David, Renewed

by Diana Copland

  There was a weighted silence. “David Wayne Snyder.” Beth’s voice was low and intense. “Why are you at the hospital?” None of them had good memories of this hospital. He understood.

  “What?” he heard in the background. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Beth said to their mom. “Give me a minute here. David, are you hurt?”

  “No, no it’s not me.”

  “It’s not him,” Beth told Beverley. “So, what happened?”

  “Actually it’s Jackson’s mom. She took a bad fall, hit her head on a bookcase, and split it open.”

  “Oh God, David.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty bad. Don’t… make it sound so bad to Mom. They’re friends.”

  “I know. I’ve got it covered.” There was another heavy pause. “How did you end up there with him?”

  “He’d had a couple of beers when we got done with the furniture and I hadn’t, so I thought—”

  “No, I get it,” she said briskly. “Listen, come by on your way home, okay? Mom’s going to worry anyway.”

  “I have absolutely no idea what time it will be.” David looked down at his watch. It was only quarter to eight. It felt much later.

  “Whenever it is, she’ll fret if you don’t.”

  David sighed softly even as he heard his mother saying “Oh, I will not” in the background. But she would.

  “Okay. Tell her it might be a while.”

  “Will do. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Beth.”

  He rang off and walked back into the now nearly deserted ER.

  As he started to sit, his phone vibrated with a text message. David rolled his eyes and Juanita laughed.

  “Popular guy,” she teased.

  He frowned as he reached for his phone again. “Not ordinarily.” He looked at the screen.

  The number was Michael’s. He pulled up the text.

  How is Jackson’s mom?

  Not sure, David texted back. He’s still in the back. Hey, have you heard of Travis Henry?

  There was a pause. The Travis Henry running for Congress?

  The very one.

  He’s a conservative jackass. Why?

  David snorted softly. Guess who he’s related to?

  There was another pause.

  NOOOOOO.

  David laughed. Yep.

  Oh, good God. Poor Jackson. That’s just wrong.

  I’ll have to tell you how nice he was to the nurse in the ER.

  That’s crap, right? It’s a lie. He was a total douche.

  David grinned. He was.

  Lucky for you his brother ISN’T. And speaking of the lovely Jackson, what’s up there, boss man? Y’all were pretty cozy there for a minute today.

  Since when does your text voice have a southern accent? David typed back. And I noticed you checking Gil out, so watch yourself.

  GIL???????

  David laughed aloud. He could almost hear Michael’s screech.

  He could squish me like a bug.

  But you LIKE all those muscles.

  Fuck you.

  David let his laugh settle into a fond smile. I will fire you.

  Oh, please. You need to stop saying that cuz everyone knows it’s a big old lie. Let me know how Jackson’s mom is, okay? I’m concerned.

  David’s smile mellowed. I promise not to tell anyone you’re actually a very nice person.

  There was another pause. Bite me.

  David pocketed his phone, his smile lingering. He started to take the chair he’d deserted when Juanita looked past his shoulder and stood. He straightened as Jackson and Travis came through the electric doors, and neither of them looked particularly happy. Standing next to each other, the resemblance was undeniable, but their expressions couldn’t be less similar. Travis still looked irritated, and Jackson looked tired and careworn. When Jackson saw David, some of the tension bled from his shoulders.

  “How is she doing?” David murmured when he was close enough.

  “Okay.” Jackson sighed. “It took more than fifty stitches to close her head.”

  “Oh my God, Jackson.” David reached out and touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Well, I never thought I’d see my mother’s skull, but compared to her, I’m fine.”

  David grimaced, catching Jackson’s hand and squeezing it. Jackson made no effort to pull away.

  “She apparently hit the shelf at her hairline and it peeled the skin back. Most of the stitches are in her hair. She probably won’t even have a noticeable scar.”

  “But that’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. She was worried about it.” He exhaled roughly. “She’s in there bleeding all over the place, and all she cares about is if she’ll have a scar. Oh, and that she’s ruining her sweater.” Jackson held up a bag David hadn’t noticed. “I think I’ll probably burn it.”

  “No, we can get the blood out of it. I’ll wash it for you.”

  “David, you don’t have to—”

  “Oh, hush and give it to me.” He took the bag from Jackson’s limp fingers. “I’m a whiz with laundry.” He remembered belatedly that he didn’t currently have a washer and dryer. He’d wash it at his mom’s.

  Jackson gave him a weak smile. “Good to know.”

  “It’s my one marketable skill.” David squeezed his hand again. “Is she coming home?” He tried to figure out the logistics of getting her from a wheelchair into the car, but Jackson shook his head.

  “They’re going to keep her overnight for observation. The doctor is a little worried about a concussion even though she never lost consciousness. Not until they were all done, and then she fell asleep. I think she’s exhausted.”

  David studied Jackson. “She isn’t the only one.” He took in the lines of strain around Jackson’s mouth. “When will they release her?”

  “He thinks they’ll let her go tomorrow. It’s going to depend on how steady she is on her feet.”

  “Is she going to be able to climb up into the cab of your truck?” David thought of the trouble he had getting into it. He couldn’t imagine Shirley being able to do it.

  Jackson stared at him for a long moment. “I hadn’t even thought about it.”

  “We have a meet and greet luncheon at the Yorkshire at two,” Travis said, sounding put out. “I won’t be available.”

  “I didn’t ask you, Travis.” Jackson didn’t even look at his brother. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “How? If she can’t get into that ridiculous truck of yours, how—”

  “I can pick her up.” David met Travis’s eyes. “I have a Yaris, which she won’t have any trouble getting into.”

  “Who are you?” Travis looked between Jackson and David. When his gaze landed on David’s hand, which was still tucked in Jackson’s, his expression flattened.

  “This is David, honey.” Juanita jumped in quickly. “He and Jackson are friends.”

  Travis glanced away from their clasped hands. “Yeah, I can see that,” he muttered. “I don’t suppose you could keep the PDA to a minimum, at least when you’re with me where other people might see you? Christ, Jackson, does your ‘friend’ know I’m running for office or do you want me to lose?”

  David stared at him, aghast.

  “Yeah, Travis. That’s my goal. I just spent two hours watching them stitch my mother’s head back together, but David and I formulated a plan to make sure you’d lose your fucking election. Self-absorbed much, brother?”

  Travis took a step toward Jackson and sneered. “Could you say that a little louder? I don’t think they heard you in the parking lot.”

  Jackson didn’t back away, nor did he release David’s hand. “Maybe I’ll just offer to do an op-ed piece for the paper: what it’s like growing up the queer sibling of a conservative tight ass.”

  Travis’s lip curled in an ugly snarl. He and Jackson were nearly nose to nose but it never occurred to David to release Jackson and get out of the way. “You self-righteous prick,” T
ravis hissed.

  “Wow, watch your language, Candidate Henry,” Jackson retorted in a very similar tone. “Someone might hear you.”

  Sure they were within seconds of taking a swing at each other, David finally did move, stepping in front of Jackson and moving his hand to his chest. It was hard beneath his palm and he could feel his heart pounding. Behind him Juanita took hold of Travis’s arm.

  “I think everyone needs to calm down,” she said in a soothing tone, looking between them. “Don’t you?”

  “I really don’t blame you for wanting to take a shot at him,” David whispered for Jackson’s ears only. “But if you get thrown out of here tonight, how can we pick your mom up tomorrow?”

  Jackson’s gaze left his brother and settled on David, and David watched the fury leach out of his eyes. Shooting one more glare at Travis, Jackson took a step back. Travis’s nostrils flared and he stormed away. They watched him stalk out through the ER’s doors.

  Juanita paused, reaching out toward Jackson, her hand coming to rest on his arm. “Thank you for getting her here. I know he’s grateful.”

  Jackson snorted softly. “Yeah, he sure seems it. Nice try, Nita. I know how he feels about me.”

  She squeezed his forearm with a small, sad smile, then followed her husband out through the doors.

  “Christ.” Jackson stepped back and pushed the fingers of both hands roughly through his thick hair, then let his arms fall heavily to his sides. “This has been some fun for you, huh? Nothing like family drama.”

  David shrugged. “Beats watching reruns of CSI.”

  Jackson gave him a surprised look and snorted out a rough, startled laugh. “You wouldn’t be watching CSI. If you were home, you’d be rearranging your new furniture.”

  David gave him a small smile. “Probably. But your sister-in-law was very entertaining.”

  “Nita’s actually a really nice lady. What she sees in Travis I’ll never know.”

  “It’s a mystery,” David agreed amiably, intentionally keeping his tone light. “You ready to get out of here?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They walked out into the cold evening, their breath puffing out in soft clouds of steam as they crossed the lot to David’s car.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHEN THEY were seated in the car, David immediately cranked up the heater.

  “God it’s freezing.” He glanced at Jackson, who stared through the windshield, his elbow on the door and his hand curled into a fist pressed to his lips. He still looked angry, and David really couldn’t blame him. “So what does your brother do when he isn’t running for office?” He glanced over his shoulder as he backed out.

  Jackson let his hand slide wearily into his lap. “He’s a lawyer.” His voice was flat.

  “I’m betting he doesn’t do pro bono work for indigent clients.”

  That pulled a tired smile from Jackson. His shoulders weren’t as hunched as they had been. “No. He does corporate law. Contracts, nuisance lawsuits, stuff like that.” He grimaced. “His boss calls him his ‘pit bull,’ and it’s an apt description.”

  “I gather he’s not a Democrat, then?”

  Jackson sounded like his laugh surprised even him. “Nope, not even close.” He paused, his head dropping back against the leather headrest. “He’s exactly like my dad. He did everything he could to mimic the old man. Dad was a lawyer, specializing in corporate law, and a fire-breathing Republican.”

  David winced. “That must have been fun for you.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jackson replied dryly. “Every holiday was a warm and fuzzy family portrait.” He stared straight ahead, his expression flat. “It’s why I left and went to the coast. I haven’t lived at home since I was a freshman in college.”

  David had no frame of reference because his relationship with his own dad had been the rock he’d built his life on. The defeated tenor of Jackson’s voice saddened him. “When did he pass away?”

  “Two years ago. Cancer.” He didn’t elaborate and David didn’t press. He was curious about something else, though, and he chewed his lower lip before speaking again.

  “I have a question but I don’t want to make you angry.”

  “You won’t make me angry, David.”

  Their eyes met and held briefly before Jackson looked back through the windshield.

  “If you have other siblings, why did you move back here? Couldn’t they have helped out with your mom?”

  The pause was so long David was afraid he’d offended Jackson, but finally he cleared his throat. “Long story.”

  David chanced another look at him. The colored lights on the large boulevard cast bizarre, brightly hued shadows on his face, but there was enough light to see Jackson’s troubled expression.

  “I’m a good listener,” David offered softly.

  Jackson gave him a weak smile, then looked back at the road, as if it was easier to answer if he wasn’t looking at him. “I have one brother. Travis. And one sister, Michelle.”

  “Doesn’t she live here too?”

  “Yeah, she does. But Mickey is… different.” His lips twisted.

  “Different how?”

  “Basically she’s spoiled. She was Dad’s little princess, and she isn’t capable of dealing with what’s going on with Mom. From the moment the diagnosis came in, I could see her backing away. Mom has MS. Did I tell you that?”

  David shook his head. “No, my mom did.”

  “I keep forgetting they’re friends.” He scrubbed one of his hands over his head. “Anyway, anything to do with illness and Mickey is done. Even as close as they were, she did it with Dad’s cancer, and she’s doing it now with Mom.” David bit his lower lip so that he didn’t say what he was thinking, and waited for Jackson to go on if he wanted to. “I can feel the wheels turning from here, David,” Jackson said with a dose of irony.

  “It’s none of my business, Jackson. I’m trying to be a friendly ear. I’m not entitled to an opinion about what’s going on with your siblings. I just—” He forced himself to stop. He liked Jackson too much to push the issue.

  “You just what? Really, I want to know.”

  David glanced over, but he’d have been able to feel Jackson’s steady gaze even if he hadn’t.

  “I don’t think it’s fair that you had to move back to take care of your mom because your siblings are either too busy or can’t deal. That’s all.”

  Jackson’s silence stretched out again and nerves made the skin on David’s shoulders crawl. This man’s silences discomfited him; he was used to a man who verbalized everything without a care for whom he embarrassed or hurt. He’d thought that was bad, but these weighty silences were almost worse.

  “I guess I didn’t explain it very well,” Jackson said finally. “Don’t misunderstand. My brother and sister are a pain in the ass, but I came home because I wanted to. Mom and I have always been close. Travis and Mickey were Dad’s, but I was Mom’s. She was the first person I told I was gay because I knew she wouldn’t think less of me.” He paused, then cleared his throat roughly. “She’s been my rock, always. I don’t have an issue with returning the favor now. And yeah, Travis is a dick and Mickey is a flake, but even if they weren’t, I’d still have moved home. Wouldn’t you, for your mom?”

  “Yes,” David agreed without a second thought. “There’s a difference, though. I wouldn’t be leaving a good job to come home to a bastion of conservative assholes.”

  Jackson snorted. “Yeah, well, that was just a side benefit.” He sighed and it sounded like it came from his soul. “It was time for me to get out of there anyway.”

  The sad disappointment caused a deep clenching in David’s gut. He recalled what Jackson had told him, how he’d commiserated with David over Trevor’s betrayal. “There was… someone?”

  Jackson huffed out a dark chuckle that was anything but amused. “I thought so, but we had a difference of opinion about family loyalty. And fidelity, for that matter. It didn’t take long for him to find someone
else.”

  “I’m so sorry he hurt you.”

  “I’ll survive.”

  And he would, David realized. Despite what fate threw at him, Jackson was a survivor. And apparently, so was he.

  “So, the bastion of conservative assholes.” Jackson sounded like he was intentionally lightening his tone as he changed the subject. “You managed to build a career here in spite of them.”

  David’s laugh was only slightly strained. “That’s only because they expect someone like me to be an interior decorator. Or a florist. Or a ballet dancer.” He flapped his wrist, but Jackson didn’t smile.

  “What does that mean, someone like you?”

  “Come on, you know what I mean. I’m not exactly a pillar of masculinity.”

  “Who told you that? The asshole ex?” There was a crease between the arched black brows.

  “Yeah, him. And about everyone I’ve ever met outside of my living room. I know who I am, Jackson, and I don’t have a problem with it. I think people don’t give me grief because I’m precisely what they expect me to be. I fit the stereotype. You, on the other hand, challenge their preconceptions about what a gay man ought to look like.”

  “Why, because I don’t skip down the street and fart glitter?”

  David laughed, but Jackson didn’t.

  “I hate that crap.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “The whole ‘straight-acting vs. gay-acting’ thing. What does that even mean? Believe me, I’m plenty gay. The fact I drive a pickup and wear a tool belt doesn’t have a damned thing to do with anything other than how I make a living.”

  “But with the pickup and the tool belt, you look like them, and it freaks them out.” Jackson frowned at him and David held up his hand. “Jackson, I’m on your side, remember?”

  Jackson blew out an explosive breath. “Yeah, I know. I just think you’re fine the way you are.”

  Warmth curled through David’s belly. “Thank you. And I happen to like your tool belt, okay?”

  That made Jackson laugh, and the sound warmed David clear through. He looked at David, one brow raised. “Oh, yeah?”

  David nodded. “Definitely. Very sexy.” He turned onto his street, slowing his speed. “Now, are you tired?”