, and a bathroom. I didn't need much all by myself. I helped Caleb to the bedroom, and he undressed himself while I did the same. It was true—he stank. He was sweaty and grimy, and I didn't even want to guess how long he had spent in those same clothes. Well, except for the hoodie which he probably stole the other day. He was so weak that for once I regretted not having a bathtub. When I tilted his head not to get it into his eyes when I was rinsing, there was water running down his cheeks. I thought I hadn't been careful enough, but then it occurred to me they could be tears. I lathered him up as fast and gently as I could, rinsed it off, wrapped him in a towel, and left him to wander off to the bedroom while I washed myself. When I got out, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, the towel over his shoulders and around him like a cape.
"I... I don't have any clean clothes," he said.
"Here, take these," I said and pulled a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts from my drawer and tossed them to him. They were too big, but he would have to manage. I was about to leave the room when he stopped me.
"Wait, can I also have pants?" he asked.
"Are you cold?" I asked and turned back to the closet to rummage around for a pair of sweatpants, trying to guess which would be smallest.
"No, but... your mom's here," he said.
"Oh, right," I said and smiled. "Sorry, didn't think it through."
Mom was heating up soup, and I sat Caleb on the sofa while I went to help. I have cooked with her so very many times in my life that we settled into a routine like a well-oiled machine. She was humming while she worked, and I provided harmonies. Occasionally, it got to be too much, and she laughed heartily. Caleb ate eagerly but kept peeking at Mom from under his hair. She smiled at him every time she noticed. There was a spark in Caleb—he was the liveliest I had ever seen him, and I looked from one to the other curiously. After I had cleaned the table, Mom ushered me out to go grocery shopping, promising to look after Caleb in the meantime. She was not to be argued with when she got that mood, so I obeyed. I had forgotten to ask Caleb what he liked to eat, so I just bought this and that, hoping something would be to his liking. So far he hadn't complained about any food offered to him, so I wasn't too concerned.
When I got back an hour later, Caleb was sleeping. Mom asked me to walk her back to her place after I'd put the groceries away.
"I talked with your street urchin," she said.
"Oh? He talks to you? Because I know exactly nothing about him."
"Well, have you asked?" Mom was smirking, and I could tell she knew Caleb didn't answer when I asked.
"Duh," I said. "So what did he tell you?"
"His mom died four years ago. That's when his problems started... with his mind. Dad was never in the picture, so he's lived with his grandmother ever since. And then, five months ago, she died. So he's just been roaming around ever since."
"Oh," I said. "That's. Something."
"Yes, that's something." Mom rolled her eyes at my expressiveness. "The poor boy needs a mom so bad."
"So what... you're gonna adopt him?" I was a little offended he had confided in Mom almost instantly, while he hadn't told me much of anything in two days.
"I couldn't do that. That would make you brothers," Mom said, a wide grin.
"Mom!" I complained. It seemed that no matter how old I got, she was able to draw that exasperated moan out of me.
We arrived at her house, and she stopped to look at me. "You're a good boy, Mason," she said and patted my chest. "You always had such a good heart."
"Do you think it was stupid to bring him home?"
"I think it was the right thing to do. And now, run along, just go and be nice to him. I will come by tomorrow and see both of you again. And when he gets better, I have a few things you could help me with around the house."
"Okay, Mom, sure thing," I said and hugged her again. "Love you."
"Love you too, baby boy," she said.
I watched her get in her house and turned to walk back to mine. I love my home. I love the sense of anchoring myself in the world that I get when I'm there. After sleeping in the truck, I positively love my bed. This was in some ways disrupted by Caleb being there, and in other ways made better. I spent the night drinking a few beers and watching TV, just for the sake of being able to do it and not having to get up in the morning. And, God yes, not having to drive anywhere if I didn't want to.
It took a few days for Caleb to recover. I think it was mainly the feeling of being safe that did the trick. He knew he had a place to sleep and food to eat, and he could relax enough to let his body do the healing. He didn't say that, but that's how I interpreted the situation. My mom came by every day, and there was something passing between those two that I couldn't quite grasp. My mom is the mommiest mom in the world, and she was now adopting Caleb. That didn't surprise me. What did was Caleb letting it happen. Maybe he was adopting her as well.
Caleb's fever broke on Wednesday evening. He sweat so much I had to change the sheets before we could sleep, but it seemed to me he slept better than he had in the whole of our time together. In the morning, I woke up like I never do. It was like a swelling tide of bliss. I jerked out of sleep that left behind just a vague memory of heaven, and I realized Caleb was sucking my cock. Oh my fucking God. What a way to wake up. I moaned and pushed upwards. The feeling of his mouth changed briefly, and he let go for a second to flash a smile at me. He regained his grip around my shaft quickly enough, and the sweet suction returned. I didn't know how long he had been at it, but I was hard like a fucking iron rod. He squeezed me tight with his hand and his mouth. He looked up at me, and his eyes were still smiling. I moaned again and had a brief discussion with myself. I wanted to grab him by the ears and ram myself into his skull so far I would come out of his ass. And I wanted to slow down and push him away to keep myself from cumming, because I wanted to ram myself so deep into his ass that I would come out of his mouth. I was torn between the two, and all the while the heat of his mouth, that unbelievable wet heat, was moving on me. Sucking me in. Letting me out slowly. Oh fuck, so slowly. I tried to pull him to me, to reach his body. I had a vague idea of trying the sixty-nine with him, but he was far down between my legs and didn't budge. What he did do was let me out of his mouth, and for a few seconds, he just jerked me with his hand while smiling up at me. He had a smug look, like he was satisfied with what he had accomplished, and out of sheer surprise, I moved when he guided me. He pushed my legs more open, more towards my chest, and before I knew what he had on his mind, he had bent back down and was suckling my asshole. Oh God oh fuck oh Fuck oh God oh fuck. I had never had anyone do that to me before. I had never done that to anyone myself. I had suggested it to my first boyfriend, just to try it out. He was so disgusted by the idea I never brought it up again, with him or anyone. Now I was on the receiving end, and I whimpered as I pulled my trembling thighs closer to my chest, opening myself up for him. His tongue was so hot, and slick and so, so... persistent! I held my breath when he slowly pushed it in. He probably didn't go very deep, but I felt like my world exploded. I was surprised to find out my cock hadn't. It was such a revelation—I thought for sure I'd cum.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh my fucking fucking fuck," I growled and rolled my hips a little. It was heaven, absolute bliss, but I had to get inside him right that second. That was not negotiable anymore. With heavy regret, I pushed him away then pulled him to me. I kissed him deeply, not realizing I'd be kissing the tongue that was just inside my asshole until after I did. I pawed him greedily, I didn't know what part of his body I wanted to touch because I wanted all of it, and he laughed a little at my haste. His cock was as hard as mine, though. I reached for the drawer on the nightstand for the lube. I needed him, needed him now, and he got on his hands and knees and opened up for me. I lubed him quickly and messily, myself even more hastily, then scooted closer. I could barely keep myself from just slamming into him. Every fiber of my being was shaking with effort when I tried not to hurt him. I felt so greedy, I went as slow as I could force myself to go but I'm not quite certain that was slow enough. Caleb didn't complain. He had his hands wide on the bed, and pushed against me, hanging his head low, concentrating just as much as I was. I grunted when I made those final inches. He pushed against my crotch and rolled his hips a little. I searched for a better grip, spreading my fingers, and made sure my knees were placed steadily enough. I let out another grunt and pulled out to thrust in again. Oh God, Caleb, how sweet you are, I thought over and over. I thrust again, and a little faster, and a little harder. I knew I was gonna lose control, and I knew it was getting closer now. I was so hard, and he was so hot around me. I thrust, and thrust, and thrust. He let his upper body down on the mattress, and it changed the angle. I grunted, and he grunted with me. He reached his hand under him to reach his own cock. I had a fleeting regret that I hadn't touched him yet, but I couldn't focus on it anymore. Because I was in him, and deeper in him, and deeper still, and... there... and... there! I pushed so hard his knees lifted from the mattress for a few seconds, and he twitched around me. I came down a notch, worried I'd hurt him, but then I realized he was cumming as well. I spasmed inside and he spasmed around, and each time one of us did, the other one answered. I sank slowly to sit back on my heels, and he followed me, pushing backwards, sinking lower over my thighs. I stroked his back, slowly, my fingers spread open. I wanted to kiss him everywhere. My head was so blissfully empty I couldn't think of moving, I just kneeled there and looked down at his beautiful, slim, pale back, and how it sloped down from his skimpy ass to his messy dark hair.
I didn't use to believe in love at first sight. Not before the night I witnessed Caleb meeting Leo. Leo had always been savagely musical. He played a wide array of instruments when he was a kid, but as his mental health declined in his teens, he spent a few years in a complete musical void. He had refused to listen to anything and definitely hadn't produced any on his own. Nobody knew what was going on in his head, of course. He could've been composing symphonies for all we knew. When his medication got into better balance, he tentatively tried starting again. The whole of our family was holding our breaths and crossing our fingers for it to work, for him to get back the thing that so strongly defined him, and none of us knew how best to support him. Leo had founded a band. It was called "Schizo Squirrels," and they had a gig booked for Saturday night. They were loud and obnoxious, the venue was a dinky bar filled mostly with friends and family of the band. We arrived a little late with Caleb, but got good places next to my sister, Donna. I introduced the two, and they had barely time to smile at each other before the band walked onstage. Leo was on the guitar. The singer, or maybe shouter, tried to catch all the attention by flashing like a ball of lightning all over the small stage. I kept my eyes on Leo. After a few songs, Caleb leaned closer to me.
"Is that your cousin on the guitar?" he asked, shouting to be heard.
"Yeah, that's Leo," I shouted back. "The one I told you about."
We exchanged a look, and I knew he remembered just what I had told him about Leo. Caleb followed the rest of the gig with rapt attention, hardly noticing when I brought him a beer. After the show ended, most of the audience hung around to talk with the band. I was catching up with Donna. I felt Caleb's attention focusing, and he touched my arm lightly, as if for strength. I followed the direction of his gaze and saw Leo, who was momentarily alone, standing a little further away. Caleb squeezed my arm once and walked away. Leo seemed to become aware of him long before he reached him. Leo's head shot up, his expression sharpened, and for the last few seconds before impact, they held eye contact. It was staggering to see them side by side. They were about the same height, and standing together I realized for the first time they shared the exact same body language: both were thin and twitchy, nervous and edgy—like they were poised to flee at any second. Flee or attack. With a stab, I realized part of it had to be the side effects to the medication they were on. I had never realized when it was only Leo. Or only Caleb. They were talking, but by the looks of it, much more went on non-verbally. It was subtle, and maybe neither were aware of it. They didn't touch, but were synchronizing with each other, with an intensity that seemed to generate a force field around them. Crowded as it was, nobody approached them. Leo's skin was as dark as Caleb's was pale. They had similar attire, band shirts and skimpy black jeans with boots. They were like twins in some hard-to-define way, like two halves of a whole. Light and dark. Yin and yang. A lock and a key. I wondered what they were unlocking in each other. Something was happening, and it happened with a force that made the hair stand up on my arms.
"I was going to congratulate you for finding such a sweet one," Donna said to my ear. "But it looks like you just lost him."
"I don't know if I ever had him," I said. "I mean, not really. And definitely not like that."
We stood watching. It was captivating, which was weird considering nothing much happened. They talked, they shared silences. They were so locked into each other, I felt like a prop in their story, like a supporting act in someone else's story instead of the main character in mine. Searching my soul for a twinge of jealousy, I found some there, but with no weight behind it. It was more like a knee-jerk reaction, something I knew I should feel and half-heartedly did. I thought back to my time with Caleb. I cared for him, but I didn't feel any kind of ownership. We didn't have a relationship in any real sense of the word. He was with me because I had picked him up that rainy day, but there had never been any promise of anything more permanent than that. I couldn't deny what I was seeing: it was magical. I'm a romantic at heart, and my heart was singing for them. I was afraid of how it would turn out, because they were both so unstable, but I knew it would've been futile to try and stop them from getting together. I was leaving for the road again in a week, and I hoped the ones that were there—my mom, Leo's mom, both of our siblings—were enough to support the pair. I had lost a competition I had no idea I was participating in, but it didn't feel bad. I was happy for both of them that they had found someone who apparently understood them the way nobody else could.
Leo and Caleb talked for so long the crowd started to thin out. Their connection didn't break until Leo's bandmates came to collect him, apparently so annoyed he didn't help load their equipment into their crappy van that they were willing to step into that magic circle surrounding them. Leo was irritated, but grudgingly left with them. Caleb followed Leo with his eyes, and only after he was gone did he snap out of his trance. He turned on the spot, slowly, and flinched when he saw me looking at him across the almost empty bar. He looked scared, like he suddenly became aware he had come with me and left me stranded for most of the night. I didn't want him to feel like that. I gestured for him to come to me and walked up to meet him.
"It's alright," I said as we turned to the door. "Don't worry."
"What's alright?" he asked, not meeting my eyes.
"You and Leo."
He glanced at me and then quickly away. God, this was just like the first days he was with me. I felt like all the progress I had made with him had disappeared just like that. Smoke in the wind. Maybe he was thinking the same, because he timidly reached for my hand and squeezed it as we stood waiting for our cab.
The last we spoke about it was moments later, as we lay in my bed, getting ready to sleep. I pulled him close to spoon him. It was easier to speak when I didn't have to look at him.
"Look," I said, "I don't know if we ever had anything, or if we could have had something. I've liked having you with me. But I'm leaving again in a few days, and I don't expect you to just float around the country with me. There's clearly something between you and Leo. I'm happy for both of you. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried, but I'm still happy."
"So you're not... angry?"
"No, I'm not angry," I said.
Caleb sighed deeply and relaxed. I held him for that one last night as he slept.
And that was that. Caleb and Leo got together the next day, and as far as I can tell, they haven't been apart since. We moved Caleb's few possessions to Leo's, and by the time I left for my next stretch on the road, they were inseparable. Caleb is now as attached to my mom as she is to him, and she keeps reporting their goings on to me. She still calls every day when I'm on the road. Caleb isn't one to talk on the phone, but that doesn't surprise me. After all, he isn't one to talk at all, at least with me. I have a lot of time to think as I drive around the country. I've been thinking about Caleb a lot. I'm still proud of how I handled it all, and grateful for the few moments I got to spend with him. There's light inside that kid. Something untamed and pure. I don't know what it was that I felt for him, or if I could ever have loved him. Somehow our relationship wasn't like that. I mostly just wanted to protect him. I still do.
Caleb joined Leo's band. Between the two of them, they managed to transform that shambling crowd of insane rodents into a tight crew of astronauts and reroute their journey skywards. They gathered momentum fast, and I've followed their success in stunned admiration. I go to see them play every chance I get and try to find time to meet Caleb and Leo in general, if they don't have a gig when I'm in town. They both seem genuinely happy. From what I see and what Mom has told me, I gather they manage to balance each other out in a way nobody could've predicted. Leo has had so much trouble in his life, I don't think anyone has ever stopped to wonder about his sexuality. His previous relationships have all been with women, but it seems he swings both ways. We were all nervous in the beginning: me, my mom, Aunt Violet, all our siblings. But those two are like a force of nature, there's no stopping them, and it all turned out better than anyone could've hoped for.
Earlier today, I stopped for the night at the truck stop north of New Orleans that was the location for my first night with Caleb. I'll probably always think of him when I drive in these parts. Mom called midway through dinner, as she has an uncanny way of doing, and told me she has emailed me. I was surprised, as she normally doesn't, but promised to look when I got back to my truck.
"Check this out, but make sure you're parked when you do," she wrote. "It's Leo's and Caleb's radio interview."
There's a link to a radio station's web page. I hover over it, undecided, but then click the link. The interviewer sounds cheery, and to my amazement so do Leo and even Caleb. They talk, even Caleb, and it's fun to listen to their banter. The band is about to release their first record—all their own material, all written by Leo and Caleb. The interviewer compares them to Lennon and McCartney, and they all laugh.
"This is the first song you've released for radio play, and this is the world premiere of it," says the interviewer. "Is there anything you want to say before I play it?"
"Yes," Caleb says. "Thank you."
"That's it? Thank you?"
"Yes," Caleb says solemnly. "He knows."
Interviewer is puzzled and obviously curious, but doesn't press the issue. The song starts. To my surprise, it's a ballad—nothing like I've ever heard from them before. It's filled with metaphors of weather, storm, rain, dark clouds, lightning, the undeniable destructive force of nature and how impossible it is to resist or control. The first chorus starts. There are rainbows, and rays of sunshine. Except that Caleb sings this one, and it sounds suspiciously like "Mason of light" when he does. I listen to it again. And again. And again. I'm crying.