CHAPTER SEVEN Chip
Large, fluffy snowflakes fell gently over the parking lot.
The muffled quiet due to the insulating snow created a calm across town.
The blanket of snow reminded me of a holiday scene from a favorite movie.
As much as I hated to admit it, I felt a familiar tingle over the upcoming Christmas season.
Perhaps dread could be replaced by promise.
In less than two weeks, I’d face another birthday, the second Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day alone. Once again, an awful reminder of the night John told me he was leaving. Despite the anniversary of that terrible memory, I began feeling hopeful.
Glancing across the street, I noticed Mr. Jenkins on a ladder in front of the liquor store. It appeared he was attempting to hang Christmas lights from the tattered and stained vinyl awning over the store’s entrance.
Jogging across the street, balancing myself on slick ice, as I tugged a Carhartt jacket on, I arrived just in time to steady the ladder. “How about some help, Mr. J?” I asked, a lightness in my voice I hadn’t heard lately.
Mr. Jenkins stepped down two rungs to the icy ground and leaned on the ladder for support. “Maybe I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”
“Maybe the heavy snow makes it harder than you think,” I said, trying to make him feel better about his attempt. “How about I do the hanging while you hold the ladder?”
Mr. J. looked across the street at the mercantile. “And then we go over and get started on your place, kiddo?”
I followed his eyes toward my business. The old-west style building with the charm of a different era needed Christmas lights badly.
It felt odd when folks referred to the mercantile as my place.
I’d spent my entire life being part of something that belonged to my grandparents and then my parents, so now, others accepting me as the owner felt wrong somehow.
“I’m not sure about lights this year,” I stated, turning away from the store.
“You didn’t do them last year either, son,” he said. “I sorta understood about that after John left town, but that’s been a year on now.”
I was too stunned to respond to his statement.
Mr. Jenkins, an eighty-ish curmudgeon, had noticed John’s absence and how it had affected my holiday spirit?
I sometimes forgot I grew up in Missile and had known these people my entire life.
Of course, they knew who John was and what he’d meant to me.
We’d been joined at the hip since birth.
“I forgot last year,” I mumbled. “Too busy with cabin remodels and stuff.”
“Hmmm,” he began, grabbing his chin and seeming to be deep in thought. “I remember you and John doing the remodel after your grampa Calvin died. And what’s that been? Four or five years back?”
We locked eyes. He was calling bullshit on me. “I wasn’t in the mood,” I confessed.
“You? Mr. Christmas himself. Not in the mood for a few holiday lights?”
“My folks did the decorating,” I bluffed. “I only helped.”
“Bullshit, kiddo,” he stated, actually and literally calling bullshit on me.
“Jesus!” I gruffed. “I only came over to keep you from falling.”
“Why do you think I dragged the ladder outside?” he asked. “I saw ya looking out the window at the snow and willed you to come over here.”
“You willed me?” I asked. “Maybe I could’ve ignored you?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Not likely, son,” he began. “This is the sorta thing you do. You rescue us old folks. You get cats outta trees, and you give a shit. It’s your role in this town.”
I’d heard talk about my reputation around town, but confirmation from him made my heart swell even if it was broken. I did care. I did love my community. I suppose it’d only be natural that some folks would take note.
“Just being neighborly,” I grunted, embarrassed that he was still staring at me.
By now, Mr. Jenkins had his arms crossed and was studying me carefully. He had wrinkles that lined his face deeper than any canyon in Arizona. His silver hair was messy and maybe three weeks past a trim at Hank’s barbershop. But one could easily see he’d been a looker in his day.
My gramma used to tell stories about what a heartbreaker he was as a younger man. “All us girls had mad crushes on Michael Jenkins,” she’d admitted. “Each and every one of us was convinced we’d be the gal to land him. No one ever did.”
“I absolutely knew you’d run over and help an old geezer like me.”
“You did, did ya?” I dared. “You just up and figured I’d scurry over and save your old ass?”
“I knew you would, Chip,” he confirmed. “You’re good folk.” I waved him off and took a step up the ladder. He grabbed my elbow, and I looked down at him. “Step off for a sec, son.”
I stepped off the ladder and stared into a worried face. Thoughts that he was about to admit something frightened me. Did he need my help with something serious? Was he ill? Did he know something I didn’t know?
“You okay, Mr. J.?”
“Yep. I am,” he answered. “My shoulder hurts when temps get this low, but I’ll live another winter. But you ain’t okay.”
“Sure I am,” I argued. “I’m just fine. A bit busy, but fine just the same.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I know how it feels, Chip,” he said. “To lose someone you think you can’t live without.”
The tears filling his eyes caused mine to well up right along with his. His mouth tightened, and the slightest shudder crossed his chest. Whatever or whoever he was speaking about was present in his mind that very instant.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ve lost plenty of folks lately. I guess I’m a tad melancholy this time of year.” I added.
“I’m aware of your losses. But can you humor me and let me narrow it down for ya?” he asked. I nodded and shuffled on my feet, snow collecting on both our heads as we stood there. “You and John,” he began. “You loved that boy, didn’t ya?”
His question required no response. Apparently, he knew more than I’d given him credit for. But then again, most folks knew what John and I were to each other. We didn’t keep our love a secret. Like I’ve said, we didn’t have pride stickers on our trucks, but we were a gay couple.
“I envied you two boys,” he admitted. “Both of ya so lovestruck and good for one another. I was countin’ on ya to make it for the long haul.”
“I was too,” I whispered, feeling the noose tighten around my throat as the words fought to come out.
“Some folks can’t stay in a town like this forever, son,” he continued. “We’d like ’em to. We pray they’ll be as happy as we are, but sometimes the draw for something more pulls them away.”
“Maybe. But like me, John was born and raised here,” I mumbled. “I figured he’d stay for sure.”
“Same with my Paul,” he said, locking eyes with me and making sure I heard the name he’d spoken correctly. “He wasn’t born here, but he did stop in one day and stayed for damn near twenty years.”
“When was this?” I asked. “You’re… you were… you are… gay?”
He nodded. “I’ll deny it if you rat me out. I figure some folks might be knowing that fact, but I ain’t comfy with admitting it.”
“I sure as heck didn’t know,” I admitted. “All I know is Granny used to tell me how all the girls wanted to land you as a husband,” I added, chuckling at the memory of my grandmother talking Mr. J. up and pissing Grampa off.
“I wasted my life, Chip,” he confessed. “I surely did. Paul asked me to leave Missile more than once over those twenty years. I just wouldn’t budge.”
“He left?”
“He did,” he replied, tugging on his jacket’s sleeves.
“He wanted more than living a secret life. While he longed to disclose the truth about our relationship, I feared we’d be killed for being two men in love if we stayed and came out.
Plus, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving this town I love so much. ”
“John and I weren’t living a secret, though. We were both from here, and people knew about us. I thought we were both comfortable and content to have each other.”
“I assume you’re correct about that,” he agreed. “But something made him leave.”
“Someone,” I corrected.
“Hmmm,” he mused, locking sympathetic eyes with mine. “I’d wondered ’bout that, son.”
“I guess I wasn’t good enough,” I complained, noticing Mr. J. frowning.
“Doesn’t please me to hear you speak about yourself like that, son,” he offered. “You’re certainly good enough. What you’re too good for is how you’re conducting yourself now.”
“Hey. What the…”
“Calm down, son,” he soothed. “Meant no harm, but you’re throwing your life away with how you’re actin’ these days. And let me say this. The John I remember… well, he wouldn’t like this version of you.”
“Yeah? Well, he can fuck off,” I hissed.
He shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t mean that. You’re angry is all you is. And I get it, but you’re not getting back at John by being miserable. You might think you are, but you ain’t.”
My eyes were full at this point. Mr. J. was right. I wanted to be miserable because I wanted John to know how I felt. He needed to know he’d destroyed me. I figured if the whole town knew how sad I was, they’d somehow get the message out to John. Maybe he’d come back.
I swiped at my eyes. “I thought he’d come back by now,” I confessed. “He doesn’t even visit his folks.”
“And who’s telling you that gossip?” he asked. “You don’t strike me as the type of fella who wishes John harm.”
“Not anymore anyway.”
“See? That’s progress, ain’t it?” he asked, chuckling. “You know, John might never come back to Missile. He might have his reasons too, but you’re still here, son.”
“Yeah. And alone as fuck.”
“With that attitude, I expect you always will be,” he taunted. “But what a waste of a pretty face,” he added.
“No one good ever comes to this godforsaken place,” I ranted.
“I’m stuck with that business,” I added, pointing at the mercantile.
“Folks depending on me and shit. ‘Be happy,’ they say. ‘Lighten up,’ they say. Fuck that! I am miserable because I loved John. I loved him very much, and I didn’t deserve this shit. ”
“You’re right. You didn’t deserve what you perceive John did to you. How dare he make a choice about his own life!”
He was just plain pissing me off now. “That’s not fair,” I protested. “I didn’t mean he didn’t have the right to make his own choices.”
“So you’ve decided to punish yourself instead? And those around you who care about you?” he asked. “That make sense to you? Because the young man I’ve admired from a short distance has disappeared, Chip. Where is that boy?”
I slapped at the ladder and turned away, being met with silence from behind me. Mr. Jenkins said nothing as I stared through the snow with blurry, tear-filled eyes. After a minute of uncomfortable quiet. I slowly turned around.
“It hurts,” I acknowledged, doing what I didn’t want to do, admitting weakness. I clutched my jacket where my heart was and bunched up the fabric within my fist. “Right in here,” I gasped. “It fucking kills me in here.”
The expression on Mr. Jenkin’s face proved he’d been there, done that. His eyes revealed a pain that obviously still haunted him. But he smiled as a distant memory took him back.
“I’m still hurting too,” he said, a hesitant quiver of his lips fighting emotional defeat. “Thirty-plus years and I still think about Paul every single day. And guess what?” He didn’t give me time to respond. “I’m still alone.”
His head tilted in question, as if to ask if I wanted the same fate.
“Where’s Paul now?” I inquired.
“Dead,” he replied. “He never came back. I never asked him to, and he never did.”
“Did he ask you to join him wherever he was?”
“Many times. Many times,” he repeated. “I wouldn’t budge from this town even though I wanted to be with him. Unfairly, I wanted him to bend and do as I wished, even though I never voiced it after he left.”
“One big difference,” I pointed out. “John left for someone else.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he accepted. “Major difference in that for sure. So, I’m gonna assume you didn’t ask him to come back?”
I shook my head, remembering pride getting in my way. “We don’t speak any longer. If he wanted someone new, what could I truly say?”
“Good point, son. But you’re still living in his shadow.” His words stung. “In my humble opinion,” he quickly added. “You’ve lost your spunk. Your reason for life, I’d suspect.”
“Sort of,” I acknowledged.
“How much longer do you think you can keep stuff on hold?” he asked.
“It started with last year’s lack of Christmas lights.
Plus, I haven’t seen you at the Grange Hall for bingo in months.
No more jogs through town with that mangy mutt of yours in tow, either.
Come to think of it, do you do anything besides bust your ass over there? ”
“You spying on me, old man?” I laughed, sort of pleased he found me interesting enough to observe so carefully.
“I live vicariously through you, son. It tickles this old man to see such a young buck in the prime of his life. What doesn’t tickle me is seeing him wasting his precious gifts.”
“But shit, man,” I defended. “My folks died. Grampa died. John ditched me. Can I at least have a moment to deal?”
“You’ve had a year, Chip,” he reminded me. “You’ve had one full year. Don’t ya think it’s time to live again? I only have a few good years left. Humor me. Fall in love again. If not with me, then some young buck like yourself.”
I smiled at him and held my hand out. “Why’d you keep this secret so long?”
“What took you so long to ask?”
I shook my head and grinned. “John would’ve loved this revelation,” I said, quickly going to the first person I loved sharing news with.
“John’s not here any longer, son,” he reminded me. “But you and I are. Do me a favor, will ya? Set a goal to make a decision this coming year. Stay in town and seek a partner to share your life with, or start anew somewhere else. Sell the whole kit and kaboodle and don’t look back.”
“You’d miss me, old man,” I quipped.
He laughed out loud. “But I’d be happy as fuck knowing you decided to live again.”
We stared at each other until our grins broke us up with more laughter. “If I help you with these lights, you’re going to have to help me with mine too. Over there at the store, and the ones at home.”
“I can hold a ladder with the best of ’em.”
“I bet you can,” I agreed.
Mr. J. reached for my hand again and held it firmly.
“You’re a good man, son. Truly a one in a million person.
Just remember this. When you lead a life you’re thankful for, you also have to be thankful for the painful stuff.
The rough stuff helps us grow into better, stronger people.
We shouldn’t choose only the good events to feel good about; instead, we can dust ourselves off and welcome the next chapter. ”
“Who knew you were so wise?” I joked, still holding his hand in mine.
“Perhaps,” he stated. “But I wasn’t wise enough to pick myself up twenty years ago and make the choice my heart wanted. How about you learn from this man’s mistakes?”
“I could do that.”
“I know you can.”