The Jester

Chapter 21. Jessica

Currently watching the Paris 2024 Olympic opening ceremony! :) 

"You doing okay?" Adrian asks quietly as we pull into the brewery.

I nod, "Yeah," I squeeze his hand. The hike down from the mountain was calm and quiet, neither of us speaking much. He stopped me from slipping on more than one occasion and kept mostly quiet since we left the top of the mountain. "You?"

"Yeah," He pulls his hand from mine to put my car in park then climbs out. I smile a little as he comes over, opening my door. "Après-vous, madame."

"Merci," I climb out of the car, stretching. "I didn't really have lunch food back at the Chalet."

"I'm sure there's food here or we can go into town," He replies, gesturing at the entrance. I nod and we walk in, a waiter rushing past us calling out that it is self seating and to order from the bar. I walk up front, Adrian's steps a little forced. "What's a flight?" He asks, leaning down behind me so his lips are at my ear.

I smile, cutting the line briefly to grab a menu then return to him, my eyes searching until I point out a table near us. "See?" I point, "It's where you can try four, but sometimes five, types of beer instead of committing to a pint." I tap the menu against his chest, "So read through and see what calls to you. Stouts are that dark colored ones, like Guinness. Hops is what makes it taste more...beer-y."

He stares at the menu, overwhelmed. "Why can't this be easier?"

We reach the front desk, a man with a thick beard and suspenders greeting us. "What can I get you folks?" He asks.

"My-friend," I start, staring straight at the bartender when Adrian's head snaps to look at me. "He's never done a flight before. Can you help him with finding some beers he'd like?"

The bar tender grins, nodding. "Absolutely." He begins explaining the various types of beer, hops, and asking Adrian his usual go-to's for a night out.

Under the bar, Adrian's hand reaches out for mine and I find his, intertwining our fingers. His body language relaxes instantly, engaging with the bar tender, and trying a few samples before settling on his four. "I didn't know there were this many types of beer," He says quietly. "We usually just get whatever from the corner store."

I smile, "It's good to try new things." I reply softly then order a flight that Henry would have loved, flinching slightly at the Irish stout, earning a shocked look from the bar tender. We order a few appetizers to share then go sit, Adrian holding our table number.

We both sit on opposite sides of a picnic table outside, despite the chill in the air. The sun shines down, making it about 10 degrees hotter which warms everything up. The brewery sits midway up a different mountain than the one we climbed and is a popular spot for hikers post-climb. It has a nice view of the lake we saw earlier from Mount Scarton. Seeing the blue heron fly at us with such intent made it feel like it was Henry, watching us, telling me it was okay to move on with Adrian. I had been so takenaback by it, I did not even take a picture for Kevin. It all happened so quickly.

Then, as we continued the hike to the summit, I saw more signs of Henry. Wildberries he used to collect and bring home, oakleaf, and a yellow-rumped warbler. Adrian gave me the space during the hike to process and grieve, allowing me to take as long as I needed to continue writing in the notebook. I looked up in time to see him, a hardened gangster, taking pictures for a couple getting engaged. It was such a stark contrast to his exterior but it made me smile. When he looked back, both the couple looking as well, I knew they were talking about me and everything felt right when I made eye contact with Adrian for a brief moment.

I analayze him down as we wait for our flights and food. I stare at the corded muscle of his forearms, highlighted by the intricate tattoo that went up his arm and into his chest. His face sports a slight beard since he did not shave this morning and his hair is unruly from the hike. His skin is still tanned from a summer outside and despite the accident, his body is very fit. Last night, my fingertips ghosted over his abdomen, feeling the muscle beneath as I fell asleep. I did not miss the way his breath stuttered when I got closer to his boxer line before quickly removing my hand.