Page 109 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
“What’s wrong?” Jesse asked. “I wasn’t too rough earlier,was I?”
Christopher didn’t know how to explain that before, whenthey’d actually been having sex, he hadn’t really noticed that Jesse’s roomdidn’t seem…well, likehis. And he didn’t know howto explain that now he’d had a look at it, he didn’t want to have sex thereagain. It felt too much like having sex inside Marcy’s womb—all red andfeminine.
“No, of course not. I’m fine. I just…” Christopher forced asmile, determined not to say anything at all. “I just keep thinking about mymom and Bob. But you had a rough day too, and I feel bad I never asked aboutthat.”
Jesse blinked at him, and then drew him close. “Hmm. Is thatreally it?”
“Sure.”
Jesse searched his face, and then looked down the halltoward the staircase. He let out a slow breath. “It’s not that maybe you feeluncomfortable in that room?”
Christopher slumped against him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Ididn’t want you to know. It just hit me while we were lying there afterwardthat it was her space and suddenly I felt really weird being in it.”
Jesse’s throat convulsed against Christopher’s bareshoulder, swallowing something down. Christopher added, “It’s okay. It’s acomfortable bed. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, actually,” Jesse said, pulling back, butholding onto Christopher’s hand. “Let’s go into the kitchen and have a snack. Ifeel like I need to see your eyes for this.”
Christopher wasn’t accustomed to eating so late at night,but he watched as Jesse, still stark naked, pulled open a cabinet above thefridge.
“My secret stash. Tell Brigid or Will about this and you’llbe sorry. Not because I’ll be angry, but because they’ll eat it all at once andturn into the sugar-crash monsters from hell.”
The Little Debbie boxes pulled from the cabinet were of awide variety, but Christopher and Jesse both chose Zebra Cakes for their snack.
Jesse motioned for Christopher to sit on a stool at thecounter. “I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing into a room off the sideof the kitchen that Christopher realized must be the laundry when he re-emergedin track pants. “Would you like wine with the Zebra Cakes?” Jesse asked,yawning and turning to the wine fridge underneath the front kitchen window. “They’resurprisingly good with a halfway decent moscato.”
Christopher agreed, though the idea of drinking wine withLittle Debbies seemed entirely absurd. Jesse grabbed a bottle and uncorked itquickly, pouring two glasses and passing one to Christopher.
“Happy Black Friday,” Jesse murmured, and clinked againstChristopher’s glass.
The taste was fruity and had a vague musky aroma. It did, infact, taste pretty good with the sickly sweet Zebra Cake.
“So,” Jesse said, clearing his throat. “I guess I shouldexplain.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself. Or your bedroom. You’venever asked me to explain where I live.” Christopher touched Jesse’s shouldertenderly. “She was your wife. You loved her. And no matter what happened or howthings were at the time of the accident, it would be hard to change somethingas intimate as a bedroom. Hard to let that go.”
Jesse’s lips curled up with a small, self-deprecating smile.“No, that’s not it at all.” He shook his head and took a large bite of theZebra Cake, swallowing it down with wine. “I always hated that room. Everythingabout it was so…not me. And it wasn’t Marcy either, actually.” Jesse snorted. “It’skind of funny when you know the story. See, after Will was born, my motherhired a decorator to help Marcy finish up the house. She did it as a favor,like a baby gift. That’s my mother’s idea of a good baby gift.” Jesse laughedagain, his white teeth flashing in the darkness of his nighttime stubble. “Anyway,we’d put our room off until last because we argued a lot about what it shouldlook like. I wanted something soft and comforting; she wanted stark lines andminimalism.”
Christopher sipped the wine and watched the way Jesse’s eyestwinkled at the memory, and he was glad. He wanted Jesse to think of Marcy withjoy, but not longing, and he wondered if that was still selfish. Strangely, hewished he had memories of Marcy too, so he could share them with Jesse and itcould be something they had together, instead of his life before they met beingso entirely separate.
Though Christopher supposed he had his ownseparateness—Nashville, private school, and his family. These were all thingsJesse could never fully know. Maybe relationships were a force of forwardmotion, creating something new out of the present and future, until eventuallythat became shared past.
Jesse chewed and swallowed the last of the Zebra Cake. Hepulled the second from the cellophane package, talking as he nibbled the icingedges of the cake, and then took a sip of wine. “So, the designer came in tohelp us out with our bedroom. I swear to God, it was the strangest thing I’dever seen.” He chuckled and licked some of the icing from between the two cakelayers, his pink tongue shining in the brightness of the lights over thecounter. “Like I’ve said, Marcy was always hard-headed and no-nonsense, butthis designer was a voodoo master or something. He had some kind of magic swayover her, I swear, because anything the guy suggested, she just nodded alonglike,of course.”
“Was the guy good looking?”
“Yes, but he was also seventy-three years old. And no, Marcywasn’t into older men.”
“What was it then?”
“I have no idea!” Jesse’s eyes were wide and he flung hishands out. “It was insane. I just stood back and watched it happen because I’dnever seen Marcy so docile before.”
Christopher chuckled and took a sip of the wine.
“Anyway, when all was said and done, that was the bedroom weended up with. I hated it, and she hated it, and we would just lie in bed atnight, gagging at the walls, and then laugh and laugh at what a disaster it hadturned out to be.” Jesse sighed happily. “It ranks as one of the most bizarreexperiences of my life, and that’s saying something, honestly.”
Christopher loved the way Jesse’s cheeks were flushed, andhow his long fingers scratched at his stubble, and then covered his mouth toyawn. He was so handsome and it made Christopher want to laugh and maybe crythat he could reach out and touch if he wanted.
“Go on,” Jesse said, rolling his hand Christopher’s way. “Askthe obvious question.”
