Meathead and Loser

Fourth Night

We got a motel room at one of the shadiest places I'd ever seen. At least it was the shadiest I'd seen so far. Nick was smart enough to know we needed to think before spending money. He knew we couldn't afford to sleep in a fancy upscale place without it screwing us down the line.

That's why we got a room with hookers outside, cracked windows, and a bed that probably hadn't been washed ever. But none of that bothered me as much as the process it took to get the room itself.

Nick and I pulled up, parked, and walked inside to the front desk, and that's when it got to me. We were two guys about to ask for a single room in a motel. I tried to keep a strong poker face, but as we stepped up to the woman sitting behind a glass wall, I was about to piss myself. Thank god Nick stepped in front of me and did most of the talking.

The woman gave us an obvious side-eye asking, "just the two of you?" before giving us a key to room 19. Could she tell? Did she see it? Did she know we were gay? Did she know who we were, who my dad was, or what we were doing? I was panicking, but before I melted down, all I heard was Nick say my name. It brought me back.

An hour later and I was still fighting a heat in my chest. What the hell was I doing? What were we doing, and how did it take so long for doubts to pop up. I really was a Meat Head.

"So what are you making," Nick asked.

I must have been standing in the kitchen for a while. We bought the food together, so Nick knew what was on the menu. Maybe he was trying to calm me down.

"Hotdogs. We're having...," I said.

I was holding the pack of sausages, still in their plastic wrappings. I hadn't opened them yet. I couldn't relax enough to do a simple task.

"Tom," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Talk to me."

There was no doubt about it. He could tell.

"I'm sorry, I'm spacing out, man," I tried to say, but he interrupted, saying, "talk to me, about anything, please."

So we didn't eat hotdogs. The snacks we got from a vending machine weren't bad, though. We ended the night together in bed, and before either of us went to sleep, I tried again.

"So when we get to Seattle, what's the plan?" I asked.

"You're asking me?"

"You're the smart one," I joked.

"Tom, we're both pretty stupid," he said.

I was holding Nick, practically clutching him for dear life. My mind was more at ease, but my body was getting rid of its last anxiety.

"But you're smarter than me; you know what to do better than I do," I remarked.

"That's a lot of pressure. We're both supposed to be in charge," he said.

"We can't steer at the same time," I reasoned weakly.

"You were a football player. Shouldn't you be a leader?"

I should have been a leader. I should have been more of a man, but so far, Nick was the only one being brave.

"Ok, I don't know where to start. I need you to tell me where we start," I asked.

"We get jobs," Nick said.

"Ok."

"Find a place to live," he went on.

"Yeah."

"And then..." he paused.

"And then what?"

"I don't know," he laughed, and I did too as I said, "I don't either."

"This was really stupid, wasn't it?" I asked.

"I'll be honest. I never thought you'd agree to any of this. It was just an idea. I wasn't serious about it at first, but then you..." he stumbled.

"Then I wanted it."

"And I wanted it too," he agreed with me.

"Then we can make it work. Do we have like a goal or something?"

We were quiet for a while. Nick could have fallen to sleep, and I wouldn't have noticed. The feeling of his head on my chest, it was right.

"I'm not ambitious, Nick. I'm happy as long as we're happy, as long as you're happy," I said.

"It's not ambitious, but I always wanted to own a comic shop," Nick added.

It was dorky, but if that's what he wanted, all I could say was, " Then let's get a comic shop."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, we can do anything," I declared while I kissed the top of his head.

His hair was so warm, almost like an animal.

"When I was little, my dad had hundreds of comic books. He was an artist himself, but after the accident, my grandma sold most of his stuff so we could move," Nick told me with a yawn.

It was late. The night was beginning to get to me.

"Where does your grandma think you are? Did you tell her you were leaving?" I asked as I shut my eyes.

"She didn't care," he said.