Percival Everett - Wounded

“I feel like it’s put some distance between us,” I said. “You were in pretty bad shape that night.”

“I know I was. Like I said, I’m sorry about everything.”

“I’m not asking for an apology,” I said.

“But I am sorry. I’m sorry I kissed you.” Saying it was hard for him. And, to tell the truth, it was hard for me to hear. “Did it make you feel weird?” It was not so much a question as a lashing out.

“I suppose it did,” I said. “I’d never kissed a man before.”

He just looked at me.

“What is it?”

“Did you feel anything when we kissed?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you feel anything?” he asked again.

“You were in bad shape,” I said and realized I was repeating myself. “No, I didn’t feel anything. I felt your lips and I felt you shivering and I felt like you might die. Besides, you were out of it and didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Does that make you feel better about it?” he asked.

“It doesn’t make me feel one way or another,” I told him. “Listen, I’m not trying to fight you about this. I just thought we should talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Now, I’m sorry I brought it up. I don’t know why.” I was just sick that I’d said anything. “David, you’ve become my friend. I want you to stay my friend.”

“You want me to promise I won’t kiss you again?”

“Maybe we should just drop this.”

“Maybe we should,” he said.

“To hell with that.” He’d put me on the prod. “Listen, kid, I don’t care that you kissed me. You’re alive, that’s what I was thinking about. I simply don’t like the silence you’ve been dishing out. It makes me feel bad. But more importantly, it makes Morgan feel bad. If you can’t get it together, perhaps you should consider going back to Chicago.”

Those words hung there in the air for a few minutes. We rolled along the flat stretch that led into town.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Stop apologizing, goddamnit.”

“I’m attracted to you.”

I sighed. “Jesus, David, that’s not what I’m looking to hear right now. That’s not getting us back to where we were.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Son, that’s beautiful and all that, but really. I mean, I’m flattered, but really.”

“It’s not like I expect anything from you.” His voice was surprisingly steady.

“Well, that’s good.”

“Like I said, I’m just being—”

“Honest, I know. Listen, I’m flattered as all hell, but you know what I have to say here, so I won’t even bother.”

“I know.”

I turned on the radio. We drove past the goddamn Wal-Mart.

“I want you to be my friend,” David said. “I trust you.”

“I appreciate that,” I told him.

“I don’t want to go back to Chicago yet.” He was staring at me.

“You don’t have to leave, son.”

David laughed. “You know what’s funny. When you call me son, I almost believe it. At least, it sounds like it makes sense. My own father only called me son when he was angry and even then it sounded strange in his mouth.”

“Life’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Are we friends?” he asked.

“Yes, we are.”

I introduced David to Myra at the feed store and they seemed to hit it off right away. At least David appeared to enjoy the way Myra referred to me as “Ugly Over There.” We ran into Duncan Camp and I told him he could come pick up Felony whenever he wanted.

“You’ve done a good job with him.” Camp was nursing a Styrofoam cup of coffee. “This man knows horses,” he said to David.

“He should,” Myra said. “He looks like one.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said.

“So, how do you like working for Mr. Hunt?” Camp asked David.

“I like it.”

“Because if you get tired of him, you’re welcome over at my place. I’ve got a ton of work that needs doing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” David said.

Duncan Camp walked out to the truck with us and followed me around to the driver’s side. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Bucky told me about what happened out at White Buffalo’s place.”

“Morgan’s nervous.”

“I’ll bet,” he said.

“We’re just keeping our eyes open,” I said. “What else can we do?”

At the market, I paused to talk to Kent Hollis, the librarian, and his wife while David pushed the cart with the groceries across the parking lot to the truck. They both looked tired and I got the impression that Mrs. Hollis’s health was not so good.

“We heard about the hate crimes,” Hollis said.

“Well, you know, people are worse than anybody,” I said.

Mrs. Hollis laughed, then coughed. Hollis leaned over her chair to see to her. She waved him off.

“Seems like all anybody can talk about today,” I said. I watched as David opened the passenger side and pulled forward the seat.

“I haven’t seen you in the library lately,” Hollis said. “I miss your once-a-week visit.”

“I’ve been busy. My friend’s son is staying with me for a while.” I indicated David with a nod.

“It’s going to snow, Kent,” Mrs. Hollis said.

“I think you’re right, Mrs. Hollis,” I said.

“Well, we’d better get on.” Hollis shook my hand. “We don’t like being out in bad weather with the chair and all.”

“I don’t like being out in it either,” I told them. “You two stay warm and healthy.”

David had just deposited the cart in the rack in the middle of the lot and was walking back to the truck, when the BMW skidded to a stop near him. I started to trot, then slowed to a fast walk. David walked around the car, but the two men inside stepped out. One of the men was the one whose nose I’d broken. I’d never seen the other. I slowed to a normal walk when I saw that David was pointing up the street. Before I got there the car was pulling away.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“They wanted to know where the diner is.”

“Really.” I said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, so I told them.”

“Do you remember that skinny guy?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s the one who picked the fight with Robert and me.” David climbed into the truck.

I walked around and got behind the wheel. “Pretty weird, eh?” I said.

David nodded.

“I’ve got a headache. You think you can drive this beast?”

“I can drive it.”

I got out and walked around while David slid across the seat.

“I’m just going to close my eyes. It’s not fancy, but we’ve got a load, so be sure to downshift and save the brakes. Don’t go over fifty-five and don’t wake me with any sudden collisions.”

“Okay,” he laughed.

I closed my eyes.

I did manage to drift off to sleep and I came to with the knowledge that I was not driving and so I awoke with a start. I looked over at David and he was looking at me.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” I said.

“Bad dream?” he asked.

“I guess.” I sat up and realized we were just a couple of miles from the road to my place. I’d slept for quite a while. “Good job,” I told him.

“Piece of cake.” He turned onto the dirt road and bounced with the ruts. “Sorry.”

“It’s hard to miss them,” I said. “The county snowplows to the fork. They take a decent dirt lane and make sure it complies with the state washboard code.”

“They do a good job.”

“It’s a kidney buster, but at least it’s a little better with a full load.”

It started to rain.

“That should make it better,” I said.

David laughed.

“Just go slow down the hill.”

There were two pickups parked in front of the house. Their presence caused me to sit straight.