I nod. “The concerts I go to can get a little…rowdy.”
“Mosh pit?”
I lift a shoulder.
“People give you shit for the sparkly stuff?” he asks, raising his chin toward my festive makeup.
I shake my head and fidget with my coffee. “I don’t wear the colorful stuff in those environments. Don’t want to get my skull caved in.”
Junior’s grip tightens on his paper cup and the lid pops off. He drags his napkin through the errant drops of coffee, then carefully pushes the lid back on. “People usually give you a hard time?”
I shrug. “Depends. I mean, my dad was the worst of them, so if Lawson Clausen mutters the f-slur under his breath while passing me on the salad dressing aisle, I’m not, you know, going to go all ‘I’m melting’ in the middle of H-E-B.”
His jaw clenches and he scratches his pretty beard. Gesturing at his T-shirt, he says, “I wear shit like this all the time, and I can promise you that fucker Clausen keeps his mouth shut whenever he’s around me.”
The thing he doesn’t say—but we both know—is that while he’s out and proud, unless you’re paying attention, he passes for straight.
I don’t. Never have. And suddenly, I feel so tired.
“Honestly, Junior, I wanna…not think about shit for a while. My mom just served Dad with divorce papers, and he’s going to be a total nightmare. I’m failing on all four cylinders, so…can we just, like, put up some garlands or something?”
Junior’s face softens immediately, and he grabs my hand. “Of course. Sorry for dragging the conversation down. It’s just you and me today, so let’s keep it fun.”
I fuss with myfucking awesomehat and avoid eye contact. “Okay. Thank you.”
We finish our breakfast and then climb into his Rebel Sky work truck to head out to Miss Lucille’s place just outside town. Miss L and her husband lived in the area for decades, but her husband died a while back. She’s been living on her own ever since.
The first thing we notice when rolling up to her place is that the fence is broken in a few areas.
“I wonder if we can fix that for her somehow?” I ask as we make our way up her long driveway.
Junior shakes his head. “Justin and Nacho from the fencing company said to just let them know when we see a fence that needs worked on, and they’ll come out here and do it.”
“For free?”
He nods. “We try to find ways to take care of folks in the community when we can.”
I like the sound of that.
If I remember correctly, her little place used to look cute. But the bushes in front of her house are overgrown, as is the yard, and she doesn’t have flowers in the flower boxes anymore.
Junior knocks on the door, his eyes taking in her yard. After several long moments, Miss Lucille comes to the door in her housedress, leaning on her walker. She’s cute as a bug, and even though I’m a little worried about my appearance, she lights up when she sees us.
“Oh! Two strong young men at my door? My luck is changing,” she cackles, inviting us in.
“How are you doing, Miss Lucille?” Junior asks, giving her a light hug.
“Oh, I’m okay, honey. It’s a little lonesome out here, so I appreciate visitors.”
He nods. “I’m so glad you’re letting us help with the Christmas decorations.”
“Well, honey, I don’t know why you would bother to come out here. Hardly anyone lives out this way.”
“You live out this way. I know you enjoy this time of year.”
“That I do. It used to be my favorite.”
Pictures of people who look to be her grown children are scattered throughout the place, and I’m curious about why it’s no longer her favorite time of year.
