The Road Home by Michael Thomas Ford Page A

Burke, who had developed thousands of rolls of film, performed the steps of the developing process almost without thinking about it. He filled the tank with water from the tap, pouring it into the ingeniously designed opening which allowed fluids to enter and leave without letting in light. He then let the tank sit while he mixed the developing fluid with water in a graduated beaker. When it was ready, he poured the water from the tank and replaced it with the developer.
    Now came the tedious process of monitoring the time and agitating the tank for ten seconds every minute. As he did this, he thought back to what had occurred three days before. It was an understatement to say that Will’s kiss had taken him by surprise. At first he’d thought that he was imagining it, or that maybe it was an accident, a peculiar result of his stumbling into Will’s arms. But when it continued, and when Will’s tongue probed gently at his lips, he’d accepted that it was really happening.
    Kissing had been the extent of it, although both of them had become obviously aroused and Burke had sensed that Will wanted more. But it was too strange, too sudden, and Burke had stopped it. Will had surprised him by not seeming either embarrassed or angry, and the ride home had been only marginally uncomfortable. At the house Will had helped Burke out of the truck, walked him to the front porch, and reminded Burke to let him know when the pictures were ready, as he was curious about them. Then he’d gotten into his truck and waved good-bye, as if they’d just returned from the movies.
    He watched the timer, turning the developing tank on schedule. He still didn’t know what he was going to do about Will. Why do you have to do anything? he asked himself. If Will isn’t bothered by it, why should you be?
    This was a good question. The immediate answer was that Will was half his age and the son of his former best friend, with whom he’d been half in love and to whom he’d given his first blow job. That was not an insignificant detail and couldn’t just be brushed aside. But if he could set it aside for a moment, that made things easier. The “half his age” thing was a bit worrisome, true, but it wasn’t as if they were setting up house together.
    The timer dinged, and Burke upended the developing tank, emptying it into the sink. It’s not like you never hooked up with guys twice your age when you were in your twenties, he reminded himself as he filled the tank with stop bath and agitated it for thirty seconds. And you didn’t think it was strange.
    No, he hadn’t thought it was strange. But he had been the younger man. Now he was the older one, and the realization that Will was born when Burke was already twenty was difficult to get past. While Will was learning to walk and talk, Burke was already making love with other men. Had Burke seen Will being pushed along in his stroller by his parents, he would hardly have looked at the infant making googly eyes at him and thought about how one day they would be making out.
    That’s just wrong, he thought as he turned the developing tank over. But he’s not a child. He’s a grown man. And he’s the one who kissed you, remember.
    He wondered if he would feel differently if Will weren’t Mars’s son. He thought he probably would, but there was really no way to know. Of course, if Mars found out about it, things would probably get ugly. He doubted Mars had any idea his son was into other men. But maybe he did. Maybe in the years since high school he’d learned to accept things like that.
    Burke poured fixer into the developing tank and agitated it for thirty seconds. He emptied the fixer back into the bottle to reuse it, then unscrewed the lid of the developing tank and removed the reel. He inspected the film, decided it looked fine, and replaced the reel. He set the developing tank beneath the tap and turned on the