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Rhett didn’t realize he was a robot until he was sixteen years old.
His third girlfriend in as many months picked a fight with him and it led him to once again quietly end things without so much as a word. Once he stopped returning the stare from each in the series for long enough during a shared class, each had quickly gotten the hint and moved on. Following the most recent split, this time with Mary Ellen, one of his teammates broke the news.
“McLaughlin, you are cold-blooded.”
He smirked and held his neck, which felt warm and decidedly not cold. He told himself they were merely jealous.
Then, another peer elbowed that teammate and snickered. “No, he’s just a robot. They’re built that way.” Rhett visibly paled.
He went home, flustered, and angry that someone implied he was less than human. He had nothing against robots, he simply wasn't one.
But still, being cold-blooded suddenly seemed something to aspire to.
At dinner, Rhett decided to broach the topic with his parents so he could lay the fear to rest, once and for all.
“Am I a machine?” he asked, innocently. Perhaps he should’ve entered the conversation more delicately. He had no idea where to begin.
“What?” his father barked, over a chuckle. He wiped at his mouth and set the napkin down. Rhett couldn’t help but think it was the wrong question to have asked. His father hated when his dinner was disrupted, for whatever reason, and he could see now that this would not bear out a simple yes or no answer.
Rhett’s voice cracked as he continued. “One of the guys on the team, he called me a robot. Since I dumped Mary Ellen at school, today.”
“You did?” his father inquired, looking perturbed. Mary Ellen was a nice girl and that took him by surprise.
“Yeah,” Rhett answered. “She got on me about how much I have to practice shooting hoops. I told her I had to keep my eye on the prize, like you always say.”
His father nodded slowly in agreement, looking halfway proud.
Rhett felt emboldened to continue. “They said that's how robots are built. Dumping her like that.”
His father shrugged as though the jig was up and Rhett felt the heat from his neck return and start to creep to his ears, taking this to mean it was all true. “Am I?”
“If you wanna call it that, sure,” he said, begrudgingly. “Robot’s bit of an ugly word.”
“So, it’s true?” Rhett said, aghast.
His mother tutted, primly. “Being focused on your future isn’t a bad thing.”
Rhett heard only another non-denial.
“Is Cole?” Rhett asked, eyeing his brother’s empty chair. He was volunteering to help out at the church, as he did most Thursday nights.
“No, of course not,” his father admonished.
Now that Rhett knew the truth, it felt easier to push it down, even temporarily.
He ate the rest of his macaroni casserole in resigned silence. He was pleased when his mom changed the subject to something funny Letterman had said the night before. His father picked up his fork and just like that, it was as though he’d never brought it up.
At least some things had begun to make more sense, to Rhett, in retrospect. As surprising as the rest remained.
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After dinner, he went out front to practice his free throws three hundred times, as he often did after school. On days he had practice, his parents didn’t always expect him to keep up with the reps, but tonight he felt resigned to it. He was part-machine. It’s what he was meant to do.
His father watched and smoked a cigar from the front porch. Every few throws, he’d shout a critique over Rhett’s stance. Other times, he’d cheer on a particularly deft toss or when he went on a mini streak.
One hundred shots in, something that had felt worn down until that point finally snapped, inside, and Rhett grabbed the ball harshly, after his second miss, on rebound. He turned towards his father and interrogated him, “Were you ever going to tell me?”
His father sighed and stubbed out the nub of his cigar.
“Were you?” Rhett pleaded, voice going up.
“Rhett, it don’t change a thing, now, does it?” his father said, back.
Rhett choked a guffaw. He could hardly believe that.
“You’re still our boy, just the same. No use crying over how that came to be.”
Rhett’s mouth opened and closed, several times, as he tried to reason with the idea.
“And don’t you put this on your brother. We don’t treat him any different.”
“He’s not out here, practicing till he can’t see straight,” Rhett yelled.
It was the loudest he’d ever raised his voice to his father and he was equally nervous that it might bring his mother out to check on them, so he quieted down after. He didn’t want to get upset. If he got upset in front of her, she’d argue with his father about it and it made him feel twice as guilty, listening to them bicker as he tried to go to sleep, down the hall.
Instead, he shook his head, and added, softer, “I’m just an expensive toy.”
His father’s gaze hardened. He didn’t yell, however, so Rhett knew he’d at least avoided the shouting match. At what cost, he had yet to find out. A cool deadpan overtook his father’s tone when he responded. “Some toy,” he derided. “Can’t hit a three pointer worth a damn, but I guess you get what you pay for.” He kicked his right foot out and bumped it against Rhett’s sneaker’s rubber sole. It bounced back a few inches with a noisy skid.
Rhett felt a rage burn through him and he stepped back, bouncing the ball twice for show. He lined up his shot. He sunk an easy three, hitting nothing but net. He caught the ball and turned to sneer at his father, having proven him wrong.
“People always say just because you’re tall, don’t mean that you’re guaranteed to be an athlete,” Mr. McLaughlin recalled, solemnly. “I knew that. Think we all did,” he said, succinctly, and stuck his hands in his pockets.
He got closer to Rhett and although Rhett’s anger lingered, he pulled his chin up and preened under his father’s chilly stare.
“What you needed was discipline.”
The playfulness in his reprimand vanished and Rhett felt whatever bluster he had built up seep out. His eyes turned down to the gravel that lined the driveway and returned his stance to prepare to resume taking shots.
“Glad to see you knew to adhere to it,” his father added, hands still in his pockets. Rhett hit three shots in a row, rebounding it cleanly each time. “Clearly it’s yielded results.”
His father went back inside, but Rhett felt a burn in his gut to continue. He knew, or assumed, his father would watch out a window inside. To see if he’d falter. He wouldn’t.
He didn’t even flinch when Link showed up a half hour later. Link sat on the ground after he kicked the stand on his bike. He pulled out a copy of Mad Magazine and started thumbing through it. After he’d looked back and forth between Rhett and the jokes, he finally broke the silence. “How was practice?”
Rhett gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to have to explain all the horrible shit he’d just found out to Link. He wasn’t sure he could keep it together and he still had twenty-six shots to go. It wasn’t that many but it was enough to make doing them in tears more trouble than it was worth.
He knew from experience.
He didn’t answer.
“Oooh-kay,” Link mumbled, to himself. “Did you watch Quantum Leap, last night?”
“No,” Rhett admitted, abruptly. He hadn’t been expecting the question and couldn’t conjure up the ability to deflect it as easily. He hoped Link didn’t follow-up and ask why. It was because he’d spent the night trying to decide if he should dump Mary Ellen and explaining that would put him right back where he’d tried to avoid starting, just moments before. “Too busy with… other stuff,” he volunteered, hoping it was enough to throw Link off the trail.
“Yeah,” Link said, acting like he was busy, too. Rhett knew he often wasn’t. Which is what he owed his current presence to, but he would rather die than say that out loud. He needed Link there and the idea of voicing that he knew Link was lying could only jeopardize that. “It was a good one.”
“Nice,” Rhett said, chucking number two seventy-seven at the hoop.
“How many you got left?” Link asked, cutting to the chase. Some nights he didn’t ask. Tonight, it seemed relevant to.
“Twenty-two,” Rhett yelled as he hit another shot and skipped across the pavement to get the rebound.
“What do you wanna do later?”
“I don’t care,” Rhett grumbled, hooking number twenty-one.
“Just wanna get out of here?” Link supposed, some mischief crept into his tone.
“Yeah,” Rhett growled, running up to grab another rebound. He knew if his father was watching, he’d have seen him make every shot since Link sat down and he forced himself not to lose the momentum. This is what he worked hard for, to get his skill this precise.
This is what he was built for, he remembered.
Hollow, but with a blinding fervor, Rhett kept it going and made all remaining twenty shots. By the end, he was yelling with each one, adrenaline coursing through his blood stream. He circled back to put the basketball in his shed and pull out his bike.
He pedaled down the back half of his driveway and met Link where he’d stood up, putting his magazine in his backpack and was sitting on his bike.
“Ready?” Link asked, eyes dancing.
“Yeah,” Rhett grunted and kicked off. They pedaled steady to get them out of the neighborhood and at first they went the long way out to the main roads, clearly killing time to figure out where to go next.
“Stop ‘N Shop?!” Link yelled out over the backstream of air that Rhett’s bike pushed towards him, from behind.
“Too late! They close in fifteen,” Rhett cried back, the noise carried so he hardly had to raise his voice to be heard.
“Chelsea Diner?” Link tried, next.
“I didn’t bring any quarters,” Rhett said back, slowing down and waiting for Link to slow at the stop sign that led out of their development. They both panted long enough to catch their breaths. “River?”
“River,” Link reasoned.
They took off to the left and headed for the old geezer golf course that split the land with a tobacco farm. They hid their bikes and jumped down the short trough of land into the shallow stream that led out to their favorite place to cross the river. This time of year, it didn’t come up past either’s shins. They took of their shoes and socks, hanging them laced together and around their necks. They crossed; Rhett first, Link second.
Halfway through, Rhett started to get in his head about the water and about what all he’d learned that night. Were robots okay to be in water this much? His parents didn’t know they did this and his mom had always been against him swimming in the pool at his cousin’s house. Was this why? He had to wear a shirt. She said it was because he burned easy, but he was no longer sure. Caught up in intellectualizing an action that was normally rote, he almost toppled over and lost his balance. Link nudged him forward and giggled, implying it was Rhett’s sloppy footwork and not anything to do with his innerworkings. Rhett laughed it off.
When they’d finally crossed, they ended up at their favorite embankment to swim at, but he was still caught in his head, thinking over his new reality. He wondered if he should tell Link.
He hoped it wouldn’t change the way Link treated him. If he’d known Rhett wasn’t human, this whole time, would Link have even bothered to be his friend? No wonder he rarely got Rhett’s jokes the first time, Rhett considered.
“You okay over there, man?” Link chimed in, as though reading his thoughts. Rhett wasn’t. It was probably time to stop pretending.
His head hung low.
“What happened? Mary Ellen giving you a hard time about basketball still?” Link asked, frowning in commiseration.
Rhett stood at the edge of the water and only let the shallow tide lick at his heels.
“We broke up,” Rhett admitted.
“Oh, dude, I’m sorry,” Link said, smacking his side. “Don’t worry, there’s other fish,” he said, jokingly thumbing the water behind him.
“That’s a river, Link,” Rhett said, trying to make light of the circumstances.
“You get what I mean,” he scolded, narrowing his eyes at Rhett. “Sucks to hear.”
“Yeah, well, I dumped her,” Rhett said, then sighed. “She didn’t like that I had to practice that much. Told me to choose between her and basketball.”
Link sighed. “Well, that’s not really fair,” he said, crossing his arms.
Rhett felt his stomach drop and prepared himself to get called out, once more.
“She knows basketball is important to you. To your whole family,” Link pointed out. “Dang.”
Rhett nodded, since that was true. She had seen first hand how much work he put into it and what was expected of him all the way up through college. Link shrugged.
“Sounds like you dodged a bullet then, I guess. If she can’t support you with basketball, how is she gonna support you doing… an-a-ything?” Link’s accent twanged extra when something stuck in his craw.
“Don’t know, really,” Rhett admitted. He hadn’t thought of it like that, but now that he’d heard Link’s take, he felt himself fight a smile. The tenacity of Mary Ellen to give him that ultimatum hadn’t felt all that foolhardy before, but now. He looked up and saw Link was still shaking his head as he waded closer to shore.
“Sure your parents weren’t thrilled about that,” Link supposed. “They liked her tons.”
“Not really,” Rhett said, embarrassed that they hadn’t been all that upset. “They were glad to hear I was focused on basketball, though.” That part was true.
Link stopped before Rhett. “You not in the mood to swim?” he asked, pointing out that Rhett had neglected to join him, so far. “Long ways to come out, just to dip your toes in.”
Rhett knew that usually he did go in the water with Link, but now he’d been overthinking the safety of being a robot submerged in it.
“No.”
“Care to say why?” Link wondered, sounding nervous to. It reminded Rhett of how he asked questions of his folks and he wanted to make sure Link knew he wasn’t someone to be afraid of, for whatever reason he’d elicited that tone.
Rhett sat down on the side of the water, atop a large, slate-gray boulder. “You gotta sit down.”
Link stared at him and wandered over, out of the water. When he sat, a ton of dripping water poured over the side of the massive rock, but neither moved from the spot. Rhett stared at where it spilled around him, close to his crossed leg, but given the angle of the rock, it splashed over the edge of the stone before it could dampen his khakis, too.
“My dad told me something at dinner and I still can’t hardly believe it, but I should probably tell you, too.”
Link watched him, rapt, waiting for Rhett to continue.
“I’m a robot,” Rhett blurted out, cutting right to the heart of it. “When I dumped Mary Ellen at school, word got around, and the guys on the team called me cold-blooded, then Jeff said I was a robot, that’s just how I’m built. So, I told my dad and he didn’t deny it.”
Link stared at him, his eyes big and wide, his mouth slightly open.
“Say something, Link,” Rhett begged. “I’m totally freaked out. I mean a lot of things make sense, better, now, but I can’t believe they thought it was okay to let me find out like that.”
Link looked down, suddenly, and Rhett’s stomach lurched. His worst fear, that Link would want to stop being his friend, felt all too real.
“Link,” Rhett pleaded, voice on the edge of hysterical. He tried his hardest not to cry. Years of his father telling him to keep it together probably meant he would rust from the inside out, or something equally horrible, if he gave in too quickly.
“I thought you knew,” Link said, quietly.
It was not what Rhett had expected him to say. His hearing dropped and the fast, running sound of the river washed out all other noise in his ears.
Rhett couldn’t keep the tears out of his voice when he lost it, screaming over at Link, he shot to his feet. “You knew?”
He breathed deep and his body language clearly dared Link to continue. Against better judgment, Link did. “Yeah, I thought – I thought everyone knew.”
Rhett gasped, broken-hearted.
“You know my dad worked at the factory, he – he played poker with guys on the assembly line. I’m sure he told me, first thing, back when we met. Y-your six seven a-and you’re going to the playoffs in a week. I thought everyone knew.”
Rhett felt something in him turn off like a switch was flipped. A cold, sinking feeling overtook his body. He huffed and continued on, leaving in the direction they hiked in from where they’d been sat down. He stomped off in a furor.
“Rhett!” Link called out to his back, clearly sniffling his way through his own persistent tears. “I’m sorry!”
Rhett kept his speed up until he hit the crossing and transitioned to a quick but steady pace, remembering his earlier near-slip. He was still extremely hesitant to get wet, all things considered, and it wouldn’t do to rush across and force himself underwater. Especially with a current as strong as it was with the sun setting quickly, behind them.
He finally made his way across the river and looked back at the way he came to see Link start his way across. He was shaking and red-faced, but Rhett forced himself to keep forward and clear the edge of the small cove along the river. Once he got across the small shallow path, he only had the stream to cross to climb up and away.
When he glanced back a second time, Link was gone. He looked along the path closer to him, expecting to see Link having caught up with him. He did not. He looked across the river to see if he’d returned back where he’d left, but also saw no sign of him.
Just as suddenly, Rhett’s journey onward was abandoned and his eyes roved the deep water beyond the crossing and after it, trying to make out any sign of Link above the surface. Finally, he caught sight of Link’s head, bobbing uneasily off towards the center of the river, past the crossing and into the deep water, he’d caught himself in the current, but was barely keeping his head above water. Rhett stared, frozen in place, terrified as he watched Link fight against the rush of water. He watched Link’s head buoy itself above the water's surface, once, twice, and then a third time, before it stayed under.
Whatever recent fears had usurped his ability to enjoy a light swim, Rhett overcame them, in an instant. He dove forward, upper body first, already doggy-paddling out towards where Link was tossed under. Within a few long strokes, he came up behind Link and used his whole body to push him onwards, towards the landing of the crossing from which he had slipped.
Link was nearly limp, but he didn’t fight Rhett’s efforts and it helped get him above water swiftly. Once they got to the crossing, Rhett held him against the elevated ground long enough for them both to gather themselves slightly.
Once Link could be pulled further from where he was still drifting back and forth, clutching Rhett’s right arm, half out of the water, he started coughing up water. They both stood. Rhett followed closely behind Link as they both finished making the trip across the shallow water to a large stone at the other end of the river.
They collapsed in a heap, stomachs pressed to the slate, and stared at each other for a long time as they steadied their breathing.
Link was still panting when Rhett realized it was because he was crying. The tears blended with the blackwater droplets along the side of his strained face. “I thought you knew.”
“I didn’t,” Rhett spat at him from where he laid.
“Sorry you had to get wet, on account of my clumsiness,” Link said between large gulps of air.
“It’s okay,” Rhett said, quietly.
“No, it’s not!” Link called out, scolding himself. “I know how your parents get on you about coming home soaking wet. I could see you were avoiding the water, back there,” Link bemoaned his recklessness further.
“No, I –” Rhett started, unsure of how deep into it he should get. A part of him was still surprised Link wanted to apologize at all and seemingly remain friends. He’d half expected Link to bail on everything once he’d found out.
“What?” Link questioned, fervently. Ready to do what he could to reassure Rhett of whatever he was about to say.
“After I found out, I was nervous about getting wet. I never found out if I should be swimming. You know what they say about electronics and water. My parents have always warned me against going in over my head.”
Link laughed, darkly, but answered still, “Well, that’s pretty deep water, Rhett.”
Rhett stared at him.
“I think that’s all they meant by it.”
Rhett nodded. “I guess.”
“We’ve always swam together,” Link recalled, his voice getting even softer. “For hours.”
“Yeah, I know,” Rhett conceded. He looked up at the darkening, purple hues of the evening sky. He willed the tears pooling in his eyes to stay put, but after taking a breath he felt the congestion build to the point where he knew they’d fall. He looked away and hoped Link might not notice.
He could tell from Link’s silence that he had. “What’s wrong?” Link asked him, breathlessly. “What happened?”
“I just told you,” Rhett whispered. “I’m a robot.”
Link shook his head because he’d confirmed he knew that already. “Okay, I know that’s shocking to you, but it doesn’t change anything. You’re still Rhett.”
“The guys at school,” Rhett cut in and circled back to where this had all started. “They said I was cold-blooded, dumping Mary Ellen like that and not being upset about it.”
Link nodded, looking away.
“And when I asked my dad about it he just admitted to everything like it was nothing. Like, I should’ve known.”
Link stopped moving, but remained solemn-looking. Rhett could tell he was reevaluating how his reaction had come across considering that information.
“I guess I should’ve, if it was that obvious to you.”
“What do you mean?” Link questioned, looking up and finally engaging with Rhett’s line of logic.
“You said you knew,” Rhett explained.
“Yeah, my dad told me. I guess I might’a suspected ‘cause of your height and how good you are at sports.”
Rhett frowned. “My dad said that’s got nothing to do with it. That was all practice. The robot part just makes it easier to focus, I guess. To know how to prioritize winning.”
“Oh.”
“That’s why I could end it with all those girls. Like Jeff said. I’m cold. I’m emotionless. I’m a robot. It’s how we’re built.”
Link nodded along, then shook his head slowly. “Well, then I never would’ve guessed.”
“What?”
“You don’t seem emotionless to me,” Link pointed out Rhett’s current state. He reached over and wiped at the tears on his cheeks.
“I’m just upset ‘cause – ‘cause I thought you weren’t gonna want to be my friend, anymore,” Rhett reasoned. He sniffed, thinking back on how real the fear was when it cut through him. “Then when I thought you’d lied to me, I guess I snapped.”
“Rhett,” Link admonished, looking down. He fought a smile and Rhett wiped at his eyes, himself, to try and see it better. “You know my dad works there as a groundskeeper. Nothing fancy.”
Rhett shrugged since it was true. He had seen Link’s dad leave for work in his blue, stained coveralls to clean a restroom or paint a door. “Right.”
“You never made fun of me about it, like the other guys.”
“Why would I?” Rhett asked, confused.
Link sighed. “I don’t know, but the other guys always find plenty of reasons to.”
Rhett shook his head, annoyed at them.
“Whatever’s got your head twisted, thinking ‘being a robot’ equals ‘being a jerk’ needs to reckon those are two different things. Same as with 'being good at basketball,' if you say that’s not part of it, I guess.”
Rhett stared off, confused. His world had been up-ended, but the way Link framed it, it felt like maybe he’d just not been paying attention to it as closely as he should’ve.
“Then, what’s the difference?” Rhett wondered.
“Difference between what?” Link questioned back.
“Difference in being a robot or not?”
Link shrugged. “Beats me.”
Rhett stared down at him and then glanced back over at the water. After a long pause, he pushed aside his nerves and did the unthinkable. For whatever reason, it felt like the ultimate act of defiance, now, and he couldn’t help himself. He pulled Link into a tight hug.
Link held him back, just as firmly. Rhett felt Link's long fingers grip around either shoulder.
“I love you,” Rhett mumbled, embarrassed but forcing himself to be honest.
Just like that, he knew Link was right. He felt a warmth bloom, deep in his chest, and he gripped Link back even more tightly. He had a heart. He knew that to be true, based on the feeling, beyond a shadow of a doubt. “I love you so much,” he whispered into the tear-soaked skin on Link’s neck.
“I love you, too,” Link said back, just as bravely, and gripped Rhett equally hard. When he pulled back to check and see that Link was okay, on account of the noises he was making in Rhett’s tight embrace, Rhett was taken by surprise when Link pressed their mouths together.
Rhett bit back the urge to shove Link away and downplay the kiss. He didn’t want Link to get the wrong idea. He’d kiss him as a friend, but he didn’t like Link that way.
He loved him, though, so he stayed still.
Link pushed his tongue into Rhett’s mouth and still they kissed.
Rhett felt himself get lost in the feeling, momentarily, as Link’s essence draped over him like a heavy blanket.
He loved Link so much. He cherished him. So, as they kissed, he thought more about what he’d say when they parted. He practiced telling Link that he had to focus on basketball, but Link knew that and had supported him without hesitation right up until they’d left his house earlier.
He thought about telling Link that he was worried he couldn’t be the soft, gentle partner that he deserved. If they were going to split one day, he might just take off again after a fight. He would freeze Link out and not feel broken up about it. It was his nature.
But Link came after him. He'd almost died doing it. He refused to let Rhett end things over something he thought they could work through together. Rhett wasn’t used to someone having the chance to give up on him and not taking it.
His body felt warm all over and he realized the sticky feeling on his face was his dried tears mixing with the sweat brought out Link’s body heat and the leftover wetness from the river.
“Oh,” Link groaned into Rhett’s open mouth. They leaned over so that Rhett was on his back and Link was leaning down overtop of him as they carried on making out. “Rhett!” Link mumbled into Rhett’s jaw.
The other obvious out that Rhett kept trying to convince himself to take was that, once again, he didn’t like Link in that way. They were friends. Buddies, best pals, all of that. He hadn’t ever considered Link to be someone he would venture a kiss with, let alone a full-on make out session.
Yet, there they laid. Rhett could tell from the feeling below his waist that he did, indeed, like this. He’d been wrong about that, too. He’d been wrong about a lot of things.
As Link’s kissing finally slowed and the crickets started chirping in the big, sprawling tobacco farm above them, Rhett came to the only conclusion he could.
He’d keep Link’s secret if Link kept his.
“That was amazing,” Link mumbled at Rhett’s neck before he pulled himself up to sit. He glanced up at the nearly-night sky and squinted as though he was checking for stars. It was much too early, but Rhett felt slammed with the same desire and looked up. It felt like hours had passed since they started necking.
He felt his heart thud in his ears, reminding him that it was real and how accurate Link’s assessment was. “You sure it didn’t freak you out?”
Rhett isn’t sure why he asked it, but he is pretty sure it was one of his initial rebuttals that had been lodged in the back of his mind when the kissing started. Even though Link had initiated it, part of him expected Link to end up disappointed.
“What?” Link asked, breathless again. “Kissing a guy?” Rhett stared at his lips as Link asked. He watched as they pursed and shaped the words of each question, red and wet.
Rhett forgot himself at the sight and nearly answered in the affirmative.
When he glanced up at where their bikes were stashed and thought back to the upcoming trip home to the real world. He remembered the truth and felt an obligation to specify. “Kissing a robot?”
Link stared at him for a few long seconds, not reacting, before he leaned forward and recaptured Rhett’s mouth in a kiss.
“It’s not a bad thing to be one, you know that, right?” Link asked as they parted from each other, once again. "A robot."
Rhett was silent. He had yet to experience a good thing about it.
“It just means you’re different. That’s all.”
Rhett stared, hard, trying to work out all the bad things he was sure he could throw at Link about it and only came up with the weak words of his bullies. “I’m cold-blooded. I’m heartless.”
“You just cried over losing me and told me you loved me,” Link shot back.
“Yeah, but –”
“Yeah, but, what?”
“That’s just…” Rhett trailed off, trying to explain the facts as best he could. “That’s just the truth.”
Link burst out laughing, the sound akin to a wind chime echoing across the noisy river behind them in the brisk night air. Rhett’s teeth started to chatter.
“That takes cold-blooded off the list, too, I guess?” Link teased.
Rhett opened and closed his mouth, flummoxed.
“Sounds to me like you associate a lot of bad stuff with robots that ain’t got nothing to do with ‘em. Much less, you, in particular,” Link pointed out.
Rhett tried to shrug, but he was still simply blown away by the recent events.
Finally, Rhett found the words he’d been stewing over. “I just don’t want to hurt you. Let you down or whatever.”
“Rhett,” Link implored him to once more meet his eyeline. Rhett did. “You’ve been kinder to me than any non-robots I know.”
Rhett was forced to admit that to be true. Feeling the sinking pressure of some unknown expectation, Rhett continued pulling up his insecurities as they had been dismissed. He felt like one of them had to be mature and point out their incompatibility before it was too late.
Too late for what loomed as part of that ambiguous stressor, keyed up in the back of his mind, bleeding into every avenue of the conversation.
“If I ever had to choose,” Rhett warned. He tried to show Link the negative of the photograph that had already been developed in triplicate. “You know I can’t let my parents down.”
“Of course not,” Link agreed. “I’d never make you choose, Rhett. I know it’s too important to you.” He paused, thinking it over and continued, quiet, “You wouldn’t have to tell them anything.”
Rhett knew, then, on some level, that meant they could be together forever. In what capacity, his body and his mind were still trying to work out.
To hear that Link would willingly remain a secret pained him deeply. Knowing that Link would give up the possibility of ever being fully known as his true self felt devastating. All to show his solidarity with something that Rhett would be stuck with regardless. What he was built for.
Basketball.
Rhett paused, thinking back to his father’s earlier own words. It was a discipline, not a guarantee.
“I’m going to quit basketball.”
Link froze, his mouth dropped. “What?” He looked scared, more than anything else.
“If I had to choose between you and basketball,” Rhett explained, watching Link blink slowly, in awe. “I’d choose you.”
“You don’t mean that, Rhett,” Link said, sounding worried.
“I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” Rhett assured him. He reconsidered. “Besides telling you I love you.”
Link swallowed. “I am not asking you to quit basketball. That was your number one ticket to the college of your choice, remember?” Link prompted. “California? Tennessee?”
“I just want to get out of here,” Rhett explained, revisiting his best laid plans. “I don’t care where I go.”
Link stared back at Rhett, unblinking.
“With you,” Rhett added, gently. Honest.
Link shot forward and rejoined their mouths. They rolled around kissing for another twenty minutes before they realized enough time had passed that they needed to head home. They hurried back on their bikes and only parted ways once they reached the split in the road. Rhett looked around and then leaned in, stealing another kiss from Link on the corner where no houses or traffic were nearby enough to see.
Before they separated a final time, that night, Link called back over his shoulder, light but serious, "Do whatever you want, Rhett. You know I'm still your number one fan, regardless."
Rhett watched him click his pedals forward and start his ride home.
"Besides, 's not like you can play basketball forever," Link shouted back at him from a few yards away as he took off with a smile. "I can wait!"
∴
Rhett went to the playoffs.
He closed the season scoring ten three-point shots in one game, earning him the record for a single player in their school’s history.
He informed his parents that he planned to quit basketball the very next night.
They were not thrilled, but after some logical arguments that his passions laid elsewhere, it was settled.
Link might've been able to wait for him, but Rhett couldn't stand the thought of spending another second pretending to care about anything more.
He wasn't built that way.