16. Adam
CHAPTER 16
ADAM
The weather is nice. Still warm, but a cool wind out of the north feels good. Rufus and I walk around the main square in the city center, where he does his business. I use the baggies attached to his leash to clean up, then dump the trash in a city can before we head back. The moment I walk into Markus’s apartment, I know something is wrong. Rufus senses it, too, sniffing the air with curious anxiety.
Just then, Markus comes out of his bedroom fully dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt. I stare, a little taken aback with how handsome he looks and a little confused as to why he’s dressed at all.
“Good, you’re back. I need to leave.”
“Where are you going?”
Markus just says, “Mineral Wells.”
I frown, and my mind cycles through a whole list of questions. What? Why? When? But the only question that comes out of my mouth is, “How?”
“How?” Markus repeats back to me, clearly confused by my vague question.
I clarify. “Your car was totaled.”
“I…” He stammers a little, then just huffs out one forlorn word: “Fuck.”
“Why are you going to Mineral Wells?”
He stands with his hands on his hips, staring at the floor like the answer to his problems is there. Finally, he looks up at me. “My dad’s sick.” I open my mouth to give some sort of response, but Markus has more to say. Not much more, just, “He’s dying.”
Shit.
A dozen questions come to mind, but clearly, he’s in a hurry, so instead of asking them, I offer him the one thing that will help. “I’ll drive you.”
Sure, I could offer to drive him to a rental car agency, but I don’t. Partly because I’m still concerned about his head, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to be driving right now. But mostly because I want to drive him.
He sounds so exhausted when he asks, “Why would you do that?”
His question is valid and one I can’t answer yet, not to him and not even to myself. Truth is, I like him. I’m happy when he’s around. Our morning jogs have been the bright part of my days these last couple of weeks. So offering to sit in a car with him for the next three to four hours is hardly a hardship.
Tired of waiting for an answer from me, Markus shakes his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And besides, with your head injury, I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re not driving alone halfway across the state of Texas.”
Markus stares at me for a long moment, looking like he wants to argue but doesn’t have the energy. Eventually, he just nods. “Can I pay your mom to keep Rufus again? I don’t know how long I’ll be up there, and he won’t be allowed in the hospital, and?—”
Is he kidding with this nonsense? “Of course Rufus can stay at Mom’s place, and no you’re not paying for his boarding. Don’t even bring it up. It will insult her.” Markus looks truly censured by my statement, and I realize my tone was probably a little too brusque. “I’m just kidding. But seriously, she won’t accept payment from you, so don’t waste your breath.”
“Why?”
“Because, you’re my…” Well, isn’t that the million-dollar question? What exactly is he to me? A friend? Because I don’t generally ogle my friends. More than a friend? I don’t even know what “more than friends” feels like. To move us along I say, “You’re my friend. Are you packed and ready to go?”
Markus blinks at the rapid subject change, then nods and collects a piece of luggage from his bedroom, wheeling it to the front door. There’s no need to take Rufus’s leash off, so I crouch and scratch his neck as I let him know he’s going to hang with his girlfriend for a day or two.
As I suspected, Mom is delighted to take Rufus in for as long as Markus needs. And when she learns that Markus’s father is in hospice, she pulls him in for a long hug.
My mom gives good hugs; it’s one of her superpowers. But I’ve never seen someone so transformed by a hug as Markus is in this moment. He’s stiff at first, seeming awkwardly uncomfortable in her embrace. But then he exhales, and it’s like he blows all the tension out of his posture with that breath. When they pull apart, Mom clasps her hands on Markus’s biceps, saying in the kindest voice, “Rufus always has a place here, and so do you, Markus.”
He looks so damn cute, thoroughly confused and maybe even a little overwhelmed by her kindness and open heart. With the smack of a kiss on his cheek, Mom steps past him to me. She squeezes me in those same loving arms as she instructs me to drive carefully.
In the truck, I input our destination into the nav and head north. The drive is easy, just three-and-a-half hours straight up Highway 281 through the central hills and plains of Texas.
Beside me, Markus is on his phone working through his calendar of appointments, explaining to each person he calls that he’s had a family emergency and needs to reschedule their visit when he returns. Once he’s finally finished, he sets his phone aside with a huff that expresses his deep level of exhaustion.
“All good?” I ask.
“Yes. Finally. But I really need a receptionist.”
“Oh yeah? You know, my sister is looking for work right now. Let me know if you’d like to talk to her. She’s reliable and smart.”
Markus looks at me with an expression of pure horror when he says, “Ava?”
I let out a big belly laugh at his reaction. “No, not that little tornado. She’s a cop.”
“Ava is a cop ?”
I chuckle at his astonishment and continue with my original train of thought. “I’m talking about Alice. She and her husband, Clint, had a baby last year, and she quit work to be a full-time mom, but she’s losing her mind being home all the time. She’s looking for something part-time and flexible that will get her out of the house, and I quote, ‘Let her talk about something other than nappies and nipples all the damn time.’ ”
He chuckles a bit and nods contemplatively. “After, uh, all of this, have her come to the clinic, and we can talk about it.”
I nod, making a note to say something to Alice the next time I talk to her. But Markus interrupts my thoughts when he says, “Your family is amazing.”
I agree, and Markus doesn’t even know the half of it.
Almost speaking to himself now, Markus keeps talking. “I’m surprised my father even wants to see me.”
“Illness and death have a way of adjusting priorities.”
Markus nods, then, seeming to speak more to himself than me, he muses, “All he ever wanted was a good son… A good, straight lawyer son.”
“Instead, he got a gay veterinarian son.”
Markus chuckles a bit. “The horror.”
He starts to chew on his lip, and I assume that’s the end of the conversation. I want to keep him talking, sharing. Maybe I should commiserate? Tell him about the time my father beat the shit out of me when he realized I was gay. My family portrait is only perfect now because he’s not in it anymore.
But this car ride isn’t about me and my family story. I’m here for Markus, to help him navigate this difficult time. So I stay silent. And I’m glad I do because Markus has more emotions to express.
“Part of me wants to tell you to turn around and drive back to Krause.”
I glance over at him, but his gaze is focused out the window. After a moment, I ask, “And the other part of you?”
“Wants to cry because my dad is dying.”