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“Isn’t there anything you’d prefer to take first? Or did you already do that?”
“Not from in here. I do vacuum this room, so there shouldn’t be any dead bodies.”
She turns to leave and I shake my head again at the distance in their relationship. None of my business really, though, is it? Time to get to the task I’ve been assigned. I start with the dresser because I’m reasonably sure I can trash the lot. Nobody needs another man’s socks.
The sock and underwear drawer’s contents go straight into one of the trash bags. Same with the old t-shirts, although I eye a few of the vintage band shirts before deciding it’s not worth the bother.
I’m in the groove when I pop open the bottom drawer. There’s a stack of shiny magazines and some file folders, along with a photo album. I grab the lot and set them on the bed for better sorting.
That’s when I truly see the magazines. They’re notGood Housekeeping. I’m not familiar with these particular titles, but they’re clearly high-end gay porn. Tasteful and I’m sure there are some good articles in there but erotica none the less. They look new, certainly not thumbed through like the reading material at the dentist’s office. So were they left as a subtle message? Knowing Carter, I’d say almost for certain.
Does Kerry know? Fuck, the thought of hurting her with that makes my stomach burn. But maybe she does know. Maybe this explains the separate bedrooms. Then how did I not know? Was he afraid to tell me?
But I know that’s not it. Carter wasn’t afraid of anything. Least of all my opinion of him, but I’d never given him any reason to think I’d turn my back on him — except regarding Kerry. Hewasintensely private. He just never seemed to have the same need to share with other people. Even compared to tough military guys, he was an island.
I flip through the file folders with blind eyes. Too distracted by my thoughts to really pay attention. Finally, on the third pass where I force myself to slow down, I see that there’s a folder with letters. Unopened letters that are addressed to various family members. There’s also one for me and one for Kerry.
There’s yet another folder with legal documents that look to be retirement funds and the like. I hope to hell he didn’t stiff Kerry out of that. I quickly check and heave a sigh of relief. He did the right thing. They must simply all be here together for safekeeping.
I stare down at the letter with my name on it. Then I slide a blunt fingernail under the edge of the envelope. Might as well get all my intel before I go have the worst conversation of my life.
Hey Kid,
If you’re reading this, that means I’m dead or as good as, if enough time has passed. Based on the diagnosis I got last week, dead’s a good bet. I’m choosing not to deal with all the needles and the people. Too many damn people for 20% odds. I’d rather hole up in a nice cave and go out with the sun on my face.
I’m also assuming you haven’t gotten over being in love with my wife. From what I hear, you’re finally mature enough to treat her right, so I’m giving you a chance here. But hurt her and I will haunt you for the rest of your days. You should know that she blushes when looking at that photo of you in the living room. She doesn’t know it’s you and you didn’t hear any of this from me.
Kerry’s story is hers to tell, but you’d better be in it for the long game and bring your patience. She deserves to be happy — she simply doesn’t believe it’s worth the effort.
Stay out of trouble and remember that I may be dead, but I’m still older than you.
Love,
Carter
I sit there rubbing my jaw, not sure if I want to laugh or cry or run downstairs and kiss Kerry until she falls into my bed. I do know the last idea isn’t a good one, but it’s all part of the whirling mass of emotions keeping me glued to the bed. Funny how you can think you know what’s going on and then a few pieces of paper upend everything.
But now Iamdamn curious about what photo is on display downstairs that gets her all hot and bothered.
3
Kerry
It’s awfully quiet upstairs. I resist the urge to go and check on Trevor’s progress. However long he needs is going to be how long it takes. Instead, I busy myself with the chores I most dislike (and consequently put off) like cleaning Trixie’s litter box. The cat made herself scarce about an hour before Trevor arrived. She must have known big feet were imminent.
I try not to think about exactly how big Trevor is. He’s got the same take charge confidence as Carter, but where my best friend was always a lake of calm, there’s something simmering in Trevor, like he’s always in motion even when standing still. Not to mention panty-melting gorgeous, even if I am five years older.He’s not for you,I tell myself, a little too harshly. He doesn’t like me anyway, so I should just be grateful he’s keeping to himself and not talking my ear off.
The man doesn’t need to starve, though. So when I fix myself a sandwich, I make him one too. And add a banana to show there are no hard feelings. And because he’s too big for one tuna fish sandwich to hold him for long.
“Trevor? Do you want some lunch?” I call up the stairs, not wanting to push him into another awkward polite conversation if he’s not ready.
There’s motion and then a growl. “Coming.”
I wait until I hear heavy footsteps on the treads, and then I turn back to the kitchen. A minute later, Trevor takes the plate from me with a hint of a smile. “Tuna, huh? Haven’t had that in ages.”
“I can make something else if you’d rather,” I offer hesitantly.
Trevor shakes his head, his mouth already full, and we haven’t even sat down yet. I hesitate. Maybe he’d rather eat and retreat back upstairs? I lean back against the counter to see what he does next. I could always eat mine afterwards.
