by Ryan Field
Jim shrugged. “I thought the trip would be too much for a puppy. My buddy in LA is house-sitting for me. Besides, Clinger isn’t completely house trained yet. I didn’t want him to break in all your new sisal carpets in the loft.”
Helen waved her hand. “Nonsense,” she said. “Next time you come, you’re bringing Clinger. Rugs can be cleaned or replaced.” She sounded genuinely disappointed.
Jim’s father cleared his throat and sent him a somber glance. “You mentioned that your buddy was house-sitting? Is he a close friend?”
Jim’s eyebrows went up. He had a feeling his father was fishing for information. “My buddy, Kurt. He works as a sound technician for a movie studio.”
Helen smiled. She exchanged a quick glance with Jim’s father. “How nice. Do you think we’ll be meeting Kurt anytime soon? We want you to know you can feel free to bring anyone home to meet us, dear.”
Jim’s father cleared his throat again. “Is Kurt around your age?”
Jim almost choked on his cake. They still had this fear he might wind up with another older married man. He sent his father a smile and said, “Kurt is a few years older than I am. He’s married and they just had a baby.”
Helen set her napkin down and said, “Oh, dear. He’s married and he’s older.”
Jim laughed and said, “Mom, Kurt is straight. I’m not dating him. I’m not dating anyone seriously now. I’m too busy with work and the house to be bothered. And trust me, Clinger takes up a lot of my time when I’m not working.” The time had passed so quickly, and he’d been so busy, he hadn’t thought about sex much. It always amused him when straight people thought gay men were having sex all the time. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.
Helen and his father exchanged a relieved glance and Helen said, “I think we should adopt a puppy.” Evidently, she wanted to change the subject.
“That’s a great idea,” Jim said. He wanted to move on to another topic, too.
Then they talked about the responsibilities of owning a pet and the fact that Jim’s father wasn’t certain he wanted to be tied down to a dog or cat at this point in his life. They were leaving for a three week summer cruise in Greece in a month and all they had to do now was pack their bags and lock the loft door.
After dinner, Jim insisted on picking up the check. He was making very good money now and he wanted to do this for his father’s fiftieth birthday. After a few small arguments with Helen, she finally relented and Jim handed the waiter his credit card. When they stood up to leave and the handsome young waiter in tight black pants brought back Jim’s card, he sent him a sultry glance and gazed down at Jim’s crotch. Though Jim’s mother and father were arguing about who was going to drive the Corvette back to the loft and they noticed nothing, Jim knew the young waiter was flirting with him. So he smiled, glanced at the waiter’s pants, and said, “Thanks.” It felt good to have a nice looking young guy flirt with him. It felt even better when his dick responded to the waiter’s obvious advances. Jim knew he was ready to start seeing other men again. If he’d been alone that night, Jim would have given the cute young waiter his phone number. He smiled all the way back to the loft. And yet, that night when he closed his eyes, he thought about Len Mayfield, not the cute waiter.
On Saturday, Jim went grocery shopping with his mother so she could pick up a few things for a small barbeque she’d planned on Monday afternoon. It was only going to be Jim and his parents. They wanted to keep it small that weekend and just enjoy each other because they saw so little of each other all year long. And Jim had a late flight out of Dallas on Monday night.
In the afternoon, Jim went tire shopping with his father. His mother’s old Mercedes sedan needed new tires and Jim said he’d go along to keep his father company while he waited for the tires to be changed. When they came home, Jim took a long nap and didn’t wake up until six in the evening. He’d been rushing around since he’d left LA and he’d needed the sleep.
That night a few of his mom and dad’s friends came over for dinner. Some of them were people Jim had grown up with and hadn’t seen since his graduation party last June, and some were new faces. He wondered if any of them knew about what he’d done with Len Mayfield. He excused himself early and went into the guest room to read for a while. He checked his e-mail, phoned his friend Kurt to see how Clinger was doing, and fell into a deep sleep around midnight.
In the morning, his parents said they had accepted an invitation to brunch with friends. Jim’s father handed him the keys to the red Corvette and said, “It’s all yours today. We won’t be back until at least five or six tonight.”
His mother kissed him good-bye and handed him a list. “Could you please stop at the drugstore and pick up these things for me. I won’t have a chance to do anything today. There’s one thing on the list that’s very important.”
Although Jim had planned on spending the day in the loft, reading and watching old movies on TV, he told his mother he’d get everything on the list. Around one o’clock he grew restless and decided to go out for a drive before he went to the drugstore. He drove down his old road and slowed down when he passed the big house he’d grown up in. The house was so far from the main road he couldn’t see much; just outlines. He smiled when he glanced in the distance and wondered if the new owners still had the same old guy managing the ranch. Closer to the road, a young man who appeared to be the new owner was outside on the grass working on a small pink bicycle and a little girl was watching him. When the new owner glanced up and saw Jim staring, Jim waved at him and continued down the road.
He drove by his old school, his old playground, and stopped to watch the horses at a larger ranch he’d always loved. After that, he drove to where he’d spent a great deal of his time growing up: the Mayfield house. When he pulled up to the edge of the driveway and saw a for sale sign out front with a “sold” sign hanging beneath it, he sat and stared for a while, wondering what had become of Len. He had to know; it was killing him. He would ask his mother quietly later that night, when his father was watching TV. All he wanted was basic information, to know that nothing bad had happened to them. She had to have heard something.
When he pulled away from the Mayfield house, he felt a sting in his chest. That’s when he thought twice about asking his mother anything and decided it would be better not to discuss Len again. He’d put it to rest; it was time to move on with his life. When he parked the red Corvette outside the drugstore, he told himself he would aggressively start working on his social life…and sex life…the moment he returned to LA. Most of all, he would stop thinking about Len before he went to sleep at night.
His mother’s list was small. She wanted cotton balls, a bottle of witch hazel, and a peculiar item with a name he’d never heard of. His mother had written, in parenthesis, “This is important. If you can’t find it ask for help. It’s for your father.” He laughed because it almost sounded as though she were whispering in the note.
While he picked up the cotton balls and the witch hazel, he heard a baby screaming somewhere in another part of the store. He was glad he hadn’t had too much wine the night before at dinner; he would hate to have to listen to that piercing scream with a hangover. As the baby continued to belt out shrieks that made his temples pound, Jim found a young woman who worked at the drugstore and pointed to what his mother had written on the list. He couldn’t even pronounce the name of the item. The girl blinked at him and pointed to the back of the store. “There’s a whole aisle of those types of things back there,” she said. “I’m sure it’s there.”
He crossed through the aisles, passing food products and soft drinks, wondering what had happened to drugstores that only sold drugs and sundries. The screaming from the baby grew more intense. He walked faster, so he could get out of there with his eardrums intact and wound up in an aisle where they sold laxatives and stool softeners. He glanced at the shelves and saw every product ever invented to experience the perfect bowl movement. Some said “full strength,” and
“heavy duty,” others said things like “softener,” and “mild.” The product with the strange name his mother wanted was way down at the bottom in the “All Natural” section, beneath a row of fleet enemas that were marked down to half price that day.
When he bent down to reach for the bottle, the screaming grew more intense. He saw a shadow and heard the wheels of a squeaky shopping cart. The screaming baby was in that cart. They were coming straight toward him and there was no way to escape. He moved forward, without looking up. He grabbed the bottle of laxative so fast it fell out of his hands. It slid across the floor and landed in front of a large pair of scuffed cowboy boots. The baby continued to cry and Jim went down to his knees. At the exact moment Jim reached for the laxative, a large pair of hands grabbed it before he did.
Before Jim looked up, a deep voice said, “You should be careful with these things. I hear laxatives can be addictive.”
When Jim glanced up, he was still on one knee, holding the shelf for support. His jaw dropped and he gulped. Len Mayfield was smiling down at him, waving the bottle of laxative with a very strange name back and forth.
Jim stood up fast and smoothed out his jeans. “Ah well, Len. It’s for my dad.” He cleared his throat and glanced at the screaming baby in the shopping cart. An older woman passed by, frowned at the baby, and gave them both dirty looks.
Len smiled and said, “You look good. It’s been a while. You changed your hair.”
Jim shrugged. His chest caved in when he glanced at Len’s lips; he was wearing the cowboy hat he’d once given to Jim after they’d made love in his pickup truck. “You look good, too. How have you been?” He was afraid that if he smiled, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He forced himself to remain calm and cool…even if he couldn’t control his racing heart.
Len laughed and gestured to the baby. “Been pretty busy, as you can see. This is my grandson, Culum Mayfield.”
It was impossible to resist the questions running through his mind, so Jim smiled and glanced down at the baby. “This is Cain’s baby?”
Len nodded.
“He’s adorable,” Jim said. “I’m sure you’re thrilled to have time to spend with him.” He assumed Cain and his new wife still lived in northern California and Cain had come home for Memorial Day weekend. He leaned forward for a closer look at Culum. “Hey, it’s nice to meet you, Culum.”
Len laughed and reached into the cart to pick the baby up. He didn’t stop crying. “Don’t worry about that. I have plenty of time with him. I adopted him. I have full custody and I’m raising him, not Cain.”
Jim flung him a look. “You have custody?”
Len tried patting Culum on the back and it didn’t work. He continued to scream, with a pierce so loud Jim was worried the manager might throw them out. “Things didn’t work out with Cain and his girlfriend. They tried living together while she was pregnant and, well, you know how it is. They decided to put the baby up for adoption and I guess you could say I freaked out a little. I flew to California and I told them I wanted to adopt the baby and that no grandson of mine would be raised by total strangers as long as I was alive.”
Jim reached for the baby. He took him from Len’s arms and turned him around. The moment he held Culum to his chest, he stopped crying and stared at Jim’s hair. “So you and Mrs. Mayfield are raising another child.” This was something he never would have imagined. Len’s wife must have stopped seeing the tennis instructor.
“Not exactly,” Len said. “Janice and I are divorced. After we signed the papers, she moved to Hawaii with her tennis instructor and now she’s teaching kick boxing and selling scented flameless candles.”
“Kick boxing and flameless candles?”
“Don’t ask,” Len said, then rolled his eyes. “It was an amicable divorce, we’re still friends, and she’s happy. That’s all that matters now.” He frowned and rubbed his jaw. “We were unhappy for so long I almost forgot how to be happy.”
Jim patted Culum’s back and said, “I never forgot what you once told me: happiness is the chase of a lifetime.”
Len looked into his eyes for a moment. “Damn. You actually remember that?”
Jim tilted his head and took in the baby scent from Culum’s soft blond head. “I remember everything.”
Len seemed to grow uncomfortable. He changed the subject fast. “How are you doing?”
Jim told him a fast version of his life in LA, and then said, “And now I’m back visiting my parents in their new loft.” He heard a whimper from Culum and started to bounce him gently. He’d done this with Clinger when he’d first brought him home and it had worked. The baby seemed to respond and he started to gurgle. “How’s Cain doing?”
“Cain is Cain,” Len said, lifting his hands in surrender. “He’s still working on his graduate degree, he’s still dating ten different women at the same time, and he’s still having the time of his life.” His tone went lower and he shrugged. “We’re still patching things up, though. He’s still not thrilled about what happened with us. And he still blames me for the divorce, even though his mother hasn’t been this happy in years.”
“I’m sure he’ll come around,” Jim said.
Len glanced at the quiet baby in Jim’s arms. “Would you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“He hasn’t been this quiet since we left the house,” Len said. “Would you come to the counter with me to check out and hold him while I pay? He seems to like you.”
After they checked out…Len paid for Jim’s laxative and the other items and smiled…Jim followed Len to the truck with Culum in his arms. Len put the bags in the back seat and then took the baby from Jim. When his hand brushed against Jim’s, it felt as if a million shocks went off inside Jim’s body. He was too embarrassed to look Len in the eye and looked down at his shoes instead.
When the baby was safely strapped into his seat, Len gave him a pacifier and winked at Jim. “They say this is bad, which is why I didn’t bring it into the store with me. But if it calms him down I don’t see any harm in it. It’s not like he’s going to walk into the fifth grade sucking on one of those things. Why stress the poor kid out?”
Jim knew nothing about babies. It made sense to him. “I agree.”
It was an unusually breezy day for that time of year. They remained outside, with the back door open, talking about the trials of being a single parent. Len told Jim that he still worked at the same place and he’d hired a full time live-in nanny to care for Culum. He also made a point of saying he spent all his free time with Culum. He didn’t come right out and say this it aloud, but it sounded as if he wanted to try and reverse some of the mistakes he’d made with Cain.
When they reached that awkward moment of silence Jim had been dreading, Jim wasn’t sure he could move his legs. It was time to leave. He knew this and he wasn’t sure how to do it. No man would ever compare to Len Mayfield; no man would ever make him feel this complete, this safe, and this and glad to be alive. He wanted to tell him this. He wanted to throw his arms around Len and never let him go again. But he was afraid Len didn’t feel the same way about him.
Len glanced at his watch and said, “I guess I should let you go now.”
Jim looked into his eyes. He smiled and fought back the tears. “It was good seeing you, Len. I’m glad things worked out for you.” He patted Culum’s head and laughed. “I’m glad you decided to adopt Culum, too. I would have done the same thing.”
“Would you?”
Jim smiled. “Of course I would have.”
They shook hands and Jim turned to leave. As he moved forward, he fought the urge to glance back. He wanted to know if Len was watching him. He didn’t hear the back door close. He didn’t hear Len get into the truck and start the engine. Against all he knew that was right and sensible, he turned. He saw Len standing there, in the same place where he’d left him. He felt a sting in his eye and the tears began to roll down his face. He spread his arms out as wide as he could and said, “I’m so sorry. I
haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day I last saw you. You’re the last face I see at night when I close my eyes. You’re the first face I see in the morning before I open my eyes. I know I should leave. I know you don’t want to hear this. But I have to say something.”
Len reached out with both arms. “Come here. Don’t go like this. It would kill me.”
Jim jogged back to the truck. He fell into Len’s arms. He started to sob; his entire body trembled. Len held him and rubbed the back of his head. Passersby stopped and stared at the two good looking men locked in this unusual embrace in a drugstore parking lot and Len didn’t seem to care in the least.
When Jim finally calmed down, Len lifted Jim’s chin and wiped the tears away from his eyes. Then he kissed him on the lips and said, “I never knew it was possible to miss anyone as much as I’ve missed you. There were times it hurt so much I never thought I’d feel right again.”
Being with Len didn’t feel wrong anymore. Nothing had ever felt so right. He put his arms around Len and said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
They kissed one more time and Jim took a step back. They ignored a couple of pimple-faced teenage boys passing by, honking, and making lewd gay comments about them. Jim smiled and said, “What do we do about it? You live in Texas and I live in LA?”
“I just sold my house.”
“I know,” Jim said. “I drove by earlier. I thought maybe I’d see you outside or something.”
Len smiled, as if he was glad Jim had driven by his house. “We don’t have a place to live yet. I’ve been looking at condos and apartments in Dallas, but I haven’t made any decisions yet, but I really have to decide something very soon.”
Jim didn’t want to be pushy. He was afraid he’d scare Len away. “Can we talk about this? You once said you could be transferred to LA. I bought a house and there’s plenty of room.”
