The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark

2.12 Mr. Mac

June 11, 4:07 pm

"You were a little butterball, even in high school," Michelle said, laughing. "You can't blame it all on Richard's cooking!"

It had been three days since the aborted hearing at the courthouse, and since the fateful evening Richard had spent with Billy at Valley Fair Mall. Three days since the appalling sight of Mattie retrieving her new servant in the blood-soaked theater. And three days since Billy had done his best to explain the Hereafter, and the looming devastation that was threatening the Salt Lake Valley. Three days since Richard had rejected Billy's pleas for help and walked away.

And in those three days, Richard had not left Keith's side.

This afternoon, Pil and Michelle had taken Keith out to get a suit for Richard's funeral tomorrow. They were pawing through the suit coats at Mr. Mac in City Creek Center, not far from the Avenues.

For all of Michelle's teasing, Richard knew she was right—Keith was no chubbier now than when they met. He had always been built like an Ewok. But that had been fine with him.

Richard spoke to Michelle as if she could hear him.

"Ideally, a boyfriend should feel like a hot water bottle full of Devonshire cream," he said, purposefully misquoting the line. "Not a paper sack stuffed with curtain rods."

That line was an old joke between them, and Keith would always laugh when he used it. It was easy to pretend that Keith was laughing now because of his joke, rather than at Michelle's comment about him being a little butterball.

Maybe this is how I survive, Richard thought, running his fingers along a rack of stone jackets. I just walk around with Keith and his friends for the next fifty years, pretending I'm part of the conversation. Throwing in my jokes when I can, and convincing myself that it's me that's making them laugh

The appeal of wandering, impotent and unseen at Keith's side forever, had already worn thin. And it had only been a few days.

How am I going to face it for eternity? he wondered.

When he ran from Billy that night, he felt completely certain that nothing mattered except being with Keith. He'd made his promise and he intended to honor it. He'd stay with Keith and do whatever he could to protect him and care for him. Even if that meant nothing more than just walking two steps behind him, wherever he went, for the rest of Keith's life.

This sucks, Richard sighed, mindlessly drumming his fingers on a rock-hard stack of dress pants.

And if my resolve is already weakening, after only a few days, how can I possibly hope to make it another fifty years? And when Keith is gone—then what?

The first day he had been back with Keith, that promise had felt so right, so certain. But now, it loomed over him like a life sentence.

"I'm not sure I can do this, Baby Bear," he sighed, leaning his head heavily against his lover's back, as he thumbed through the coats. "But where would I go? According to Billy, there is no running, and no escaping this... place. Maybe I should just go out into the desert, like the mad ghosts he told me about. Just stare into the sun until I have no mind left to feel so alone."

"Here, try on this gray one," Pil said, shouldering Richard aside as he walked up next to Keith. "It looks a little roomier around the belly."

And they all laughed again.

"Yeah, like you're so svelte yourself," Keith said, rolling his eyes. He poked a finger into Pil's midsection, and Pil giggled in his imitation of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.