CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Chip
Van’s hands were on his hips, head slowly shaking back and forth. “And what do we have here, mister?” he questioned, pointing at the latest decoration and chuckling.
“You said the tow truck would look good in front of the mercantile, didn’t you?”
“I make a Walmart run, and this is what you do while I’m gone?” he asked, setting the bags he held onto the frozen concrete drive and walking toward me.
Bertie was looking out the mercantile windows. She shrugged her shoulders and grinned like an old fool. She gave me a thumbs up and went back to ringing up Joe Hern’s weekly supplies.
Van slid his hand in mine and kissed my cheek. “So?” I asked, letting him rest his head on my shoulder. “Whaddaya think, stud?”
“You’re almost as good as me at decorating,” he praised. “Almost,” he added, moving a plastic elf from the front of the truck and re-centering the decoration toward the passenger door. “There!”
“You didn’t just do that,” I protested, squatting down and filling a fist with snow.
Van sprinted across the gasoline pump area, hiding behind a support pillar. I waited until he peeked his cute face from around the concrete column. With the precision of a Major League pitcher, I let the snowball fly. He ducked, and the snowball flew past him.
He stepped from behind. “Weak!” he exclaimed, letting go of his own snowball.
Van was athletic, as it turned out. A pretty-faced city boy, but the guy could compete. I, for one, found it quite intoxicating to be dating such a citified jock. His aim was deadly as well.
“Ouch!” I hollered. “What the fuck?”
I ran after him as he dashed toward the entrance of the mercantile driveway, trying to reach a massive fifteen-foot-high snow pile the county snowplows had deposited along our drive. He dove headfirst into the snow, scrambling up the side as fast as he could.
“King of the Mountain!” he declared, reaching and standing at the top. “No lame cowboys allowed.”
I climbed to the top, grabbed one of his legs, and yanked him down the side.
Both of us rolled to the bottom like a pair of wrapped-up burritos.
He snuggled into my neck, and I held him as close as I could without suffocating us both.
His striking face stood out under his stocking cap, causing me to swallow hard.
“You’re very cute, boy,” I teased. “Too cute for this town.”
“You wish,” he replied. “You’re stuck with me now.”
We rolled onto our backs, side by side on the incline, supporting our bodies upright with the steep snow pile. “So, you still love me?” I asked, being needy myself.
“Maybe,” he joked. “But remember, only on days that start with the letter T.”
I stuck my lower lip out, presenting my best pouty face. “But that’s only Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Don’t forget Thanksgiving. Or Thaturday and Thunday,” he joked.
I laughed out loud at his lisp and the way he waved his hand in the air while he snapped in a Z formation. “That’s still not enough,” I said, frowning.
He rolled on top of me and smothered me with kisses. Our noses were frozen little nubs, but I didn’t care. I was floating on a high summer cloud with this man and his loving ways.
“You forgot some more days,” he pointed out, resting his face on my chest.
“Yeah?”
“I also love you today and tomorrow. Those start with T’s.”
“You’re weird,” I said, quickly remembering his ex-partner had called him weird. “But I like weirdos like you,” I added.
We sat up, resting our elbows on our knees, and enjoyed the light snow falling around us. We remained quiet, enjoying something new about our relationship. We’d discovered we could sit by each other without speaking, and still enjoy the silence.
“I like the bond we’re developing,” he whispered, breaking the stillness. “I feel especially comfortable just being around you. Doing projects, or even doing nothing.”
He was right on with his assessment. Even though our time since meeting had been short, a natural rhythm of friendship had settled alongside powerful feelings of lust and love. In my opinion, we shared a trifecta of positives for a good coupling.
“I truly like you, Van,” I stated. “There’s how I feel about you romantically. You know, the loving-you part. And then there’s the ‘I like you as a person’ part.”
He reached for my hand without looking at me. “That’s a sweet thing to say, mister.”
“It’s true,” I said. “You’re unlike any person I’ve ever been around.
And yes, I know it’s only been a minute, but you’re like this with everyone you interact with.
” I needed a second more to truly get my point across to him.
“The only way to explain your… the way… how you… well, somehow…” I gave up searching for the words until they came to me a second later. “You just shine.”
He turned to face me, his eyes pooling. “See?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “That is why I’m falling deeper in love with you. The kind things you’re capable of saying directly to me make me feel special.”
“That stuff is easy. Because you are special to me.”
“And there’s another example,” he added, gesturing toward the tow truck.
“You remembered what I said last week in the garage.” He leaned closer, waiting until he was sure my eyes were on his.
“I know displaying the tow truck wasn’t easy for you.
And yet, I suspect you knew I needed an act of assurance like that. ”
“Same old truck, but a whole new life,” I said.
“About that,” he began. “Something has been on my mind about us.”
Noting the worry descending to my stomach, I pushed any negative thoughts away. “Go on.”
Van flicked snow from my ski pants, hesitated, and then turned away. I squeezed his hand to let him know I was prepared for whatever he might need to express. Shortly after gathering his thoughts, he turned to face me.
“Do you think we jumped into bed too quickly?” he asked. “I mean, I need you to believe I’m not that guy. Because, like I told you, I’ve never had a one-night stand before.”
“I believe that about you,” I confirmed. Van mouthed thank you. “Plus, you’re missing one key detail,” I continued. “You didn’t leave the next day, remember?”
We studied one another. I was overflowing with emotion about this guy. Truthfully, I was growing so attached, so quickly, and so early, that I ached inside. Literally and physically hurting at the thought that what we shared so far wouldn’t stand the test of time.
Van was about to say something when Sadie Hatfield’s Cadillac came to a screeching halt in front of the snow pile, barely missing coming up the side. The car window rolled down.
“Mrs. Hatfield,” Van acknowledged, sliding all the way down on his cute butt to her car.
I joined them and greeted her as well. Mrs. Hatfield didn’t respond. Instead, she glared at us, causing us to look behind us in case we’d missed something. She pushed her door open, stepped out of her luxury car, and crossed her arms.
“So, it is true,” she snapped, shifting her eyes between us. “And I thought Bertie was just trying to get under my skin.”
“And what might that be, Mrs. Hatfield?” I asked, stepping beside Van. “And don’t let Bertie rattle you, Ma’am.”
Sadie faced Van. “Bertie isn’t the real reason I’m perturbed,” she rebutted. “You are,” she stated, staring at Van with disgust.
“Now wait a minute, ma’am,” I injected, instinctively stepping in front of Van. “Please don’t be like that.”
“It’s okay, Chip,” Van said, moving from behind me and acknowledging Sadie’s unusual reaction with a kind smile. “Have I done something to upset you, Sadie?”
“You are not the right choice for Calvin,” she explained, using my formal name, and adjusting her neck scarf while maintaining her nasty disposition. “He cannot live through another heartbreak.”
“What are you talking about, Mrs. Hatfield?” I interrupted.
“I saw you two hugging and kissing from clear over at the liquor store,” she announced. “Mr. Jenkins pointed the two of you out. He said how happy he was that the two of you found each other.”
“And that has you angry?” Van asked.
Sadie’s head spun back to Van so abruptly, her gaudy earrings damn near flew off. “You are not fooling me, city boy,” she hissed. “Acting like you could live in this town. I see you hanging out at the mercantile and ingratiating yourself with the townsfolk. I, for one, am not buying it.”
Van turned to me. I assumed he was unsure about how to respond to her. I’d learned in the matter of a week or so that Van could not be rude to others. Her attack warranted a fuck off, but I recognized that would not happen.
“Not that it’s any of your business, ma’am, but Van and I just started dating,” I confirmed. “Whether he stays in Missile or leaves for another place, we’re not jumping that far ahead. That prediction would be premature, and you’re being unkind as well as unfair to him.”
Mrs. Hatfield delivered one more nasty glare to Van and then backed away toward her car, pointing at me.
“He will run out on you just like John did. Trust me, Calvin,” she warned.
“Boys like him do not stay in towns like this. For one, he is ill-equipped for the climate. Also, the loneliness and lack of activities will drain his will. And I am urging you not to become further involved.”
“Let’s not forget John was born here, ma’am, and he still left. And let me also remind you that it was of his own free will after twenty-some years,” I stated, reaching for Van’s hand. “Van is new to town, and whether he chooses to stay or to leave doesn’t affect you.”
She stepped forward, leaning into my face. “Trust me on this, son. He will leave, too,” she hissed. “There is nothing for Van in Missile because this town is a dead end.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Van tapped my elbow and stepped forward. “I’ve been on dead-end streets before, Sadie. And I intend to explore this one because Chip resides here.”