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“Has Joliver appealed to you recently… or ever?” I ask Jeff as we take a walk through the woods on the other end of the Manse, opposite the Purlieu, where the path leads to the old live oak Kevin and I like to hug. “As the boyfriend intercessor, do you have any insight on him?”
Jeff laughs warmly as he shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks the same pebble over and over down the path. “That Joliver is … more aloof than the others.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I get the sense that he feels his daily closeness to you and his longtime friendship with Stephen and Jon makes him pretty tight-knit in the family.”
“Oh,” I say, not surprised at all. “Well, sure he is. I’ve known him for like 18 years now, been smitten with him most of that time, and he’s long been part of my exclusive satire circle.”
“Exactly,” Jeff says, pointing one finger at me. “He’s quite confident regarding you, despite his joking about it all the time.”
I sigh and keep walking, staring up at the fresh spring green leaves beginning to flutter in the branches above. A spark of doubt like the sun glints through the tittering gaps in the canopy. “He’s never been mysterious before, but now...” I say under my breath as we keep walking farther.
Jeff and I silently reach the old oak and casually sit side by side on the thick low-hanging branch, feeling it creak and give with our weight, but cradling us just fine. Jeff wraps an arm around my waist and smiles at my cryptically. “I um… this is why I’m not so sure I’m at liberty to divulge what he has said to me recently.”
My jaw drops. “So he did come to you?”
Jeff nods. “I respect him for admitting his hesitance about asking advice from me, and unlike Denis and Martin, he requested I keep mum about it if you asked.”
“Oh, Joliver…” I say, then take a deep breath as I stare into the endless trees. I shake my head, shut my eyes. “He knows I trust him… implicitly. To the end of the earth, past the end of time—”
“Like a husband,” he says rather flatly.
I hold my breath, stare at my sixth spouse with half an ounce of glare. “I trust him more than I do my other boyfriends,” I say, softly so as to not offend the loved ones who are not even present. I stare at my hands and Jeff picks one up to hold it to his chest. I look up and he’s sporting a strange smile. “What?”
“I think… he’s worthy of husband levels of trust.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs. “I trust him probably even farther than you do.”
Now I blink at him. “For serious?”
“I think a lot of us trust him more than you do.”
Blushing, I look away, clutch my free hand to my chest. “I’m impressed he’s impressed y’all so much.”
“I’m impressed he hasn’t impressed you more.”
I shake my head and huff a bit. “Are you suggesting I propose to him? Because if you are—”
Jeff laughs, pulls me into a big strong hug as he pets my hair and kisses my temple. “Oh, Red, I love when you bristle, you’re so cute, I just want to squeeze you.”
I tense for a moment, rankled with the stress of even this small suggestion of a frankly very monumental action. But then I relax in his ever tighter embrace, which provides me just the right amount of physical pressure to feel safe. His arms soon loosen enough to allow me a deep breath or two, and I look up at him, my sunniest husband, my most honest and cheerful companion, and I sigh. “Jeffrey.”
“Yes, Madam?”
“If you have a point, please feel free to come to it.”
He sighs then, and holds my face between his big palms. “You don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to, but perhaps a promotion? Have you given him nickname privilege?”
I nod. “But he’s not taking to it for some reason.”
“He’s just so used to formalities with you. Such a gentleman.” He scratches his hair a second. “Uh, you really still haven’t…”
“No, we have not.”
Jeff winces, thinks harder. “Gosh, is there anything higher than Deputy?”
I take his face between my hands now. “Jeff, has he expressed a need for any change? Surely you can at least answer that.”
He shrugs, bites his lip. “I dunno…”
“How am I supposed to help him if I don’t know what he wants?”
Jeff rubs his face and shakes his head. “Ahhh I’m sorry, Madam, it’s really not my place to say,” he insists as he stands up and faces me, his arms held out in a helpless gesture. Yet he smiles. “You and your old boyfriends… I promise to never be so secretive to you, as far as my feelings are concerned.”
I smile and get up, hopping back into his embrace. As I rub my cheek against his chest, I savor the scent of his clean fresh sweat mingled with the simple shea butter bar soap he uses. “You’re a doll,” I say. “Sorry to bother you so much about Joliver.”
He kisses the top of my head and tilts my face up toward him so he can beam at me. “I believe we could use a maitai right about now. Kick off Spring Break right. Whaddya say?”
“Mmmmm hell yeah, Mustang, let’s do it to it.”