Matrimony Homies

10: Worthy (Loren)

So far, this road trip isn't nearly as bad as I assumed it would be. He's not asked me anything personal or brought up the situation once.

Yeah? How long will that last?

Shut up.

You know it's coming.

Maybe. But until then, I plan to enjoy myself.

The next album I choose is Paul Revere and the Raiders, and we both know the lyrics of the first song "Kicks", which is fun. Soon enough, I'm using the dashboard as my drum set while Harry keeps time on the steering wheel. Our voices rise louder and louder as the chorus goes on until the bridge of course when I back off and allow Harry to sing solo before I join in again on the repeat chorus. The song is way too short, though, and the moment is ephemeral as we each refocus on the scenery or the road as the second song begins.

Conversation isn't required, right?

It's polite.

Fuck polite. He's a demon, and I want no part of conversing with him.

"Ran into your mum in Manchester last week..." I start, and instantly want to kick myself. What the fuck, Loren? You just said that dialogue wasn't necessary.

"Oh?" Harry sounds mildly interested, like he hadn't expected to chat either.

Well, I could just let the topic fizzle. But nooooooo. My stupid mouth opens and words come out. "She was at the Design Centre taking a pottery class."

"She's been learning more art methods. I think she really enjoys the creative process."

Nodding, I twist in his direction slightly. Talking about Anne always makes me happy. Hands down, she's the most inclusive and kind human I've ever known. "I love the artwork she's put out in the garden. The faces and busts that she repurposes are amazing. She's really talented."

"That she is. Did you see that one she made that looks completely phallic?" Harry asks, and I smirk, knowing exactly which piece he means.

"You mean the tree branch with the clusters of berries underneath?" We giggle together, and then 'I'm Not Your Stepping Stone' starts playing, leading to some headbanging, singing, and more abuse of the leather interior in his vehicle as we dance and scream-sing our way through with Paul Revere. As the song comes to its faded conclusion, we each take a deep breath, and I reach for the cooler at my feet, withdrawing the reusable water bottles he'd thoughtfully packed, handing the first to him.

"Thanks." Using one hand, he twists the cap on top and pours a healthy amount of water into his mouth. "Why were you there?"

"At your mum's garden?"

I hear his smile in his voice. "Nah. At the Design Centre."

"Oh. Business. We're releasing a new gin this fall with pine overtones. It's a limited edition release, so I'm commissioning some hand-blown glass bottles for it, and there's an amazing glass artist at the Centre who had some samples for me." My voice is quiet as this is usually the kind of detail I don't share with anyone. But honestly, it's not like it's a secret, and even if it were, who would Harry tell? Gems? Anne? They both already know.

There's a pause before he speaks. "That's awesome, Lor. Mum raves about your gin."

"And you? Do you like it?"

"Ummmmm..." he hedges, clearly stalling, and the answer is clear to me.

"Wait. You've never tried Rapier Wit?" I'm appalled. How could he not have tried it? Not even once?

"You've listened to all of my music?" he teases.

"YES!" I proclaim loudly. "I've listened to every album. More than once. How could you have not at least tried my gin?"