Monday - storytime
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One Night in December.
by Terrance O'Reilly
Prologue
"What a night!" I thought as I swiftly moved across the room to the bed.
The ice pellets were hitting the windows and the wind was howling. "Probably
a day off tomorrow."
I stripped off my shirt and slipped off my boxers, crawled over the dogs
curled on their trundle next to the bed and snuggled in behind my partner
who was already breathing deeply and regularly. God, it never ceased to
amaze me that this wonderful man now shared my life. Tomorrow it would be
seven years to the day. Seven years since I brought him home on a night
exactly like this one. I smiled and nuzzled his neck and kissed his ear.
He stirred.
"Finally getting to bed?" he asked in a voice husky with sleep.
I felt a familiar stirring in those nether regions at the sound of it.
"Yes, I wanted to get those papers graded." I responded.
"Well, from the sound of it you could have waited till tomorrow, " he said
meaning the sounds of the freezing rain and wind.
"Yeah, well if they do close school I have other plans, and I don't mean
just decorating the tree," I pressed myself up against him, slipped my hand
across the soft hair on his chest, brushed his sensitive nipple and squeezed
his bicep and held him close.
"Promise?" he said returning the pressure.
"Ubetchim," I replied in my best imitation of Little Beaver, Red Ryder's
sidekick.
"Okay then, ....... I love you, good night," he said and with a movement
he kissed the back of my hand on his arm.
"Good night," I whispered in his ear.
"Seven years ago tonight..... on a night just like this, I mused. "Seven
years ago............"
********************************************************************************
"Holy Shit!" I cursed out loud as I crawled along the interstate at a
snail's pace. Only a few truckers and I had not taken the warnings of an
impending ice storm seriously. They whizzed by me like they were
invincible.
"Macho Assholes," I thought to myself.
"Man, if only it were a few degrees colder this would be snow," It should
have been snow. It was December for Christ's sake: almost Christmas.
That's why I was out so late on this wretched night. I'd stayed at school
to finish off the skit for the school holiday assembly the next day, the
last day before winter break. My eighth grade home room had chosen to do a
parody on 'Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer', using the school staff as
the victims of Santa's errant steeds. The kids, of course, had all the
good intentions in the world but, as anyone who works with adolescents of
this age group will tell you, their follow through is not always what it
should be. So, I decided, what the Hell, this is probably the most
Christmas I'll have, so why not? I stayed and finished it up. Now here I
was creeping along the expressway hoping the truckers really did have the
control they seemed to think that they had.
Christmas hadn't been fun the last few years. Not since my wife of
thirty-one years had passed away in the week before the holiday. Since her
passing I hadn't done much with Christmas. Our kids had encouraged me to
continue with the holiday traditions after giving me a year to grieve, but I
just couldn't. She and I had loved Christmas: the decorating, the baking,
the shopping, the whole nine yards. Without her there didn't seem to be much
point in it. Oh, sure, I did my thing for my kids and the grandkids: went
to their homes, bought presents, took pictures, but at home.... in the house
..... as I referred to it now, well, I just couldn't.
There was another strange thing that happened after Patti was gone. When
she was here (I couldn't use the words alive and dead with regard to her) I
had several men friends with whom I played individually on a regular basis.
With them I met my needs for man on man contact: yep, that meant sex. I
had no qualms about it. I figured it was just like guys going out with the
boys to golf, bowl or have a few beers. It had nothing to do with Patti or
our life together. It was just a fact of my life. I was gay and that side
of me needed attention. I had made the decision to be married but soon after
found that I couldn't put aside my need for men in my life despite the love
I had for Patti and the kids. I had told her before we became engaged that
I was gay. I felt that was only fair. She accepted it and said she could
live with it. I never told her of my guy friends and she never asked so I
don't know whether she suspected or not. It just didn't seem to be
important. But, after she. . . died. . . there I said the word.......... I
was overcome with guilt. I felt that, in some way, I would be dishonoring
her. I couldn't do those things anymore. That is, see my friends. In the
first year it was easy, as I had no libido at all.
Soon the guys stopped calling and writing. It didn't matter. I didn't care
about that anymore. What a strange turn of the screw. When I was married
and should have been faithful, I had all the sex with men I needed. Now I
was free to have all the sex with men I needed and I didn't want it.
After a year things started to change. About that time I started feeling
the old stirrings. I began to check out guys I found attractive and even
resumed visiting some of the old Internet sites I used. I decided that
maybe someday I would venture out and try it again but for right now I would
keep a lid on it.
That's actually why I was on the interstate on this awful night instead of
taking a safer, longer way to the house. In late fall an obviously homeless
man started showing up at the base of my exit ramp. I don't know why he
intrigued me as I could barely see any of him at all. He wore a beat up old
coat with a hood and it covered most of his face. All I could tell was that
he wasn't over weight. Well, he was homeless, apparently, so that wasn't a
big surprise. The sign he carried confirmed it.
Please help.
Will work for food
Please.
Man, that tore me up. Every time I went by I looked for him. Every time I
saw him I was in turmoil. Should I pick him up and feed him? He looked so
vulnerable. He either sat on a box or stood with his little cardboard sign.
His shoulders were slumped and his head was down. Next to him was a knap
sack and a couple of plastic bags full of what was all he had in the world,
apparently. I never did pick him up. It was partially because I'd heard so
many stories about how homeless people just are too lazy to work or that
they are nothing but junkies or drunks and they just take advantage of you.
But the real reason was I couldn't separate my compassion from my feelings
of sexual desire for this unknown, unseen man. My fantasies would run
wild. I wound up deciding I was not ready to take the risk. Every time I
went by and he wasn't there I was relieved. Glad that someone had given him
some help. But, I also felt something that could be described as jealousy.
What was going on with that? Every time I went by and he was there I was
relieved that he was still okay, or somewhat okay. But the old turmoil was
there. And so it went.
As I approached my exit I thought, "This is stupid." He's not going to be
there on a night like this and you're taking your life in your hands driving
on this fucking road just to get a glimpse of some vagrant. You're a piece
of work alright."
But, as I exited onto the ramp and my wipers cleared off the spray some
daring trucker had dosed me with, my heart leapt. There was someone at the
bottom of the ramp. Wait, there were two someones, no, three. What was
going on? Somebody was being thrown into the roadway. The others were
picking up something and running off toward the overpass bridge. As I
approached the bottom of the ramp and skidded to a stop the guy in the road
was up and running, too. But he tripped on the curb and sprawled on the
muddy, icy ground spread eagle. I turned on my flashers and was out to the
car in an instant.
"Hey, man, are you all right?" I shouted.
"My stuff. They took all my stuff." He half yelled, half sobbed.
"Oh God! What am I going to do?"
"Come on, get in the car!" I ordered.
He started to obey and then held back.
"Get in the car damn it!" I yelled, "We can catch them if you move it!"
He complied this time and I put the car in gear, ran the red light at the
bottom of the ramp and turned left. We went under the overpass bridge.
"Where do you bums usually stay?" I said, not thinking at all of the effect
these words might have on my passenger.
"Sometimes we sleep up there," he said in a voice that was almost a whisper
pointing to the top of the space under the bridge.
I stopped the car and turned the flashers on again. We ran up the side of
the over pass and checked the space under the bridge on both sides of the
road. Nothing. We got back in the car and drove a bit further.
"Anywhere else?" I said checking the sides of the road as far as I could
see in the dark and the rain.
"No," came the dull reply.
"Okay" I said, turning the car around.
As we passed the light at the exit ramp he turned and looked back then
turned to me and said with some apprehension, "Where are you taking me?"
I looked straight ahead and said, "Home."
********************************************************************************
We drove the short distance to my house in silence. I was too busy trying
not to slide off the road to make conversation, for one thing. For another,
I was trying to figure out why, when he asked where I was taking him, I'd
responded, "Home." I hadn't referred to it as "Home" for a long time.
There definitely was something going on within me. Just what it was or
where it would go, I wasn't sure, but some sort of healing process seemed to
have begun. He just sat with his head bowed and his hands on the seat on
either side of him.
Pulling onto my street I hoped I could make it all the way up the small hill
to the house. I shifted the car into low gear and we made slow, but steady
progress. As I reached the top of the hill, I hit the brakes a bit too
hard and we skidded past the driveway. I had to back up to give it another
try.
As I stopped the car at the end of the drive I said, "Here we are, mi casa
es su casa." (Spanish for my house is your house.) "Shit, now why did I say
that?"
We got out of the car and promptly started to slide down the drive. We had
to hold each other up as we walked along the path to the door. Now that felt
good. My right arm around his waist, my left holding on to his left bicep.
When we reached the stoop I said, "I hope you like dogs cuz there are too
good sized ones that will be overjoyed to see us and will express it by
trying to lick us to death. So, much for trained watch dogs."
The last sentence was followed by an attempt on my part to laugh a bit but
it fell flat, as he didn't even act as if he had heard me.
I opened the door and, just as predicted, we were accosted by Jake and
Annie. Jake was a good-sized yellow lab. While Annie, though a fair sized
pup, was a diminutive example of a German shepherd. They immediately lost
interest in me and enthusiastically greeted the new comer. He squatted
down and was instantly bowled over on his back, being covered with kisses
from the two writhing, ecstatically happy animals.
"Whoa there guys, Jake, Annie!" I said feeling a bit of panic for his
safety. But he was issuing the first positive noises I'd heard that night.
He was laughing. He righted himself and buried his face in their warm,
welcoming fur and hugged them close.
"Well, thanks a lot you two," I said feigning hurt. "That's the thanks I get
for feeding your sorry faces." They completely ignored me and kept letting
our guest know that he was more than welcome here. I had to smile and felt
a warm glow at the sight before me.
"I get along well with dogs," he said simply.
"I see that," I replied to his understatement.
"I hate to break this up, but they've been inside since I left for school at
7:00 and they're probably about to burst." Addressing the two dogs, I said,
"Let's go out," They bounded through the dining room to the sliding door to
the deck. I stood and waited while they did their thing. They were back in
an instant being as anxious as anyone to get out of the freezing rain and
wind.
I turned to find him still standing in the entry hall, unsure of what to do.
"Come on in"
He walked slowly into the lighted kitchen.
"Shit," I thought, "He's a mess and now he's really shivering."
"Take off that wet coat," I said, almost as a command.
He followed my orders, the hood and coat came away and I got my first real
look at my fantasy of two months. He was dressed in a tee shirt and faded
jeans with holes in both knees. He wore sneakers but no socks.
"Hell, no wonder he was cold," I thought again. All these articles of
clothing were dirty and wet. Once more my heart went out to the poor guy.
How did this happen to someone? His hair was matted and came down to his
shirt collar. It was hard to tell for sure what color it was but I guessed
dirty blonde or reddish. He had a scraggly beard that might have once been
a Van Dyke. It was hard to tell now. His hands and face were dirty and the
latter was streaked with tear tracks and marks of doggy kisses. The thing
that struck me the most was his startlingly piercing, beautiful, blue eyes.
I stared into them. Felt my dick react and my heart beat increase. That
was it. I was in love with him. How could this be happening?
He broke our eye contact and looked down, ashamed of his condition.
"We have to get you warmed up," I said and headed him to the first floor
bath. He walked slightly ahead of me as I steered him by his shoulders. It
was heaven to touch him. I had had a chance now to access both sides of my
new charge and could tell that in the not too distant past this was a body
that had been well taken care of. I dropped off his coat in the laundry
room deciding that the garbage dumpster would be its next stop. I took him
into the small bathroom with its enclosed shower stall.
"You go ahead and get in the shower. Just leave your clothes on the floor.
I'll get you something dry and warm to wear. Again he looked at me with
that "I'm sorry to put you out" look.
I left and started to run upstairs when I noticed Jake and Annie were
sitting next to their bowls, looking expectant, and wagging their tails
furiously.
"Okay you beggars," I quipped and immediately was glad our new friend was
not there to be further embarrassed by my lack of tact. I filled their
bowls and they dove in as if they hadn't eaten all day. Well, that was
true. I smiled at my own befuddled thinking. Those blue eyes were
definitely having an effect.
I continued my trip up to the walk-in closet and took out my best Michigan
sweats, U of M tee, some white briefs and two pair of thick white socks.
Going back down stairs, I could here the shower running. Knocking lightly
on the bathroom door, I entered. I was pleased to be greeted by the warm,
moist air and was glad he wasn't too shy to use the facility to its best
potential.
"You doin' okay?"
"Fine, thanks," came the reply over the hiss of the steamy showerhead.
"I'm going to put some clothes here on the toilet seat. I'll get some clean
towels and some other stuff you might need."
"Okay"
The "stuff" I put out was a fresh razor, shaving cream, new toothbrush and
paste, hairbrush, comb and deodorant.
"Damn, I hope he's not offended by this shit," I thought. I didn't want to
embarrass him anymore than he already was. Awkwardly, I added, "Well, the
stuff is there if you want. No big deal," I said in an attempt to ward off
any more bad feelings. "Fuck, you're probably just making it worse, just
shut up!" I remonstrated with myself. "I'll go out and see what I can find
for us to eat. "You're hungry, right?" Damn, I was falling all over
myself. Of course he was hungry. I couldn't even take my own advice and
keep my big mouth shut.
I didn't wait for his response, if he even gave one. I just got out of there
before I said something else to pour more salt on the open wounds, picking
up his raggy clothes on the way. These and the worn jacket I deposited
outside the back door in the dumpster. I figured I had plenty that he could
choose from to replace them.
I busied myself in the kitchen trying to find something to feed us. It was
Thursday, I usually shopped on Saturday morning: another pattern from the
Patti days. The kitchen and I are not on the best of terms mostly my
"cooking" consists of heating things up in the microwave, and pre-cooked
meals.
I had enough stuff to make a nice salad. Setting out several cans of Chunky
soups, I would let him make his own choice. "Hey, hot soup on a cold night
ain't all that bad a choice," I rationalized. "If my students could hear me
use that word, they'd never let me forget it," I mused.
I let the dogs out again as they had finished their meal and then banished
them to the living room as they were not allowed in the kitchen during
meals. (Some of Patti's rules still gave me comfort.) I was just about
done with the preparations when I heard something behind me in the hallway.
I don't know how long he had been standing there but there he was, hands
still hanging by his sides, but looking less stooped, his head held higher.
"Hey, you're lookin' pretty sharp there." "Feeling better?"
"Yes, thank you," was his quiet reply.
I had to admit he did look 100% better. He had used the razor and
hairbrush. He looked good enough to....... Whoa there, hang on. He had
tried to trim his beard back to his Van Dyke and had done a reasonable job
on it. His hair, while still needing a trim was neat and clean. It was
that reddish color I had suspected, as was his beard. He was not exactly
what you would call handsome, but he had a kind of aura about him that made
you feel that he was. But, his eyes, those wonderful blue eyes. They were
the finishing touch that made the whole look. Now that I had a chance to
really see him I estimated that he was in his late thirties, maybe early
forties. Definitely younger, by far, than I.
"I hope you're a Michigan fan," I said referring to my clothing he now wore.
"I graduated from Michigan State," he replied.
"Oh geez" I thought, another blunder by the host.
But, he had a wry smile on his face and I knew that he was finding the
situation somewhat amusing. Again the thoughts arose. "How could
something like this happen to someone? He was a college-educated man. How
do things like this happen to people?"
"I made us a salad. There are dressings on the breakfast counter. I thought
I'd let you choose your own soup. Ah.... There's chili, too, if you like."
Now, it was my turn to be embarrassed by my lack of culinary skill. But, he
didn't seem to notice and chose the chili.
"Good choice," I said trying to make conversation, "that's my favorite,
too. Well, I'm not saying that it's your favorite, but I just thought that,
well..... You chose it so I ...... Shit, I'll just shut up now and we'll get
this meal started."
He laughed. It was a wonderful laugh. Full and rich. It filled the whole
room. The tension broke and we both relaxed.
"What would you like to drink?" I asked. "I have wine, beer and I made some
coffee. Decaf, if that's okay. I can't drink regular." "There's milk,
too, I think, if it hasn't gone bad."
"Coffee would be fine, black. I need to stay away from the wine and beer."
Another clue to the mystery of this guy who now more comfortably stood in my
kitchen, wearing my clothes and filling me with feelings I never thought I
would have again.
As we ate at the breakfast bar, sitting side by side, I switched on the
counter TV to see what was going on with the storm. They were saying that
if you had no reason to be out stay in. I checked to see if he had any
reaction to those words. I couldn't discern any.
While we sat and ate I noticed that Jake and Annie had sneaked into the room
daring to break the no kitchen rule to be near their new friend. Jake lay
on the floor at his feet and Annie stood with her head resting on his thigh.
They were definitely saying that he was welcome here. I had to agree. I
didn't have the heart to banish them from the kitchen and silently offered
my apologies to Patti. That seemed to do something inside of me. I felt
the grip of grief loosen.
"They sure like you" I offered.
"Well, the feeling's mutual," he said scratching Annie behind the ear
causing Jake to stand, and push his big head in for his share.
"I guess it's my love for animals and their affection for me that lead me to
become a vet."
"Ah," I said, "Michigan State." State was one of the best veterinary
medicine schools in the country. Now things were coming together. But, how
could a veterinarian wind up sleeping under a bridge and getting mugged in
the freezing rain?
My questions must have registered on my face or something because he said,
"I guess I owe you an explanation."
"You don't owe me anything. You can tell me what you want, when you want, if
you want."
"Thanks," was his reply. But he didn't go on.
********************************************************************************
After dinner, if you can label it that, I cleaned up. He offered to help
but I told him to go sit in the family room and relax. He nodded and
followed my directions to the room off the dining room. The dogs followed.
A few minutes later I joined them. He was leaning back on the couch with
his eyes closed. The dogs were once again at his feet. They raised their
heads in greeting but didn't change position when I decided to sit on the
love seat across from him rather than invade his space.
A million thoughts seemed to crowd into my mind at once. What was I doing
this for? I wanted to help him sure, but it was more than that. Did I want
someone in my life again? That seemed to be becoming clearer as the evening
had progressed and I'd felt those strong feelings for this man. But, how
illogical was all this. First, he was a homeless man I'd rescued from a
storm. What were the chances of his being gay? Second, even on the outside
chance he was gay, he was younger than I by probably fifteen or more years.
Maybe even twenty. Would he be interested in me? I shook my head trying to
shut off the stream of thoughts and confusion. It didn't work. I kept on
thinking. Third, what would the kids think? Well, I would cross that
bridge when I came to it. "Stop this," I remonstrated with myself again.
"This is fantasy. Your main concern is that he get some rest and maybe get
some direction for his life, period."
With that thought he stirred. "I'm sorry, I must have dozed off."
"No problem, man," my contact with the kids at school and their lingo,
showing itself. "You've had quite a night. Would you like to go to bed or
watch a little TV?"
"Go to bed I think," he said, suppressing a yawn. "I really appreciate all
of this." With that his beautiful blue eyes brimmed over with tears and he
began to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," was all he could manage to say.
I immediately moved to the couch and put my arm around his shuddering
shoulders. "Hey, its okay, I understand." Well, I didn't exactly understand
but I knew what it meant to need to let the hurt out. I had done that
plenty over the past few years.
We sat for a long time. He quietly crying, sitting with his hands over his
face. Me with my arm around his shoulder, rubbing his upper arm with my
other hand, feeling both protective and sexually aroused. Shit, the
confusion of feelings was almost more than I could take.
Finally he wiped his face on his sleeve and looked at me. "I didn't mean to
do that to you."
"Like I said, I understand. I've done a lot of that myself in the last
couple of years since my wife d. . . ah passed away. It would have been
nice to have someone to put their arms around me then." Man, had I said too
much?
He didn't say anything. He just looked into my eyes as if trying to process
the information he had just been given.
"Well, let's see about getting you into the sack." Cringe, shit, Freudian
slip. "Follow me"
I took him upstairs and showed him the bathroom. While he used it I made
sure that the back bedroom was presentable. I hadn't used it in years but I
had enough sense to keep it vacuumed just as Patti would have wanted. The
sheets were clean and the pillows fluffy. A lot better than the cold cement
under the bridge at any rate. Once more that sensation of unbelievability
regarding his situation flitted across my mind.
He appeared at the door behind me.
"Here ya go." I said gesturing toward the bed.
He walked into the room taking in the shelves behind me with all the
trophies testifying to years of attendance at athletic activities I'd
happily endured.
"Quite impressive," he said. "Your kids must have been into about
everything."
"Yes. You might especially appreciate these," I said indicating the last
shelf with all the ribbons and trophies my youngest daughter, Meg, had won
showing her horses.
His face lit up a bit and he walked to the shelf and started to examine the
photos and awards. "She had some quality animals here," his professional
expertise showing, much to my delight.
My daughter and I had spent many happy years doing the horse show circuit
and did it quite successfully.
"Well, I'll let you get some rest." I walked over and lightly placed my hand
on his shoulder. "Good night. If you need anything, I'm just down the
hall."
He didn't return the gesture but simply said, "Good night and thanks again."
I went back down stairs followed by the dogs who had come up to make sure
our guest was comfortable. I performed my usual before bed routine of
putting the dogs out one last time and straightening out the house. After
turning out the lights I went back upstairs. The dogs were ahead of me but
they didn't turn into our room. Instead they headed for his room. I
quietly looked in the door. Jake was on the floor next to the bed but Annie
was on the bed curled up against his chest with his arm draped over her.
"You lucky dog," I mused as I went to my own bed.
********************************************************************************
The phone rang. It was a computer-generated message telling me that school
had been closed due to inclement weather, and that we all should have a
happy winter break. It was politically incorrect these days to wish anyone
a Merry Christmas at school. I have to admit I missed the old fashioned
snow fan out where one teacher would call the next to let everyone know that
they could go back to sleep. For years the gym teacher for my middle school
had called me. He was a wise guy and always had some special way of getting
the message across. And besides, he was quite a hunk and had a voice to
match. On days that he called he often triggered a very satisfying fantasy
response.
I rolled over and stretched out on the bed. I thought about sleeping late
but decided I should just go about my usual routine. I looked out the
window. The world outside was all crystal and diamonds. It was unreal. It
was breathtaking. It was also frightening to think that he would be out
there somewhere in this if I hadn't decided to take the interstate home. I
smiled. I'd used the word home again. It wasn't just the house just now.
I tiptoed down the hall. The dogs were now both on the bed. I smiled and
shook my head. He was on his back, mouth slightly open, a bit of spittle
running down his cheek. Lying on his back he was slightly tenting the heavy
covers. "Wow," I couldn't help thinking, "If he can make that comforter
stand up he must have. . .Uh oh, there I go again."
"Come on," I gestured to Annie and Jake. They seemed to want to ignore me,
being content to stay and guard their buddy. "Come now," I mouthed and gave
the hand signal.
Reluctantly, they jumped down. He turned on his side away from me denying
me the joy of imagining what lay just beneath the covers.
We went downstairs and out on the deck. I had slippers on and was in my
boxers and shirtless. I immediately broke out in goose bumps and headed
back inside while the dogs slipped and slid all over the ice rink we now had
for a back yard. Bringing them back in, I fed them. I took my morning
vitamins and medications before heading for the basement to do my normal
work out.
I was about half way through my work out when the dogs arrived downstairs
announcing the arrival of our guest. When he rounded the corner, his eyes
perceptibly widened as he saw me sitting there, legs spread taking some deep
breaths, having just finished my final set of bench presses. His eyes swept
my frame from top to bottom. I was sure he hesitated when he reached my
groin. I was gratified by his response to my semi nakedness. Hope bloomed
in my chest.
Then he said, "Wow, this is some home gym."
"Well, it could have been in response to my bod, couldn't it?" I hoped.
"Yes, I guess it is. I set it up for my son, Pete, when he was into
football. I coached his jr. league team and wanted to make sure he was
getting the right technique when he decided to bulk up for high school."
"Well, it sure looks like you have gotten some good use out of it yourself."
Once more I believed all things were possible. "Thanks, I try. It gets a
little tougher as you get older." Now, why did I say that and draw
attention to the difference in our ages?
"You can't be all that old and look as good as you do."
"Am I hearing this right?" I thought. Oh happy day.
"You said you had kids?"
"Uh huh, four: two girls, two boys. Meg, Kathy and Peter are married. Meg
and Kathy live here in Michigan. Peter and his wife Angie live in Chicago.
Between them all, I have six grandkids."
"Not possible," he said.
Things were really looking up now. "And Mike is the oldest. He lives in
Boston with his partner, John."
Uh oh. . .TMI, too much information. His face went blank. He stared at his
feet.
"Well, um, I think I'll go upstairs and let you get done down here. Um
I'll see you later." With that he turned abruptly and left.
Oh shit. Things had been going so well. Or so I thought. Had I misread his
interest? The dogs followed him out the door. Annie turned to give me that
"won't you ever learn?" look and disappeared.
I hadn't even thought to sensor that last bit of news about Mike and John.
The whole family had accepted that Mike was gay so well. John had been
welcomed just as the spouses of the straight kids had. So I never thought
it would come as a shock. I was so used to being open about it that it was
out the door without thought to how he might take it. But, why had he
reacted that way? Was he homophobic? I let it go and finished my work out.
I was letting my imagination go too far.
Going directly to the downstairs bathroom, I showered, shaved and made
myself presentable. I came out and went looking for him. He was standing
in the living room staring out the big bay window. The sun was just
beginning to come up and the first rays were hitting the ice encrusted trees
and shrubs. The effect was magical. I came up behind him and we stood
looking out the window together. I had always loved sharing special moments
like this with someone I cared about. It felt good to do it again. He
turned to me and once again his eyes shone with tears, mirroring the
glistening panorama beyond the windowpanes.
I smiled what I hoped was a sympathetic encouraging smile. He took a deep
breath and said, "Can I make us breakfast?"
"What the Hell is this?" No sudden declaration of love, no falling into each
other's arms fulfilling our mutual desires? Just, "Can I make us
breakfast?"
"Uh. . . Yeah sure," I mumbled trying to regain my balance and get my
thoughts based back in reality, not this fantasy I was having behind the
scenes. "I think I have eggs and stuff."
"That's great." He walked past me into the kitchen.
For the next hour I helped him find what he needed while he made the best
breakfast I had had in years.
"That was wonderful," I said, "You sure can cook. You're hired if you want
the job?" Oh no, did I do it again?
Evidently not cuz he just smiled and said, "Thanks, I really enjoy cooking."
********************************************************************************
After we'd cleaned up the kitchen and tried in vain to take the dogs for a
walk on the slippery sidewalks, he asked, "Can we talk?"
"Sure."
"I think it's time that I came clean with you."
"Only if you're ready," I said, hoping he was.
We walked into the family room, sat at either end of the couch facing each
other. I tried to get my face shaped into a look of patient anticipation.
Inside I could hardly stand the suspense. I was finally going to hear his
story.
We sat there for what was probably five minutes. It seemed to me like
hours. I surmised he was trying to collect his thoughts. Deciding where to
begin. Stirring up the courage to talk about it. I was just about to
think he'd changed his mind and was fighting the urge to fidget.
He took a deep breath. "I was married." He began. "Her name was Julie. We
met in Vet school at State. We were married before we graduated." His
words were simple; he hesitated before each sentence, as if he wanted to be
sure he said it just right. "After graduation we set up a veterinarian
practice backed by her father. She did the small animals and I did the farm
stuff, primarily horses."
The little clues I had been getting since his arrival were falling into
place.
He continued, "Things went very well for a couple of years. Too well. Our
practice grew. Julie became involved in research as well as her general
practice. She published some very good studies and was in demand to present
her papers at conferences around the country. She couldn't keep up with her
patients at home so we hired a vet to hold up her end of the practice. I
spent more time in the office. The new vet and I became . . .ah. . . quite
close."
He paused for so long, I thought he might be hesitating to go on.
After a while he began again. "We began sharing meals together at the house
after the clinic was closed for the day. One night we decided to share more
than the meal. We were in the bedroom, undressed, on the bed just starting
to . . . well just starting. We actually hadn't done anything. And.......
He stopped again.
After a time I prompted, "And Julie came home?"
"Yes."
"Her flight out of Detroit had been cancelled and she was going to take one
in the morning.
"She freaked out, she yelled and screamed and called us all sorts of names.
She ordered us out of the house. I didn't know what to do, so I just left.
I went to a motel ..... Alone.
"Over the next months she sued for divorce, sued for the practice,
everything. During that time I started to drink. I was devastated. I was
humiliated. I sank lower and lower. The final straw was that I discovered
that she had been seeing someone else herself and wanted out of the
marriage. She had just used this as an excuse to make it happen on her
terms. That's when I gave up. I had nothing left. I couldn't get a job as
a vet because of my drinking and because of the influence of her family. I
don't even really remember how I got to Ann Arbor and started living under
the bridge."
Now it was my turn to have tears in my eyes. I wanted so badly to take him
in my arms and just hold him and show him that someone cared, cared very
deeply. I didn't know what to do. I just sat there for the longest time.
We were both crying softly. The dogs did what I couldn't. They put their
heads on his lap and he buried his face in their soft warmth and acceptance.
Finally, and to this day I don't know why I asked this question but I did,
and now I am so glad I did, I asked, "Was the other vet you hired..... A
man?"
He sat for so long I thought he hadn't heard me. I was about to ask again
when he slowly raised his head and turned to me. He looked down at the
couch, then into my eyes. Beautiful blue eyes sparking with tears boring
into mine. "Yes, he was, was all he said.
********************************************************************************
We sat there in the family room for almost an hour. Neither of us saying
anything. Each with his own thoughts. Mine were on the lines of where do I
go from here? How do I tell him I'm gay? Tell him that I want him to be
whole and happy again? How to let him know how much I care for him......
love him? I had never been down this road before. The guys I had played
with were in the same situation I was. We were married and we got together
to have sex and get relief. We liked each other. But, this was different.
This was love, at least for me. I felt myself getting anxious, panicky. I
had to say something. Do something. But, what?
"Well, I guess I better be going," he said.
"What! Where?" I asked. How lame is that?! "Say something you idiot! This
isn't how you want it to end! Say something! Let him know that you love
him, want him to stay!"
"I guess back to the bridge?" "Where are my clothes?"
"I threw the fucking clothes out! I shouted "and the hell you are going
back to that bridge." "Oh, now that's the way to approach this. Way to go,
jerk," I thought to myself.
His eyes got wide and he recoiled from me physically. I got up and started
pacing the floor running my hands through what would have been my hair if
I'd had any. He and the dogs followed my every move.
"Damn it, shit, fuck!" I yelled. His mouth fell open and Jake whined.
Annie, the sensitive one, rose and tried to jump up on me and make it all
better, her tail between her legs. "You're not going back there! Unless you
want to go nude cuz I threw your fuckin' rags away, and those are my
clothes. And if you leave with them I'll call the police and have you
thrown in jail for robbery. At least there you'll be warm and have three
meals a day and I won't have to worry about you anymore. . ."
I was desperate. I knew this wasn't the way to go but I couldn't stop. All
I wanted was for him to say he would stay and love me for the rest of our
lives. Then it was me who was crying, sobbing. And it was him who was
holding me kissing my tears away.
"How can you care about me?" he said. "A failure, a faggot, a drunk?"
"The drunk we can handle, the faggot makes us even, and the failure you are
not," I said still sobbing, but this time knowing the tears were changing to
joyous ones. "And by the way," I countered, "How could you care about me, a
depressed, old queer living in this house of memories? Answer me that."
Then we were both laughing and crying at the same time. The dogs were
jumping around barking. They seemed to be celebrating with us. Celebrating
the union of two souls who had found what they had been looking for, for so
long.
"Hey, I have an idea," I said, "Let's decorate our home for Christmas."
He kissed me.
Epilogue
"You still awake?" he asked.
"Yeah, just thinking."
"Oh?"
"About us. How we met and how I fell in love with you, and. . ."
He turned over and silenced me with a kiss. "I can't wait until tomorrow."
"Me either," I whispered.
Our lips met. Our tongues entwined. Our spirits soared. Once more we
explored each other's bodies with both our hands and mouths. The thrill was
there, just as fresh, just as deep as that day, seven years ago, before the
newly decorated Christmas tree when we had shared our love for the first
time.
Then came the moment of union. He slid easily into my waiting body. I
looked up into those incredibly blue eyes, those eyes that had sparked my
return to life and love. We were one. We were one in flesh, spirit and
soul. Our passion mounted and the moment of fulfillment came.
Simultaneously we reached the peak. Simultaneously we gave each other the
essence of our maleness. Simultaneously we uttered those amazing words, "I
love you."
The End.
