Alex & Clayton

by John Simpson

  Alex signed the contract, wrote a check for ten thousand dollars as a deposit, shook hands with Danny, who couldn’t conceal the fact that he found Alex very attractive, and left to head back to Washington. A call was promised either by the time he got back or the next day.

  Alex was thrilled with the first house and prayed that his offer would be taken. He couldn’t see why it wouldn’t be and so was fairly confident that the offer would go through. When he got back to the town house in Washington, his cell phone rang as he came in the front door. It was Danny.

  “Hey, Alex, great news. They accepted the offer with the closing date assured and an agreement to split. Congratulations on your new home at the beach!”

  “That’s wonderful! I’m so excited to be moving there and into that house. And it’s only two blocks from the Blue Moon and other fun places that are popular with the gay crowd. Thank you for getting this concluded so quickly, Danny. Dinner will be on me after I get settled in.”

  “Thanks. I look forward to seeing you at closing, as well as that dinner. You’ll get a signed copy of the contract in the mail shortly, along with some other papers. I’m scheduling the inspection for you as well as an appraisal. You do want an appraisal, right?”

  “Well, since no bank is involved, I don’t need one, do I?”

  “Not technically, but it’s a good idea to have one for your records and to make certain that you didn’t overpay for the property.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. Go ahead and take care of that for me, if you will, and I’ll stay in touch.”

  “Will do. Talk to you soon,” Danny said.

  Alex let out a yell when he hung up the phone. He was beyond happy and couldn’t wait for moving day.

  Chapter Four

  CLAYTON had settled into his Monday morning routine with his second cup of coffee as he prepared for a meeting with the county library board. His phone rang and he was startled to hear the voice of the elderly woman across the street from his house.

  “Clayton! Something terrible has happened. You better come home right away,” Eleanor Haskins said.

  “What’s happened, Mrs. Haskins?”

  “It’s your mother, dear. She was working in the front yard preparing the gardens for fall when she collapsed. I called for an ambulance and went to her. You better come home.”

  “I’m on my way now, thank you!”

  Clayton told his assistant what had happened and raced all the way home. When he got there, he found a police car waiting for him.

  “Mr. Anderson?” the young officer said as Clayton got out of his car.

  “Yes, that’s me. Where’s my mother, please?”

  “Sir, I’m sorry, I have bad news for you. Your mother must have had some kind of massive heart attack or stroke, because by the time the ambulance crew got here, she was already gone. They transported her to Camden General Hospital, but I’m afraid it was hopeless. I can give you a ride to the hospital if you’d like, and I do have a couple of questions that I must ask you for the report.”

  FOUR days later, Clayton Anderson sat on the end of his mother’s bed, having just come from her funeral. The house was filled with people who had attended the burial, and talking with them was the last thing Clayton wanted to do. Clayton’s brothers and his sister were of course in the house, and while everyone was cordial, it was obvious that Clayton was the outcast of the remaining family.

  Memories of his mother slowly played through his mind, recounting his childhood joys and sorrows, his first day of college, the death of his father, and now the loss of his mother. He had an extremely small family, and with the death of his mother, he and his siblings were the only survivors of their branch of the Anderson clan. He felt so alone as tears once again sprang to his eyes and streamed down his face. What was he going to do? His brothers and sister fully intended to return to their homes, leaving Clayton alone in New Jersey.

  Clayton’s entire life had been centered around his mother. They lived in the same house, they ate together most nights, and they even went to Broadway shows together occasionally. She was the reason he had no love life at all. He never wanted to have “that conversation” with his mother, never wanted to explain why he was different. She always expected that she would become a grandmother to his children, but that was not to be.

  At times, Clay scurried off into the night for furtive meetings with strange men in bookstores and alleyways for sexual relief and momentary intimacy. But never did he have anyone who could even remotely be called a boyfriend.

  A knock on the door brought Clay out of his world of memories, and he quickly dragged his sleeve over his eyes to blot the tears. It was the little old lady from across the street checking on Clay to make sure he was all right and to tell him that people were leaving.

  Clay came out of the bedroom and walked through the house saying good-bye to people and receiving their condolences once more. When the last person was gone, Clayton Anderson was completely alone with his siblings and the ghosts of his life. They cleaned up the leftover food, said good-bye to each other, and made promises to remain in closer contact as brothers and sisters should. When they were gone, Clay locked up and went upstairs to “his” part of the house. He had so much to think about, and one thing stood out clearly: there was nothing now that tied him down to his hometown in New Jersey.

  Clay inherited his mother’s entire estate, along with her life insurance. This left him well enough off to be able to do almost anything he wanted. He could either retire immediately, or move on from the library and do something more satisfying to him. His brothers and sister were of course angry that their mother had cut them out of the will, and they blamed Clayton for the snub. It was no use trying to explain that was something Clay’s mother did entirely on her own. She’d finally realized her youngest son would more than likely never have a family like the others. He would need all the money she could leave him, and besides, he was the one who had stayed with her and cared for her.

  A week after the funeral, he put in his early retirement papers, which allowed him to leave his position with just over twenty years of service to the county on a reduced pension. Since he didn’t have to rely on the pension to live, the amount was of no concern to him. He made the decision to retire when he came across an ad in one of the gay papers that he now received at the house. The ad was simple.

  “For sale: One small bookstore carrying books and magazines catering to the gay community. Store is located in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. Available immediately with all stock included. For inquiries, please call this number.”

  Clay called and found out the sale price of the store was forty-five thousand dollars, and it was located just a couple of blocks from the beach. He contacted a realtor in Rehoboth and made an offer on the bookstore. At the same time, he asked about available houses or condos. He was directed to the one major condo operation in the beach resort, and after a couple of weeks, and two trips down to the beach, he bought his new home.

  He was scheduled to move in four weeks and listed his family home for sale. He would move and close on his new purchases and start a new chapter in his life that he hoped would be a happy one. He also saw this as a chance to make up for all the love and sex that he had missed out on in the early part of his life. He was eager but couldn’t help being concerned about such a dramatic shift in his life. After all, he was going from virtually living in a closet to a gay resort town. And he would own the only gay bookstore in the area. He was kicking down the closet door in a big way.

  So far, the only things that he had shipped to his new condo were a few paintings that he could not part with under any circumstances. Those were carefully packed by the shippers along with some very expensive crystal, dinnerware, and the silver. A few lamps and odds and ends of furniture were also selected to be shipped to the new home. Everything else he would purchase new in Delaware.

  He said his good-byes to his few friends and drove off to his new home, scheduled to close on both the bookstore
and his condo the next day. He stopped at a decent-looking bed and breakfast just outside Rehoboth and spent the night.

  THE next day was a busy day for closings in the city of Rehoboth Beach. At ten o’clock the next morning, the Anderson closings were scheduled one after the other, and at one in the afternoon, the Winston closing was scheduled to conclude. By the end of the day there were two new permanent residents in Rehoboth Beach.

  Moving vans pulled up to two separate addresses, furniture was delivered, and the occupants made plans to scout the furniture stores the next day for a few more necessary pieces. But for Clayton, even more important than furnishing his condo was the need to get into the bookstore—his bookstore.

  The shop was located at one end of a small plaza, near a coffee shop where you could order lunch and sit outside to enjoy it. Across from that was the bookstore, which Clayton decided to rename Clayton’s Rainbow.

  As he entered the store and flipped the light switch, he was reminded that he still needed to open an account with the utility companies so that he could have electricity, water, and heat. The shop had been closed up since the sale, and it had a slightly “bookish” smell. The ink and paper upon which it rested created that distinctive smell that Clay was very familiar with from the library where he’d worked for twenty years.

  As he walked up and down the seven aisles, he looked at the various books that he now owned and that made up the stock of the store for the time being. The magazines had all been sold or sent back as returns, as they would be outdated by the time Clay opened the store. Lying next to the open cash register, he found a list of vendors that the old owner dealt with. Inside the register was a single one-dollar bill. He smiled at the meaning of that one-dollar bill. The first dollar made when a new store opened was usually framed and hung on the wall.

  The key for the register was in the keyhole, and he took it out and closed the drawer. He looked in the back of the shop and found about another two dozen books in his inventory. While staring at them, Clay had an odd feeling overtake him right there in the back of his bookstore. It was a combination of fear, joy, and excitement. His fears centered on whether or not he could make a go at his own business, his joy was at starting a new chapter in his life and being really free for the first time, and he felt the excitement of owning his own business. Clayton’s Rainbow was the only gay bookstore in the resort town, and so he felt fairly confident that he could make a living out of it. Of course, being in a resort town meant sales would drop way off in the winter months, which meant he had to have very successful summer sales.

  As he stood there thinking about the difference in seasons, he decided that he would run an aggressive virtual bookstore on the Internet so that people from all over the country could buy books from him no matter the time of the year. He made a quick count in his mind of the on-hand inventory and locked up as he walked out of the store. He planned to open by October first.

  He got in his car, which he’d need to get back and forth from the bookstore to the condo as they were not within walking distance. He stopped off to pick up some groceries to make dinner for himself. He had a lot of things to do the next day in order to open by his goal, and he went to bed early.

  AFTER Alex settled into his new beach house enough to be comfortable, he went out and picked up food, buying a full week’s worth. In the frozen vegetable aisle, he noticed a man around his age, good-looking and seemingly lost. Alex didn’t think shopping was something the man was used to doing by himself and wondered where his other half was. They smiled at each other as they passed and went on with their business.

  Alex went home, put away the food, and decided to go up to the boardwalk and take a walk just to admire the ocean. It was quite a change from his old view out on the congestion of the streets of Washington.

  He made the quick walk to the pier and found it nearly deserted. He saw maybe twenty people strolling casually past the closed seasonal businesses. He stopped and gazed out at the ocean, took a deep breath, and smiled.

  This was going to be his life from now on: beach, ocean, sun, and cute men, hopefully!

  After maybe thirty minutes, he left the boardwalk and walked through the business center of the resort where little shops were located alongside a couple of bars. Like the boardwalk, many of the shops were closed for the season, such as the one that carried only male underwear and swimming suits, along with various odds and ends that would appeal to gay men. As he walked by the specialty shop, he looked across the street and saw a little plaza with an open cafe and a bookstore. He crossed the street and headed for the bookstore to see if it was open.

  When he arrived, he saw the “Closed” sign. Looking through the window, he was disappointed to see that the magazine section was totally empty, which probably meant that the shop was closed for the season. Alex liked to read but hadn’t had much time for it over the last twenty-some years of his life. A bookstore right in town, only two blocks from his new home would have been ideal. He sighed, turned away, and headed home.

  Back in his new kitchen, he unpacked a few pots and pans and plates and silverware. He was going to cook a simple dinner of barbecue chicken, wild rice, and a nice big salad, which he loved. He got busy and an hour later was sitting down on his back patio eating a very satisfying dinner. As he sat there chewing his food, a strange sense of loneliness overcame Alex. This wasn’t a feeling that he was used to as before he’d always had friends or colleagues around him. This feeling was compounded by the fact that both of his parents were gone now, and he momentarily felt alone in a very large world.

  He forced himself to think of other things, finished eating, and cleaned up from dinner. He spent the next two hours unpacking the things that had been delivered by the moving company, as well as the boxes he had brought in the car. Most of his clothes were wrinkled, and he knew he’d have a couple hours of ironing to do before they could rest in his closet and dresser, waiting to be called upon to clothe their owner.

  When he finished the task, he looked around his house and realized just how much furniture he’d have to buy to finish his home. He couldn’t go shopping tomorrow because he had to wait at home for the technicians who would install his phone and cable for TV and Internet. The gas and water companies were also sending someone to take readings to begin his billing.

  He saw that it was almost ten o’clock and decided to sit on his patio a little longer and then turn in early. He was anxious to complete the inside of his house, and once his Internet was up and running, he would do a search for area furniture stores and look for sales.

  ACROSS town, Clayton was doing similar things. It took him less time to unpack because he had brought so much less than Alex. He, too, made plans for the arrival of various utilities and also planned to go furniture shopping later the next day or the following day. He sat on the balcony of his condo and watched the stars come out, but he became depressed when he thought about his life. So much had passed him by that he now found himself middle-aged and regretting not coming out in his youth and finding the love of a good man. He’d spent so much time trying to please others that he forgot to make sure that he enjoyed life as well.

  A tear slowly rolled down from each eye as he thought of his mother, now gone. At least she was with his father, and that made him slightly less unhappy at the thought. Was he too old now to find that good man for himself? Was the resort he moved to just for young guys and not men his age? Clayton went to bed very early that first night, more to escape from reality than to get any rest. It took him over two hours to get to sleep, and he failed to get any rest because he tossed and turned the entire night.

  When the first rays of the morning sun streamed through the blinds, he gave up and made a pot of coffee. At least he could enjoy that. As the coffee was brewing, he got into the shower and tried to get a jolt of energy from the water. It helped a little, and he dressed, poured his coffee, and sat out on his balcony. He was determined to get as much use out of it as he could before the cold months
set in.

  As the sun of a new day rose above the horizon, a renewed sense of adventure and hope took hold of Clayton. He thought about his bookstore, and he gradually resumed planning what to do with the shop, how he might change some things, and what he needed to order from vendors. He thought about his target date for opening and was confident that he could make it, even if he only had the stock on the shelves to sell. He began to regain his sense of well-being, but in spite of that, he still felt lonely.

  ALEX had made a list of what to buy at the furniture store and was determined to find exactly what he needed for the house and not one thing more. He was not a fan of shopping for anything but guns, and they were no longer a necessity in his life.

  As he walked among the sofas and chairs, he spotted a guy about his age who was kind of hot in a nerdy sort of way. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that showed off a body in fairly decent shape. At one point, the stranger looked over at Alex, and Alex was floored by the other guy’s eyes. They smiled at each other, and Alex quickly checked for a wedding ring, smiling again when he didn’t find one.

  But as the proverbial ships passing in the night, they wandered off into other parts of the store. A salesperson was glued to Alex’s hip now that he was saying, “I’ll take that and….”

  By the time Alex was done, he had spent just over ten thousand dollars. He had everything he needed, and he was happy with the quality and the look of the furniture. He even squeezed an extra five percent off the total because he had spent so much money. He also blackmailed them into promising free delivery within two days. The only thing he failed to buy was something for the bare walls. He knew some art would give his new home a personality, but he literally knew nothing about what to buy. He needed advice from someone who knew what they were talking about.