Page 94 of When Ben Loved Jace
Bernie slides the photo across the desk. Victor is standing outside the convenience store at night, leaning against the wall while smoking a cigarette. He looks haggard compared to the photos I’ve seen, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well.
“When I took that one, I told him it was because he was employee of the month. Which was a joke. Victor was easily the worst worker I’ve ever had. He would always stand outside like that while smoking. When a customer went inside, he’d say, ‘Just knock on the window when you’re ready to check out.’” Bernie chuckles and shakes his head. “He was a character.”
“Your employees must love you,” I say while considering the photos. “I doubt my boss could pick me out in a police lineup.”
“I don’t keep photos of them all,” Bernie replies. “Jace is special to me. Like a son.”
“Because you saved him?”
Bernie rubs his beard before replying. “That was something of a second chance for both of us. I wish I’d been a better father to my own son.” He nods at the bulletin board. “He had a helluva time after he was deployed. Not many soldiers who see action come back the same, and my boy was no exception. I figured that accounted for his behavior when he began spending all his time around another young fellah. They moved in together, which wouldn’t have raised eyebrows, except their apartment only had one bedroom. When my son tried to tell me about it, I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to know.” Bernie sighs. “Things were different back then, although that’s no excuse. The world was changing. I just wasn’t keeping up. When my son wanted to bring his friend home with him for Christmas, I put my foot down, like a small-minded fool. So uh…” Bernie leans back, the office chair squeaking. “By the time I met Jace, I’d smartened up a bit. Never take a second chance for granted. Nothing is more tragic than history repeating.”
He picks up the photo of Victor and then the others. Bernie asks how my parents handled my coming out and seems genuinely happy when I tell him that they’ve always been supportive. We talk a little more about ourselves before Jace rejoins us.
“Whiskey is still buy one, get one free, right?” he asks. “Ihope so, because a guy just bought ten bottles. Although he only paid for five.”
Bernie narrows his eyes. “Take off that vest. You’re fired.”
We leave the office and hang out a little longer by the front counter. Jace shares a few stories of his own before promising that we’ll stop by again on the way out of town.
“Don’t you dare fuel up anywhere else,” Bernie insists. “I’ll take it personal. Especially if you try paying me.”
We leave with a bottle of bourbon for Jace’s dad, enough candy and sweets that it’s sticking out of my pockets, and a tray of nachos.
“What do you think?” Jace asks once we’re seated in the car.
“Maybe I should have gotten a slushy.”
He laughs. “I always gain weight when I come home, and he’s the reason why.”
“Bernie is awesome,” I say. “I love him.”
“Good.” Jace leans over and kisses me. “I knew he’d love you. Are you ready to meet my parents?”
I nod and dunk a chip in neon-orange cheese. “Should I save my appetite?”
Jace shakes his head. “We’re probably having salad for dinner. My mom is a health nut. Speaking of which, tear me off a piece of that honey bun.”
“Which one?” I shimmy my shoulders while biting my lower lip.
“Up to you,” Jace says, “but it’s a short drive, and you know I like to take my time.”
“Are we going to be staying in your old bedroom?” I ask innocently.
“Yeah. How come?”
“It’s all those photos of you with long hair. I want to pretend we met in high school. Your bedroom will help set the scene.”
He shakes his head ruefully. “You’re such a perv.”
Guilty as charged.
Chapter Twenty-two
I’m not at all surprised to discover that Jace’s parents are wonderfully kind people. His father is mostly bald except for a ring of white hair. His spectacles are so thick that his eyes appear as if they’re trapped in fishbowls. I’m guessing Jace gets his looks from his mother, who is thin and elegant, her silver hair woven into a single braid that she wears over one shoulder. They live on the edge of town in a tri-level house that overlooks a narrow wooded valley. His parents waste no time in making me feel welcome.
“I was beginning to think that Jace would never bring anyone home,” his mother informs me over coffee in a sun-drenched kitchen. “Is it too soon to talk about grandchildren? We aren’t getting any younger.”
That’s certainly true. Jace’s parents look notably older than my own, but that might explain why he turned out so well. Not many people have their shit together in their twenties. I certainly don’t. I can’t imagine raising kids. I can barely take care of myself.
