Page 80 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
Christopher snorted. “Bad for vocal chords. Besides, not mything really.”
“Not mine either. My in-laws, though, are a different story.I thought it might take the edge off the shock.”
Christopher’s lips slipped up at the corner in a smirkysmile, and then he dug out his wallet and tossed more than enough money on thetable to cover their tab. “Let’s get out of here. This isn’t the place for thisconversation.”
Jesse made a note to make sure he paid Christopher back. Hecould afford that kind of sloppiness with money, but he knew Christopher couldn’t.His palms were sweaty as he stood and followed Christopher’s stiff back out ofthe bar, up the stairs, and onto the tourist-thick sidewalk. He didn’t try tocatch up until Christopher turned around at the crosswalk to wait for him.
“We’re going to my house. And after the amount of bourbonyou just put back, I’m driving,” was all he said.
Jesse followed him down to the parking garage across fromthe Christ in the Smokies Museum, and they climbed into Christopher’s car. Theybarely spoke a word the entire drive up to Christopher’s place, and Jesse’smind spun, his heart clenching with the fear that he’d fucked it up for good.
Chapter Sixteen
JESSE’S WIFE IS ALIVE.
Christopher brought Jesse a glass of water and motioned himto the couch before returning to the kitchen. He splashed water into his ownglass and refilled the new Brita jug from the tap. He was clenching the plastichandle so tightly he was amazed it didn’t crack. A surge of anger heated hisskin.How did he not tell me?
Gran’s voice filled his mind.Beingdad-blamed mad won’t fix it. It’ll just make things worse, boy.
Sighing, Christopher put the water back in the fridge.Permanent vegetative state.He’d remembered seeing a newsshow on TV when he was younger the Florida woman whose plight had sparked ahuge national outcry. But beyond the fact that her husband had eventually beensuccessful in removing her feeding tube, Christopher didn’t know much elseabout the diagnosis. It sounded miserable for everyone, though. He shudderedwith the urge to go pull Jesse into his arms. His throat thickened as heimagined the sorrow Jesse had gone through. Wasstillgoingthrough. It scared him how much he felt for this man, and how little heapparently knew about him.
The hurt returned, and the heat in his cheeks traveled tohis ears, which prickled with humiliation. He’d been cycling through this rangeof emotions since the truth had hit him like a pile of bricks, and he needed toget ahold of himself.
Now that he had Jesse back at his place, he wasn’t surewhere he wanted to start with any kind of conversation, but they had to startsomewhere. He returned to the living room and sat on the soft chair across fromthe sofa, where Jesse waited, perched on the edge and looking like he mightvomit.
Christopher needed to do something, so he picked up hisguitar and started to play softly, letting his fingers wander as his mindcareened from one new fact to another. Jesse was married. His wife wasn’t dead.He was in some sort of lawsuit about that. They were having an affair. Kind of.
“So…” Jesse said. “As you now know, I’ve got this huge thinggoing on in my life. Kids. A wife in a permanent vegetative state. And thereare no days off from it.”
Christopher strummed softly, looking for a way to navigatehis confusion.
“I know a complicated situation wasn’t what you were lookingfor when we hooked up. I get it. But I don’t want this to be over, Chris. If it’seasier for you, though, we can keep it casual. Assuming you still want anythingto do with me.”
Christopher’s fingers stilled on the strings. “I’m prettysure if the other night at the Cove didn’t do it, then this conversation tookus way beyond casual already.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”
“Are you? Why would you be?”
“I’m not. I just don’t want you to—”
Christopher shook his head, cutting off whatever Jesse wasgoing to say next. He shut his eyes and kept playing his guitar, letting hisfeelings sort themselves out with the music. He’d ask questions when he wasready—when he’d figured out what he wanted to ask first. When he opened hiseyes again, Jesse was sitting back on the sofa, his head resting against thesoft cushion. His breathing came slow, like the rhythm of Christopher’s music,and yet there was a wet quality to his breath. His eyes were wide open andstaring at the ceiling, and tension coiled in his muscles.
When Christopher finally spoke after playing in silence asthe minutes ticked by, the question he asked surprised him, but it looked likeit surprised Jesse more. “Were you happy with her?”
Jesse jerked up, his gaze meeting Christopher’s with arawness that hurt to see.
“I loved her. Happy is another thing altogether.”
“So, no?”
“It’s not that simple. I started out happy, but over timesomething went missing. I didn’t feel satisfied.” Jesse looked at Christopher,a shadow in his eyes. “Sometime after Will was born, I just couldn’t seem tofind the spark anymore. It wasn’t anything she did wrong, and it wasn’t that Ididn’t love her, because I loved her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in mylife except the kids.”
“I’ve heard that sometimes kids change things.”
“No. Well, yes, but that wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t thathaving the kids turned her into someone else, or that she stopped beingattractive, or anything like that. She was as beautiful as ever. Funny,smart…tired, sure, but so was I. And she was a good mom. Her career situationwas a mess, but given time I’m sure she would’ve straightened it out. Shewanted to go back to U.T. and study forestry. She wanted to try to get work inthe national park.” Jesse sighed. “She loved the outdoors.”
There was silence for a few moments while Jesse seemed toconsider what to say next, and Christopher played the chords to “Boy with aPaper Heart.” Finally, when it seemed like Jesse wasn’t going to say anythingelse, he asked, “What was she like?” He continued to play softly.
