As we climbed higher into the Rockies, we saw patches of aspen, their leaves just starting to turn.
Angelo was obviously thrilled. Partly I thought it was because he wanted to see Matt again, but it also seemed that he was excited just to be leaving Arvada. We were almost to Coda when he suddenly asked, “How far to Rocky Mountain National Park from here?”
“Maybe thirty minutes,” I told him. “Why?”
He shrugged, smiling at me. “Never been there.”
I was stunned. “You’ve lived in Denver your whole life and never been to Rocky Mountain National Park?” I asked in shock.
I regretted it immediately. His smile disappeared, and even though he turned away from me, I could see the blush creeping over his cheeks.
The truth is, the park isn’t something locals bother with often. We take out-of-state visitors there, but other than that, we tend to forget about it. I hadn’t been there myself in more than ten years. When I thought about his childhood, growing up in foster homes, it wasn’t any wonder that nobody had bothered to take him there.
“Do you have cell phone reception here?” I asked him. He looked over at me in surprise. “Think so. Why?” “Call Matt and tell him we’ll be late.” The smile he gave me made the whole day brighter.
We didn’t have time to drive all the way through the park, but we did the lower section. I tried not to laugh at Angelo’s face when we saw a herd of elk. “Never knew they were so big,” he said in awe. Then we walked around Bear Lake, and he marveled at how cold the water was.
“It was snow not too long ago,” I reminded him, and he laughed. He was having so much fun, like a little kid, that I hated to break the mood. “We should go,” I said to him finally.
He nodded but didn’t look at me. “Like to come back and see the rest someday,” he said quietly.
“We will,” I told him, and he smiled at me.
“Thanks for bringin’ me, Zach.”
We took the twisted road back to Coda. It was a nice little town, a mile off the highway, tucked in between two pine-covered slopes. We checked into a motel—sharing a room with two beds— and then I called Jared.
“Perfect timing!” he said. “The game starts in twenty minutes. Come on over.”
“What game?” Angelo asked me when I told him. I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I don’t pay any attention to sports. “Baseball, maybe?”
“Is it baseball season?”
“I think so. Isn’t the World Series usually around Halloween?” He shrugged back. “It’s hockey season, too, right?” I had no idea.
Jared was in the shower when we got there. Matt let us in the front door. He was sweaty and covered in dirt. He clapped me on the back hard enough to knock my breath out and actually hugged Angelo, who practically disappeared in his huge arms.
“What the hell happened to your leg?” Ang asked him. Matt looked down at his shin, which was scraped and oozing and seemed to be caked in mud. “Crashed.”
“Crashed what?” Angelo asked.
“My mountain bike. We just got back.”
“You crashed, then what? Rolled in dirt?”
He laughed. “Something like that, actually. It’s not a successful ride if you don’t bleed.” He must not have noticed the look of horror on my face, because he asked, suddenly enthusiastic, “You guys ride?” Angelo and I just looked at each other, and he seemed to realize that was a “no.” “Too bad. Well, make yourselves at home. Beer’s in the fridge. I have to get cleaned up. Kickoff’s in ten minutes.”
“Football?” Angelo asked.
Matt looked at him like he had just asked if the sky was really blue. “Yeah! First game of the regular season!” We just stared blankly at him, and he laughed and disappeared down the hall.
Angelo looked at me with a smile on his face. “Four fags watchin’ football. Must be pretty fuckin’ cold in hell right now.”
…Angelo
M
ATT and Jared take the couch across from the TV. There’s another couch, too, but Zach and I do
Angelo was obviously thrilled. Partly I thought it was because he wanted to see Matt again, but it also seemed that he was excited just to be leaving Arvada. We were almost to Coda when he suddenly asked, “How far to Rocky Mountain National Park from here?”
“Maybe thirty minutes,” I told him. “Why?”
He shrugged, smiling at me. “Never been there.”
I was stunned. “You’ve lived in Denver your whole life and never been to Rocky Mountain National Park?” I asked in shock.
I regretted it immediately. His smile disappeared, and even though he turned away from me, I could see the blush creeping over his cheeks.
The truth is, the park isn’t something locals bother with often. We take out-of-state visitors there, but other than that, we tend to forget about it. I hadn’t been there myself in more than ten years. When I thought about his childhood, growing up in foster homes, it wasn’t any wonder that nobody had bothered to take him there.
“Do you have cell phone reception here?” I asked him. He looked over at me in surprise. “Think so. Why?” “Call Matt and tell him we’ll be late.” The smile he gave me made the whole day brighter.
We didn’t have time to drive all the way through the park, but we did the lower section. I tried not to laugh at Angelo’s face when we saw a herd of elk. “Never knew they were so big,” he said in awe. Then we walked around Bear Lake, and he marveled at how cold the water was.
“It was snow not too long ago,” I reminded him, and he laughed. He was having so much fun, like a little kid, that I hated to break the mood. “We should go,” I said to him finally.
He nodded but didn’t look at me. “Like to come back and see the rest someday,” he said quietly.
“We will,” I told him, and he smiled at me.
“Thanks for bringin’ me, Zach.”
We took the twisted road back to Coda. It was a nice little town, a mile off the highway, tucked in between two pine-covered slopes. We checked into a motel—sharing a room with two beds— and then I called Jared.
“Perfect timing!” he said. “The game starts in twenty minutes. Come on over.”
“What game?” Angelo asked me when I told him. I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I don’t pay any attention to sports. “Baseball, maybe?”
“Is it baseball season?”
“I think so. Isn’t the World Series usually around Halloween?” He shrugged back. “It’s hockey season, too, right?” I had no idea.
Jared was in the shower when we got there. Matt let us in the front door. He was sweaty and covered in dirt. He clapped me on the back hard enough to knock my breath out and actually hugged Angelo, who practically disappeared in his huge arms.
“What the hell happened to your leg?” Ang asked him. Matt looked down at his shin, which was scraped and oozing and seemed to be caked in mud. “Crashed.”
“Crashed what?” Angelo asked.
“My mountain bike. We just got back.”
“You crashed, then what? Rolled in dirt?”
He laughed. “Something like that, actually. It’s not a successful ride if you don’t bleed.” He must not have noticed the look of horror on my face, because he asked, suddenly enthusiastic, “You guys ride?” Angelo and I just looked at each other, and he seemed to realize that was a “no.” “Too bad. Well, make yourselves at home. Beer’s in the fridge. I have to get cleaned up. Kickoff’s in ten minutes.”
“Football?” Angelo asked.
Matt looked at him like he had just asked if the sky was really blue. “Yeah! First game of the regular season!” We just stared blankly at him, and he laughed and disappeared down the hall.
Angelo looked at me with a smile on his face. “Four fags watchin’ football. Must be pretty fuckin’ cold in hell right now.”
…Angelo
M
ATT and Jared take the couch across from the TV. There’s another couch, too, but Zach and I do
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