“Now, Ace, sweetie, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble.” The sound of Rusty’s mother’s voice slipped into the room along with the soft shush-shush of her shoes against the tile. He fought the pull of unconsciousness. “I’d have been just fine with a salad down in the cafeteria.”
“Those salads are more gray than green,” Ace’s soft baritone acted as a balm to Rusty’s soul. Or maybe that was the drugs. It was hard to tell the difference. “And I know how much you like the chicken salad sandwich from Corner Bakery, so I stopped by before coming to the hospital. Where’s Mr. Parker? I got him a roast beef and cheddar.”
“I keep telling you to call us Sylvia and Gary. And he’s downstairs in the lobby taking a phone call. Something happened back at the mill.” What had Rusty said about his father being a yinzer through and through? The man actually worked at a steel mill. It didn’t get any more Pittsburgh than that. “He’s trying to sort things from here. Doesn’t want to fly back home yet. Not ’til Rusty is better.”
Rusty heard them settling into the chairs beside his bed and wanted to open his eyes to look at them, his favorite people on earth. Unfortunately, the painkillers were working their magic. Every muscle in his body was liquid.
The scent of mayonnaise and cooked meat drifted toward him, proving his nose was still in fine working order, but the thought of actually ingesting food made his stomach turn. When he was about to slip away to dreamland, his mother said, “Ace, I don’t mean to pry, and you can totally tell me to mind my own business, but are you…” Her voice briefly trailed off. Her sandwich wrapper crackled. “Are you gay?”
A spurt of adrenaline shot through Rusty’s bloodstream. It did its best to combat the drugs.
“Yes, ma’am. I am.” Ace wasn’t about to hide who he was. Rusty envied him that.
“Do you think Rusty is?”
Rusty’s heart thundered. He tried to open his eyes, but they refused to obey. Why had his mother asked Ace that question? He’d never done anything or said anything to make her suspect. Hell, he’d moved half a world away so she wouldn’t suspect and—
“Do you think Rusty is what?” Rusty’s father’s bass boomed into the room.
“Shush, Gary,” his mother scolded. “Keep your voice down. For crying in the sink, Rusty’s sleeping.”
“He sleeps too much. Can’t be good for him. Needs to get up and get his body moving. That’s the only way it’ll heal.”
“And you went to medical school and got your doctor’s degree when?” his mother came back curtly.
“Mr. Parker, I picked up a beef and cheddar from Corner Bakery for you,” Ace intervened before a round of bickering broke out. Rusty’s parents loved each other to pieces, but that didn’t stop them from arguing like…well, like a couple that’d been married for thirty-five years.
Rusty heard a whack and imagined his father had clapped a hand on Ace’s shoulder. “Thought I told you to call me Gary, son.”
“How did the call go?” his mother asked.
“Fine. Fine. I swear, them boys don’t know their asses from holes in the ground, but I got ’em squared away. Now what’s this you were talking about when I came in? Do you think Rusty is what?”
“Never mind,” his mother said. “Eat your sandwich.”
“Damnit, woman. You know I hate secrets. What’s going on in here?”
His mother blew out a windy-sounding sigh. Or at least Rusty thought she did. Or maybe he was dreaming. Was he dreaming?
“I asked Ace if he was gay,” his mother said. “He said he was.”
For a while, Rusty’s father said nothing. Then, “I reckon I sort of figured that one out on my own. He don’t look at that pretty brunette nurse like a straight man should.”
“And how should a straight man look at her?” His mother’s voice held a warning edge.
If this was a dream, it was far too much like reality.
“Now don’t get your tail feathers in a twist, Sylvia. She’s young enough to be my daughter. And besides, I like a woman with a little meat on her bones.” A loud smacking sound told Rusty his father had kissed his mother on the cheek. “But Ace here, he should be drooling. And he ain’t. So…gay.”
The low rumble of Ace’s laughter reached Rusty’s ears at the same time he felt himself sinking. Sinking. The meds, which had been lapping at his consciousness like steadily increasing waves on the beach, became a riptide and pulled him under.
Chapter 37
Ten days later…
Ace leaned against the wall outside Rusty’s hospital room and took a long sip of his drink. The chai tea helped to mask the astringent smell of bleach left behind by the housekeeping staff after they’d mopped the floor.
