Smoky Mountain Dreams (37 page)

“I’m sorry.”

He’d sighed and put his hand on Christopher’s knee. “No, I
am. Listen, can we—the thing is, right now I want to be here with you, not back
in that room with her. So, let’s talk about something else. Please?”

Christopher had agreed, but they’d ridden mostly in silence
until Jesse had started telling him about the various sushi options, explaining
his favorites, and making suggestions about what Christopher should try first.

No, losing a spouse or a parent wasn’t like a commercial at
all. No amount of protection from a life insurance company would make
everything okay—not for Jesse, and not for Jesse’s kids.

“And that’s half-time,” Bob said, slapping his knees.

Christopher’s throat went tight. During the game, it was
important to stay close and quiet, but at half-time the opposite rules took
effect. The best way to avoid attention was to find a legitimate reason to
leave the scene, at least for a little while. And, by the sound and smell of
things from the kitchen, dinner didn’t seem likely to save the day.

“I’m going to stretch my legs,” Christopher said, nodding
toward the hallway leading to the back door and the yard. “It was a long drive
down.”

“You only just sat down,” Bob said, impatiently.

“Gotta use the legs God gave ya,” Joe said, looking over at
Christopher and winking. “Tell you what, Christopher, I’ll join you.” Joe
heaved his gym-muscled body up from the sofa. “Get some exercise in before that
meal comes down the pike.”

Bob waved them off and got up himself to check things in the
kitchen. Christopher suspected a mid-cooking prayer might happen, and he
laughed under his breath that Jackie would be forced to endure it. Probably
something like,
“Oh, Lord, we know that Jackie has burned
pies in the past, but we pray you give her sense to pull them out of the oven
today well in advance of ruination!”

In the backyard, Joe beckoned him toward the shed by the
fence line where Bob kept his lawn mower and less-expensive tools.

“Want to see something that will turn your day right around?”
Joe asked, pushing open the shed door.

“You’ve got the power to do that?”

“For the love of God, yes.” Joe reached into the darkness of
the shed, shoved aside an empty gas tank, and pulled out a bottle of Southern
Comfort. “Never underestimate me, Christopher.”

“Bob know that’s there?”

“Hell no. Mr. Fire-and-Brimstone would call it devil juice
and be a dumbass about it in front of my kids. Lucky for me, I’ve been doing
his yard work for him since his last mini heart attack, so he hasn’t stepped
foot in this shed in a year.” He unscrewed the top and took a hearty swallow. “Gotta
have some way to survive this family, Christopher, or I’m gonna be on my third
divorce, and I’ve got
some
pride still. Not to
mention, I do love Jackie. She’s the best of the wives I’ve had.”

“As her brother, I gotta say that warms my heart, Joe. So
romantic.”

Joe passed the bottle and grinned. “Realistic, dude.
Marriage isn’t all giggles, swooning bliss, and joy. It’s every goddamn day and
sometimes it’s not all that fun. But I love her. She’s the one for me. More’n
any other I’ve been with and that’s a fact. It’s why I’m here, right? Why I
come to this family shit-show and hold her hand through it all. Because she’s
my babydoll.”

“Aw, and you just started drinking,” Christopher said, swallowing
a hot, burning mouthful. “Makes me feel like you really do love her.”

“I do love her. But let’s get real: I’ve been drinking off
and on since this morning. It takes a lot of alcohol to get through a
Thanksgiving with Bob and Sammie Mae. Holy crap those two could make anyone
want to reject the word of God just to not be associated with their like
anymore. What with their Jesus-this, and blessing-that, and ‘We don’t talk
about luck in this house, young man! Luck takes the glory from God where it
belongs!’ Your mom actually said that to Lee last time he was here because he
said he’d made a lucky interception at his game.”

“Lucky Lee,” Christopher said, taking another sip, feeling
his nerves melt a little, smoothing his raw edges until they felt one with the
winter-brown world around him.

“Ain’t that so?” Joe chuckled and reached for the bottle. “It’s
all I can do to hold on to my faith when I’m around them sometimes.”

“I hear you.” Christopher supposed he still believed, but it
was a moot point, really, when he didn’t think there was a church in Gatlinburg
that would truly want him. Maybe the one that Jesse had mentioned Tim and Nova
attended. But the truth was, just going inside a church made him nauseous,
reminding him too much of the fear and pain of the years of going to Christ
Light. When he got the rare urge, he preferred to worship on his own, watching
a sunrise while sipping a cup of coffee, or just in the quiet of his mind.

“It was bad enough for Jackie, but I’ve always wondered—how’d
you get through high school with them, Christopher? You know, being queer and
all? Did you dream of bludgeoning them in their sleep?”

Christopher smiled, but it hurt somewhere in his chest under
the nice fog the Southern Comfort had dropped over him. “No. I never wanted to
hurt them. Sad thing is, I dreamed a lot more often of killing
myself
actually.”

Joe stopped mid-swig and brought the bottle down. “Dude…bro…I’m
fucking glad you didn’t do that.” He slapped Christopher’s shoulder and
squeezed, and then dragged him in for a brief but strong hug before shoving him
back. “You don’t still think like that, do you?”

“No. Not in a long time.”

“Never do that, Christopher. Call me. Or Jackie. Or
just…come to us. We’ll be there for you. Anytime, day or night. Jackie might
not get it, you know, that being gay’s just the way some people are, but I do.
And you’re welcome in our home
any time
. And she
loves
you, bro. Just know she loves you. Okay?”

Christopher forced a laugh over the swell of emotion in his
throat. “Jesus Christ, Joe, I’m fine. Calm down.”

Joe studied him and then nodded, wiping his hand over the
back of his mouth. “Okay.”

“But thanks…and I love you both too.”

“Cool.”

They shifted uncomfortably until Joe spoke again. “You
talked to your father lately?” He tucked the whiskey bottle back into the shed
and shut the door. The burn from the whiskey had really warmed him up, and
Christopher felt his muscles unwind as he shook his head in answer to Joe’s
question.

“He’s leavin’ the church.”

Christopher’s brows shot up. “No shit?”

“No shit, dude. He’s apparently ‘seen the light’ according
to him, and been ‘lured once more by the powers of Satan’ according to your
mother.”

“She’s bitter.”

“You’d think if she was so damn happy with Bob she’d let it
go; see it as God’s hand in her life or some other bullshit, but she’s just a
pissed off bitch about it.” Joe cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry. She’s your mom.
I should shut the fuck up.”

“Go ahead. You’re family now. You get to say whatever you
want.”

Joe smirked. “Well, your dad was apparently banging the
choir director’s college-age daughter. A kid his latest wife used to babysit,
dude. Anyway, the wife got wind of it, because fuck knows your dad’s no good at
hiding his affairs, and told the whole congregation about it. And they set about
shamin’ both of ‘em to no end. Though the girl didn’t go to church there and
hadn’t in years, they went and started holding prayer vigils for her soul
outside her apartment in the Fort, holding signs about ‘Jesus forgives,’ and
crap about adultery.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know, right? Those people are motherfucking insane.”

“You’ve got a great mouth, Joe.” Christopher felt heat rise
from his whiskey-warm stomach to his cheeks. “I didn’t mean…fuck, I just meant
you cuss like a sailor.”

“Don’t worry about it, bro. I know I’m not your type. You
know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Because I like pussy. Your sister’s pussy.”

“Oh God!” Christopher slapped his hand over his mouth and
shook his head violently. “Don’t! That’s disgusting!”

“See? We understand each other. Anyway, your goddamn dad.
Jesus! I mean, he’s got balls, though. He confronted the stalking bastards,
told them to leave the girl alone, and ended the whole thing with a big speech
in the church during Sunday service before walking out. From what I hear, the speech
can be summed up as, ‘Fuck this noise, I’m outta here.’ Then he shacked up with
his little lady love over in the Fort, like he’s reliving his college years or
something.”

“I’d be embarrassed but I don’t think I know how anymore.
Not when it comes to him and his dick.”

“I hear ya. Anyway, this is the part I thought you’d find
interesting. Apparently his new young thing is all liberal and shit. Goes to
the Unitarian Church and has convinced your dad he’s been wrong all these years
about the ho-mo-sex-uals. Also known as you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Like I need this shit?”

“I hear ya, dude. So, don’t be surprised if your daddy
contacts you. He’s probably working up his nerve to do it. From what Jackie
says, making up with you would win him some big points with his pretty little
thing. She’s been giving him trouble over his estrangement from you, says that
so long as he doesn’t make up with you then he hasn’t really embraced that God
is love.”

“Oh fuck. Seriously? I can’t deal with that right now. Or ever.”

“I know.”

“Maybe he won’t call.” Waves of conflicting emotions crashed
in Christopher’s chest and made him feel a little nauseous underneath the
Southern Comfort.

 “Maybe not. You can always hope anyway.” Joe leaned in
close like someone might overhear. “She’s younger than Jackie, you know.”

“I bet Jackie’s frothing at the mouth about it.”

“Hell, yeah. ‘Pedophile’ this, and ‘not around my kids’
that. Even though they ain’t her kids and their mama isn’t about to let her
forget it.” He chuckled, his eyes distant and half admiring, half pissed off.
It was a look Christopher was familiar with since it came up during any
discussion of his ex-wife. “Cold-hearted bitch that my ex is, she sure loves
her babies.”

Christopher wondered how Jackie felt about that. It seemed
to him like she wanted to be
something
to these
kids. Maybe not their mama, but
someone
important in
their lives.

“So, they aren’t Jackie’s kids at all? What would make them
her kids?” Christopher was pretty sure it sounded like he was just asking for
Jackie’s sake—not because he might have some curiosity of his own about how you
join someone else’s family.

Joe shrugged. “If their mama died, maybe. But I don’t know.
Especially when it comes to Lee since she came so late in his growing up. Guess
I better give the woman some kids of her own.”

“Oh.”

Joe narrowed his gaze. “Why do you ask?”

“The guy I’m seeing has kids.”

Joe’s eyebrows hit his hairline and he clapped a hand on
Christopher’s shoulder. “Holy shit, Christopher, you got a boyfriend!”

“Yeah? Is that hard to believe?”

“You’ve never had one. I mean, I don’t think ya have. Jackie
says you just sleep around or something.”

“What?” He sputtered. “I don’t sleep around.”

“She doesn’t know, bro. She just sees stuff on the news
about the gay lifestyle and makes assumptions.”

“The gay lifestyle of wanting equal marriage rights and to
be able to adopt and care for children?” Christopher asked. “I’m pretty sure
that’s the main story about gays on the news these days.”

“We’re getting off track here, dude. You can be pissed at
your sister’s stereotypin’ later. Right now, I’m proud of you. You got yourself
a boyfriend. Let’s toast.” Joe opened the door to the shed again and pulled the
whiskey back out. He held the bottle aloft. “To Christopher’s boyfriend. May he
suck cock as well as Jackie.”

Laughing, Christopher shoved him when Joe put the bottle to
his mouth so that it sloshed the front of his shirt.

“Hey, hey. Now I’ll smell like liquor and Bob will pray for
my soul all special-like while the turkey’s getting cold.”

“We’ll smell like liquor anyway,” Christopher said, tugging
the bottle away from Joe and taking a big gulp to wash away the idea of his
sister giving bjs to anyone, and definitely not to Joe, even though he was
built and handsome. Joe might not be hugely successful, and he might not be
perfect, but Christopher could admit his sister had scored big time with this
one in a lot of ways.

Joe took the bottle back and started another toast. “May
your relationship last longer than my first mar—”

“Christopher! Joe!” Jackie’s voice called from the porch. “Where
are you? Dinner’s ready!”

“Coming, babydoll! Be right there!” Joe took another swallow
and handed Christopher the bottle. “Let’s do this, bro.” He bumped his fist
against Christopher’s and intoned seriously, “God help us both. Amen.”

Before hiding the bottle again, Christopher drank to that.