by D J Monroe
“I agree,” Nate said. The feeling of defeat that had been growing since he entered the house returned.
“Do you have any ideas?”
Nate shook his head. “Not a one. I mean, we can’t just throw everything away. And it could take forever to go through and sort it all.”
“Any other family that could help?”
Nate shook his head. “Dad’s step-brother, Charles, is very ill. They don’t expect him to live much longer. That leaves his half-sister, Aunt Judy, and my cousins, Cherry and Walter. I could ask but Dad said they were pretty unhappy about him inheriting the house in the first place.”
“Why him in particular?”
“My dad’s real father built the house. He died when dad was about two or three. I guess grandpa just wanted him to have it,” Nate explained. “Besides, he willed his liquid assets, any money, cash or accounts to be divided equally between Judy and Charles.”
Creed nodded and then asked, “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Nate said, motioning for him to come forward. The question confused him. “Why did you even ask?”
“I don’t know, it feels like some sort of private space,” Creed explained. He moved further into the room, peered inside of a box or two and squatted beside one of the trunks. “It’s almost like a museum in here.”
“I always felt that way, too,” Nate said.
After a moment’s silence, Creed stood up and said, “I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds here but I’d be willing to help you get it cleaned out.”
“I think it would be a pretty big job for both of us,” Nate said, shaking his head. “Come on, let’s get out of here for a minute so I can think straight.”
Creed followed him back down the stairs and out onto the front porch. It was cooler there, the afternoon shadows growing long. Again, Nate was so very aware of Creed’s presence. He welcomed it and wondered if maybe that was the reason his thoughts were all in a jumble. Then his stomach growled reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since that morning.
“Let’s go get something to eat,” Nate said. “I’m starving.”
To his relief, Creed smiled and nodded. “Good idea.”
“Is the Dairy Rite still open?” Nate asked.
“Sure is,” Creed said with a big grin. “One of my favorite places.”
“Good. I could go for one of their big, juicy burgers right now.”
The Dairy Right was still a drive in, maybe one of only a handful left in the country. It served burgers and hot dogs and fries and onion rings. And, if Nate remembered correctly, the best ice cream on the planet. It was the perfect spot for teenagers to work and a great hang out place as well.
“Let’s go inside where we can sit and talk,” Nate said, noting that the place was as busy as ever.
The interior looked exactly as Nate remembered it, a scene out of Happy Days, most of the tables filled, dozens of conversations going on around them and teenaged waitresses darting about madly. Nate dodged around one of them and headed toward a red leather booth with a Formica topped table.
“This place hasn’t changed since we were teenagers,” Nate said.
“As far as I can tell, it hasn’t,” Creed said. “I worked here a couple of summers during high school.”
“I worked the summer right after graduation,” Nate said.
“I guess all the kids in town did at one time or another,” Creed said, that nostalgic smile still on his face.
“Yeah. Good times,” Nate agreed.
A waitress appeared, took their drink orders and gave them a moment to decide what they wanted to eat. Nate made a quick decision asking for a double bacon cheeseburger and fries. Creed chose the same.
“So have you always been interested in photography?” Nate asked.
Creed smiled. “Yes. Got my first camera when I was about ten and I’ve been hooked ever since.”
“You worked for the school paper, right?” Nate asked.
“I had big dreams back then,” Creed confessed.
“No big dreams now?” Nate asked.
“Right now, just trying to get by,” Creed said with a shrug.
“Everyone I went to school with was more than eager to get away from Lost Creek. Do you regret staying here?” Nate asked, genuinely interested in this man and his life.
“Oh, sometimes,” Creed said with a sad little smile. “Sometimes I get lonely for-“ He stopped abruptly and looked at Nate warily. “Sorry, I guess I should tell you that I’m gay.”
Nate laughed aloud. “Me, too.”
“We have more in common than I realized,” Creed said.
They were quiet for a moment and then Creed asked. “Are you glad you moved away?”
“Yes,” Nate said.
“You were lucky, you got a good job at the Sentinel.”
“Not sure if you’d call it luck,” Nate said, thinking that his job was nothing like Creed imagined. “Not sure if I got what I wanted at all.”
Nate was surprised to hear himself admit this but thankfully their food came and Creed did not ask any questions. He groaned at the first taste of the delicious burger topped with pickles and bacon and melted cheese.
“You really have been away a while, haven’t you,” Creed said, laughing at Nate’s reaction.
“So long I’d forgotten how good the food here was,” Nate agreed. There was a tiny trace of mustard on Creed’s lower lip and Nate wanted to wipe it off. No, he wanted to lick it off.
They chatted while they ate and Nate thought he’d never tasted anything as good as those hot, salty French fries.
Nate insisted on paying for their food and they returned to his car. As badly as he hated to part ways with Creed, Nate knew he’d seen enough of that house for one day. He had some decisions to make and he wouldn’t be able to make them with Creed taking up his thoughts.
“So, you’ll be leaving tomorrow?” Creed asked as they headed back to the real estate office.
Nate nodded. “I have to work Monday.”
For a split second, Nate was tempted to invite Creed back to the motel. Creed had admitted he was lonely sometimes so Nate had the idea that there was no special someone in the picture. He mulled the idea over as he drove. Mixing business with pleasure was never, ever a good idea but he didn’t want to be alone, longed to have someone else to talk to. Nate wanted to hear that resonant voice in the dark, feel another body close to his.
“Listen, the offer to help with the house still stands,” Creed said when Nate pulled up to Creed’s car in the nearly empty parking lot.
Nate took out two business cards and handed one to Creed along with a pen. “Would it be okay if I called you?”
“Of course,” Creed said, writing his number on the back of the card and handing it back to Nate. Their fingertips touched and Nate experienced the same little thrill as before when they shook hands.
“Here’s my cell,” Nate said, scribbling it on the back of the second card. “If you have any ideas, call me and we’ll talk about it.”
“Will do,” Creed said, tucking the card in his shirt pocket.
Again, Nate was almost overwhelmed with the desire to invite Creed back to his motel room but he wasn’t even sure how to ask. It had been so long since he’d been intimate with another man. That had been nothing more than a hookup at a bar. They’d gone back to Nate’s apartment had sex and the guy was ready to leave in less than fifteen minutes, leaving Nate feeling more alone than he’d been to begin with. No talking, no closeness, no connection whatsoever.
Had Creed had the same experience? He was afraid to ask.
In the end, he simply said good-bye to Creed and drove out to the motel berating himself all the way for not taking a chance. Just after he stepped out of the shower, his phone rang. He raced across the room and snatched it up, hoping that it was Creed.
It was a local number, but not one he recognized. He decided not to answer. Whoever it was could leave him a message and he’d return the call. Two or thr
ee times during the evening he checked his voice mail but there were no messages.
He spent the rest of the evening and most of that night feeling more alone than he could remember in a long time.
Six: Oh, the Possibilities
Creed was finally able to take a deep breath as he watched Nate drive away. He rested his head on the steering wheel. God, he’d never expected seeing him again would have such an impact on all of his senses. It was almost like he was seeing the world from a whole different perspective.
After they arrived at the house, he’d made the excuse to go outside to take pictures, just to get himself under control. He wanted to touch Nate, to simply inhale his musky scent and experience those strong, sure fingers on his body. The man’s very presence was intoxicating and what made him even more attractive was that he didn’t even seem to know it.
But there was another reason Creed needed to get outside. There was something in that house. Even with all of his attention drawn to Nate, he could feel it. It didn’t seem malevolent or oppressive in any way, just there. It hummed with a strange energy and hovered around the edges of his vision, just out of sight. Almost as if he turned his head quickly, he would catch sight of it. Thankfully, it had not followed him outside but it grew especially stronger when they were in that attic room.
As if it had been waiting for them.
He didn’t mention this to Nate. No need to add to his problems. Besides, Creed couldn’t remember ever having an experience like that before and he chalked it up to stress-and his rekindled desire for Nate. All the way back to his apartment, Creed imagined what it would be like if Nate had invited him to his room. He imagined kissing Nate, the two of them undressing each other, both of them trying to hold back their excitement.
Creed knocked on Mr. Roger’s door again with no response and then went up to his apartment. Upstairs, antsy and full of nervous energy, he around the small rooms as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.
He wanted Nate. Pure and simple. It was all he could do to keep from reaching for his phone, calling and making up some stupid excuse to meet him somewhere. He ran his hands through his hair and cursed himself for even thinking that getting involved with Nate was a good idea. They lived four hours apart, each living their own separate lives. Nate didn’t mention anyone in particular but Creed reasoned he probably had dozens of lovers in the city.
While Creed was taking a shower, he heard his phone ringing. He flung the curtain back and reached for it, hoping it was Nate. Disappointment swept through him when he saw the string of numbers on his caller ID. It appeared to be local but he wasn’t even sure it was a phone number.
He declined the call.
Finally, exhausted, Creed crawled into bed wondering just how closely he was going to get to work with Nate, if at all. Nate might relent and hire someone, some company, to come in and clean out the house. Creed might not ever see him again. He tossed and turned warning himself not to get his hopes up.
His phone rang again, the same number showing in the Caller ID. This time he answered it. “Hello.”
A little click and the line went dead.
Seven: No Turning Back
After a fitful night’s sleep, Nate was up with the sunrise the next morning. Dreading the four hour drive back to Charlotte, he opted for a leisurely breakfast at the restaurant across the street from the motel. Funny, he’d never been reluctant to leave Lost Creek behind before but this morning was somehow different.
When he was finally on the road, headed north toward Charlotte, his thoughts were all over the place. First and foremost was his surprising reaction to seeing Creed again. His sleep the night before had been invaded by fractured, fleeting dreams of Creed. Creed standing in the doorway to the attic room, reaching for him. Creed kissing him, moaning as they removed each other’s clothing. Creed close behind him, while running his hot tongue up the back of Nate’s neck.
At one point during the night, Nate sat up, tossed the covers aside and reached for his phone intent on calling Creed. Maybe if he just heard Creed’s voice he wouldn’t feel quite so lonely. No, he was going to need much more than that from Creed.
At the last minute, he calmed down, lay back down and tried to sleep again.
The next pressing matter was what he was going to do about that house. He had a couple of weeks of vacation so in all reality, he could use them to come back to town and clean out the house. Surely, with Creed’s help, two weeks would give them enough time.
Nate had to question his reasoning. Was it because he needed the help or because he desperately wanted to spend more time with Creed?
Once he was back in Charlotte and settled into his apartment for the evening, he called his father. All day he’d been thinking about the plan to use his vacation and it seemed more and more of a possibility.
“The place is a mess, Dad,” Nate said.
His dad took a deep breath. “Your grandpa had an issue with throwing anything away.”
“You can say that again.”
“So, what do you plan on doing? You can’t just throw everything away,” his dad said. “There could be family heirlooms in those boxes.”
“I wasn’t planning on throwing things away until I know exactly what they are,” Nate assured his dad. “But it’s going to be a massive undertaking.”
“I wish I could help,” his dad said. “But I’d be more of a hindrance than anything else.”
Nate couldn’t even imagine working on a project like that with his father.
Finally, Nate said, “You don’t think any of Charles’s family would be willing—”
“Oh, God, no! They’re already angry about the house being left to me which I don’t understand. They’re going to get a pretty penny from the insurance and I don’t look for Charles to live much longer so that’ll be even more in Judy’s pockets. She’s one greedy-.”
“Okay, give me a couple of days to figure out what I can do,” Nate said.
“If you want to hire someone to help I’ll pay them.”
Nate’s thoughts went immediately to Creed.
“But it has to be someone you trust,” his dad added.
“Okay, let me see what I can figure out. I’ll get back to you as quickly as I know something,” Nate said.
When the call ended, he called Creed on impulse.
“Hello,” Creed said, his greeting welcoming and upbeat.
“Hey, it’s me, Nate,” Nate said.
“It’s good to hear your voice,” Creed said.
Suddenly, Nate had no idea why he’d called the other man except to hear his voice. “Um, well, I just wanted to let you know that I made it home safely,” he finally stammered.
“Great, I was hoping you’d let me know,” Creed said.
For a moment, Nate was tempted to tell Creed of his plan, using his vacation to clean out the house, getting Creed to help. But he kept quiet. Better to wait until he was sure he could make this work.
“I went back over to the house and took some more pictures today,” Creed continued. “I hope that’s okay.”
“You did?” Nate asked, surprised. “It’s perfectly fine but you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know you’re going to want it to sell quickly once it’s on the market and I had an idea of a way to make it look more appealing to a family,” Creed explained.
“Thank you. I really do appreciate all your effort,” Nate said.
At that moment, Nate made up his mind. He was going to ask for his vacation time on Monday morning. Shepherd was going to be angry that Nate would be gone for two weeks on such short notice. He would rant and rave and threaten but in the end Nate would get his way.
No one else wanted the city beat.
“It’s a beautiful house,” Creed said. “And, as I said before, I’ve always admired it.”
They spoke for a while longer but Nate kept his plans to himself. And when it came time to hang up, it seemed that both of them were reluctant to do so. Nate was liter
ally jittery with excitement about the next two weeks.
For the second night in a row, he barely slept and spent the next day darting from one chore to another, unable to settle down on any one task in particular. On Monday morning, he arrived at the newspaper office earlier than scheduled. He ignored the dirty looks from the receptionist and went straight to Shepherd’s office door, knocking sharply with one knuckle.
“It’s open,” Shepherd growled.
Nate swallowed hard and stepped into the room. “Sir, I need to speak with you about something.”
“Yeah,” Shepherd said, not looking up from he was writing on the big calendar that covered the top of his desk.
“Sir, I have accrued two weeks of vacation and I need to take them,” Nate said, sounding more confident than he felt.
“You know the procedure. You’ll need to send an email and-”
That could take at least a week and Nate wasn’t about to wait that long before he saw Creed again. “Sir, I know the process. I can’t wait. I need for my vacation to start as soon as possible. Today.”
Shepherd’s pen stopped moving. He looked up at Nate and then chuckled without a hint of humor in his eyes. “Not gonna happen.”
Nate took a deep breath to calm his thudding heart. “When do you think I might be able to take the time off. This is a family matter and—”
“Maybe in a month or two—or three. Just whenever I decide.”
“Sir, I don’t think you understand—”
“I understand perfectly. Now, you either get to work covering the city council meeting this morning or I’ll find someone else to do it,” Shepherd said, punctuating the end of the sentence by jabbing his pen in the air toward Nate.
Suddenly, all the anger that Nate had been holding back for three years came bubbling to the surface. “If you’re going to deny my vacation, then I’m just going to have to quit.”
Shepherd laughed, a sharp, unhappy bark of a sound that infuriated Nate even further. “Don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya.”
