Jeremy leaned closer to the bathroom mirror, holding the eyeliner pencil the way he’d seen his sister do it a hundred times.
How hard could it be?
Apparently, very.
His first attempt left a crooked black line above his eyelashes. The second made it worse. He tried correcting the damage with a damp washcloth, but all that accomplished was smearing black across his cheek.
He examined his reflection.
He looked like he’d lost a fight with a raccoon.
“Shit.”
He put down the eyeliner and picked up the mascara. That had to be easier. All you did was brush it onto your eyelashes. His sister managed it in less than thirty seconds.
He unscrewed the cap, pulled out the little black brush, and leaned toward the mirror.
“Jeremy!” Grandpa bellowed from somewhere down the hall. “Where are you?”
“Bathroom, Grandpa! Give me a minute!”
Jeremy opened his mouth slightly and carefully raised the mascara wand toward his eyelashes.
The bathroom door swung open.
“What the hell are you—”
Jeremy jerked, driving the mascara brush straight into his eye.
“Ow! Fuck!”
He dropped the wand into the sink and clapped a hand over his face.
“Watch your language, boy!”
“You poked me in the eye!”
“I didn’t poke you in the damn eye!”
“You made me poke myself!”
Grandpa stood in the doorway, his weathered face turning an alarming shade of red as he took in the eyeliner pencil, the open makeup bag, and his grandson’s black-streaked face.
“What in God’s name are you doing?”
Jeremy blinked furiously, tears streaming from his injured eye. “What does it look like?”
“Looks like you’ve been playing in your sister’s makeup.”
“Well, congratulations, Sherlock. You solved the mystery.”
Grandpa’s next words were sharp. “Don’t you get smart with me, boy.”
Jeremy grabbed a washcloth and pressed it against his watering eye.
“Are you trying to look like a girl?”
Jeremy lowered the washcloth and eyed his red, watering eye as it stung.
“No.”
“Then why the hell are you putting that stuff on your face?”
He had thought that a little eyeliner and mascara would make his eyes stand out, as it did for his sister.
“Rock stars wear eyeliner and mascara all the time,” Jeremy said.
“Well, you aren’t a goddamned rock star. You don’t even play an instrument.”
“Does a recorder count?”
“No!” Grandpa pointed toward the sink. “Clean up and meet me out back.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve got too much time on your hands, that’s why.”
Jeremy watched Grandpa stomp out of the bathroom.
He examined himself in the mirror. One eye was red and watering, the other surrounded by smeared black eyeliner.
So much for glam. At least for right now.
The Louisiana summer heat hit Jeremy the moment he stepped outside. Cicadas shrilled in the pine trees beyond the yard, and the air was so humid that his shirt was already sticking to his back.
Grandpa stood beside the shed, next to a downed pine he’d dragged into the clearing with his tractor.
Jeremy stopped short.
“Hey! You promised I could drive the tractor next time we had a tree to move.”
“That was before I caught you playing with women’s makeup.”
“What’s that got to do with driving a tractor?”
“It’s time for you to man up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not letting my grandson turn into a sissy.”
“Grandpa!”
“Don’t ‘Grandpa’ me. No grandson of mine is going to parade around in women’s makeup.”
Grandpa stomped into the shed, muttering about how men these days were turning into sissies. He emerged carrying an ancient gas-powered chainsaw that looked as though it required a professional lumberjack just to start it.
He set it down in front of Jeremy.
“Start it.”
Jeremy stared at the machine.
“You want me to start that thing?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
Jeremy eyed the chainsaw, then Grandpa.
“Don’t I need safety equipment?”
“What for?”
“I don’t know. Safety glasses? Gloves? One of those helmets with the face shield?”
Grandpa stared at him.
“Are you planning on cutting the tree or fighting it?”
“I’d like to keep all my body parts.”
“Well, be careful.”
Jeremy considered the chainsaw again. Apparently, the family safety plan was not doing anything stupid
Grandpa crouched beside the machine and showed Jeremy the controls, explaining the choke, the primer, and how to start the engine. He demonstrated how to brace the saw securely on the ground.
“Now you try.”
Jeremy followed the instructions and pulled the starter cord.
Nothing.
He pulled again.
The engine coughed once and died.
“You’re not pulling hard enough,” Grandpa said.
Jeremy gave the cord another yank. The engine sputtered, almost caught, then went silent.
“Stupid thing.”
“Don’t blame the equipment.”
“Maybe the equipment should try cooperating.”
Grandpa folded his arms.
Jeremy tried again. And again. By the sixth attempt, his shoulder ached, his injured eye was watering, and he was beginning to wonder whether the chainsaw had a personal grudge against him.
On the next pull, the engine roared to life.
Jeremy grinned.
“Ha! Got it!”
Grandpa nodded toward the fallen tree.
“Now cut that up.”
Jeremy’s grin disappeared.
“What?”
“You heard me. Cut that tree into manageable lengths.”
Jeremy surveyed the trunk, which stretched halfway across the clearing.
“That’ll take all afternoon!”
“Good. Then you won’t have time to fiddle around with your sister’s makeup.”
All this because of a little eyeliner?
“Grandpa?”
“What now?”
“Are you sure this is safer than mascara?”
Grandpa ignored him and pointed toward the trunk.
“We’re going to buck it into sixteen-inch lengths.”
“We’re going to what?”
“Buck it. Cut it into sections.”
“Why don’t you just say that?”
“Because that’s what it’s called.”
“And what do you call making somebody do this against his will?”
“Character building.”
“I was thinking child labor.”
Grandpa gave him a glare that ended the discussion.
He stayed beside Jeremy, showing him how to position the saw, where to stand, and how to recognize when the wood’s weight might pinch the blade. He inspected each section before letting Jeremy make the next cut.
For all his complaining, Grandpa knew his business.
At first, Jeremy resented every minute. The chainsaw was heavy, his arms ached, and sawdust clung to his sweaty skin. Grandpa seemed to have an opinion about every move he made.
But after a while, something changed.
The saw bit through the wood, sending pale chips flying. The smell of fresh-cut pine mingled with gasoline and hot engine exhaust. Jeremy concentrated on keeping the saw steady and following Grandpa’s instructions.
For the first time that afternoon, he forgot about being caught in the bathroom.
Instead, he thought about Edgar William.
EW, as everyone called him, was in Jeremy’s class and had the prettiest brown eyes Jeremy had ever seen on a boy. Or a man, for that matter.
He was quiet, with a habit of keeping his head down whenever the other boys started giving him trouble. Jeremy had never understood why they picked on him so much.
Maybe because EW rarely fought back.
It didn’t matter that the other boys picked on EW or that he was so quiet he rarely spoke unless a teacher called on him. What mattered was figuring out how to get EW’s attention.
Which, considering how people were in their backwoods town, was complicated.
At first, Jeremy had felt funny about thinking so much about another boy. The other guys talked about girls constantly, comparing their looks and arguing about which ones they’d like to date.
Jeremy didn’t understand the fascination.
Girls were fine. He liked girls. He just didn’t want to kiss any of them.
Edgar William, on the other hand…
Jeremy glanced toward Grandpa, who was examining the next section of the trunk.
That was another complication.
Last Christmas, Jeremy had gotten his first phone. Pa said it was for emergencies, so Jeremy could call home if he ever got into trouble.
Jeremy figured he was already in enough trouble.
One night, alone in his bedroom, he’d typed boys liking boys into the search bar.
He’d spent hours reading.
Other boys felt the same way. Lots of them. Men who loved men, got married, and lived together.
Jeremy had known none of that.
“Jeremy!”
The chainsaw had stopped, and Grandpa was pointing toward the next section of trunk.
“What?”
“Pay attention to what you’re doing, boy.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jeremy returned to work.
He wondered if EW liked boys, too.
There were many trees to cut that summer.
Grandpa seemed to find another fallen pine every time Jeremy thought he’d finished the last one.
By August, Jeremy could start the chainsaw with little trouble, and Grandpa had stopped correcting every cut. Jeremy had even learned to sharpen the chain and clean the machine after use.
By September, he’d filled out considerably. His shoulders were broader, his arms had developed muscles he hadn’t known he possessed, and the shirts he’d worn in the spring were now uncomfortably tight.
Grandpa seemed pleased with the results.
Jeremy was pleased, too, though for different reasons.
On the first morning of school, Jeremy stood in front of his bedroom mirror and turned sideways to admire his reflection.
Not bad.
He flexed one arm.
Definitely not bad.
He wondered what Edgar William would think.
He’d seen EW a few times over the summer, but they’d never managed more than a few words. Jeremy had spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining what he’d say when they were back in school.
Now that the day had arrived, he couldn’t remember any of it.
He pulled on a clean shirt, ran a comb through his hair, and checked his reflection one last time.
He still hadn’t mastered eyeliner, but he did sign up for woodworking class
There was a mandatory icebreaker dance in September.
Jeremy didn’t want to go, but he had no real excuse not to. So there he was, standing against the gymnasium wall, watching his friends dance with girls.
The music kicked up, something with a pounding bass that made him want to move.
He liked dancing.
He just didn’t want to dance with any of the girls.
He took a sip of punch and surveyed the gym.
That’s when he spotted Edgar William standing against the opposite wall.
EW had his hands stuffed into his pockets, watching the dancers. He wore a brown plaid shirt that brought out his eyes, and his dark hair fell across his forehead.
Jeremy watched him for another minute.
Nobody approached EW.
That wasn’t unusual. The other boys had been picking on him for years, and EW had learned to keep to himself.
Jeremy set his cup down.
What the hell.
He crossed the gym before he could talk himself out of it.
“Hey, EW.”
Edgar William raised his head, startled.
“Hey, Jeremy.”
“Having any fun?”
“No.”
“Me neither.” Jeremy glanced toward the gym doors. “Hey, you want to see something cool?”
EW regarded him suspiciously.
“What?”
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
Jeremy led him out of the gym and down the hallway to the woodworking room. The music faded behind them, replaced by the hum of the school’s ventilation system.
He flipped on the lights and went to the back of the classroom, where several student projects sat on worktables.
He stopped in front of a miniature log cabin he’d been building for his woodworking class.
“Here it is.”
EW studied the little building.
“What’s that?”
“That’s the log cabin I’m going to build someday.”
EW stared at it.
“That? It’s tiny.”
“It’s tiny now.”
EW snickered.
“That’s the gayest log cabin I’ve ever seen.”
“Gay?” said Jeremy.
“Yeah.” EW shrank away.
So you know what ‘gay’ is, right?
“Of course I do, you fool.”
“Fool?” Jeremy stepped forward. “Are you gay, EW?”
EW pressed his lips together and looked away.
“Are you going to laugh at me?”
“Hell, no. I’m going to kiss you if you’ll let me.”
EW’s eyes widened.
Jeremy waited.
From somewhere down the hall came muffled music on the gym floor.
“You want to kiss me?” EW whispered.
“Been wanting to since last year.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
EW glanced toward the classroom door.
“Someone might come.”
“Yeah.”
EW turned back to him.
“Then you’d better hurry.”
Jeremy didn’t need to be told twice.
Ten Years Later
Grandpa had called and said he was coming to visit. When Mary got married, she took the house for her and her husband. Grandpa moved into a boarding home, but Jeremy didn’t have a place of his own yet. That mattered little to Jeremy. He had already started his home and got it done the day before Mary walked down the aisle.
Grandpa climbed out of his truck and stared at the log cabin standing in the clearing.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Jeremy grinned.
“What do you think?”
Grandpa didn’t answer immediately.
The cabin stood among tall Louisiana pines, its broad front porch overlooking a grassy clearing. The logs had been carefully fitted, the roof extended well beyond the walls to shade the windows, and a stone chimney rose above one end of the building.
Grandpa walked around the house, examining the logs, the windows, and the porch. He stopped at one corner and ran his hand along the joinery.
“You do all this yourself?”
“Mostly. EW helped.”
“That skinny boy from school?”
“He’s not so skinny anymore, Grandpa.”
Grandpa grunted and continued his inspection.
“The roof looks good.”
“Thanks.”
“Porch could use another support.”
“Grandpa, that porch could hold your tractor.”
“Doesn’t mean it couldn’t use another support.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes.
The front door opened, and Edgar William stepped onto the porch carrying two glasses of iced tea.
“Afternoon, Mr. Landry.”
“Edgar William.” Grandpa accepted a glass and examined him. “You still hanging around my grandson?”
EW smiled.
“Every chance I get.”
“Well, somebody’s got to keep him out of trouble.”
“That’s what I keep telling him,” Jeremy said.
Grandpa took a long drink of tea before turning his attention back to the cabin.
“Where’d you get the timber?”
“Some from the property. Bought the rest.”
“Cut it yourself?”
“Sure did.”
“With what?”
Jeremy pointed toward the shed.
“Your old chainsaw.”
Grandpa turned sharply.
“That old thing still runs?”
“After I rebuilt the carburetor and replaced a few parts.”
“Huh.”
Grandpa studied the cabin again, his eyes moving along the roofline and down to the neatly fitted corners.
“Guess I taught you something useful after all.”
“You sure did.”
EW slipped an arm around Jeremy’s waist.
Grandpa’s gaze dropped briefly to the gesture.
“Still don’t understand you two.”
“We know, Grandpa.”
“Never figured you’d end up building a place like this.”
Jeremy glanced at EW.
“Neither did I, exactly. Not back then.”
Grandpa shook his head.
“Well, I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it now.”
“Nope.”
Grandpa finished his tea and handed the glass back to EW.
“Come on, then. Show me the inside.”
Jeremy led him through the front door.
The living room had exposed beams, a massive stone fireplace, and polished hardwood floors. Sunlight poured through tall windows overlooking the woods.
An enormous rainbow-colored quilt hung above the fireplace.
Grandpa stopped.
“What in God’s name is that?”
“Our wedding quilt,” EW said.
“Your what?”
“Wedding quilt,” Jeremy repeated. “Mary made it for us.”
Grandpa studied the quilt, then noticed the framed photograph on the mantel.
He picked it up.
Jeremy and EW stood together in white suits, grinning at the camera with their arms around each other. Both had carefully applied black eyeliner and mascara.
Grandpa squinted.
“Are you two wearing eyeliner?”
“And mascara,” Jeremy said.
“And glitter,” said EW.
Grandpa brought the photograph closer to his face.
“Both of you?”
“Yep.”
“Lord have mercy.”
He continued studying the photograph.
“We got married last June,” Jeremy said. “Remember? We invited you.”
Grandpa shifted his weight.
“Yeah. Well.”
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he carefully returned the photograph to its place.
His hand rested on the mantel.
“You make this?”
“Yes, sir. I wouldn’t have been able to if you didn’t have me spend a summer wielding that chain saw.”
Grandpa ran his fingers along the carved edge.
“Good work.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.”
Grandpa cleared his throat and wandered down the hallway, inspecting the woodwork as he went.
He stopped in front of a bright pink door.
“What the hell is that?”
“The bathroom,” Jeremy said.
“Why’s the door pink?”
EW grinned.
“Because Jeremy wanted a pink bathroom door.”
Grandpa examined the hinges and how the door fit its frame.
“Well, at least you hung it straight.”
Jeremy pressed his lips together.
Beside him, EW made a suspicious choking noise.
Grandpa turned around.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, Grandpa,” Jeremy said.
“Hmph.”
He returned to the living room, where the rainbow quilt still hung above the fireplace.
Grandpa shook his head.
“This is the gayest damn log cabin I’ve ever seen.”
EW burst out laughing.
“That’s what I told Jeremy ten years ago when he showed me the model.”
“And you were right,” Jeremy said.
He slipped his arm around EW.
Jeremy smiled at his husband.
“Sure did.”
EW leaned over and kissed him.
Grandpa shook his head and headed toward the kitchen.
“And somebody needs to fix that damn porch!”
