The air was stale bread left on the sidewalk for the ants and the birds; its blood alcohol level was far beyond the legal limit for any twenty-one year old in western Kentucky, but there were no police officers in sight. They were all down at Ed’s getting drunk themselves and flirting with big blonde gum snapping girls with orange skin and small waists, pretending not to know how young they were.

All hints of the sunset were gone. It had been a gorgeous one; the kind that every year told me summer had arrived. Orange, real orange, not the fake chemical orange of the girls’ skin, had invaded the sky from no where, bringing with it elegant wisps of dark red and purple. I thought how there should be a new word to describe a color with such tremendous beauty and power but before I could continue the thought, they all vanished almost just as quickly, replaced by a darkness so deep it’s what I would imagine the Mariana Trench to look like.

“You spend an awful lot of time lookin’ up at that sky,” I heard Logan say from the driver’s seat. “What’s so important up there?”

I looked back at the darkness and stuck my arm out the window letting the warm wind whip over it, rustling the light brown hairs. “Nothing really,” I said and pulled my arm back in. I turned to look at him. His graceful profile always struck me at moments like that. He looked so dignified. “So where exactly are you dragging me off to?”

He looked at me with his peripheral vision and smirked. “Maybe it’s a surprise,” he said. I rolled my eyes and feigned annoyance. He chuckled.

“I hate surprises,” I said.

“No you don’t,” and he was right. He could always see through my lies and my bullshit. I felt like a window sometimes. But I was starting to worry about where we were going. When he exited off onto the Natcher Parkway, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Seriously, Logan, why are we taking this road?” I asked as he sped up and zoomed past three cars going seventy-five. Once he got on the freeway he took the word literally.

“Don’t you trust me?” Oh, I got it. He was going for the emotional blackmail tactic.

“Of course I do. But, I mean. . . Ugh, fine.” I could never go up against him, especially when he smiled and knew that I couldn’t too.

“You’re gonna like it. Just don’t worry, you know I wouldn’t take you somewhere if I didn’t think you’d like it.” He was right and I settled back into the seat and turned the radio on.

“Fine, you win.” As if he hadn’t already known that.

“Thank you Cale, how big of you.” I laughed and so did he. On the radio some hip-hop princess was teaching me how to spell and as if reading my mind, Logan popped a CD in and started singing along.

“She says days go by I’m hypnotized, I’m walking on a wire. . .” He sang on with it and I couldn’t help but find the off-key tone of his voice endearing. As the song ended I thought how special it made me feel to know he was that comfortable around me.

“There you go again Cale, you and that goddamn sky.” He said wistfully and I hadn’t realized I was staring at the passing road signs until he spoke up.

“What can I say? I guess I’m a daydreamer.” I said in a light voice and we both giggled.

“I hope you’re daydreaming about something happy,” he said and it took me a second or two to figure out what he was referencing. Oh.

“Is that what this whole thing is about?” Moisture gathered at my tear ducts and I wanted to hold his hand.

“Are you mad?” He asked, posing a question to answer mine.

“Mad? God, no, Logan. . .” I didn’t know what to say.

“I just didn’t want you to be in that city tonight, ya know?” I knew. And the knowledge made my heart swell.

“I fucking love you,” I said. I hoped he could sense the gratitude in my voice.

“I love you too; you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and that’s why we’re taking this little trip to Owensboro.” He said. I shivered when he said he loved me. But, Owensboro? What the fuck was in Owensboro?

“What the fuck is in Owensboro?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he said and smiled. I smiled back at him. After a minute he began singing along to another song and I closed me eyes and rested my head back against the seat.

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” I said with my eyes still closed. He turned the radio down and took one hand off the steering wheel. A few seconds later I felt the soft warmth of his right hand slip onto my left. He gently maneuvered them until our fingers were tangled up with one another. He squeezed it and I felt his pulse through his fingertips. It was mellow and steady and I could’ve gotten lost in the rhythm of his circulating blood had he not spoke.

“Neither can I, Cale.” His voice was so calming. I remember wanting to just record him speaking and play it when I couldn’t fall asleep. Not that I had ever needed a recording. I had always had the real thing.

“I miss them so much sometimes. God, I’m going to fucking college in two months and they’re not gonna be there for it.” Tears came to my eyes again but these were of a completely different nature than those from earlier.

“No they’re not. But I am.” He whispered hopefully.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m being a downer,” I released his hand and quickly wiped at my face with no grace or poise whatsoever.

I would never forget the day in question, no matter how I wanted to or how I had tried. It was something I always carried with me. I still do. It’s like a birthmark that I see in the mirror every morning and try not to notice it. But that never works. That day the air had been clean. The sky had been as clear as one could imagine it being, like it is sometimes after a huge rainstorm when the clouds have moved on and the winds have died down and all that’s left is the sky, alone and empty.

I hadn’t spoken to Logan in three weeks. When I passed him in the halls at school he would look away in shame of his decision. But I didn’t turn my head. I would keep my eyes on him the entire time. His so-called friends would laugh and point and call me a fag and he would keep his head low the entire time. I had never felt so betrayed in my life. But I forgave him. I had forgiven him weeks before that particular day. He was afraid, I couldn’t blame him. We were sophomores in high school and he was a popular jock in Bowling Green, Kentucky; of course he would be afraid when everyone found out his best friend is gay. I knew deep down that he still loved me; that when we kissed that night before my secret was revealed, it was real.

So I tried that day to put it out of my mind with the reassurance I had given myself that someday he would realize the difference between being popular and being in love. And it had worked relatively well. I went through school with Logan’s eyes firmly in my mind, tugging on my heart, but I got through it nonetheless.

When seventh period let out I walked outside amongst the frenzy of students eager to leave school and was surprised to see my parents’ car. Usually I took the bus home.

“Hey! What’re you guys doing here?” I asked after pushing my way past people smoking, playing hackey sack, fighting, or just waiting.

“Hey buddy,” my dad interjected from the driver’s seat as I hopped into the back.

“We’ve noticed how down you’ve been lately. Thought it’d be cool to take you out to eat somewhere nice, if it’s good for you?” My mom said in her cheerful way, running her hands through her casual red hair.

“Sounds good to me.” And it did. I needed something to take my mind off Logan. As we drove away I saw him standing along waiting for the bus in the spot where I used to stand with him. For the first time in what felt like forever, I made one fleeting moment of eye contact with him and I smiled before he bled out of view.

We stopped at a red light and my dad smiled at me in the rearview and I returned it. Our relationship, which had once been distant at best, had taken a good turn a few months ago when I finally told them I was gay.

“Where do you wanna eat, sweetie?” My mom asked.

That’s the last thing I remember. Two days later I woke up in a strange sterile bed in a white clean impersonal room. Beside me were my grandparents and to my surprise and delight, Logan. All three of them looked tired and dirty, like they hadn’t showered in a while. My grandpa opened his mouth to speak, Logan looked away, and my grandma started to cry all at the same time. Something was terribly wrong.

So that’s how my parents died. That’s how Logan finally fixed his priorities. That’s how I came to live with my grandparents a few houses down from my old one. And that’s how I ended up in the car with Logan two years later speeding towards Owensboro.

“Did you hear me, baby? You’re not being a downer, okay?” His voice triggered my return to the present.

“Okay,” I replied. “Did I ever tell you how grateful I am?”

“For what?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“For being there with me after they died. For holding my hand at school when I went back. For everything.” I explained. There was more, but I didn’t say anything else.

“I feel so guilty sometimes,” he said suddenly. Sometimes he got in these moods in which he’d just blurt out things he had been holding back. I found it strangely adorable.

“Why?” I felt nervous all of a sudden, with all of it settling to the bottom of my stomach like a heavy meal.

“It’s just,” he paused as if unsure of himself. I put my hand on his thigh for encouragement. “If I hadn’t, you know, done what I had done then your parents wouldn’t have come to school that day and, well. . .”

Oh my god, I thought. He couldn’t possibly think. . .?

“No, Logan, don’t even! You know that’s not true,” I said firmly, maybe even harshly. I looked over at him. He was staring straight ahead at the road, making a point not to look at me through the corner of his eye. I was about to say something else about how he should never blame himself but he suddenly took an exit I hadn’t expected.

“We’re almost there,” he said loudly. Was he trying to make me forget what he’d just said?

“Logan, we need to talk about this.” I said.

“It’s a bar. We can get in though, don’t worry. You remember my cousin Abigail, right? The one who stayed with me that one summer? She owns this joint.” He said without once glancing at me or pausing for a reply.

Abigail? Of course I remembered her. She was the first person I ever told I was gay. It was the summer before our freshman year and she was staying with Logan and his parents. She was going to attend Western Kentucky University that fall and she wanted to get acquainted with the area first. She was from California. She always said how one day she was going to take us with her to San Francisco, her home town. But once she started college, I hadn’t seen her again.

“Wow, I haven’t seen her in, what? Five years?” I decided to let the previous topic slide for now and I could tell how relieved he was, but he knew we’d talk about it later.

“Something like that. She’s really excited to see you again,” he said while getting out of the car. I followed suit.

“She’s expecting us?” I asked. The air smelled different there; more mysterious. I don’t know if it was the river or my excitement at seeing on old friend, but it wasn’t the same.

“Yeah, she called me up last week wanting to see us and invited us up. I figured I’d surprise you,” he smiled. I grabbed his hand and entwined my fingers in his.

“Well, you certainly did, Logan. Thanks for this. Let’s go catch up, shall we?!” I said. He laughed and ran after me. I opened the door to the bar and stepped in, Logan right behind me.