No River Wide Enough

Chapter 5-1

Chapter 5

After Hank had left the Frontier in a hurry today, I’d spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, replaying our conversation in my mind. There had been chemistry between us. I couldn’t have imagined it.

It was now nearing eight in the evening and Shirley and Troy were keeping me company again. Shirley was having a bad night, feeling overwhelmed with work and raising Troy on her own. She’d come over after dinner for dessert—lemon and poppy cake—and I’d tried to be a good ear. She gently lifted Troy off my couch. He’d fallen asleep an hour ago, while she and I had talked. “Come on, big boy.”

Troy whimpered a little, and then nestled his face inside her neck, going back to sleep. Though nothing in my house was safe from his tiny and grubby hands, he was such a joy to have around.

“Thank you,” Shirley said over his small shoulder. Her eyes were still puffy from crying.

I pressed her free hand in mine. “Hey, we take turns, right? Tomorrow, I’ll have a breakdown at your house, okay?”

She laughed a little, but her eyes filled up once more. “It’s just so tough, you know? And what my sister said to me…God, she doesn’t get how lonely I am sometimes. I miss him. I miss Roy. Not like her husband is perfect. s**t, everybody knows he drinks a six pack every night.”

Shirley had grown up in St-Clovis. She’d lived here all of her life. Both her sisters were married and raising their kids with the support of their families, but Shirley was the black sheep and they always liked to remind her of the mistakes she’d made. They thought Roy was a piece of trash and ever since she’d gotten pregnant by a stranger, they hadn’t given her a break. “Hey,” I said, “you’re a strong, independent woman and doing an amazing job with Troy. So don’t let your sister get you down, all right?”

“Oh, Chris, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She turned her cheek to me. “Gimme a kiss.”

I kissed her cheek and then Troy’s sweaty little forehead. “Get some rest,” I said, rubbing her sunburned shoulder. “And Sunday, I’m taking the day off and we’re going shopping in Burlington. Cool?”

“Really? That’d be so fantastic. I wanna get Troy a Big Wheels. We could have dinner together that night and everything.”

I’d grown so attached to them in the last year, that I couldn’t imagine my life without these two. “Sounds great.”

I walked her to the door. Outside, it was warm and the air was sweet with the scent of lilac. The lilac tree was getting huge, taking up half of my living room window. Barefoot and glad in my favorite blue jeans, I leaned on the doorway, watching Shirley step down with Troy in her arms.

She stopped on the path leading to the street, looking up at me. “Good night, Prince Charming.”

“Except if you kiss me, I’ll turn into a toad.” I waved at her. “See you tomorrow.”

When she’d walked around our yards and entered her house, I stayed on the porch for a moment, not ready to go back inside. I loved my little country house with the wrap-around veranda and had spent a lot of time turning it into a home, but tonight, I knew I’d walk around its rooms, listening to the silence. Though I’d removed all of the items that reminded me of Lewis—our pictures and the clothes he’d left in our closet—I was still struggling with the idea of calling this my house.

But it was mine. I’d bought it with my own money. The money I’d earned slaving away as an analyst for the city of Boston for three years. It was my name on the mortgage, not Lewis’s.

Donnie came riding up the street again, and as he passed my house, he slowed down. I waved at him, but he sped away. I felt sorry for the kid. Drika’s brother Aleid and his wife Liliana—Donnie’s parents—worked four jobs between them. Donnie was the eldest of seven kids and seemed to be struggling this summer. I wish I could talk to him, but lately, whenever I tried starting a conversation with him, he’d mutter a few words and find an excuse to leave.

As I was stepping back inside the house, I heard a car coming. The car drove by my house slowly. It was a black Mazda. It was too dark to see who was at the wheel, but I knew it was Hank. I opened my mouth to say something, as though he could hear me, but he drove away, turning left on Dill Street.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed out loud, rubbing my hair back. I couldn’t believe it.

No, I could believe it.

Somehow, deep down inside, I’d expected him to show up. Because I knew his hunger. I knew how lonely it could get. How hard it was to meet other gay men in these small towns. Why had he driven away? He should have stopped. I’d have welcomed him. Wouldn’t have even asked him one damn question. I’d have taken whatever he was willing to give me. And if he only wanted to talk, I’d have listened to him all night.

Couldn’t he guess how badly I needed his company, too?