Page 113 of Envious Of Fire
Asher looks up from his phone, squints, pops out one of his earbuds. “You talking to me, Dad?”
Brock keeps smiling at his son, lost in his dream.
The snapping of fingers brings Brock’s attention back to his wife. “Brock, I’m being serious, pay attention. When we get back, it’s important you go get yourself a medical checkup with Dr. Sharma, a thorough medical checkup.”
“Do you believe in the afterlife?”
She half-glances at him, keeping her eyes on the road. His words seem to bring her pause. “What kinda question is that? Of course I do. It’s called Heaven.”
Brock faces forward, stares through the windshield ahead at the sandy, dusty nothingness of the highway. “I think I saw … I think I saw Tristan there. I saw him in the afterlife.”
The car slows, only slightly, but noticeably.
“Not until we’re home,” says Jessica finally after a moment. “Just … Just let us get through this car ride home. Then you can tell me about your strange … your strange and …” She swallows, shakes her head, finishes tersely: “Let us get home in peace.”
Brock stares ahead, says nothing further.
A gas station. While his son sits inside the vehicle, Brock fills the tank, a task he always loves to do, something about stretching out his limbs and the cloying aroma of gasoline. Jessica went inside for bubblegum and drinks, bottled sweet tea, a bag of chips, Brock wasn’t paying attention. He stares at the distant mountains, at the dust billowing in the air, a yellow-white haze over the world, a sky that blazes with its blinding blueness.
“I can’t drive another gosh darned mile.”
Brock turns, finds Jessica with a plastic bag, her grip on it so tight, her knuckles pop out like bones.
“Why did you leave?” she snaps.
Brock stares at her, lips hanging open, at a loss. “Kyle …” he starts to say.
“Do you love him?”
The question cracks out like a whip, just as quickly as the first one did, only this one lands, stinging, intentional.
Brock stares at her, lost in the watery texture of her eyes.
How her eyes are even as squishy as gummy candy.
“What?” she goes on, shrugging, the plastic bag in her grip crinkling. “You don’t think I saw it? Don’t think I know? All ofthose years? Bless your heart, what do you think I pray to God for every night? Since we married, Brock. Since the day of our wedding and Quincy made that comment about the ‘late Kyle’ and you nearly lost yourself.”
Brock’s eyes drop to the bag in her hand.
Didn’t he kiss Kyle?
Didn’t the two of them kiss recently? On a dark street? The two of them were so happy. Laughing so hard, nearly in tears. All the world around them was gone, just the two of them existed, the two of them and the stars above and the dark street.
And that perfect, electrical kiss.
Or was it also a dream?
“You should have just told me back then,” says Jessica softly. Brock turns to her, surprised by the gentle change in her tone. “You think I wouldn’t have understood?”
Brock parts his lips further to speak, stops.
“Maybe you love us both,” she suggests as she crosses her arms, plastic bag swinging, bottles swishing inside. “You could be bisexual. The Lord loves you just the same. I’ve seen you all over the years flirting with girls, too. I’m not denying you any truths, Brock, sweetheart … but with Kyle? … With Kyle …” Her voice carries away like a raft. “With Kyle, it’s something else. It’s always been something else.”
The gas pump nozzle clicks.
Brock barely notices, pulls it out, returns it to the holster, stands there blank-faced.
Jessica sighs. “Let’s go. Let’s just get on out of here and go. We’ll talk about this at home. You and I, we’ll have … a … a good and overdue conversation. Asher’s impatient.” She returns to the driver’s side with the bag crinkling in her grip. Brock continues standing there, staring ahead, mouth hanging open to the point of drooling, eyes lost staring at nothing.
