“Besides, I’m not really planning to do any night driving around here, so I think we’re good.” I reply.
He looks back at me before opening the passenger door of the newer gray pick up truck. “Colin said you are going to be here for a couple months.”
I climb into the oversized vehicle, and to my recollection, I had never set foot into such a beast. “I’m thinking about it, but I haven’t decided yet,” I reply through the open window after he shut the door, leaving out that he is why I am reconsidering staying.
“Oh,” Christian begins before walking around and getting into the driver’s side. He turns the key and, looking over at me, adds, “That’s odd. He made it sound like a sure thing. He said Em was super excited about helping you plan the wedding.”
“She is?” I ask, surprised by the revelation. “I wasn’t sure when we talked if it was even something she wanted to do. I was afraid I was putting too much on her with the gallery and the baby.”
“Are you kidding me? Em and her best friend’s wedding. It’s all she’s been talking about since you got engaged.” There is no pain in his voice. He isn’t hurting over me marrying someone else. I breathe a sigh of relief as I realize, in fact, this is just a friendly dinner, and I have nothing to worry about.
Except for Em. I had been so hateful to her before I left, and all she was doing was trying to look out for me. I need to remember to do something extra nice for her when I get home.
“All right, so I gotta know,” I continue. “A roadie—what were you thinking?”
Christian takes a deep breath, his eyes never shifting from where his headlights hit the road.
“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business,” I quickly add, sensing his hesitation.
“No, that’s not it,” he says. “It’s just— it’s embarrassing.”
“Christian Bennett! I’ve known you since we were kids, and you’ve never gotten embarrassed about anything. Let me guess, you did it for a girl.”
He smiles, but still says nothing.
“Oh, wait, shit, it wasn’t a girl at all, was it? I had no clue,” I say, insinuating perhaps he is more interested in boys.
“Huh?”
“It’s cool, and it actually explains a lot about why we didn’t work out,” I continue.
“What explains a lot?” he demands.
“You became a roadie because you were trying to impress a boy,” I say, keeping a straight face. “And I want you to know, I completely support you. I think it’s very brave of you to come out and be so open about it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Christian gasps, looking back and forth between the road and my face. His expression is too much for me to handle. I burst out laughing, unable to contain it any longer.
“Something isn’t right about you,” he remarks firmly, reaffixing his gaze on the highway.
“Oh, come on.” I slug him playfully in the arm. “Since when did you become so serious? If it wasn’t for a girl, then why’d you leave New York?”
“I never said it wasn’t for a girl.”
My heart sinks. I had always assumed he left for a girl, but to have him confirm that, only a few months after I left for the European modeling job, he had already moved on, stung. I realize I’m staring at him. Don’t stare. Look anywhere but at him. Change the subject. He can’t see that this hurts. Don’t let him see.
“Do you enjoy what you do now?” I ask, before forcing myself to look away.
Christian seems to be thinking about my question. “I love it. You know that I’ve always enjoyed working with my hands. I don’t have to keep regular hours, since most of my sales are through custom orders, and when I can’t sleep, I can stay up all night working if that’s what I want to do.”
“You still have trouble sleeping?” I ask, a little surprised he had continued to be plagued by the affliction. When Christian’s parents died, he was only ten years old. He had night terrors most of his childhood, which then manifested into insomnia as an adult. Originally, that was how his drinking problem started. The alcohol helped him sleep.
When he quit drinking he would sometimes be up for days. That was when we figured out sex was a huge help. I shiver as I think about the passionate nights we used to share, ending only when exhaustion would overcome us.
“It’s gotten bad again since I stopped drinking.”
“Wait, what?” The words slip from my lips, dripping with disbelief.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“No, it’s … I didn’t …” My thought trails off, and I fall silent.