by John Simpson
“Would you mind just bowing your head for a moment of silence to give thanks for all that we have or whatever you want to say to yourself?”
“No, that’s fine,” Alex said as he bowed his head.
After a minute, Clayton said amen, and the food began to make the rounds back and forth between them. They talked about their new community and laughed all through dinner as they consumed both bottles of wine. They had pumpkin pie with whipped cream for dessert, and the meal was complete.
“That was fantastic, Clayton. You did an outstanding job preparing everything! I feel so stuffed, I don’t know if I can move!”
Clayton chuckled and said, “Good. I didn’t work all day in the kitchen for you to eat like a parakeet. Do you want coffee?”
“Ah, no, I’m really full. After we clear the table, we should sit back down in the living room and sleep for an hour,” Alex said and laughed.
“Tell you what, you go into the living room now, and I’ll clear the table. You’re a guest, and I won’t have you doing any work. Now go.”
Alex saluted Clay and went into the living room where he collapsed down onto the sofa.
Clay smiled as he cleared the table and put away leftovers. When he joined his guest once more, he found him fast asleep on the sofa. He smiled at Alex snoring away and decided to put on coffee. The wine and scotch made Clay nervous about Alex driving.
When the coffee was done, he brought it to the living room in the silver service. When he set it down on the coffee table, Alex woke up and tried to pretend that he hadn’t fallen asleep.
“I thought we’d have coffee. It’s always nice to finish off dinner this way.”
“Sure, I enjoy coffee after dinner,” Alex said as he took the cup Clay poured for him.
“There’s cream, sugar, and the diet stuff there, so you can fix it the way you like.”
When they settled onto the sofa with their coffee, Clay clicked on the television just to have noise in the background. There was an old movie playing called, The Bells of St. Mary’s, and Clayton smiled, remembering watching this movie with his parents years before.
“Thank you for a wonderful afternoon and a great dinner,” Alex said. “You’ve set the bar high for Christmas.”
“It was just the usual traditional meal, not much to worry about.”
“Nonsense. You prepared everything perfectly, and the stuffing was outstanding!”
“That was a recipe from my mother that was handed down through her family. I used it today for the first time. I’m glad you liked it. She would be so pleased.”
“You really miss your mother, don’t you?”
“Of course. She was a very good mother who made sure I had everything I would need to make it in this world. While it’s true that she held me back in certain social areas, she more than made up for it in other ways. More coffee?” Clay asked and steered the conversation to less painful subjects.
Chapter Eight
AFTER talking for hours, they kissed briefly at the door, and Alex drove carefully home. Clay felt something akin to freedom at the end of the date. For the first time in his life, he had invited someone to his home, prepared a holiday dinner—even using a family recipe—and pulled it off well. His guest went home satisfied and full. But most importantly, Clayton hadn’t worried about someone seeing Alex come into the condo. He had no worries about his mother and any questions she might ask. He felt like his own man at last and was only sorry it took nearly fifty years for it to happen.
Clayton worked so hard over the next couple of weeks that he actually finished the store website. His entire inventory had been uploaded, and supply lines were set in place to ship orders out. It was almost the time of the year for him to open more frequently as they approached the second week in December, and holiday shopping got into full swing.
He was just puttering around when the phone rang, and he saw Alex’s number.
“Hello, Alex,” he said as he answered.
“Hi. Look, I thought you said at Thanksgiving we were going to go pick out some art for my house? I’ve got some guests coming over for Christmas, and the house doesn’t look finished. When can we do that?”
“I am so sorry! I’ve been so busy that it went right out of my mind. I’m free for the next three days. Does that work for you?”
“Well, it’s only a little after ten now. Why don’t I pick you up in about an hour, and we’ll hit a couple of places?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you in an hour.”
CLAY was pleased that Alex had called him about the art-buying trip. Now he’d get to spend a little time in galleries and be with the one man he considered a friend. He drank the last of his coffee and changed into appropriate clothing.
An hour later, a knock on the door told Clay that Alex had arrived. He opened the door and found a smiling retired cop standing there in a sweatshirt, jeans, leather jacket, and boots.
“What? You’re looking me over like I’m here to take out the garbage or something!”
“Ah, no, nothing of the sort,” Clay said as he grabbed his keys and coat and walked out after setting the alarm.
They got into Alex’s car, and Clay handed him a list of places where they could view art for sale.
“Any of these places will do to begin with. Why don’t we go to the closest one, and we can work our way outward if we don’t find anything that you like right off the bat.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan. We’ll hit the Winters Art Gallery first since it’s only about a mile up the road from here. Frankly, I’m surprised to find any place like this at the beach.”
“Why? People with money come to beach resorts. Of course the traffic is heavier in the warmer months, so the gallery will be very happy to see us.”
Clay was proven right; the place was empty, and they put smiles on the faces of two employees when they walked in. As they looked around, a salesperson followed at a discreet distance, not wanting to risk annoying them into leaving. There were several oil paintings, and Alex pointed out the ones that appealed to him.
“Do you think that’s a good painting?” Alex asked.
“Truthfully, the most important thing is that you think that it’s a good painting. Don’t buy a piece of art because you think others will like it, or that it will make you look sophisticated. Buy art that you like, because you’ll be the one looking at it day in and day out—not to mention that it’s your money.”
“Okay, I agree. How many pieces do you think I need?”
“You’ll want to put up at least two pieces in that big living room, preferably three. It’s a large room, and you have a lot of space to fill. Then you need to decide if you want anything in the dining room, your bedroom, hallways, and guest bedrooms.”
“I think one piece for the dining room, one for my bedroom, and I’ll buy kinda low-end stuff for the guest bedrooms and bathrooms. So, let’s make it five good pieces. Here, I like this one,” he said pointing to one hanging on the wall.
“Nice. It’s a watercolor, though, not oil, not that it really matters, but you seemed to prefer oils. It’s a very well-done landscape and six hundred and fifty-nine isn’t too bad for such a nice-sized piece.” Clay paused. “And don’t be afraid to ask for a discount if you buy more than one.”
“Miss!” Alex said to attract the attention of the saleslady.
“Yes, sir?”
“I’d like to buy that piece right there,” he said, pointing at the landscape.
“Very nice. It’s a watercolor by an artist from the Hudson School.”
“Okay, if you say so. Look, if I buy five paintings here, what kind of discount can I get?” Alex asked.
“Five? Let me take this over to the counter, and I’ll have a talk with my manager. Of course you understand that the prices of the paintings will be a factor,” she said as she smiled and walked away.
“Alex, you don’t have to buy everything here, you know?”
“Yeah, I know that, but if I buy one painting at fiv
e different galleries, I’m not going to get a price break, am I?”
“You have a point. Let’s see if she comes back with something enticing. You should push for at least fifteen percent.”
Shortly after Alex saw another piece that he liked, the saleslady returned.
“As I thought, my manager says that depending on the prices, he might be willing to take ten to twelve percent off the total.”
Alex looked at Clay who looked at the woman and said, “Fifteen percent would make it a sure deal.”
“I see. Is this your first house together?”
“Our first… oh, we’re not a couple. We both live in Rehoboth, but we don’t live together. We are gay, though, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out,” Alex said.
Clayton turned bright red and began fidgeting.
“I guessed because of your taste in art that you might be gay,” the woman said.
“So straight men have no taste in art?” Alex responded.
“That’s not what I meant.” The saleslady was beginning to look flustered. “Shall I take these two pieces to the counter?”
“Yes, thank you,” he answered.
After she had left them, Clayton turned to Alex and said, “You embarrassed me very much just now. Don’t do that, please!”
“What? You mean by saying that we’re gay but don’t live together?”
“Precisely! I don’t tell strangers my business, and I’ll thank you not to do so either when we’re out together.”
“I apologize. It’s just not something that I’m ashamed of or frightened for people to know. But I understand that you’re not where I’m at yet, so I won’t do it again,” Alex said sincerely.
“Thank you. Shall we look around the rest of the gallery to see if there are two more pieces that fit what you’re looking for?”
“Sure. Do you think I should pick something else besides landscapes?”
“It might be nice for variety. Maybe a painting of the streets of Paris or something like that would be nice.”
After another half hour, they had chosen five pieces, much to the gallery’s delight. When they were rung up, the total came to just over seven thousand dollars.
“And how much will that be with the fifteen percent discount?” Alex said without a smile.
The manager frowned and countered with twelve percent.
“If that’s the best you can do, then I’m afraid we’ll have to leave without the paintings,” Alex said as he began to turn away.
“Very well, fifteen percent, but you’re killing me,” the manager said.
“I’ll send flowers,” Alex said, now smiling hugely.
THE paintings were carefully wrapped and loaded into the car. Alex paid with a debit card, and they headed home.
“Thank you for spending the day with me. I’d have been lost without you,” Alex said.
“No, you wouldn’t have. You would have done just fine on your own.”
“Not at all! I would have never thought to ask for a discount for buying five paintings. You saved me over a thousand dollars!”
“Just one of the tricks of the trade. I hope they go well with your decor. If you have a problem with a piece, you can always move it to another room and try for a better fit,” Clay said.
“That’s what I’ll do. Did you say you’re going back to normal hours at the store?”
“Yes, three days from now. I’m hoping there will be a Christmas surge in customers looking for gift books. I’m also carrying some pretty hot calendars for the New Year. Then at noon on Christmas Eve, I’m closing the store until later in the winter season.”
“Sounds like a plan. What are you going to do with all that time now that you’ve finished setting up your website?”
“Not really sure. I’m not used to sitting around doing nothing, but I’ll find something to do,” Clay said.
As they pulled up to Clay’s condo, Alex thanked him once again and watched as his art advisor entered his home before he drove off. He thought about how nice it was to spend a few hours out with Clay and then remembered Clay’s reaction to the flippant comment to the saleslady. Alex finally realized just how far in the closet Clay was and found it hard to accept. How do you go through life denying who you are? Alex didn’t have an answer to that question.
THREE days after the art-shopping excursion, Clayton opened up his shop full time through Christmas Eve, hoping for the best. He wanted to move some of the older stock to make room for newer titles that came out every week. He put an advertisement in a couple of papers hoping to drive business his way. It appeared to work as he had ten customers on his first day back. This was a good sign, and Clay hoped the pace would build as Christmas drew near.
The calendars were a big seller, and in a week, he had sold out his entire stock. During a lull during the second week, Alex called the shop.
“Clayton’s Rainbow, can I help you?”
“Clay, this is Alex. How are you?”
“Hey, doing fine and you?”
“Pretty good. Been working on getting the house fixed up for Christmas with a tree and decorations. How about you?”
“Yeah, I have a little tree up with some old family decorations on it. Just doesn’t seem to be quite the same, though, somehow.”
“Well, I’m calling because I had an idea. Why don’t you spend Christmas Eve here at the house and sleep over. I can make you breakfast in the morning, and you can help with the dinner. I have five friends coming up. Whatcha say?”
“Um, sleep over?” Clayton said.
“Yeah, I have three guest bedrooms, and this way, you can have a few drinks without worrying about driving home. Why should we spend the time alone when we can share the joy?”
Clayton made a snap decision for once. “Sounds like fun. Shall I cook on Christmas Eve for us at your house?”
“Nope, my tradition has always been to snack all evening on various good foods like cheeses, and meats, maybe some potato salad, that sort of stuff. Sound okay?”
Clayton smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like fun. Can we try and find one of those old Christmas movies and watch it?”
“Sure can. Did you wanna go to church? I don’t know if you’re into that, but at holidays, it kinda means more to me than the other days of the year.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. I’d like to say a prayer for my mother and father.”
“Okay, that’s a deal then. I’m really looking forward to that couple of days. We can figure out something for New Year’s Eve later, okay?”
“Okay,” Clay replied. “Can I bring anything for Christmas?”
“Nope. I’ve got it all taken care of, and the boys from DC will be bringing up booze, I’m sure. I’ll tell you about each of them on Christmas Eve.”
Both men hung up smiling. Clay felt like a boy again. He was going to have a “sleep over” with the only person he considered a friend in his new hometown. At first, when he thought Alex meant to sleep with him that night, he was both excited and horrified at the same time. He wasn’t ready to begin a relationship with anyone yet, but he knew in reality that Alex wasn’t suggesting anything like that.
Alex was pleased that Clay agreed to his plan. He wasn’t going to try and seduce him, but he wanted to at least get to first base. Plus, he really didn’t want to be alone on Christmas Eve. Happily, he began to plan the foods they’d enjoy that special night and went to the kitchen to check supplies and make a list.
THE temperature in Rehoboth had dropped to an uncomfortable level, and the weather reports made on again, off again predictions for snow. Clay had a good sales run with the holiday rush, and at noon on Christmas Eve, as posted, he closed the store until later in the season. All he was thinking about was that evening and the next day with Alex.
When he got home, he pulled an overnight bag out and packed the few things that he would need, including a change of clothes for Christmas Day. He threw in some cologne, double-checked everything, and was ready. Alex had suggested that h
e come over at five o’clock so they could talk about where to go to church.
He made sure the house was neat and then headed over to Alex’s beach house.
“Merry Christmas, Clay! Good to see you,” Alex said as he let Clay into his home. He took the bag from him and said, “Follow me.”
Alex showed Clay to a guest bedroom upstairs to the left of the staircase. Clay walked into a surprisingly light-filled, comfortable room and immediately felt at home.
“This is beautiful, Alex, really nice.”
“Thanks, bud. Put your things up and come on down to the kitchen when you’re ready.”
Alex left the room, and Clay looked around once more. He unpacked the few things he had brought and hung up the next day’s clothes in the closet. He checked out the bathroom, which was larger than he had expected in an older home, and headed back down the stairs to find his host.
When he entered the kitchen, he was handed a glass of wine and watched Alex chop up a few things for them to munch on later. One of the items on the menu was sliced raw carrots and ranch dip, which he was partial to, but there was a myriad of things that looked wonderful.
“This looks terrific. Just seeing it makes me hungry,” Clay said.
“Well, I’ll be done here in a moment, and then we’ll talk. Do you wanna go to an early service or to the traditional Midnight Mass?”
“Does it matter that I’m not Catholic?”
“Nope, and God doesn’t care either.”
“Shouldn’t we go early so that you can rest up for your company tomorrow? If we go to Midnight Mass, it’ll be two or later before we get to bed.”
“You’re absolutely right. We’ll go to the seven o’clock Mass at Saint Sergius and Bacchus. Before that, how about some carrots and dip? Will that hold you over until we get home and break out the good stuff?”
“Yep! I love carrots like this,” Clay said as he picked up the tray and went into the living room.
