Husband Hunters

by Rick R. Reed

  Back then, he had wished for nothing more than a good friend. And now he had one, a real true friend who said he loved him. Who was Matt to scoff at this gift, to balk at it because it wasn’t enough?

  His head knew the answer even if his heart did not. He walked with Cody toward the front door. “Fake it until we make it?” he wondered.

  “Right.” Cody tugged him forward. “It’s two days. Not even.”

  “What happens after?” The question hung between them like something heavy, solid, and real.

  “That’s up to you, my friend. But don’t look at my love as pity or something second-rate, because it’s not.”

  Of course. They had a lot ahead of them. The skies would clear. Tomorrow, they were scheduled to hike up to a beautiful spot near the mountain’s top: Picture Lake, so named because it was the “Kodak moment” of the Cascades, breathtakingly gorgeous. Like Cody…

  They would pretend. And Matt would do his best to make himself believe they were two men poised on the brink of a forever romantic love. And maybe that day and night—and Cody’s real, true, and honest friendship—was all he would ever get. Cody would be pretending, faking it, but Matt knew he would not. And Matt knew he would take that day and store it away. He would pretend, maybe for the rest of his life, that it was something it wasn’t. Two lovers on a mountaintop.

  Glorious.

  He would have to make do somehow. What would come after tomorrow would come.

  * * * *

  Matt chose the smallest of the three bedrooms when it came time to turn in for the night.

  He had surprised himself. The remainder of the evening, he had done an acting job worthy of Matthew McConaughey or maybe even Sir Lawrence Olivier himself. He had cracked jokes. He had laughed a lot. He had presented himself as the picture of charm, regaling Cody (and the crew) with a story about his early days as a teacher. “Yeah, it was the first day of school, and I went into the classroom with a baseball cap on and slouched in one of the student desks, looking bored. I was young enough to pass. I expected to be made fun of, maybe presented as a monster who gave too much homework or was too strict. What I didn’t expect were the two girls who sat down right in front of me, never even looking at the ‘boy’ seated behind them. They were giggling and whispering and, get this, talking about me. One of them had seen me in the hallway earlier in the morning, and she went on and on about how hot I was and what she’d like to do to me. I had no idea teenage girls even knew about such practices! Well, when I stood up, pulled off my cap, and informed the class that I was their teacher, the lovelorn girl at last recognized me. She tore out of that room like it was on fire, face a gorgeous shade of crimson.” Matt even chuckled at the memory, as though he were enjoying himself. “She never did come back to Algebra I.”

  Things went along in this vein until about midnight. He and Cody made a pasta dinner together with a quick, uncooked sauce of tomatoes, fresh basil, garlic, capers, and olive oil. Matt grilled a lovely halibut filet on the outdoor grill to serve alongside.

  They made eyes at one another over the dinner, clinking their glasses together and grinning like lunatics. The wine loosened them up, and for a while, Matt felt a glimmer of how it used to be between them: easy, with no filters.

  It continued to rain intermittently through the evening, so the producers advised against the outdoor hot tub, in view of the threat of lightning strikes. Matt felt like that was a blessing. He could only fake it until he made it so far. Getting into a hot tub with Cody in their boxers—or, Lord have mercy, naked—would have been asking too much.

  Now as he settled into his twin bed, he congratulated himself on his ability to pretend he wasn’t aching inside, that he wasn’t rife with confusion and discomfort over the future of his relationship with Cody. But the congratulations rang hollow. He might be able to pretend he was enjoying himself with Cody when the cameras were rolling, but here, alone, he knew the truth. This was killing him.

  He couldn’t wait to get home.

  His room was at the very top of the cabin, in a little attic-like enclosure. It was all white, with wainscoting on the walls, and had a single brass bed with what looked like a homemade patchwork quilt. A print of the painting Christina’s World, by Andrew Wyeth, hung on the wall. Under other circumstances, Matt might have reveled in its coziness, but now all he felt was restless and a bit unhinged. He looked up and stared through the skylight above him. Stars crowded the night sky, proving to him that the rain and clouds had truly moved far away, promising bright sunshine for the morning.

  Staring up at the stars, which appeared so much more plentiful here than in the city, he drifted into a restless slumber. He dreamed of Cody on a mountain trail ahead of him. Cody seemed to be standing still, smiling at him and beckoning, but no matter how many steps Matt took or how fast he moved, Cody always remained the same distance away.

  Matt woke up to bright sunlight streaming in. The warm, golden light should have cheered him, but it only made him sad.

  “Rise and shine, sweethearts!” Martha Stewart’s voice called from below. “It’s time to create magic.”

  Matt sighed, sat up, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. It would take magic indeed to make the day pass as quickly as he wanted.

  By now, all Matt wished for was to return home to his empty apartment and his bachelorhood.

  Maybe he would get a cat.

  Chapter 15

  Picture Lake was so gorgeous it almost didn’t seem real. The place was so stunning it could make a believer out of an atheist. Cody paused to drink in the breathtaking landscape. One of the camera guys had told him as they headed up to a spot in the Heather Meadows area that it was “one of the most photographed mountain scenes in North America.”

  Now he knew why. All around him was an eye-popping array of wildflowers in hues of yellow, red, and purple, pine trees, and perfectly green grass. Mt. Shuksan rose up behind them, craggy, blue-gray, snowcapped, majestic, and reflected in the water of the small lake that was the centerpiece of the short hike. The water in the lake was mirrorlike, its surface calm and smooth as glass. The mountain air was crisp and cool, washed and enhanced by yesterday’s rain. Everything around them sparkled, as if it had been newly created just for them.

  The cameras didn’t need any special filters to capture this magic. All the photographers had to do was open their lenses and point anywhere, and the stunning beauty was ready to be captured.

  Improvisation, Martha Stewart had once told him, was what the show was all about. “But we’ll give you cues.” Their cue upon reaching the lake was to have a heart-to-heart conversation, with the water and the mountain as their backdrop. “It will be simply stunning,” Martha had said. “So don’t be stupid. Respect the landscape.”

  Cody wasn’t sure how their conversation could do that, not with the lake sparkling in the sun as though an unseen hand had thrown diamonds upon its surface.

  He turned to Matt, who was looking out at the water. “Hey, stranger!” he said cheerfully. “So what do you think of all this? Pretty amazing, huh?”

  “I can’t believe it. This is why we live the Northwest, right? Where else can you find such natural beauty and peace?”

  They went on in this vein for a while, a couple of starstruck tourists.

  Cody nodded, their conversation feeling stilted, and wondered how it would come off on camera. Would it end up on the cutting room floor because no one would believe it?

  Cody snapped his fingers and then reached into his pocket to pull out his iPhone. “We should do a selfie! Come here.”

  Matt moved closer, and Cody put his arm around him, pulling him in tight. With his other hand, he raised the camera. “This is always so hard to do with one hand,” he mumbled.

  “Unlike other things,” Matt came back with.

  Cody chuckled.

  Just then Tre came forward after handing his camera to one of the other production people. Cody could see the guy was now in the frame of another camera and w
ondered if this was part of Martha’s improvising.

  “Hey, guys,” Tre called out. “You don’t want a selfie for up here. You want me to take that?”

  Cody pretended to be grateful, making believe Tre had just come along and decided to play Good Samaritan when he saw them struggling with the phone’s camera. “Sure! Thanks, man!”

  Tre took the camera from them and looked through the phone’s screen. “Let me just turn the lens back around… Okay, when you’re ready.”

  Cody gripped Matt so their bodies touched in a single line all the way down. He felt the weight of Matt’s head on his shoulder.

  “Say cheese!”

  They both said it simultaneously, grinning, Cody was sure, like idiots.

  Tre handed the phone back. “Take a look at that and see what you think.”

  Cody stared down at the picture Tre had snapped. It showed a happy couple. Matt’s head on his shoulder was a nice touch. He could visualize this picture frozen for a moment on a TV screen and some anonymous viewer saying, “Aw, look at them! Made for each other.” That viewer would see a young couple, very much in love.

  It was sweet, and it sent a bitter pang straight to his heart. He showed the screen to Matt. “What do you think?”

  Matt stared at it for a moment, his finger briefly touching their images. “It’s perfect,” he said softly.

  * * * *

  The remainder of the day was busy. They drove up the summit of the mountain and played in patches of snow at the top, the sun, warm, beating down on them. Their cargo shorts and T-shirts made an incongruous contrast to the white stuff.

  They hiked another trail along a stream so blue it looked dyed and ended up with a bunch of other tourists at a waterfall.

  They had dinner in a little café not far from the cabin. Fish tacos and beer and lots of talk about all they had seen that day.

  That night, Martha Stewart approached them as they were winding down, getting ready for bed. “You guys did an amazing job. This is going to be pure fairy tale romance.”

  Matt quipped, “With the accent on fairy!”

  Martha said, “Shut up, Matt. Really, we were wondering if the two of you could be persuaded to do one more thing for the final shot.”

  “What’s that?” Cody asked, caution creeping into his voice.

  “Now, this is just for a quick shot, but we’d like to have the two of you in bed together, shirtless.” Martha sang, “Afterglow.” She grinned. “Maybe one of you could rest your head on the other’s chest.”

  “I don’t know, Martha,” Cody said.

  Matt stayed mum.

  “Come on, it’ll be the perfect closer.”

  Cody looked over at Matt, who wouldn’t meet his gaze. “What do you think, Matt? Are you up for it?”

  “Going to bed with you? Honey, I’ve been ‘up’ for it since we first met.” He smiled big, but the smile did not come up to meet his eyes.

  “There you go,” Martha said. She called Tre in from outside, explaining they had one more quick shot before they wrapped.

  Tre and Martha followed the boys to Cody’s room, which was the largest of the three bedrooms. It had a big double bed with a down comforter and a picture window that looked out on the night. During the day, the view was of forest.

  Cody pulled off his shirt, and Matt followed suit. Cody noticed his hand was poised at the top button of his shorts. Cody looked to Martha. “I don’t think it’s necessary we get completely undressed, is it?”

  “Whatever you want to do.”

  Cody hopped into bed in his shorts and socks and threw back the comforter farther. He patted the empty space on the bed next to him and looked at Matt. “Come on, man. Climb on in.”

  Matt, grimly, did as he was told.

  “Try to look happy, Matt. Sheesh!”

  Tre moved into position. Matt lay stiffly next to Cody.

  “You guys! Close! Put your head on his chest, Matt.”

  Matt did as instructed. Cody reached up to caress Matt’s balding, stubbled pate. “Silky,” he murmured.

  They filmed for just a couple of minutes. Martha proclaimed, “Good enough!”

  Tre and Martha beat a hasty retreat.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Cody asked Matt. He kissed the top of Matt’s head.

  Matt’s only response was to reach up and tweak Cody’s nipple, softly at first, then really hard.

  “Ouch!” Cody cried out.

  Matt hopped from the bed and left the room quickly, without looking back.

  * * * *

  Matt found himself in what he now considered his natural state: in bed, alone. He lay on his side, not wanting to look again at the star-crowded sky above him. Such views were for sated lovers. He simply stared at the wall, that Bonnie Raitt song, “I Can’t Make You Love Me,” coming back to him once more, causing a ball to form in his throat.

  The lyrics played in his head of their own volition, much as he wanted them to stop. What was it she sang? Something about morning coming and doing what’s right? The character in the song pled for just a little time to give up the fight.

  That’s what Matt would do. Give up the fight.

  The day had been a lovely memory. He would get a copy of the picture Tre had taken at Picture Lake and have it framed. He’d find the perfect spot for it in his apartment, not a place where he’d see it all the time but could visit it when he needed to—like a memorial. But tomorrow, for the sake of his heart, for the sake of making his life right, he would give up.

  And move on.

  Chapter 16

  Fall had come to Seattle, retaining the clear blue skies and dry days of summer but throwing in the lovely hues of red, gold, and yellow to gild the lily. Days were warm, with highs in the seventies, and nights crisp and cool, with thermometers dropping down to display “sleeping weather” temps in the forties and fifties. Seattleites treasured days like these and tried not to think about the coming winter, with its endless gray and damp.

  Matt was no exception. Fall had always been an invigorating season for him, what with school starting up again. Ever since he was a kid, fall meant renewal for Matt. This impression was imprinted on him early, as it was, he supposed, for many, to coincide with the close of summer and the ramping up of a new school year. Morphing from student to teacher hadn’t lessened the feeling that autumn was all about new beginnings.

  Now, as he paced around his kitchen on a lazy Saturday morning, throwing together a breakfast sandwich of egg, deli ham, and sharp cheddar on an English muffin and a cup of Earl Grey, he thought how he was feeling content. Finally. Content, not wonderful, but accepting.

  He and Cody had reached an uneasy alliance. Outward appearances would indicate the old friends had reconnected and reestablished their rapport. Weekends once again found them together, trying the latest Korean fusion restaurant in the Fremont neighborhood, going to the Sunday tea dance at the Cuff, heading with Ryder out to a local dog park to watch him cause trouble. They saw each other daily at school and always had time to gossip over the latest student- or staff-related drama.

  Matt sat down on the couch with his breakfast. He had his iPhone docked, and his favorite meditative station was playing: ambient piano. He was pretty much at peace, which was why, he supposed, on this sunny late-September morning, he was reflective.

  On the surface, he and Cody had seemed to have come through the Husband Hunters experience unscathed, friendship still intact. That was true. But Matt knew different. He frowned a little as he took a bite of his sandwich and a sip of his tea. Sure, they did all the same stuff they used to do. Cody popped up on his Caller ID regularly; they commented on and liked each other’s Facebook posts. Their weekend time together was pretty much a standing thing.

  But ever since they came down off the mountain, nothing was really the same again. The change in their relationship was so subtle it was hard to put into words or even thoughts, as Matt was attempting to do. But there was a wall up between them that hadn’t been t
here before. For example, when they went out to the bars on Capitol Hill on Friday or Saturday night, Cody was much more cautious, Matt noticed, about expressing an interest in this guy or that guy. More than once, Matt had returned from the bathroom during one of these outings to find Cody hurriedly concluding business, so to speak, with another bar patron. Phones were rapidly put away or slips of paper tucked into jeans pockets. Cody’s grin was always sheepish.

  Matt knew Cody was trying to protect his feelings, and he appreciated that, in an odd sort of way. After all, it was nice that Cody cared enough about him to want to save him from further heartache.

  Yet it wasn’t the same as before. There was a kind of dishonesty about it. Matt didn’t like it, but he never told Cody that.

  And therein lay the problem: they just no longer communicated the way they used to. Once upon a time, there had been an openness and honesty between them, free of judgment, that could be sometimes even brutal in its candidness. But Matt appreciated that. He wanted that. It was what made them work.

  He wondered now, as he rose to take his plate and mug into the kitchen, if they could ever get back to where they were, or if his admission and their weekend together on Mt. Baker had permanently altered the course of their closeness. Would getting back to where they’d once been be like stuffing the proverbial genie back in the bottle—impossible?

  Matt worried that it was. He also realized the wall was one of his own making, an effort at self-protection.

  And sometimes, when he was feeling really dark, he considered the possibility and sensibility of just not seeing Cody anymore.