Henry's End by Julie Richman

Author:Julie Richman [Richman, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00XIB9KP4
Publisher: Julie A. Richman
Published: 2015-05-09T23:00:00+00:00

“Let me apologize in advance,” Quinn joked nervously. “But she has been relentless about having you join us for Sunday dinner for weeks now.”

Henry just laughed as they approached Quinn’s mom’s house. “I loved your mom when I met her. She’s so real.” Henry held a bouquet of Stargazer lilies in his lap, Jeanne’s favorite flower.

“Yeah, she’s real all right.” Quinn rolled his eyes as he navigated the car through the streets of an older housing development.

Taking it all in, Henry envisioned a young Quinn riding his bicycle around the winding blocks. “I’m trying to picture you here as a kid.”

“It was a great neighborhood to grow up in. Lots of kids to play with, good local sports teams. My dad coached T-Ball.” Quinn’s eyes were shining.

Feeling a pang of envy for his normal childhood, Henry smiled as he looked at Quinn’s profile. “You miss him, don’t you?”

“Every day.” He appeared introspective. “These last few weeks, with you, I’ve just kept thinking how much I wished that he could have met you.” Quinn reached over and gave Henry’s hand a squeeze before announcing, “We’re here.”

As they entered a 1970’s style ranch home, Henry’s senses were warmly greeted by the heady aroma of Jeanne Callahan’s ‘Sunday Stew’.

As Henry handed her the lilies, she reached over and pinched her son’s solid upper arm, “I really like this boy, Quinny.”

“Me too, Ma. A lot.”

“So is this serious?” Jeanne Callahan did not have a shy bone in her body.

Henry could feel the heat rise in his face and hoped no one was actually expecting an answer from him. Instantly he was relieved, when Quinn took care of it with an arm around Henry’s shoulder, pulling Henry close against his side, his beautiful smile beaming.

Looking from one to the other, Jeanne smiled and turned to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “I’ve got cold beer in the refrigerator for you boys.”

Following his mom, Quinn came back a few minutes later, carrying two Coronas with the limes already perched halfway down their longnecks.

Handing the beer to Henry, they clinked bottles, smiling. “You want to see my bedroom?” Quinn had a devilish smirk on his face.

“That’s a given.” Henry laughed, as he followed him down the hall.

Behind the wooden door was exactly what Henry had expected. Entering a pale blue room, the color of Quinn’s eyes, they were greeted by a twin bed neatly covered with a navy blue quilt and sky blue pillows. Lining the cherry wood desk and bookshelf were trophy after trophy for track and swim team wins. As he walked around the room, bending down to see pictures of a young Quinn, it was impossible not to be transported back to the handsome cop’s youth. Lining the walls were music posters – Pink Floyd, Peter Frampton, Bruce Springsteen.

The door squeaked as it closed and Henry heard the click of the lock. Coming up from behind, Quinn wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, so that he could feel his hard-on.

“Your mom’s here,” Henry protested.

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