Page 45 of Saddle Studs
Sucks I have to be writing this, huh? I didn’t want to go but I guess clocking out in your early eighties ain’t all that bad. And we all have to do it eventually. I’ve lived a lot, and a lot of my life was spent around you, watching you grow, gaining the confidence to become who you are today.
But I feel like there’s more left for you to learn about yourself. I speak with you every other month and I don’t think the city has treated you fairly. I think the doctor would prescribe a trip back to your roots and back to a certain Rainbow Rancher. Your eyes always lit up around him, same as your smile.
I hope coming back home can help you find your truth and own your happiness. Life’s far too short, even at eighty. It feels like a flickering flame. So shine yours bright.
Ok, enough with my poetics. I’ve been reading quite a bit of Shakespeare from bed. Can you tell?
With love, Frankie
P.S. Don’t worry about the whole Dennis and land thing. My will was completely fabricated and has no legal standing. I just couldn’t think of a better way to get you here.
P.P.S. Tell Benny and the family I say howdy.
P.P.P.S. Don’t let him go again.
A rain dropfell and wet the corner of the letter. Another drop. And another.
I sniffed. Realized there wasn’t a cloud in the bright blue sky.
How had Frankie known? And what was I supposed to do with this information? With this flood of emotion? I couldn’t contain it. I was sad I was leaving, sad Frankie was gone, sad my past with Benny had been scarred. Angry at the system that held me down, made me hide. Angry at the fear that kept me locked in the closet.
A flash of my time at the ranch crossed my mind. Benny and I in the river. Benny teaching me how to care for his horses. Benny teaching me how good sex with another man could feel.
Benny making me feel complete.
My phone vibrated against the ground, stirring up some tiny rocks. A notification appeared on my screen.
My driver had arrived. It was time for me to go.
20
BENNY
I don’t wantyou to touch me right now.
Those words had cut their shape into my skin. The scars of it were sore, still fresh.
He may as well have pushed me. That would have really driven his point home.
The sun was relentless today. It stung at the back of my neck, my cowboy hat having trouble shielding it. I considered confronting him before breakfast today but decided to just let it be. He was a grown man—he could talk to me or choose to run away.
When I overheard the zippers of a bag and the shuffling of clothes, I knew Sam had made his decision. But seeing him come out of the house that really made it feel real.
I spotted Sam rolling out his suitcase as I was brushing Juniper’s mane. He was far off in the distance, but I felt like I could make out every little detail, from the scuff on his white sneakers to the freckle on his wrist to the expression of regret and sadness twisting his features. It was the same set of emotions that burned into me like a sizzling hot brand. I winced, trying to stop the unwanted tears before they escaped.
No use.
It was happening again. Sam was going to run. He was going to leave me behind. At least this time I hadn’t fallen hard on my ass. Could that be considered growth?
Everything was going so well. Why, Sam? Why not just give in?
My heart turned into one of those pincushions Ma would use whenever she was sewing. The fluffy, bright red strawberry covered in dozens of sharp needles. Every beat pushed the pins in deeper. How could loving someone be this painful? Because there was no denying it, I loved Sam. I always loved Sam, and now I’d have to watch Sam leave.
All.
Over.
Again.
