Grand River

Grand River

1985

Kevin Woodward thought his life was over at sixteen, uprooting himself from the only life he knew in Atlanta. His brother had outed him to his mother, and she freaked out, then sent him to live with his dad. Kevin didn’t know his father well and hadn’t seen him since he was twelve. He was now 800 miles away from anyone he knew, on a farm in rural western Michigan that mainly grew corn.

There was no time for his inexperienced father, Charles, to register him for school. Kevin wasn’t even sure his father knew how to parent at all. After about a week, Kevin drove himself six miles into the village of Saranac, walked into the school office, and registered himself for classes. The office staff was shocked when they heard his last name. The staffer seemed impressed and registered him and put him in his first class, beginning the following Monday.

“Where did you move from?” A girl asked in homeroom.

“Atlanta,” Kevin responded.

“You can tell.” She said. “I’m Sarah.”

Throughout the week, Kevin became acquainted with Sarah’s friends. She and most of her friends were on the Student Council, all in the top ten of their class ranking, and Sarah was on track to be valedictorian of their class. Kevin was surprised because the popular kids back home were all considered dumb, but it was just the opposite here.

Sarah and her friends invited Kevin to a teen club in Ionia, the county seat and largest town in the county. The Club, called ‘SHOUT!’, opened to kids under 18 the following Saturday night. As expected, it was packed with kids when they all arrived.

As Kevin looked out on the dance floor, the song “Mony-Mony by Billy Idol was playing. A very handsome guy with medium-length hair caught Kevin’s eye just as he heard:

“Here she comes now, say, ‘Mony, Mony’” (the song)

“Hey... mother fucker, get laid, get fucked!” (the crowd)

The guy’s hand was in the air, swirling his white T-shirt. He was having a fun night with several male and female friends. Kevin had zero expectations of anyone gay and did not have the slightest chance with a guy like this, but the question was, “Who would you want to talk to here?” Not, “Who is gay?”

“Him,” said Kevin softly. Sarah Kent responded, “That’s Curt Ryan! He goes to our school! She looked at Kevin, then ran off with a chuckle that sent a shiver of terror through Kevin.

“Oh my god,” Kevin said. “I'm going to die right here, tonight.”

Still shirtless, Sarah introduced them, and Kevin barely had the confidence to say “hi” with a smile. Curt matched Kevin’s energy and said, “Hey.” To Kevin, the music started to sound muffled; his heart raced, and he could see Curt still talking to him, but he struggled to make out what he was saying. Could he be interested? It seemed too good to be true, especially since Curt was drop-dead gorgeous with a chiseled athletic body, a beautiful face, and seemed so nice. Something felt different here, and both seemed to want to find out what it was, but neither was ready to act on it. It was a powerful and surprising night.

On Monday, Curt spotted Kevin in the Saranac High School parking lot. Unlike anyone else in Saranac, Kevin walked deliberately, as if he had to be somewhere. Kevin looked in his direction, saw Curt looking at him, and smiled back, recognizing him from the previous Saturday night in Ionia. He said “hi” in a way between a whisper and a slight chuckle. Curt responded, "Hey,” which Kevin recognized as a rare greeting in Michigan. That word felt like home to him, as it was a common way to say hello in Georgia.

“Saturday was fun,” Kevin said. “Do they open that to people under 18 very often?” “About once a month or so,” said Curt, who continued, “but I don’t get to go typically because of my basketball schedule. Hey, are you in Sarah’s grade?”

They stopped just outside the front doors. “Yeah, I’m a Junior,” said Kevin. “ Aren’t you?”

“No,” said Curt. “She’s my neighbor. I’m a freshman.”

“Wait, you’re a freshman varsity-level point guard? “ Kevin asked, surprisingly.

Curt paused and smiled to acknowledge that this upperclassman knew who he was. “Wow,” said Curt.

Kevin backtracked. “Busted. Umm. I’m on the newspaper and yearbook staff, and you often come up in sports.”

“So you cover the sports section?” Curt asked.

“Mostly just basketball. I played back in Georgia, but it’s a very intense sport here with Gus Macker and all, so writing about it is pretty much what I do now,” said Kevin.

“Hm,” said Curt. “So you’ve been to the games?”

“Oh yeah, but I try to stay invisible. As best I can, anyway. Being new, it can be difficult. “

Curt stood there in silence, wondering how Kevin could ever be invisible.

“I’ve gotta go,“ said Kevin. “The new kid can’t get away with being late to homeroom.”

Curt held up his right hand as if to say goodbye, without waving it… completely mesmerized by what just happened. Kevin was a mysterious new student, and Curt wanted to know more about him. He noticed he was beginning to tremble, which was new for him.

Kevin spotted Curt standing by his car as he left for the day.

“Hi,” Kevin said.

“Hey,” Curt responded. “Do you think we could maybe… we could talk sometime?” Curt asked.

“OK …I mean, …there’s no time like the present,” Kevin replied.

“No, not here. Umm…” he said.

“I know a place,” Kevin said confidently. “Get in.”

Kevin’s dad’s farm was 88 acres, and a pond was on the back 40. Kevin drove up the dirt access road, Pinckney Drive, and parked alongside the east field. His dad never planted in this field, so sitting by the water and disappearing into the wild wheat grass was a great refuge.

“I mentioned you to someone and they said you were openly, like… gay… or something?”

Kevin hesitated but knew Curt wasn’t planning to be confrontational.

“Yes. It’s why my mom sent me here. It was supposed to be my punishment, I guess.”

“You must have been sure to come out so openly,” Curt said.

“Well, I was outed by my brother, but I refused to deny it when asked. So yeah.” Kevin said.

“I think that’s brave. I mean, I’m not gay, don’t get me wrong, but I just… I just wanted to say, for what it is worth, that you’re really …brave, and I think that’s great.” Curt said genuinely.

“Cool. …and thanks. It means a lot to me. My mom didn’t take it very well, but my dad is less homophobic. Neither of them gets it, or me for that matter.”

They walked together out to the pond, not far from the road. Curt skipped a rock across the water. “That’s just parents, I think. My whole identity is basketball. Beyond that, I don’t know who I am or if my parents would even like me without it.”

Kevin hadn’t realized until that moment how similar their situations were.

“So you get it. I know the details are different, but the feelings are the same,” Kevin said. “I honestly hate that you can relate. No one should feel like that.”

“I need to get home, unfortunately. We’re preparing for harvest, which will be wild since it’ll just be me and my dad in the entire west field. I’ll be doing a three AM run on the weekends.”

Kevin noticed Curt was very sleepy when he dropped him off at home. He wondered why, but didn’t impose.

“Have fun with your grain runs, Kev.”

Kevin smiled and waved as he drove off, realizing that was the first time anyone had called him “Kev.” That might stick, coming from Curt.

On Saturday, Kevin woke up after midnight and threw on some jeans. He could see Curt from the foyer on the front porch, who had never been there before.

“Hey,” Kevin said as he opened the door.

Curt said, “I was at Matt’s and wondered if I could join you for your grain run if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure, I guess. Let me grab a jacket. Are you ok? The field gets cold at night.”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine.” Said Curt. “Is your dad going to get mad if I’m with you?”

“He usually doesn’t stop unless there’s something wrong with the combine,” Kevin answered.

As they approached the trailers, Curt spotted Kevin’s dad. “Oh no,” said Curt with a little more panic than Kevin had expected.

“It’s fine, just act normal. We don’t want him to have a ‘corn-ary.’” Kevin said very dryly, and Curt snorted at the joke. “The crop is corn, you get it.”

Charles Woodward was behind the trailer, loading the last bin with corn. Kevin didn’t say hello but walked up to check the fill meter. “Wait, is that Curt Ryan?” Charles asked.

Kevin focused on the equipment and ignored everything else.

“Hi, Mr. Woodward.” Said Curt.

“Dad, it’s full. Let me take the trailer over now so it will be ready,” said Kevin, attempting to halt the conversation.

With Kevin and Curt on the tractor, Curt said, “That felt like it went okay.”

“Of course, he would know who you are. I should have seen that coming.” Kevin smirked.

Curt looked at him with a grin. “What can I say? Dads love me.”

Kevin bumped shoulders with Curt. Curt bumped back.

Kevin reached the semi about a quarter of a mile down the west field. He jumped off, flipped the trailer latch like a pro, and returned to the tractor.

Curt was fascinated with how all of these mechanics worked. The combine separated the corn from the husks and stalks then loaded onto the trailer bins, then unloaded into the grain elevator, loaded the corn onto the semi, which will be driven to the grain bank silos nearby. Kevin explained all this from in front of the engine, which was warmer. Just as he turned toward the tractor, Curt said,

“Okay, now I’m cold,” he said, then ran and jumped on Kevin’s back. They laughed, and Kevin held Curt up for a little while before they both fell to the ground, laughing.

“You’re nuts. I love it.” Said Kevin.

“Sometimes you just need to get warm,” Curt said with a big smile. Curt moved to sit right next to Kevin on the ground in front of the tractor engine and said, “This will do.”

As they got back on the tractor, they could see the lights of the combine at work deep in the west field. Kevin hit a bump, and Curt grabbed Kevin’s waist to hang on and to secure himself.

“Thank you,” said Kevin.

Curt had a confident look but responded, “For what?”

Kevin had a list that he wanted to give to Curt. He wound up saying:

“For being here tonight.” Curt didn’t respond.

Curt looked at Kevin. He felt like someone finally saw him, not the basketball player, not an announcer from a loudspeaker, just a single voice with care.

“I should probably get you home before the sun rises,” said Kevin. Curt laughed.

Kevin opened the passenger door for Curt and closed it chivalrously. Kevin put the gearshift in reverse and turned to check behind them. With a hand on Curt’s headrest, Kevin turned his head towards Curt en route to looking behind the car. Curt kissed Kevin. Kevin rapidly threw the car back into neutral with his left hand, pulled up the parking brake, and returned for a more extended kiss with Curt.

Kevin stopped momentarily and asked, “But you’re not gay.”

“After tonight, I don’t know what I am,” Curt responded.

They held hands, with Curt’s fingers locked on top of Kevin’s hand. In this position, he moved their hands down to the gear shift, where he put the car in gear, managing to shift gears to Curt’s house without losing his grip on Curt’s finger lock.

The following day, Kevin arrived at the gym to start his report on the new Varsity basketball season for the 1985-86 season. Watching Curt practice with his teammates was thrilling. Kevin wanted to write his newspaper recap objectively, but he wanted to watch Curt's every tactical move because they were both interesting and now seemed personal.

Curt's position as point guard was similar to that of a quarterback on the football team. He was lean, agile, and quick on the court. Curt froze time with the position of the ball. He may have been responsible for half of the points, even though he took less than 10% of the shots.

“Driver!” Curt barked lovingly at Kevin. Curt was still too young to drive.

With Foreigner playing on the radio in the car, Kevin prompted Curt for clarification.

“Can we talk about last night?”

Curt answered, “Yeah, of course.”

“It was too late to press last night, and I knew you needed sleep. So if it’s okay to ask, what’s happening with us?” Kevin asked.

"All I know is that you seem critical to me and I don’t want to fuck this up,” Curt said.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything or be something you’re not. I like you, and I’d like to explore this further,... but only if and when you are ready and want that also.” Kevin said.

“I mean, I kissed you, Kev. Read my fucking lips, man.”

“Did you just call me an idiot?” Kevin asked in a whisper with a chuckle.

“I’m not jazzed about it, but …kinda, yeah.” Curt snickered.

“Come here, you fucking beautiful moron,” said Kevin who leaned in to kiss him. “By the way, I do not want to wear your letterless jacket.”

“Maybe next year when they give me that damn letter,” Curt said.

“So then that’s it? We are going out, then?” Curt asked.

“Yup. You’re my guy.” Kevin grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it.

That is when Curt knew he wanted Kevin ‘for keeps.’

“Driver. Take me to dinner. I’m starving,” said Curt in a soft tone to Kevin.

“I’m on it, Boss,” Kevin responded.

On the way to Nan’s Halloween bonfire party, they stopped by Adgates, the local grocery store in Saranac. He watched Curt agonize over a bag of chips and pulled one that wasn’t facing out, having to remove several bags to get to it.

“What?” Asked a smiling Curt, “This one is less likely to have as much breakage.”

Kevin stared, then smiled, saying, “I’ve gotta find the PAAAAAHHHPPP!”

Kevin loved dragging out the word ‘pop,’ which refers to all types of carbonated drinks in Michigan. This was particularly amusing because all sodas in Atlanta, including Pepsi products, were called ‘Coke.’

“Why …are you so hot, just grocery shopping?” asked Kevin.

“What?” responded Curt in a shocked tone.

Kevin just gave him a look and said, “Just shut up and kiss me.” Curt didn’t hesitate.

Kevin explained as they entered the car:

“There’s something about you: even the most mundane tasks are blue-fire hot. Watching you shop in a grocery store: Why does that rev me up?”

Curt liked it when Kevin said weird things like this, and he also loved it when he put the car in reverse because he always turned toward him to see out the back, and his hand always went straight to his headrest, just like in the west field when they first kissed. This time, Curt kissed Kevin on the cheek. Kevin winked back at him.

Suddenly, Kevin noticed Curt was short of breath and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“We don’t have to go to this,” Kevin offered. Curt waved for him to drive.

Kevin playfully offered his elbow to Curt since his hands were full of goodies he had brought, and a bag of potato chips was hanging from his teeth. “I can carry some of that,” Curt said with a laugh. Kevin shook the bag of potato chips from his teeth and growled at Curt. Chuckling, Curt grabbed the bag.

Kevin approached the fire pit and said, “Heyyyy… we missed an opportunity to be the cast of St. Elmo’s Fire.”

“Which character would that make you?” Asked Sarah.

“He’d be the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Wendy ate in the middle of the night,” answered Joyce, dressed as Allison from The Breakfast Club.

“AAAAAAYYYEE!” shouted the group.

Joyce said, “Ugh, Kevin…. Why are you not in costume?”

“I am!” Kevin responded. “I’m Bender from the Breakfast Club. Eat….my…shorts.”

Kevin noticed Curt zoning out a bit and decided to take a moment for themselves. They walked around the side of the house facing the Grand River and sat facing the bonfire.

“Are you okay?” Kevin said. “I noticed that you sometimes seem overwhelmed.”

“My parents say it is a side effect of perfectionism,” Curt answered. “Your friends are all so smart and creative; sometimes I feel like a dumb kid.”

“From my perspective, my friends are your friends now, and they all like you as much as I do,” said Kevin cautiously. “Hopefully, they don’t want to make out with you.” Kevin sighed and smirked.

“I like you, Curt,” said Kevin.

“I like you, too,” said Curt. “I’m glad you moved to Saranac.”

“You know, this isn't what I signed up for by moving here,” said Kevin softly, “but it worked out perfectly.”

Curt put his head on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin dropped his head down to meet Curt’s as they looked out at their friends re-enacting the library dance scene from “The Breakfast Club.” Kevin and Curt laughed loudly as their friends danced around the bonfire-lit wall. The comforting sounds of the Grand River behind them, along with the music and the crackling bonfire, somehow confirmed everything they felt about what was developing.