Page 76 of Torch Songs
“Do we have some meds for that?” Chris asked, and Guthrie decided helikedTad’s work wife. He was agreatguy.
She ripped off a prescription. “I thought you’d never ask. Will he have help for the next week?”
“Yeah. His boyfriend’s healing from his own wound. They can lean on each other when they go to the head,” Castro said dryly.
“Well, that’s special.” She gave Guthrie a stern glare. “I’ve treated you before,” she said. “You’ve got a healed scar on your hand from two months ago. Is there any way you could avoid darkened parking lots when you’re carrying loads of cash?”
“I’m not sure,” Guthrie replied, feeling like this was an important question. “Is there any way to get the cash without carrying it to my car?”
She sighed. “Maybe have your boyfriend walk you out next time.”
“Lives in Sacramento,” Guthrie told her mournfully. “Because I don’t get good things. You gonna let me out now, Doc?”
She gave him a level glance. “Mm… I’m going to wait to see how your wound is draining, and we’re going to see where your pain level is after the good stuff wears off.” She glanced apologetically at Chris and Laura. “I realize that’s an inconvenience, but I like to keep an eye on this one.”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Chris said sourly. “It’s in the public good to keep kittens out of traffic.”
“Right?” she said, and Guthrie scowled.
“You see that?” he confided to Laura. “They’re conspiring against me. That’sheinous.”
“It’s a protector thing,” she said, patting his good hand. “They like to make sure the rest of us are okay.”
“You can go,” he told her. “I’ll find my way home.”Whichhome was sort of muddy. All he could picture was Tad’s broad face, freckling a little from the sun and the ginger complexion, lighting up when he walked through the door. It did that all thetime, he marveled, comfortable in the drug haze. Tad’s face. Lit up. When Guthrie said something funny. When he took April to the yarn store. When he came home. When he offered to go walking with Tad. When they were in the pool. Always thatlighting up, like Guthrie was the sun when he smiled. Why did itdothat? And why couldn’t Guthrie clear that face from his vision, even when he was in pain and embarrassed and stoned?
“Oh honey,” said the woman over his bed. “I got out of my bed in the middle of the night to bring Chris down here to take care of you. I’ll drive back, but there’s no way I’m leaving you alone.”
He swallowed. “That’s very mom of you,” he told her soberly. “I got women who want to be my sister and my friend and my roommate and my mom—how does thathappen? Where were all you people when I was eight years old?”
Oh Jesus, had he actually said that?
“Honey,” she murmured softly, her hand still stroking his hair back from his forehead. “We heard you crying, but we couldn’t find you until now. Do you forgive us?”
His eyes grew hot because he was a whiny little piss-baby pussy, according to his father, but he nodded because he couldn’t hurt this nice woman’s feelings.
“Sure,” he said, because it was easy with her offering comfort. “It’s fine. But you don’t have to get me home.”
“We want to,” she whispered. “I think the whole world should be offering to get you home.”
He was falling asleep now, and he smiled a little, his eyes at half-mast. “That’s a nice thought. I’m stupid, though. I hope I don’t get lost.”
Her breath caught, and he felt her kiss on the cheek as he dropped off. “Us too,” she said. She smelled nice. Like women’s things. That had been the only part of pretending to be straight that he’d enjoyed. Smells, like lavender and rosewater and vanilla. So pretty.
“Fresh linen,” he murmured, the smell penetrating the hospital antiseptic and letting him relax. “With eucalyptus shampoo.” Then he fell asleep.
TEN O’CLOCKthe next day, he was in the passenger seat of his own truck while Tad’s handsome partner drove him up I-80, looking both grim and bemused.
“Seriously,” Guthrie said, head against the window. “If I said anything untoward to your missus, I’d like to apologize.”
“No need,” Chris said, humor in his voice. “Apparently, you’re a complete gentleman even when you’re stoned as fuck. She’s going to file the papers for adoption any day now. It’s fine.”
Guthrie snorted and tried not to burst into tears. “I hate hospitals,” he muttered. “Sleep like shit.”
Chris must have heard something in his voice above the engine noise of the damned truck, though.
“Your pain meds wearing off?”
“No worries,” Guthrie told him. If he was going to take a pain pill, he’d need to eat. If he was going to eat, they’d have to pull off the road. If they pulled off the road, that would add fifteen minutes to their time, and right now that time was what was separating him from Tad.
