May in December (6 page)

Bruce rolled his eyes and choked back a snort at the Batman comparison, yet it was true. Jorry might be a man, but he had needy written all over him, and that was exactly what was missing from Bruce’s life.

That realization bounced recognition in Bruce’s chest. Yes, he was used to taking care of loved ones. First, his ailing parents, then raising his children, and after they’d left the nest, Robert had his bout with cancer. For the past twenty-four months, nobody had needed him.

The possibility that he could be useful in somebody’s life again left him feeling—

“Augh… No! Stop it! I won’t. You can’t make me. Help!”

Jorry’s shouts pierced the night air. At light speed, Bruce flung his quilt to the floor, raced to the thrashing figure in his bed, and switched on the bedside table reading lamp. Jorry’s thrashing caused the blankets to twist around his feet and a sheen of perspiration appeared on his face.

“Jorry?”

No response.

“Jorry! Wake up. You’re dreaming. You’re safe. ” Bruce sat on the edge of the bed and shook Jorry until he shot straight up in bed, clinging to his head.

“Jorry. Are you okay?”

Jorry slowly shook his head, though the movement seemed to cause him more pain. “Headache.”

Bruce reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a box of little packets. With a glass of water already sitting there, he opened a small wax envelope and emptied the contents into the clear liquid and swirled the glass, causing the water to turn cloudy.

“Here.” He offered Jorry the glass. “Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“A highly potent headache powder. I discovered it at a health food store when Robert was sick. It works. Trust me.”

Jorry did as told. Without a word, Bruce set the empty glass aside, helped Jorry lie back down, and wiped the night sweat from his face. When he reached out to shut off the light, Jorry stayed his hand.

“Please. Leave it on.”

Bruce nodded and began to rise off the bed. Again, Jorry’s hand shot out, and he gripped Bruce’s knee.

“Don’t leave me. Stay.”

“For as long as you want,” Bruce whispered.

Jorry shifted to the other side of the bed to make room for Bruce. Bruce lay down on his back and pulled the covers up. Moments later, the bed shifted again, and this time Jorry rolled closer to Bruce, close enough to lay his head on Bruce’s chest.

“Is this okay?”

Bruce wrapped his arm around the trembling young man and pulled him closer. “Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

Immediately, Jorry relaxed and his breathing evened out.

It was weird being in the same bed with Jorry that he had shared with Robert all those years. On the other hand, somehow it was right holding the man in his arms.

And though the light was on, Bruce dropped into a deep sleep.

* * * *

Gray, hazy daylight drifted into Jorry’s slitted vison. Opening his eyes wider, he found himself staring into the worried, handsome face of Bruce.

“Welcome to the real world.”

Jorry blinked.

“You okay? Besides your head, I mean.”

Jorry nodded, and it registered in his sleep-fogged brain that Bruce was lying directly on top of him. It was a comfortable and safe feeling. He could get used to waking up like this.

Apparently so could his morning hard-on.

Bruce must have noticed it as well since he quickly rolled off Jorry and sat on the edge of the bed. “Ummm, you were having a bad dream. One of several during the night.”

Damn. I hope I didn’t say anything too incriminating
. Jorry apologized.

“Don’t be sorry.” Bruce produced a tonic like the one he had made last night from water he had previously brought in. “It’s your subconscious trying to deal with life.”

Jorry raised his head off his pillow, drank the aspirin concoction, and handed back the glass. “D-did I say anything?”

“Yes.” Bruce held one of Jorry’s hands and seemed to stall for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Is there someone who is hurting you? Forcing you to do things against your will?” The questions were asked with a squeeze, Bruce’s giant, calloused paw dwarfing Jorry’s small, soft hand.

“Why?”

“Some of the things you said.” Bruce smiled his encouragement.

“I-I can’t talk about it right now.” Jorry hoped Bruce didn’t hear the tremor in his voice.

Bruce drew his eyebrows together.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Jorry clarified. “It’s impossible for the moment.”

Bruce seemed to mull the answer over. Satisfied, he clapped his hand on Jorry’s blanketed legs and stood. “I’ll let it drop. But don’t forget I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready to deal with it.”

Inwardly, Jorry sighed with deep relief.
Thank the gods he’s not gonna push it.

“So, how are you feeling this morning?”

Jorry paused. Other than his head hurting a bit, and despite the bad dreams he didn’t remember, his body was well rested—the best it had felt in ages. “Good enough to get some packing done.”

Bruce smiled. “Let’s stop for breakfast and then we’ll start bustin’ around here.”

* * * *

When Jorry glanced at his watch, he was surprised the afternoon was almost gone. He and Bruce had spent most of the day packing donation boxes and creating small piles of items that would make the move to the Parkview Apartments. Jorry was surprised at how little Bruce was keeping. Other than some family heirlooms, the office equipment, some choice Christmas ornaments, a couple of houseplants, the washer, dryer, boxes of comic books, and some clothes, everything else was going to benefit somebody at thrift stores across Gaylord.

Bruce had explained it as necessary downsizing. His music and important family pictures were scanned into the computer; his favorite books bought as e-books. Most of the furniture was older, so he had decided he wouldn’t take the living room set, the bedroom set, or most of what was in the kitchen.

“Nearly all this stuff has been around since my parents,” Bruce said. “Once I’m settled in the new place, I’m going to treat myself to a real shopping trip and pick out things that reflect me.” Bruce hesitated. “Perhaps you would like to help? We seem to have similar tastes.”

Jorry was stunned. “Me? I’d love to.”

The packing wasn’t without its moments of melancholy. Each room held a ton of memories. Sometimes Bruce would share; other times he would grow silent. Jorry had his own memories, though he’d had to admit it was easier for him to process than it was for Bruce. After all, Jorry had only pretended this was home while growing up, whereas Bruce had lived in the same house since he was seven years old.

Most of the stories Bruce told were about Kelley and Kerri. A few were of his childhood, his marriage to Mrs. Windom, and even some of Robert. Jorry noticed that when Bruce spoke about Robert, there was a small surface sadness, but for the most part, the grieving he was giving voice to was more about letting go of the house.

“Jorry, I’m going to run down to the corner liquor store to pick up the boxes they are saving for me.” Bruce dangled his truck keys in his hands. “Is there anything you need?”

Jorry hesitated, playing with a pen on a pad of paper next to the phone. Bruce had already done so much for him. How could he ask for more?

Bruce must have read his mind. “How about a pop and some chips? After all, you earned it helping out today.”

Jorry nodded. “Sounds great. Thanks.”

Bruce headed out the door.

After a couple of minutes, Jorry picked up the phone on the desk. He wanted to call Tabitha, to hear her voice of reason to help him center. He punched in her number, and after three rings, she picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Tabs. It’s Jorry.”

“What’s going on? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“What do you mean?”

Tabitha sighed. “Your store manager—Todd?—has called here six times looking for you.”

“How did he get your number?”

“You gave me as a reference, remember? He said you got hurt and walked off the job last night. He was concerned and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Which is right? You got hurt or you walked off the job?”

“Those are true.” Jorry chuckled. “It was the last one I was being sarcastic about.”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s up?”

“I was tired, overworked, got clumsy, fell, and hurt my head. I decided the job wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“Oh, sweetie. I don’t know how many times I’ve begged you to quit.” The relief was quite evident in Tabitha’s voice. “I am so glad you did it. Where are you now?”

“I spent the night at Bruce’s house.”

“Good for you.” Tabitha giggled. “Are you gonna share any details?”

“It wasn’t like that. He and his ex-wife helped with my injuries; then I went to sleep in his bed. He did hold me all night, but nothing happened. I was in no condition, and I still don’t know if he would be interested in me.”

Jorry heard Bruce pull into the garage. “I have to go. Talk to you soon.”

Tabitha sounded disappointed in the brief conversation, yet calmed to know he was fine. “You better. Love ya.”

“Love ya too.”

Bruce stood in archway of the living room. “Jorry, we need to talk.”

Chapter Five

“I’m sorry.” Jorry rushed his explanation. “I used the phone without asking. It was a local call to a friend, and I didn’t think you would mind.”

Bruce waved it off. “I don’t care about that.
Mi casa es su casa
. What I’m concerned about is your car.”

Jorry bit his lip. “What about it?”

“Where is it?”

“I parked it on the street so you can get in and out of your driveway.”

“It’s not there.”

“You’re shittin’ me!” Jorry ran out of the house into the frigid November air with no coat and in socks. He looked both ways down the street. “That’s impossible! I locked it.”

“It was a ’78 Chrysler Cordoba. The safety and antitheft features weren’t up to today’s standards.”

Jorry barely heard those words. All he knew was his world was crashing around him. “You don’t understand. I have to get it back. It was my grandmother’s car. Her ashes are in there, as well as my clothes and my whole life!”

“Jorry—”

Jorry face palmed his forehead, trying to clear his twisted thoughts. “Oh gods. Where am I gonna sleep?”

Bruce paused; his mind seemed to be awhirl with confusion. “You mean to tell me you live in your car?”

Jorry didn’t answer. He walked back into the house, to the living room, and sat down heavily on the davenport.

Bruce followed and cleared his throat. “I know you kept it pretty packed, but I thought you were so busy at your job you didn’t have time to clean. I mean, I understand. I can be a slob where my truck is concerned, but…”

Jorry knew Bruce deserved an answer, but every time Jorry opened his mouth, his lips refused to move. How could he explain that he had been living in his car for years? How could Bruce understand what it was like to live like that? Would he think less of Jorry?

“Why didn’t you tell me you were homeless?”

Jorry shrugged and dropped his head. “Embarrassed,” he choked out. “Pride.”

Bruce stepped over to Jorry and laid his hand on Jorry’s shoulder. “Yeah, I get it.”

“It’s not like I wanted to live in it. But I didn’t make enough for first month’s rent, security deposit, light bill, gas bill, water bill, and even if the utilities were included, I didn’t have enough references and a steady job.”

“How did you shower or do laundry?”

“Some days I’d go to the truck stop and use their facilities. A couple of times I snuck into the YMCA. Mostly, I have a friend, Tabitha, the one I called, who I could count on in a jam. But I didn’t want to use our friendship like that.”

Bruce stroked his neatly trimmed beard in thought.

Jorry continued to defend himself. “It’s humbling and downright inconvenient, but I take care of myself the best way I can.”

“Live with me,” Bruce blurted out.

“What?”

“Move in. With me.”

“Oh no.” Jorry was shocked by the offer. “I can stand on my own two feet. I’ve survived this long and have been through worse.”

“I’m not saying you can’t make it on your own, but you have to admit, it would be easier for you to have a shoulder to lean on.”

After the initial shock wore off, Jorry had to admit the proposition was tempting. However, he didn’t want Bruce to think he was using him. And would it be fair to either of them to move in with his sordid past still hanging over him?

When Jorry didn’t say anything, Bruce continued. “We’ve known each other for years. You need a place to stay. I need someone to help with the move and get me settled at the new apartment.”

Jorry’s second “no” sounded weak to his ears. “I don’t want you to think I’m abusing our friendship. You’ve become too important to me—” He cut himself short.
Way to go, idiot. Make yourself sound needy and scare the guy off.

Bruce’s face softened. “You’re important to me too, and in no way will you be abusing our friendship. You’ll work here with me for free room and board while you save money up for a place of your own with your income from the resort.”

“I haven’t got the job yet.”

“You will. If I know Gail, she’s already got a job lined up. All you’ve got to do is show up Monday.”

Jorry stood silently. He wasn’t used to people caring about him. He had been on his own for so long caring was almost foreign to him.
And what was that Bruce said? I’m important to him too? Does that mean what I think it means, or am I so desperate for love that I’m seeing into things?
“Let me think about it.”

Bruce’s smile lit up the air. “It’s the least I can do for you for putting up with Kelley and Kerri’s shenanigans growing up.”

“More like they put up with a dorky kid hanging around. I wasn’t, and still ain’t, popular material.”

Bruce pulled Jorry into a tight hug. “You’d be surprised how you’ve touched the lives of those around you.” Bruce stepped away to grab a navy-blue hoodie out of the hall closet. “Get your shoes on. We need to go down to the police station and report your car missing.”