“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just . . . you said you’d come get me . . .” He’d told her when he’d dropped them off the afternoon before that if she needed him, she should call. He could make it back to Rachel’s in Mississippi in no time.
“You want to come here?”
“If you really don’t mind driving all the way back.”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to have you here.”
“What about your mom?”
“She’s not going to be here—she’s babysitting on the other side of town—but she’ll be thrilled to know you are. I’ve told her all about you. She wants to meet you.”
I’d be alone with him in the two-bedroom apartment he shared with his mother, who was currently a student at a local community college. But James was a good man. A member of the church. Spiritual leader to my social club. He’d never do anything to get either of us kicked out of school.
He cared about me. Respected me.
We didn’t do physical things. We’d kissed maybe ten times since I’d known him.
The thoughts chased themselves around my mind. Colliding with emotions that were quickly escalating out of control. Thoughts of past Thanksgivings. With my family. And with Tim.
I had to get out of there.
“Okay, come get me.”
“I love your family.” Emily’s voice was soft, husky. Still full from the huge Thanksgiving buffet his sister-in-law had put on, Tim had suggested a drive out to Houston Dam. They’d walked a bit and were lounging along the backseat of his car, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder.
Tim was content to sleep off the beer he’d consumed with his brothers.
“They’re so different from mine,” she continued talking, and he tried to stay alert to what she was saying. “At my house it’s always just been me and my brother and Mom and Dad. Dad and John would watch sports and Mom would read, or sit with Dad and doze, and while I liked the peace and quiet of the day, I see now that we missed a lot. There was so much life there today. You’re so lucky you have such a big family.”
He had a lot of family members who gathered for holidays, but at home it was just him and Jeff and their mother. Except for the time Harry had been there, too. Harry, the man Tim’s mom had married when Tim and Jeff had reached puberty and were presenting more of a challenge than a fifty-five-year old woman felt she could handle alone.
They hadn’t been married long.
“Do you guys always go downstairs like that?” He’d left Emily upstairs with the women while he went downstairs with his brothers to play poker.
“Yeah.”
“The women, I couldn’t keep up with them, but . . .”
He tried to listen. He really did. The air was cool but not yet cold. His stomach was full of good food and equally good beer, and Emily’s weight against him coaxed him into a state of relaxation that he couldn’t resist . . .
I watched for James’s car from the front window. And I wondered about the weekend ahead. The choice I’d made. I fully trusted that nothing untoward would happen. But I couldn’t help comparing the time ahead with time in the past. And I wished that it was Tim I was going to spend the weekend with. I would spend the entire weekend in bed with him.
And be thankful.
The thought brought shame, and I asked God for forgiveness.
I thought of Tim’s family, all gathered together at his brother’s house. And I wondered if he’d taken Emily there with him. If they were still together. And when tears pricked the backs of my eyelids, I quit thinking about Tim.
Alone in Rachel’s grandmother’s living room, I stared at my watch. And when I saw the gold Honda pull up in front of the house, I ran out the front door.
James had his arms open by the time I reached him. I threw myself against him. Right then he was as close as I got to family, and I was falling apart.
He held my hand as he drove. A new thing. It was nice, though. I needed the connection. I needed a place to belong. And I loved how happy I made him just by being there. I was glad I’d called him.
“Mom wants us to stop over there tonight.”