38. Davis

Davis liked to listen to Jeremy speak, the way he added details to his speech with elegant gesticulations of his hands and pointed grimaces and smiles to emphasize his jokes. He wasn’t loud funny, like Alex or Barry back home, but he had a quiet humor. More Moe than Larry or Curly. A straight man who brought the house down.

And wasn’t that an ironic role for him to play.

Jeremy started talking about his trips to San Francisco, about an art museum that had a hideous new building but an amazing collection. Jeremy’s stories expanded like fractals, like how tree branches grew and meandered, yet retained the same trunk and roots.

The museum in San Francisco led to Jeremy talking about a visit to a train station that became a museum in France. That deviated to how Jeremy had been following the reconstruction of Notre Dame and then casually moved to how there was a church that he wanted to see be completed in Spain.

“Have you been to Europe?” Jeremy asked, licking his lips and looking at Davis.

Davis snorted. “Jeremy Rinci, the first time I was on a plane was when I flew out here to interview.” He swallowed a laugh as Jeremy tried— and failed— to hide his surprise at that fact. Davis imagined that Jeremy had grown up attending art openings and, well, whatever fancy people did, whereas Davis was lucky if they could drive to the New River for a few days on summer vacation.

“Wow,” Jeremy said.

“I know, I know, dumb hillbilly,” Davis said, more to defuse any potential fight than anything else.

“No, amazing. You’re still experiencing new things as an adult. That’s brave.” Jeremy looked at him as if he could peer into his soul, sort through his memories. Previously, that type of closeness, especially with a man, had made Davis want to run to the trees and never return. Now, however, he still craved the forest surrounding him, but he also wanted to bring Jeremy around him.

The sun had mostly set, just a faint glow behind the mountains, and Davis could just make out the outline of a bird. A dark-eyed junco, he thought.

It felt like a protective bubble had settled around Jeremy and Davis, the two men held in the protective bosom of some beautiful earth mother, allowing them to exist in a world that was just the two of them.

And Mary Anne, who was snoring, her chin on Jeremy’s left shoe.

“I want to take you to Europe,” Jeremy said a bit dreamily.

Davis allowed himself to live in this dream world, just for a moment. They were safe here.

“I want to take you to Yellowstone, show you Old Faithful,” Davis replied. Eyes met and a smile was shared. Jeremy reached out and picked up Davis’s forefinger between his fingers, pinched it just enough to say I’m here. Davis interlaced his fingers with Jeremy’s, squeezed back.

“I want to take you to the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

“I want to climb Half Dome with you.”

“I want to take you to the Parthenon.”

“I want to show you my hometown.”

“I want to go back in time so you can meet my parents.”

Davis didn’t know what he could say after that, so he said the first thing on his mind. “I want to kiss you.”

And he did.