Page 49 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
He told Jesse as much, but Jesse’d shrugged and said, “I’mgoing to win a stuffed black bear for you anyway. Wait and see.” He hadn’t, butit had been pretty charming to watch him try. Jesse had taken his failure instride, laughing and winking at Christopher when he finally gave up. “I’ll giveyou something much better later.”
The innuendo had made Christopher laugh and the old manmanning the arcade booth look uncomfortable as he set up the ring-toss again.Christopher hadn’t cared. Given the heterosexual couples holding hands andkissing every few steps, he’d thought a tease wasn’t anything to be worriedabout. Besides, Melissa Mundy had long-ago put in LGBT friendly regulations inher hiring and firing practices. He could probably kiss Jesse right then andthere and his job would be safe. It just didn’t seem like a good idea in themiddle of a theme park filled with Appalachian good ol’ boys.
The night had ended beautifully, with another visit to themill. This time, since the park wasn’t closing and the bakery was still open,they’d simply ducked beneath the building where the water wheel slapped, and inthe darkness and shadow they’d kissed and kissed, grinding together liketeenagers. When they were close to orgasm, they’d unzipped enough to pull theircocks out and Jesse had dropped to his knees, jerking himself and suckling thehead of Christopher’s dick until he’d swallowed his pleasure down. Christopherhad returned the favor, and they’d left the way they came, laughing and wipingtheir mouths with the backs of their hands.
Christopher sighed dreamily as he remembered the way theirfingers had laced together until they’d exited the bushes. One day, he’d bebrave enough to just hold a man’s hand in the middle of Smoky Mountain Dreams.Maybe that man would be Jesse. For now it was just amazing to be with him inpublic, to know that he could touch andwouldtouchagain. To suspect that maybe, just maybe, this amazing, handsome man was goingto be his boyfriend.
Gran’s nursing home was on a small green campus by ababbling creek and featured a lovely nature walk for the patients able to leavethe one-story building of private and semi-private rooms. Gran wasn’t one ofthose patients, since her balance had left her and she’d taken to thewheelchair. Sometimes the nurses wheeled her around on the patio and decks soshe could get fresh air and see the sky.
Christopher knew Jackie came every Tuesday after her jazzerciseclass to make sure Gran was getting out of her room enough and bring her ato-go lunch from T.G.I. Friday’s,her favoriterestaurant. Aunt Laurie Ann and her kids had moved to West Virginia ages ago,but she’d sent Gran an iPad, and they FaceTimed each other almost every day. Healso knew his mother and Bob came several times a week with food, or sweets, orjust to stop in and say hi.
Gran always complained about their visits, saying she wishedhis mother would just leave the asshole at home.
“He makes His holy name a blaspheme by using it for everydag-gummed thing. Praise Jesus that his hash browns weren’t too greasy? Christbe given the glory for the duct tape to fix a broken shoe string? I love Jesus,but he makes Him into someone I don’t think I’d want to know. Your mama knowshow much Bob irritates me. I wish Sammie Mae would just leave him home.”
Christopher wished his mama would just leave him period, butshe wasn’t going to do that. That was clear after over a decade with the man.
All in all, Christopher thought Gran had a good life in thehome, better than a lot of the older people there who were lucky to see theirfamily once a month. Christopher tried to get down every two weeks, three atthe most, and she’d always beam at him like he was the best visitor she’d everhad. Her denture-perfect smile made his heart squeeze and he’d do anything tosee it. Anything at all to make her happy.
“Hey, Gran,” he said, stepping into her semi-private room,holding the pink and yellow roses in one hand and the jam jar in the other.
It was just as it always was. Edna Miller, an eighty-threeyear old woman who was half-deaf and suffering from mild dementia, was in bedon her side of the room wearing her soft, turquoise robe, listening to AmyGrant and rambling softly to either herself or Gran about a horse she’d ownedwhen she was thirteen.
Christopher knew all about this horse. Miss Edna, as hecalled her, talked about it all the time. It was a bay roan named ButterscotchRoads, and Miss Edna had adored her. The stories Miss Edna told about her horsewere numerous, but the one she seemed to be telling herself or Gran now was afavorite.
“There you are!” Edna said, noticing him and speaking alittle louder over Amy’s earnest singing about Jesus. “Scotchie and I almostgot hit! It was so fast! The car! It came from nowhere! I swear I never evensaw it!”
“We know, Edna, honey,” Gran said, turning her wheelchairfrom where she was staring out the window at the bright autumn light on thegray trees and grass. “We’ve heard it all before. Many times. Christopher! It’sso good to see you, baby!”
“Scotchie was such a good girl. She never even bucked meoff, but—”
“Bless her heart,” Gran said, rolling her eyes and beckoningChristopher to come closer. “She’s been telling me this one all day. If I wasjust a little stronger, I might smother her with a pillow. This is what agedoes to you, honey. It makes you too old to commit murder. Now, come on, let mehug your neck.”
He stepped past the bookshelves full of photos of Miss Edna’sfamily and into the space Gran occupied. It was full of pictures too, anddrawings from his youngest cousins. Aunt Laurie Ann had been very intent onmaking babies and had popped out five of them over the course of thirteenyears. Next to Gran’s bed in a place of honor was a picture of Christopher onstage at Smoky Mountain Dreams, his eyes closed and mouth open, and beside thatwas one from when he was sixteen, clutching a guitar with one hand whileholding onto Gran with the other. She’d given the instrument to him for hisbirthday.
He handed her the flowers and jam, and then leaned down intoher arms. She smelled like tangerine lotion and slightly dirty hair. He knewthe beauty school students came to do the ladies’ hair on Saturdays, and bytomorrow she’d be back to her regular scent of Aquanet and Head &Shoulders.
“How you feeling, Gran?” he asked, pulling back and dragginga wooden, slat-backed chair over from the small desk area. He sat and took holdof her hand. “You look good.”
“I could look better.” She patted at her hair and smiled. “Handme my lipstick, will you? And that little mirror by my bed.”
He stretched over to the nightstand and handed her thecompact and the red tube next to it. Gran’s hands shook a little as she smearedit on. Then she studied herself in the little mirror and smiled, satisfied. Itwas a little bright in Christopher’s opinion, but it was the color she’d alwaysworn. When she was younger it had been more appropriate and prettier. It wasthose sorts of thoughts that made his heart ache and his eyes burn.
“So, T.G.I. Friday’s, Gran? Or do you have another place inmind?”
“I want McDonald’s today, and you’ll drive me out to thedam, and we’ll eat it out there looking at the water.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want anything from McDonald’s, Edna?” Gran asked.
“Scotchie was very fond of carrots. And marshmallows.” Ednalaughed. “She’d inhale marshmallows straight out of your hand. They made her sohappy. Such a dear old girl.”
“We’ll just bring her fries,” Gran said, waving toward hersweater on the dresser and then pulling it on when Christopher handed it toher. “Let’s go.”
The nurses wished her a fun day out as they wheeled down thehall. Gran looked proud as she always did to have someone taking her away fromthe home. As far as Christopher could tell, the patients judged their own valueand that of others on how many visitors and outings a person got. That made himsad, but he was glad Gran ranked pretty high on the totem pole.
“You need a bigger car,” Gran commented once Christopher hadher settled in the passenger seat. He opened the hatchback and folded thewheelchair inside, making a noncommittal noise to the usual complaint.
