That was how I learned to enjoy the early morning.
We toweled each other off, brushed our teeth and then returned to the bedroom. Buck naked, Marshall fell to the floor to do his pushups while I pulled on a bathrobe and tied the belt around my waist.
When he finished, he said, “It wouldn’t hurt you to join me, Jordan. Do this every morning, and you are well on your way to staying in great shape.”
I regularly worked out at the gym, but I couldn’t imagine exercising before the first cup of coffee. I asked, “Do you have an issue with my figure?” as I twisted back and forth in the robe.
Marshall laughed and said, “It’s perfect. I was just making a comment on what has worked for me.”
He stood up and wrapped me in his arms for a good morning kiss before finding his own bathrobe and trailing me on the way down the stairs in search of the desperately needed caffeine.
We sat across the table from each other with steaming mugs and Marshall said, “I need to run to the university for a few minutes this morning and pick some things up from my office that I can work on here at home. If you’re not busy, I thought of something you could do while I’m gone.”
I raised an eyebrow and asked, “You’ve got work for me?”
“Consider it more like volunteer service.”
I chuckled and said, “So is that what we call it? I could use some volunteer service at my place with a sponge and bathroom cleaner.”
Marshall laughed. He said, “I was just thinking. Beyond moving the furniture around in the living room, I think maybe this place could just use a complete overhaul. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything with the house but clean it.”
I sipped at the coffee before asking, “And what do you want me to do with it?”
“You don’t have to do any of this, of course, Jordan. I just thought maybe you could wander around a little and see if any suggestions for changes came to mind. Think about whether painting a room or moving things around or anything like that would seem like an improvement to you.”
“So I get to be a decorating consultant?”
Marshall nodded. “Yeah, something like that. Are you up for the job?”
I smiled and said, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try not to make the shopping list too long.”
Marshall leaned forward and gripped my hands in the center of the table. He said, “The budget isn’t unlimited, but, for you, I might be able to carve out a reasonable chunk of funding.”
I said, “I’ll keep it limited.”
* * *
After Marshall left, I thought about where to start first. Downstairs he had a kitchen, living room, dining room, and a small study. Upstairs was two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The second half-story was originally three bedrooms, but a door was removed between two of the bedrooms making an expansive master suite. I had never set foot in the second bedroom and decided to start there.
The second bedroom was furnished with an old-fashioned four poster bed. An antique chair sat in one corner, and a beautiful antique dresser sat against the wall opposite the bed with a large mirror mounted on the wall above it. The windows along the wall opposite the door looked out over the back yard.
It was a beautiful and simply decorated room reminding me of guest rooms in bed and breakfast inns. I guessed that it was furnished with the intention of being a guest room, but I wasn’t sure, in the absence of immediate family visiting, if it was used very often.
In the far corner of the room, a door was placed between the bed and the windows. I don’t usually go around snooping into closets and cabinets in the homes of other people, but my curiosity got the best of me. I walked to the opposite side of the room and stared out over the back yard for a few moments before opening the door and peering into a large walk-in closet.
Boxes were pushed to the back of the closet, and clothes hung from a rack in the front. The rack was nearly full with shirts, pants, jackets and sweaters. My first thought was Marshall keeping seasonal clothing separated from his everyday options in his bedroom. Then I pulled out a shirt at random.
It was too small to fit Marshall. I knew that he wouldn’t be able to button the shirt over his broad chest. The design looked dated as well. Pulling at the tag, I realized that it would likely fit me. In fact, the closet was filled with clothes that would fit me.
I put everything back on the rack and then shined the flashlight from my cell phone on the cardboard boxes in the rear. Scrawled across the side of the one resting on top was the word that answered many of the questions emerging in my mind. It said, “NEIL.”
While telling myself over and over that I shouldn’t be doing it, I pulled the box out of the closet and set it on the bed. It was dusty, and the bottom of the box was growing flimsy. Curiosity broke down my resistance, and I pulled open the top flaps. What greeted me was the first photo I’d seen of Neil. It was mounted in a simple chrome frame.
He was a handsome young man. He looked full of life, and it was difficult to believe that he was gone. What was most striking about the photo was that he looked so much like me. It wasn’t a family resemblance similarity. It was the basic structure of the facial features, and the way that he smiled. A man who believed Neil was handsome would likely believe that I was handsome, too. As that thought filtered through my head, a lump formed in my throat.
The phone in my pocket rang making me jump. I tugged it out of my pocket. It was Marshall calling. I struggled mightily to say, “Hi,” without allowing my voice to shake and stutter.
Marshall said, “I ran into one of my colleagues over here at the offices. He wants to run the details of his current research project past me. It might be another hour before I’m back, so I wanted to make sure you didn’t worry.”
I struggled to respond and finally said, “Th…thank you. I’ll see you th…then.”
Marshall asked, “Are you okay, Jordan. You sound a little odd.”
I swallowed hard and spoke more forcefully. “I’m fine. I’ve just been roaming the house, and I guess I’m a little preoccupied.”
“Well, relax then. Watch some TV. You don’t need to make the house into a big project. I was just curious if there were any little suggestions that came to your mind.”
I said, “I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Okay then,” said Marshall. “A big hug and a kiss for you, Jordan. See you soon.”
He was gone, and I stared again at the photo of Neil. I dug a little deeper to see three or four more framed photos. They were mostly the same. He smiled like me. His basic body shape was mine, and in one photo his hand rested against the side of his face showing that he had my long, thin fingers.
I didn’t want to look at any more. I quickly closed the box back up and stuck it into the far recesses of the closet. I closed the closet door and then leaned my back against it trying to catch my breath.
Walking up to the mirror on the far side of the room, I leaned in to take a closer look at myself. I looked like Neil, or, Neil looked like me. I couldn’t decide which way to see it, and I didn’t think it really mattered.
Marshall didn’t seriously date anyone for more than twenty years after Neil was gone, and when he finally did, he was dating someone who looked enough alike that he could pretend it was Neil. The thought sent a wicked chill up my spine.
I had an immediate instinct to flee the house and never see Marshall again. Another instinct said, “No.” Marshall was my man, and I needed to fight to keep him. It was quickly followed by a worry that Marshall wasn’t actually mine, and he would never be mine. He belonged to Neil twenty years ago, and he belonged to him now. I was worried that no one would ever be able to break that bond.
20
Marshall
Henry Carruthers taught the university’s introductory course in atmospheric thermodynamics. It is basically the study of warm and cool air going up and down in the atmosphere and what that does to the weather patterns. He was one of the favorites of students in our department.
He had a natural gift for breaking complex principles down into simple illustrations that almost anyone could understand.
Henry was working on a new research project over the summer, and he stopped me in the hallway as I was unlocking my office door. He asked, “Marshall, are you having a good summer? It has been a beautiful one here just like we thought back in April. It looks like we might be the only ones here with summertime devotion to our work.”
The door swung open, and I laughed saying, “You might be right, Henry, but then that means my commitment is pretty shallow since I’m unlikely to be here much more than fifteen minutes.”
“Is there any possibility of extending that time commitment just a few minutes longer?” asked Henry.
I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. He had the friendliest face of anyone I knew. Any time my eyes met Henry’s, I found it impossible to say no. I asked, “Did you want to talk to me about something?”
Henry nodded. He said, “I’m working up a new research project this summer. I thought it would be easy to get a head start with everything so quiet, and then if all is well I’ll pull a couple of doctoral students into the project when they return this fall.”
I said, “Let me make a quick call, Henry, and then I’m yours.”
It was a simple enough conversation with Jordan, but he didn’t sound quite himself. I tried to figure it out on the spur of the moment, but he wasn’t helping. I glanced at Henry and decided I could listen to him, but I needed to keep an eye on time and not linger any longer than absolutely necessary. Jordan’s hesitant speech on the phone concerned me.
Twenty minutes later, I was nodding at Henry and nudging him to wrap things up. I said, “I’ve got a lunch date planned, and I need to get the house cleaned up. I never know when someone might decide to stop in.”
“So you think it’s a good project?” asked Henry.
“It’s a great project. I’m sure you’ll get plenty of interest from assistants.” I stood up and Henry followed suit. I said, “When you get a little further along, let’s talk about it some more. I’ll see if I can throw in any additional thoughts or directions that you need to examine.”
Henry said, “Thank you for your time, Marshall. It’s always appreciated. How’s that softball team doing? You are still playing softball, aren’t you?”
I envisioned the conversation extending for another ten minutes just to talk about softball, so I actively steered that topic to a close as well. I said, “We’re tied for the lead in the league. I have a practice for that later today, too. Thank you for reminding me, Henry.” I walked toward the door effectively pushing Henry out of my office with my body language.
Henry grinned and said, “Have a good day, Marshall. I can tell that it’s going to be a busy one.” We both laughed as he ambled down the hall and I shut the door behind me.
When he was safely out of sight, I opened the door again and prepared to hurry home. It took me less than five minutes to shut down my desktop computer, put books away, and answer one last email from a friend at another university.
Jordan met me at the kitchen door. I reached out to hug him, and I received a quick kiss instead. It amounted to little more than a simple peck. He said, “I’m glad you’re home, because I need to leave, and I didn’t want to go before you got back. I’m really sorry, but Karen called and she has a problem with her sink. She wanted me to look at it before going to the expense of hiring a plumber.”
I tried to stop myself from whining, but my voice probably still came out that way. I said, “I thought you would be here at least through lunch.”
Jordan sighed and said, “I thought I would be, too, but you would do the same thing for Billy. Friends are important.”
He was right. I would do the same thing for Billy. I sighed and said, “Don’t forget there’s a softball game tomorrow. We’re clinging to that league lead as always.”
Jordan gave me a quick, perfunctory hug and said, “I’m sure you’ll win in the end. I’ll be in touch, Marshall, once I get things figured out with Karen.”
He was out the door, and I was standing in the kitchen trying to figure out what had happened. I blinked my eyes. Something was wrong, but I was completely clueless about what.
By 6:00 p.m. I hadn’t heard anything else from Jordan. I figured that more than eight hours was plenty of time to fix a sink, and I decided to send a text message. I asked:
Jordan, how’s the sink? Did you give Karen a hug for me?
Obviously, he wasn’t preoccupied with something else. Jordan answered my message in less than a minute. He said:
Sink is fine. It had a little too much grease built up. Relaxing for the evening.
I wanted to ask him to come over and join me, but I knew that he would be suggesting it already if he was interested. Instead, I simply wrote back:
Have a great evening, Jordan. I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.
He said:
You, too.
I curled up on the couch and turned on the TV. I thought about calling Billy, but then I remembered that he was planning to spend the day with Becca in Lake Geneva. She took a rare weekend day off, and they planned to stay at a hotel overnight. He pledged that he would be back to Milwaukee in plenty of time for the game.
* * *
The next day I felt uneasy for most of the day. Without any messages from Jordan, it was a sensation of being at sea, of being unmoored. I wanted to call, but I was concerned that it would only lead to more uncomfortable exchanges, and my worry would only grow. I decided to throw myself into cleaning the house until time to get ready for the game.
While pulling on my uniform pants for the game, my phone chimed with a text message. It was from Jordan, and it was the first contact for the day. I frowned when I read his message. He said:
Something came up last minute, and I can’t make it to the game. Good luck. I’m sure you will bring home a win.
It was the first Soft Serves softball game that Jordan missed since we began dating, and I didn’t know why. The mystery was only deepening.
While warming up at the field, Billy jogged up to me and asked, “Where’s your main squeeze? I’m used to seeing Jordan up there in the stands. Those high school kids don’t look right on their own.”
I sighed and said, “He couldn’t make it.” Then I tried to sound more enthusiastic and asked, “How was Lake Geneva?”
Billy grinned. “Oh man, Jordan, it was awesome. We went on a boat tour, bought some fudge, walked along the little tiny beach, and then we went to bed by 8:00 p.m.”
“You must have been really tired.”
Billy threw his arm around my shoulders and poked at my chest saying, “Oh, Marshall, we weren’t that tired. We didn’t go to sleep until midnight. Get it?”
I laughed and tried to keep from sounding scornful. I kicked at the dirt and then said, “Yeah, I completely get it. I’m really glad you guys had fun.”
Billy frowned and said, “There’s something up there in your head, Marshall. My buddy isn’t happy. You’ll talk to me later?”
“Yeah, Billy, thanks. We’ll talk later.”
Fortunately, it was an easy game, because my fumbling would have lost us a close game. I had four errors out in the field, and I failed to get on base in the four times I came up to bat.
Just before the last inning, Billy sat beside me on the dugout bench and gave the side of my head a shove. “Man, you’ve got something bad. Keep your head here in the game, Marshall. Then you can melt down about whatever it is after. You’re part of the team. Get out there and act like it.”
We won the game when Lowell caught the last ball in dead center field. Without Jordan around, I decided to join the ritual post-game celebration at the Toolbox. I sent a text to Jordan inviting him as I climbed into my car.
I pulled on to the street, and the phone chimed. Jordan answered, and he turned me down. This time he didn’t make up an excuse. He just said that he couldn’t make it.
I di
dn’t stay long at the Toolbox. I quickly grew tired of nearly everyone asking me about Jordan. I didn’t realize how much we were identified as an inseparable couple. On a normal day, I would revel in the notion that we were attached at the hip. With him absent from being at my side for an unexplained reason, it felt like each question from others only raised more questions in my mind.
My mind raced from one possible explanation to another. Did Jordan find someone else? Was Jordan angry with me? Was Jordan scared of commitment? Did Jordan hear something negative about me from someone else?
After a shower at home, I settled on the couch and sent another text message. I asked:
Dinner, tomorrow? I think we need to talk.
He replied:
I promised dinner with Karen.
Strike three. It was the third time he turned down seeing me in less than twenty-four hours. I started to call, but then I decided to push the issue even further. I called to order Chinese food and picked it up on the way as I drove to Jordan’s house.
His car was in the driveway when I arrived. I parked my car, grabbed the bag of Chinese food and headed for his kitchen door. I knocked on the door perhaps a little too hard. From inside, it probably sounded more like pounding. There was no immediate response, and I knocked again. Finally, after a third knock, Jordan opened the door.
He wiped at his eyes and said, “Marshall, I was taking a nap.”
I said, “I brought dinner,” and I held out the bag.
I was pleased to see a weak smile, but he didn’t offer me a hug as I stepped into the room. He took the bag from me and set it on the kitchen counter.
Uneasy Pieces: The League, Book 4 Page 11
