Page 78 of Torch Songs

“Can I just die?” he asked, covering hiswholeface with his good hand.

“No. I won’t allow it, and Tad would never forgive me. Now see, I started this conversation thinking you weren’t as seriousabout Tad as he was about you, and a little worried about that, but that’s not my worry anymore.”

“I’m so glad,” Guthrie said, not moving his hand.

“My worry is now you. Why would you think Tad wouldn’t love you?”

“I do not want to talk about this,” Guthrie said plaintively.

“Tough. Take your hand off your face and look at me like a man, son. Talk to me.”

Guthrie dropped his hand because itwaschildish, and he sighed. “Listen, you seem like a really nice guy, but I’m not great at baring my soul—”

“I’ll say it again.” Chris crossed his arms over his chest. “Tough.”

Guthrie scowled at him. “There are things that Tad doesn’t know about me because I haven’t told him. I have been not a nice person in my past. Not a criminal, but an asshole.”

“You mean because you were raised in a small town by rednecks and you were doing shit to survive?” Chris asked, and Guthrie stared at him in horror.

“Get out of my head!” he sputtered, and Chris rolled his eyes.

“Puh-leeze. I know you may not have heard this, but Tad and I are detectives. Which means we’re pretty good at sussing out human behavior. Do you think you were the only teenager on the planet to scream out slurs because you were afraid your daddy would figure out you were exactly what he despised?”

“It’s like I’m naked,” Guthrie muttered, more to himself as he realized the horror would continue.

“Yeah, well, you know what you look like naked?”

“Aren’t you straight?” Guthrie asked, but it was a weak attempt at evasion, and they both knew it.

“From a clinical point of view,” Chris said, one corner of his mouth turning up. “You look no better or worse than a thousandother guys I’ve seen who are trying to live a good life with a shitty rule book. Give it up. Give up the guilt. Give up the fear that you’ll suddenly be that guy again. You know why you and Tad don’t feel new? You gave up the right to be new when you walked out on your job to take care of his sister after a month of knowing each other. You took that relationship through the fire, and it’s still strong. Don’t be afraid to ask him to love you. He’s already there. Be afraid of passing up this opportunity, because from what I can see, son, you haven’t had a lot of those in your life, and maybe that’s why you don’t see this one for what it is.”

The server arrived then and deposited a magical meal of carbs, cholesterol, and red meat in front of Guthrie that made him suddenly faint with hunger, and an order of biscuits and gravy that made Chris sigh appreciatively.

“It’s like vacation,” he said softly, pulling his phone out to do something. “Yup. April’s leaving in an hour to get my burrito, and my wife will never know.”

“You are lying to that nice woman who drove you down to San Rafael last night?” he asked suspiciously. “Why should I believe you now?”

He scowled at Guthrie. “Because a good marriage is compromise. I’ve been living on quinoa and pomegranate juice for the last two months. I’ve earned this. Now shut up and eat your own delicious poison while I enjoy mine.”

Guthrie was halfway through his steak and eggs—and starting to see that maybe Chris was right; he wouldn’t be able to finish—when something occurred to him.

“Why two months? What happened two months ago?”

Chris stopped in mid chew and washed his bite of biscuits and gravy down with a sip of orange juice. “My wife woke up and said, ‘Wait a minute. Our youngest child is graduating from high school, and you still have ten years to retirement. You had damned well better work at staying alive so we can go to Europeor I will never forgive you.’ So we made a pact to take care of ourselves. Yeah, bullets, car wrecks, falling down canyons, yada yada yada, but dammit, cholesterol is not gonna get me.”

Guthrie smiled a little. “She’s a good woman. You’re a smart man.”

Chris nodded sagely. “I like to think so. And you and Tad could be just as good for each other. Give it some thought. Now give the rest of that steak and eggs to me and I can tuck April’s burrito away for lunch later. Tomorrow I’ll be right back on the wagon, and Laura will never know.”

THE PAINpill kicked in almost as soon as they left Vacaville, and Guthrie slept until Chris was pulling up in front of Tad’s apartment. Tad and April spilled outside the door and to the sidewalk almost before the truck’s engine stopped turning over, which was a good ten seconds after the key was removed.

April caught him in a hug first, gentle and careful of his injury, and then she gave him a peck on the cheek and went to help Chris with the gear in the back. That left him face-to-face with Tad, and he wasn’t sure what he would have done, but Tad reached out a shaking hand and pulled the long strands of hair from his eyes.

“You always look so… so lost when you get here,” Tad whispered. “Like you’re afraid we won’t want you.”

Guthrie gave a nervous smile. “I’m always glad you do.”

Tad nodded and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “Baby, I wish you’d stop scaring me like this. The first time sucked, but this was worse.”

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