Page 23 of Ginjuh

“Ginjuh,” Dad sighed from the table the following Friday morning, “I thought you were done out at Mr. Pelton’s?”

“You mean Grandpa’s farm?” I replied.

He rolled his eyes as my mom hustled through the kitchen, gathering her lunch and other items to head off to work.

“I suppose.” He said neutrally. “Didn’t you get all of the corn cut down for him? How long is this going to go on, Ginjuh?”

“Zach,” I said firmly. “My name is ‘Zach’, dad. If Mr. Pelton can remember, you’d think my own father could.”

“Ginjuh.” My mother warned me.

I sighed heavily.

“Just—just tell me what it is that you think is so important about going out there and helping him, Ginjuh?” MY dad demanded. “I mean, you’ll be gone next August. What will he do then anyway? He’ll have to give this crap up and just settle into retirement like any other man his age.”

“He’s going to hire people to help after I’m gone.” I shrugged. “And I’ll be home during Spring Break and summers, and—”

“Oh, good Lord.” My mother groaned and then left without another word.

Dad and I looked in the direction of the garage door she let slam shut behind herself. Finally, we looked back at each other.

“Ginjuh…”

“Dad?”

“Mr. Pelton isn’t getting any younger,” Dad said gently. “He’s getting old. He’s not in the best health. Even with hired hands and you around from time to time, he can’t possibly keep this hobby up, can he?”

“Grandpa’s fine.” I snorted. “Maybe he’s not young and in the best shape of his life, but—”

“Ginjuh.”

“I gotta go to school.” I pushed away from the table.

“Son.” My dad stopped me. “You should be doing things kids your age do their senior year. Doing homework, going out with friends. Having fun. Get a girlfriend for God’s sake. I mean…you’re not a queer, are you?”

The last part was said with an incredulous laugh. I felt my whole body sag. There it was. Dad was worried that I was…a queer. There was only one thing someone in my position could do.

“Matter of fact, dad, I am a queer,” I said it in a way that was so emotionless that it scared me. “A big ole, redheaded queer whose name you can’t even bother to remember.”

My dad laughed.

“No.” I stopped him. “Seriously. I’m gay, dad. So, no. I don’t want to go out and find a girlfriend. I want to work on Grandpa’s farm and spend time with him. He doesn’t care that I like guys. And he can remember my fucking name. He doesn’t equate masculinity with my sexuality. That’s why I like spending time with him. And he likes spending time with me. If you have a problem with that, well…actually, I don’t know what to say, dad.”

Dad just stared at me with wide eyes.

“I’m going to school.” Then I turned on my heels, grabbed my backpack and darted out of the garage door before he could stop me.

“Zach!” Dad hollered as the door slammed behind me.

The drive to school consisted of a lot of peeking into my rearview mirror, wondering if I’d see my dad’s car speeding up behind me, ready to spin me out like we were in a NASCAR race. Just so he could give me a talking to about what I’d said, who I was, Grandpa—any of it. However, I got to school at the same time I did every morning, no worse for the wear and no dings in my back bumper. When I walked into the main hallway of school and turned the corner to go to my locker, my eyes immediately landed on Austin. He was at his locker, leaned back, his shoulder blades pressed against his own locker. He saw me and he actually gave a slight smile, his eyes lighting up. He had been waiting on me. I wanted to smile, but I only managed half of one.

“Hey.” He said simply as I approached.

“Hey back,” I said as my fingers went to my locker.

“Um,” he said, “I don’t know what I wanted to say.”

“Hey?” I teased, though my heart wasn’t in it.