Jasper gave out a little hiccupping sound and began to cry, cursing himself for it. When he could get his breath together enough to speak, he asked, “And do you think I ever asked her about her love life… or want of a love life? Did I ever try to help her find someone? No! Then I wouldn’t have my best friend. I wouldn’t have my crutch when we went out, a crutch I was willing to throw aside as soon as a pretty boy looked my way. I’m sure she minded sometimes. I was thoughtless. I was selfish. I was inconsiderate. I took her for granted. Until now, when it’s too late.” Jasper let out a shaky breath, feeling that he’d betrayed her, that her suicide was his fault because he couldn’t ever be all she needed and wanted him to be.
“You don’t know that,” Robert said in an obvious attempt to comfort him.
“Yes, yes, Idoknow that. I knew it when I’d drag my slutty ass in at 3:00 a.m. and she’d be waiting up. She never chastised me or said she’d been worried. No, she’d listen to me pour out the same old story every time—how cute he was at the bar and then he was an asshole at his place. How he used me and then sent me off, because he had to ‘get up early.’ She’d always be so comforting, so kind. She’d always put a little hope in my bank.
“And we’d almost always end up snuggling in her bed and spooning as we drifted off.” Jasper snorted with laughter. “She never even complained about the smells! Alcohol out of my pores and rubbed-off Old Spice!”
Robert chuckled.
“I was the reason she killed herself.”There. It’s out. Admitted. Confessed. No turning back.Jasper thought he might as well think of himself as a murderer. Because if he’d only reciprocated a little where Lacy was concerned, only shown her a fraction of the kindness she’d shown him instead of taking, taking, taking, she might be alive today.
Robert shook his head. He took Jasper’s hand in his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing so hard it hurt a little. “You give yourself too much credit, my friend. Maybe you did play into the reasons my niece decided she didn’t want to live anymore, but you can’t take it all on your shoulders. For one, it’s kind of vain to think that way. I have no doubt you guys loved each other; I can see that in your eyes, in your tears. You grieve, and often when we grieve, we want to blame someone, even if it’s ourselves.
“Yeah, you might have made her wish that you were a straight boy and that you held the key to romantic bliss as no one else could, but you also have to give yourself credit for bringing a lot of happiness and security into her life. It sounds like you were great friends. Dare I say soul mates?
“We do what we want to, and Lacy chose to be with you, chose to go out to gay bars with you, chose to have you by her side in bed. Maybe it wasn’t ideal, and maybe it was. We’ll never know because she can’t tell us. But don’t beat yourself up. I know the family she came from. I know who her father was and the things that went on when she was growing up….” Robert’s voice trailed off, and Jasper wondered if it was because the history he hinted at was dark.
Families always had secrets.
Robert closed his eyes. “And you’re gonna make me cry.” He swiveled, turning to face the bartender, who was still studying her newspaper.
“Hey!” He laughed. “I’m sorry, what’s your name? I don’t know you well enough to call you honey or doll.”
“Thanks. If you did, you’d know I’m no doll. Anyway, it’s Venus. You know, goddess of the mountaintop?”
Robert laughed again. “Sure. Venus is your name. So, Venus, would you mind bringing us just one more round?”
“No problem, sweetie.” Venus busied herself mixing and pouring. Jasper met her brown-eyed gaze and saw kindness there. He wondered if she’d overheard their conversation.
She brought the drinks to them. Leaning down, she said softly, “These are on me. Sorry for your loss.”
They both thanked her. She hurried off, waving away their gratitude.
Robert lifted his glass. “To Lacy.”
Jasper noticed that he used what Jasper thought of as herrealname, and he appreciated it. “The best friend I’ll ever have.” Jasper clinked his glass against Robert’s.
They didn’t talk for a while. Even through the tinted front window, Jasper could see the snow was still coming down. He thought of how Lacy would have loved it. “I’m not one of those Chicago people who bitch and moan about the cold and the snow,” she’d say. “I love it.”
And she did. On cold snowy days, she’d whip up a batch of her beef stew, which used Guinness as a main ingredient, and the two of them would sit inside, eating big bowls of the stuff with a hunk of beer bread, watching old weepers likeImitation of LifeandMadame X, feeling all safe and warm inside with the steam radiator clanking every so often as though to remind them from where the warmth they enjoyed was coming. She’d also force him to get bundled up so they could have a “day at the beach” as she called it, heading down to the shore at the end of the street. Fargo Avenue beach would be deserted, blanketed in white, with ice creeping out from the shoreline. Those days, she could make him feel like they were the only two people on earth. They’d make snow angels and bombard each other with snowballs, like little kids.
“You’re remembering her, aren’t you?” Robert asked.
Jasper nodded and took a big gulp of his drink so he wouldn’t sob. “How did you know?”
“I could see it in your eyes.” Robert touched Jasper’s cheek. “And what beautiful eyes they are. At first I thought you had tinted contacts, because they’re such a gorgeous emerald color, but they’re not, are they? I don’t see any sign of contacts.”
“Just my eyes, I thank my mom for the color. You’re the one, though, with beautiful eyes.”
Just then, the door opened, and a trio of guys came in, laughing and stamping snow off their feet. They looked like Loyola frat boys. They were cute, but Jasper resented their intrusion. He was just beginning to feel comfortable and comforted around Robert.
Robert eyed him, and the lines around those fantastic eyes, the creases in his forehead, his close-shorn beard and thinning hair, more salt than pepper, gripped something in Jasper. His full lips, begging to be kissed. One more cosmo and Jasper thought he could easily lean across the table and plant one on him, in full view of Venus and the frat boys, who were now climbing up on stools and clamoring for Leinenkugels.
“How old are you, anyway?” he blurted out. The question came to him from out of nowhere, but he knew deep down he’d been wondering since Robert had first confronted him outside the washroom at the funeral home.
“Just turned fifty,” Robert said, with what Jasper perceived as a hint of pride. “How old are you?”
Jasper smiled. “Why, sir, I’m half your age.”
